cw: bicep biting, teasing, male whimpering, dry humping, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, talking you through it, hair pulling, he's described as big, back scratching, creampies, not proofread.
ⓘ Featuring how sexy Dick Grayson is for his pretty girl.
boyfriend!dick who muffles your moans with his bicep whenever you're staying over at his father's, cooing, "You need to be quiet" so his family won't find out how dirty you are, as if he isn't the one fucking into you so hard the headboard's slamming against the wall.
+ Bonus points: Whenever you finish, and he pulls back to see drool on his arm along with the teeth marks, he knows he did well.
boyfriend!dick who can spend hours teasing you before getting to work, with light brushes of his fingers up your thigh, light kisses to your lips, and rubbing the tip along your slit, but pulling back once you start begging him to just fuck you already.
Eventually, you wear each other down; you're moaning out his name & he's struggling not to finish in two minutes.
boyfriend!dick loves when you go down on him, fists clenching against the sheets as he struggles not to guide your head, biting down the sweetest moan every time you swirl your tongue around his blushing tip.
After he finishes in your mouth, he'll always wipe your lips clean & whisper how pretty you are in the shakiest, hottest tone known to man.
boyfriend!dick who tends to get a little needy & sometimes ends up dry humping you till he's creamed his boxers instead of just fucking you like he'd originally planned. Noting "it felt too good to stop" while letting out a choked laugh & burying his face in your throat.
He'll always joke about it afterwards. But it's kind of obvious at the moment how embarrassed he feels about it.
boyfriend!dick likes to finger you after a blowjob, scissoring you open on long fingers so he can stare at the wetness pooling on your skin while telling you just how sexy it looks to him & licks you clean after each orgasm.
He likes to give you at least two orgasms per one of his.
boyfriend!dick has grown used to your nails sinking into his back every time he bottoms out; he's even grown to like how every few thrusts bring the sweet sting of your nails scratching at him in sync with sharp moans.
boyfriend!dick who is well aware just how endowed he is & always takes it slow to let you adjust, making sure to whisper sweet little praises in your ear.
boyfriend!dick who has made himself well acquainted with your clit, happily goes down on you every time you're being bratty or not in a good mood, knowing his tongue can be an instant mood booster.
He always moans at the feeling of your nails scratching at his scalp, pulling & begging for more, loving the sensation of feeling your pleasure through the sharp tugs.
boyfriend!dick who has a bad pullout game & ends up accidentally filling you up more often than he'd like to admit. He's so embarrassed when he pulls out and sees his seed spilling out, but your fucked-out expression always makes him feel better about it.
you slide your card toward the register like it’s nothing, like you didn’t spend the last hour watching dick grayson smile at you across dinner and pretending your knees weren’t weak.
he notices immediately. of course he does. this man has the reflexes of a cat and the dramatic instincts of a theatre kid raised by ninjas.
“hey— hey, hey, hold on.” he’s already halfway out of his chair, eyes wide, voice half-laughing like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. “what do you think you’re doing?”
you blink. “...paying?”
dick presses a hand to his chest like you’ve wounded him. “paying? you? for me?” he shakes his head slowly, lips twitching. “that’s cute. wrong, but cute.”
you try not to smile, because he’s being ridiculous, standing there in his leather jacket, hair falling into his eyes like he was crafted to be your weakness. “i just thought I could take this one.”
“no, no, sweetheart.” he steps closer, resting his palms on the counter beside your hand. you can feel the warmth of him, the way he crowds in without being pushy. “that’s my job.”
you raise a brow. “your job?”
his grin softens just enough to make your heart stutter. “yeah. my job. i asked you out. i pay. that’s the rule.”
“that’s not a real rule.” you argue.
“it is in the dick grayson handbook,” he counters, tapping the imaginary badge on his chest. “chapter one: be a gentleman. chapter two: do unnecessary flips. chapter three: pay for dates.”
you snort. “i swear you make half of this up.”
he leans in, lowering his voice like it’s a secret just for you. “only the parts meant to make you smile.”
your cheeks warm and he definitely catches it. His eyes flicker in that smug soft boy way, not arrogant, just unbearably fond.
dick nudges your card back toward you with two fingers, slow and deliberate. “look… i know you can pay. you’re capable, you’re independent, you scare the hell out of me in the best way.” he pauses, blue eyes bright, honest. “but let me treat you tonight. i want to.”
you swallow. “you really don’t like when i try to pay, huh?”
he huffs a laugh, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. “i like that you try. i like that you’re thoughtful. but it also makes me wanna wrap you up in my arms and say ‘nope, not happening’ every single time.”
“possessive much?” you tease.
“only when it comes to you,” he shoots back, grinning like it’s the most natural truth in the world.
he takes your card, sets it back in your bag, and presses the tiniest kiss to your forehead before you can argue. “let me do this one. consider it… an investment in more nights like this.”
you look up at him, fighting a smile. “and what do i owe in return?”
dick shrugs lightly, looping his fingers with yours as he hands his card to the cashier. “just keep showing up.”
and the way he says it. Soft, earnest, like you’re the best thing to happen to his week...yeah.
you cannot tell me dick grayson doesnt have the craziest morning boner
he would wake up with you lying on your side, back pressed against his chest and sleeping soundly. all unaware from the large poking that was on your ass
poor man didn’t wanna wake you up because one, it was seven in the morning. and two, you were sleeping so peacefully he couldn’t bring himself to ruin your slumber
so instead, dick would just lazily grind his boner on your ass, pressing his lips on your shoulder to hold back any sounds and pant on your skin. and when you would shift and unknowingly press your ass more to his cock, he would shut his eyes and throw his head back to let out a quiet yet deep groan, his voice still laced with sleep
that’s it, his last fucking straw
“babe” dick carefully nudged you, desperation in his voice. but there was no answer from you. he trailed a path of kisses from your shoulders all the way under your jaw, only to hear a small “hm?” leave your sleepy lips
“dick, it’s too early” you mumbled, eyes still closed and about to reach for dick’s head and press his face more into your neck. but your eyes slowly fluttered open from something poking and rubbing on your ass
“dick? what are you—"
“please, baby…” you could hear the slight desperation in his morning voice, his hips not stopping and still slowly rubbing on your ass. “woke up with the craziest boner… fuck, i need you”
scratch ‘slight’, he was desperate desperate. begging from behind your back at what, seven in the morning?
you let out a breathless sigh from dick already nudging your panties down slowly, giving him a slow nod and already closing your eyes to fall back asleep. “just don’t wake me up, i need to be up soon” and as a confirmation, you spread your legs a bit more and pressed your ass more to his cock
god, that was all he needed to hear
“i promise” dick whispered in your ear, thumb rubbing small circles on your cunt and feeling your arousal slowly form. “you were always too good for me, thank you baby” a small whimper left your lips. even when you were asleep— or at least trying to— his touch always pulled out reactions from you
he took his thumb off to pull his boxers down and line his hard tip with your pussy, pre cum slightly glistening from the head. a relieved sigh left dick’s lips when he began to slowly insert his cock in, the familiar warm walls of your cunt greeting him with a welcome he so desperately needed.
“thaaat’s it” he murmured on your neck, one hand shifting to slide under your shirt and fondle with your boob— which made you let out a small moan— while the other gripped on your hip. “fuck, just what i needed”
your lips slightly parted for a small moan to slip, your closed eyes now rolling to the back of your head as dick moved your bra strap from your shoulder to leave open mouthed kisses while sinking more of his length in you
and once his cock was fully buried in you, dick stayed like that just to take your warmth in, groans humming on your skin and brushing his thumb on your nipple. a gasped moan left your lips, the sleep slowly fading from your body and your eyes fluttering open
"dick” you whined, squirming your ass as a sign for him to move. “i need you to move. please”
he let out a chuckle from behind and you could practically feel a lopsided grin form on his lips. “thought you wanted to sle— ohhh fuck”
dick moaned when he felt you bury his head more into the collar of your neck and your fingers sliding into his hair, his cock twitching in you as a response. you let out a small chuckle but it trailed into a moan when dick slowly rolled his hips to your ass
“attagirl” he groaned, sending another lazy yet deep roll of his hips to your pussy and going crazy from how you were sucking him in. “just like that”
the depth of dick’s thrusts was making up for the pace— which was more than enough since he was already huge. and it did nothing but make the sleep fade from both you and him
“dick— oh god” you let out a breathless sigh from his tip nudging deep enough that it was hitting all the right angles, your back arching instinctively and pressing your ass more to his hips for more.
and to add more with his lazy yet deep thrusts and groping, dick whispered all kinds of things to you in that morning voice you loved while fondling with your boob
“that’s it, gorgeous. take it for me”
“look at her go, fuuuuck. all for me”
“cmon pretty girl, give it to me. make a mess”
another deep roll of dick’s thrusts and it made you clench all over his cock for your orgasm to come crashing, broken chants of his name leaving your fully gaped lips and your wide eyes almost seeing stars from how hard you came
he let out a groan, the thrusts now sounding wet as he felt his own orgasm slowly approach. dick’s hand from your boobs trailed up to tilt your head up for his lips to meet yours in a slow, intimate kiss that were filled with pants
one last roll of his hips made dick moan on your mouth, feeling his warm cum now fill you up as his cock still slowly dragged itself to fuck his cum in you. a pleasured sigh left yours into dick’s mouth as he kept murmuing small “thank you, oh thank you so much” repeatedly in your mouth
his cock finally stilled in your pussy, now soft and feeling the warmth of your pussy and his cum now buried to the brim in you. slowly, both of you pulled away from the kiss with a trail of saliva before it broke immediately
your gaze met with dick’s blue ones as both of you were catching your breaths. his hand shifted to cradle your cheek and his lips panted a smile, tucking a messy hair strand behind your ear
but right where he could kiss you again more softer and tell you what a good job you did, the alarm began to ring on the nightstand
summary: falling in love with each other was easy—a little too easy. after a series of dates and getting to know the other better, it was only a matter of time, right? no longer able to hold it in, dick finds himself desperate and decides that tonight will not end until he gets to walk home with a kiss, from you.
notes: 4.1k words…. fluff!! with a side of nasty kissing, dick is absolutely fed up and DESPERATE, reader has never had a boyfriend before so dick is the very first guy you’ve ever been with. so many feelings and love and yearning you guys are so obsessed with each other its genuinely DISGUSTING. but dick is like way worse because at least half of this is him yearning for you,,,, also a lot of making out...dick literally eats ur face. all the dialogue is later in gomenasorry. written with black reader in mind >0<
Dick Grayson was on a mission. Tonight’s date, he decided, was going to be extra special than usual. Why, you ask? Because tonight, he was going to secure his kiss from you—poor, unsuspecting, you.
Tonight marked the 8th date you guys have gone on ever since your first meeting at a late-night convenience store around the corner of his apartment, where the once peaceful environment was interrupted by a measly burglar waving his gun around with arrogance and the demand of money.
It was the one night when Dick wasn’t in costume and was nursing a severely bruised body from a villain he had encountered two days earlier. The situation irritated him even more than he already was—Bruce was still chewing his ass out over a case that he was working on; he still needed to go to work with his bruised body because he can’t exactly let them know what violent activities he’s up to at night and his injuries—now this.
So it’s an understatement when saying the burglar was dealt with easily and quickly, as Dick was able to disarm him before the man could even take another step towards another innocent customer—someone Dick learned later was you.
The anticlimactic moment ended with the man scrambling out of the store with much less confidence than before, the store clerk shakily thanking Dick with the promise of free items of his choice tonight and the next time he comes in. Accepting the gratitude, Dick was ready to go home with the multitude of free items in his grocery bag--until he spotted you.
Standing near the entrance, dressed in sweatpants about twice your actual size with a hoodie you were equally drowned in, Dick found you absolutely radiant. He wasn’t someone who believed in love at first sight beforehand, but now? Certainly, this is what it means.
It took him a few seconds of silence and staring at you with an open mouth, like a goldfish for him to realize that you were speaking to him, and just like the store clerk. you were thanking him profusely for saving you from the gun that was previously pointed to you. Dick can't remember what happened after that. But he does remember walking out of the store a happy man, your phone number having found its way into his phone.
Back in the present, Dick knew that maybe 8 dates was a little too much to come to this decision; after all, for him it was only on date number 2 that he knew he wanted you, badly. But he knew he had to be patient, especially after you revealed that you’ve never been in a relationship—or on a date at all. It was for this reason that he decided to take things slow and wait for a sign that you wanted him too.
By now, he’s reached his limit.
Every other date you’ve had prior to this had been more casual: going out for coffee, the arcade, movie nights at his place (more often yours because he absolutely adores your cat, mocha), grocery shopping together, and going for a stroll in Melville Park to walk Haley, his adorable pitbull you fell in love with.
Tonight, Dick took you to a nice restaurant with tables reserved on its rooftop. He knew you weren’t someone who frequented fancy restaurants too often, so he found a solid one just in between fancy and casual.
Dinner was going well, and you were absolutely perfect. He’d told you beforehand to come wearing a blue outfit, and the dress you wore had surpassed his expectations so much that he considered dropping down on one knee right then and there before ever asking you to be his girlfriend, if it wasnt apparent just how much it affected him seeing that colour on you with his lovesick gaze the entire night.
The dress you’re wearing is dark blue silk, the kind of colour that shifts like midnight water under the lighting of the restaurant's stringed lights. It drapes across your frame in a way that seems deliberate, highlighting your curves, and Dick feels his mouth dry at how it complements your brown skin—like the colour was meant to be worn by you, and you alone.
The glow of your upper body lets him know of the shea butter you’d rubbed on yourself, your legs that slip through the slit sharing the same glow.
The matching gold jewelry you wear and the updo you’ve done with your curls make him fight demons he never even knew he had, wanting to jump over the table to show you how much he loves you.
It truly doesn’t help how much he’s reminded of his Nightwing costume every time he looks at you.
He finds himself murmuring more compliments than usual because he can’t contain how much it moves him. The blue that once belonged only to his suit now belongs to you too, and he adores it—adores you—in a way he can’t keep from showing.
Dick finds himself craving dessert earlier than usual.
But he knows he has to act accordingly; he can’t afford to scare you away. So he does what he’s best at and eyes you with a disgustingly lovesick, yearning look as if he’s some schoolboy with his very first crush for the entire night as you guys chat over dinner.
He pays even closer attention to you than ever (if that’s even possible), maintaining intense eye contact with every word delivered in the air, squeezing your manicured hand (that has the nails he paid for) while you excitedly share the plot of the most recent book you read last weekend, and feeding you some of the food he’s ordered (you protested against stealing his food, but he insisted, claiming, “It’s my duty to feed you.” how do you even respond to that?).
Overall, dinner was perfect. He thinks this is the best date you guys have been on so far, as after dinner he surprises you with tickets to the movie he remembers you wanted to see when it came out.
What a coincidence that today happens to be its release date, and the happy squeal it pulled from you once he revealed the surprise made the rest of his year, he thinks. It’s something he could listen to on repeat for hours and never get sick of.
As the night got darker and you got tired, Dick knew it was time to take you home. As much as he’d love for this night to continue, he doesn’t want to keep you up later than you’re used to.
It brings you both to his car, pulling up into the neighbourhood of your apartment complex, the car filled with a comfortable silence as you gaze out to the passing buildings. His jacket covers your previously bare shoulders during the car ride after he’d noticed the goosebumps rising on your skin (he wouldn’t quit sulking at the fact that you didn’t tell him anything about you being cold and forced you inside his jacket desite your protests).
Parked in front of your building, you unbuckled your seatbelt and grabbed your purse, ready to thank him for tonight once again and wish him a goodnight—before you were surprised with him unbuckling himself and turning off the engine. He paused his actions when he spotted your questioning stare.
“What? You thought I was gonna let you walk up there alone? Absolutely not,” Dick huffed, quickly circling around the car to open your door and making space for you as you stepped out. “What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t walk you to your door? I need to make sure you make it inside safely, you know.”
Normally you would’ve been your own ride home (he’s never liked it but agreed if it made you happy), but Dick insisted that he’s the one who drives you home this time.
Dick walks you into your building, already knowing his way around from past visits, and unlocks the lobby’s door with his own copy of your keys, then leads you further into the elevators with a hand on your back that’s still covered by his jacket.
It’s almost pathetic how during the entire elevator ride, the two of you are stealing glances at each other—oblivious of the other person’s nervous shifting. Dick knows that it’s tonight that he gets that kiss from you.
At last, when having reached your door, it’s as though the once simmering tension has announced its presence, and settles in the air between the two of you. As you turn to face him with your back to your door, he gives you a soft smile that lets butterflies rise in your stomach, the warm orange lighting that complements his tanned skin doing nothing to help.
If anything, it makes whatever you’re feeling worse, and you don’t know if you can keep acting oblivious to your true feelings.
“I had a really great time,” his voice snaps you out of your thoughts, your full attention back on him, “And I really loved our conversations tonight. I'd love to do something like this again, with you.” His tone at the end has a hopeful implication. He hopes he doesn’t come off as too desperate, but part of him can’t get himself to care.
He thinks now would be the perfect time for that kiss, but he doesn’t want to pressure you. Dick knows it would kill him to ruin what you guys have, and this might be the most nervous he’s ever been in his entire life.
“Yeah?” You ask with a hint of shyness, holding your hands behind your back. “Thank you, Dick. I had a really great time with you tonight, too. The movie made me really happy and...I’m glad you remembered that small detail.”
Dick feels his heart practically melting at the sound of your voice. Your obvious nervousness only boosts his confidence in what he plans on doing, and he can’t get over how much he loves your voice. You’re so adorable. He thinks to himself.
His next smile is a lot more dorky, cheeks warm with his dimples coming out to reveal themselves. It’s your favourite feature on him, right after his blue, blue eyes, you think. You both feel like high schoolers again with a pathetic crush. “Nothing you tell me is ever small.”
He’s taken aback by how fond he let that come out of his mouth, but he decides it’s worth it when your eyes avert down to your feet—flustered. It’s his favourite look on you.
But he knows just like this isn’t enough. This thought leads him to slowly reach for your arms behind your back, gently uncrossing them while his hands trail down to hold your own. He searches your eyes for any discomfort before intertwining them, when having found none, his calloused palms swallow your smaller, softer ones. The contrast does nothing but make his heart beat faster.
It’s when you look up at him with wide, glimmering dark eyes filled with hope and a drop of insecurity that it clicks—you are the woman he wishes to share his life with.
You’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t have a crush on him. It was impossible not to, with his easygoing grin that you’ve observed goes toe to toe with the sun itself. With each action done with careful consideration of you, with each compliment given, with each laugh he’s pulled out of you, with each dinner cooked together, with each night spent on his fire escape with shoulders touching– each day learning about what makes you, you.
It was too easy falling in love with Dick Grayson.
And that scared you.
Similarly to Dick, it was around the third date that you knew you wanted something blooming between you.
Love. What a strange concept for a girl who’s never fallen in love.
You find that the only reason why you hadn’t initiated anything further with him is because you’re unsure if this is how the process goes. Along with the slight insecurity of slipping up if you did, with Dick having more experience than you did. Soon those worries disappeared, because Dick had done nothing but soothe them.
Every moment where you felt as though you needed to initiate anything physical beyond what you were used to, he noticed, and every anxious thought was blown away with a simple reassuring smile.
He never said more than a quiet, “It’s okay,” because to him it was always about your comfort before anything.
He’s never made you feel forced to do anything, content to lead you through each encounter until you found the moment you were ready.
You realize as soon as he holds your hands in his—he’s the one for you.
Dick chuckles softly at the look in your eye and squeezes your hands gently. His blue eyes, nearly swallowed up by his dilated pupils, are fixed on yours, studying your reaction with an intensity that makes you want to squirm. He can feel how warm your skin is and his heart feels like it could pop out of his chest.
With a deep breath, Dick takes another step closer, now only inches apart. He lifts a hand to lift your chin ever-so-slightly, making you tilt your head up to meet his gaze. Dark eyes meet blue.
You swallow thickly as your eyes remain locked on each other, feeling his other hand move down to your waist. His expression is so vulnerable and raw as he looks down at you, and you think you might throw up from nerves alone. Your eyes water as these thoughts circle through your mind.
It doesn’t take detective skills to read you like a book. He can tell what you’re thinking. He knows the reason you’re unsure as you begin shaking in his arms. His thumb traces slow circles against your jaw, coaxing you to relax. He hopes you can’t hear how fast his heart is beating, how he’s memorizing the sound of your soft breaths.
The two of you are the only ones in the hallway at the risk of being seen by neighbours, but neither of you can find it in you to care.
"You okay?" He murmurs softly, searching your face with those impossibly blue eyes. There's no teasing now–just genuine care and something achingly tender beneath it all. "I can... we can stop if—"
(But the way he lingers shows he really doesn’t want to stop.)
"No!" you interject louder than intended to, freezing when you realized ust how loud that came out. A surprised laugh bubbles out of him at your sudden outburst, the sound warm and so fond. That adorable reaction just makes him squeeze you a tiny bit closer.
"N—no, I... this is okay. I'm okay." You finish softly, heart aching for more. You’re incredibly greedy when it comes to his touch, and you don’t feel a drop of shame for it.
"Good," he murmurs, leaning in until his forehead brushes yours—so close you can feel his breath against your lips. His free hand lifts to cradle your cheek now, thumb sweeping beneath your eye to catch that traitorous wetness before it falls.
"Because I really wanna kiss you right now," he admits in a whisper, grinning that stupid lopsided grin that makes your stomach flip. "But only if you really want me to."
Your heart almost stutters to a stop, and your gaze is consumed by nothing but want. Your pupils were almost as blown as his, and the way the wind blows, tussling at his wavy hair, drives you crazy. You melt against him as your foreheads touch, letting out a shaky breath.
It’s as you lose yourself in the pool of his impossibly blue eyes that you realize death doesn't scare you if it's by drowning in his eyes.
You lean into his warm palm, memorizing the sweet scent of his cologne. You give your answer in a hushed tone, as though sharing a secret that's to remain between the two of you alone. "I really wanna kiss you, too."
It sends a shiver down his spine. Holy smokes, he thinks to himself. You look like a dream.
The world seems to melt away as he gazes down at you with an intensity that is both gentle and smoldering. Dick can feel your breath on his lips, and it drives him insane.
"Damn," he mutters roughly, his voice suddenly raw with emotion, "you're going to be the death of me."
It's the only time he'll use the Lord's name in vain.
Just like that, he can't hold back any longer. The dam breaks, and he closes the last meager distance between the two of you, capturing your mouth in a deep, starved kiss.
A cut off gasp is swallowed by his lips, your eyes tightly shutting closed as your lips lock with his— and you feel alive. This is your very first kiss, and it's one you will never forget.
Dick’s arms circle your waist completely, pulling you flush against his body as his one hand slides up your spine until his fingers thread into your hair, tilting your head back as he kisses you with everything he has.
If it weren't for his arms holding you up, your knees would have buckled. He can feel how your body shakes with nerves and anticipation against his lips, and he can’t resist brushing his tongue over your bottom lip, groaning at the rewarding whimper he gets.
The smack of your lips is nasty; after each smack comes the sound of a deep groan which then triggers a breathy whine. Your blood is rushing to your head, and you think you might die. You’re suddenly immensely grateful for living on a nearly empty floor.
DIck groans low in his throat when he feels your grip tighten on his dress shirt, like you’re terrified he might pull away. As if he would ever want to. His tongue teases along your bottom lip again—asking without words.
His other hand drops from your chin to squeeze your hip possessively, fingers digging in just enough to make you gasp against his mouth.
"Sweetheart," he murmurs between feverish kisses, voice wrecked already, "c'mon, open up for me."
That tone—half praise and half demand—sends a bolt of heat straight through you. Holy shit. You’re embarrassed at the mewl that escapes you at the pet name. Please call me that again, please, please—
It's almost instantaneous that you open your mouth, giving his tongue access. The pleased chuckle that escapes him makes your entire body flare up in warmth. It felt good, getting his approval.
Dick takes full advantage of your obedience, the kiss turning downright filthy as he explores your mouth, his tongue coaxing against yours in the most distracting way. He groans again, a hungry, guttural sound that reverberates through his chest. He has to have more of you.
"Dick—" you whine against his lips as the smacking of lips circles around the small, dark quiet hallway. You find out just how easy it is to forget your surroundings when Dick Grayson is all-consuming in your mind, and on your lips.
The sound of his name on your lips grows his greed, wanting to own every gasp and whine and whimper you make. When your tongue brushes against his, something ignites in him, some feral, possessive feeling that makes his skin burn. You're so cute; he feels like a starved animal.
He pulls away with a wet sound, breathing heavily against your lips and resting his forehead against yours. He can feel your heart racing. He presses one last desperate peck to your lips.
"God," he mumbles raggedly, "you're doing things to me, sweetheart."
"I d-didn't do anything," you pant quietly, catching your breath as a string of drool remains between the two of you—your eyes half-lidded.
Dick stares at your face, taking in your flushed cheeks, the way you pant, and that adorable little strand of drool—God, he is so obsessed with you it isn't even funny.
His hands roam your body, one still gripping your hip and the other sliding up to cup your cheek, his calloused thumb tracing your kiss-swollen bottom lip, wiping away the wetness. You resist the urge to take his thumb in your mouth where it sits against your lip.
"Baby, look at you," he murmurs, gaze darkening as he looks down at you. "I could eat you alive right now." His comment makes you squawk. "Please don't," you sigh weakly, a protesting frown on your lips.
"I won't," he murmurs between nips and pecks along your jaw, "not unless you ask very nicely." He punctuates it with a slow drag of his teeth against your pulse point before pulling away just enough to see the reaction on your face.
His fingers tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear as his expression softens into something warmer—something more like home. "But I should probably get going before I actually do something reckless."
Oh. Yeah.
"You should..." You realize sadly that as much as you wanted to stay out longer with him, you couldn't risk getting in trouble with your roommate. "I wish you didn't have to," you murmur sadly, looking down at your heels.
His face falls for a second, reading the disappointment in your tone instantly. Dick pulls you back into a tight hug, pressing his lips to the top of your head before sighing dramatically.
"Ugh, don't look at me like that," he whines, squeezing you lightly as he rests his chin on your head. "You're gonna make me stay. And then I'll have to explain to your roommate why I'm camped out on your doorstep like some lovesick stray."
You couldn’t resist the giggle at his comment, equally wrapping your arms around him. You’re overwhelmed and also not whelmed (heh, yj ref) enough by his scent. “I would've let you stay the night like usual, but she just came back from vacation. Sorry, Dick.”
He only sulks above you, letting out one last dramatic sigh. He’s as dramatic as ever. “It’d be easier if I could just bring you back to mine,” Dick huffs enviously. “If only life were so easy.”
“You talk like I won’t just see you soon, silly. I promised Haley treats.”
“So you only like me for my dog?”
“Crap, you caught me...” you grin, unbothered
He lets out an undignified squawk, your laughther following up with the dramatics.
“To be fair, she’s super adorable. I can’t resist her eyes; she’s just a baby!”
“I’ll have you know, I was the one who trained her. Her cuteness is a direct reflection of me.”
You laugh, shaking your head. “Fine, fine. Maybe I like you a little too.
Dick beams instantly, smug as ever. “I knew it.”
He pulls back just enough to cup your face again—and this time, there's no joking in those stupidly blue eyes. Just something painfully sincere.
"But I’ll see you soon? Like… really soon?" His thumb traces the apple of your cheek hopefully.
You nod eagerly, returning his hopeful smile with a tender one of your own. “Yeah...I’d like that.” You confess quietly, holding his hand against your cheek.
His smile brightens immediately, boyish and so unfairly charming. You hate him. "Good," he murmurs, pressing one last lingering kiss to your forehead before finally—reluctantly—stepping back.
Dick walks backwards to the elevator like an idiot, unable to tear his eyes away from you. "And hey," he adds with a grin that promises trouble, fingers tapping against his chest where his heart is still racing. "You did this to me."
You can’t resist a laugh at his antics, pulling out your keys from your purse as he gets closer to the elevator. You grin like a lovesick teenager—you both do. “I sure did, Golden Boy. Call me when you get home?”
“Always,” he promises, taking a moment to admire your glowing figure under the warm lighting. He stuffs his hands in his pockets to keep himself from walking back over and hauling you into his arms again.
It’s when you unlock your door and give him one last smile that he dramatically blows you a kiss, his heart warming even further when you playfully catch it.
Dick’s grin softens one last time, pausing as the elevator doors open. “Goodnight, baby.” He tells you. You parrot after him. “Goodnight, Dickie.” Only you know how much that nickname makes his heart flutter.
And then—just like that—you disappear into your apartment.
(you only realize minutes later thanks to your roommate that you completely forgot to hand back his jacket. when mentioning this to dick he only laughs and tells you to keep it as a souvenir.)
dont forgot to like & reblog! thank you for reading. <3
dick grayson is not going to have sex with you tonight, sorta. dick grayson x fem!reader crack + smut. cw : dry humping, handjob, clitplay, titplay, no piv. he’s big, it’s mentioned. maybe cumplay? slight ric grayson warning yikes 🗒️ welcome to the writer’s barely concealed fetish (dry humping) lmao + forgive me pls now playing : undercover lover – smooth 🎧
1013 Parkthorne Avenue was a little world that belonged to Nightwing alone.
It wasn’t home, not exactly, and wouldn’t be for long if he finished his mission quick enough, but it was a place he could crash, a place to survey Blüdhaven’s streets, a place to patch himself up and beyond his better judgment he found himself turning it into an actual home — potted plants on the windowsill, a couple records on the shelves, hanging polaroids on the wall next to his bed.
A little bracelet you gave him still sitting on the nightstand. A neighborly gesture, you said.
Was she giving me bedroom eyes? Am I seeing things? He had whispered to himself that day as you walked away, the words catching the little wire clipped under his collar.
Oh my God, he’s got the hots for his neighbour.
“I don’t know if you remember, but just in case you forgot, Mr. Love Doctor—” The modulated voice from none other than Jason, Red Hood himself, echoed into Dick’s earpiece.
Dick huffed, the fist he had clenched around a rather generous little bouquet of flowers he got at that new place that opened downtown loosened slightly. A neighborly gesture, he told himself.
“But breaking your cover is against code.”
“What code?”
“The code I made up to stop you from blowing your cover over a crush—”
“It’s not a crush!” He argued back, and just then you’d opened the door. His heart lurched in his chest and he practically shoved the flowers towards you, your eyes widening in complete amusement.
“Is somebody dying?” You chuckled. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Ric?”
Ric. He’d forgotten that’s what he told you his name was. Suddenly he wants to die.
Dick shrugged, barely managing to muster that charming smile he was known for — his credentials being that he won ‘Most Charming Smile’ two years in a row at Gotham Prep, by the way — “I… uh, I was home and I figured you might be home… so…”
“So, you, guy-who-is-never-home, came all the way up here just to give me these?” You teased, leaning against the doorframe. “I’m flattered. What’s the occasion?”
He felt like he could swallow a rib with how nervous he was.
“I mean, what’s a few flowers between friends?”
“Right…” you pursed your lips in disbelief and he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “You know, if you actually asked me out, I’d say yes.”
“Please!” His eyes nearly bulged out of his head. “I mean, yes— please, I would love to. I would love to ask you out, is what I’m saying—” the words tumbled out and you erupted into a fit of giggles, reaching up to press a kiss to his cheek.
“Come back here at seven, pretty boy.”
While he got ready for the unauthorized date, there was Jason in his ear again like the Devil from The Bible.
“Sooo, does she know Ric has like a dozen wires taped to his chest or are you gonna wait til you get naked to explain?”
Dick rolled his eyes, buttoning his shirt up. “It’s a first date, nobody is getting naked.” He eyed himself in the mirror, raking a few fingers through his hair. “And for your information I won’t be wearing a wire.”
A loud howl of laughter crackled into his ear. “Ten bucks she walks him like a dog.” It was Roy.
“Fifteen,” came the crackle of another comm. “You’re underestimating how easy he really is.”
“Babs?” Dick’s eyes widened.
“Sorry, loverboy,” she replied in his ear. “Money talks.”
He slumped at the edge of his mattress, fiddling with his shoes and grumbling under his breath. “Would it kill you people to give me some privacy?” Admittedly, the prospect of something more happening hadn’t crossed his mind until now.
Now he was really nervous. “It’s not happening,” Dick murmured, more to himself than his inquisitive audience. “I’m on a mission. I have great self control. I’m practically a veteran in the field. I can handle this.”
Jason whistled low, then singsonged into his ear. “You willing to put some money on that?”
Dick Grayson is not going to have sex with you tonight.
He’s Nightwing. This is a stealth operation, a covert campaign of intelligence gathering. He’s strong willed, he is determined. The wires are gone, so is his earpiece and he is a man on another kind of mission. He will not falter.
You’re looking up at him with those bedroom eyes again.
The conversation after dinner that had something to do with how he keeps his house plants alive had died the moment you said to him, “Hey, do you wanna see my plants?”
Now it’s just heavy breathing, bodies too close and tension so thick you can taste it because he was stupid enough to get walked like a dog to your bedroom.
Dick’s hand is under your top, cupping one of your soft tits in a large palm. His thumb gently circles your soft nipple, feeling it stiffen instantly. You have one potted plant by your balcony door. It looks like it died a week ago.
This is a honeytrap.
“…We shouldn’t,” he whispers, voice already wrecked and slightly hoarse from arousal, but he doesn’t pull his hand away.
Yet, you whimper softly and arch into his touch, pushing your breast harder into his hand.
He has two hundred dollars on this. Two hundred dollars, his dignity and the sorrow of letting Jason and Roy of all people borrow his car.
But he kisses you.
It starts tender — a little bit guilty, but desperate. Within seconds it turns filthy with your tongues sliding into each other’s mouths, lips barely catching on teeth and stifled moans trapped in hollowed cheeks.
Dick groans into your mouth as he squeezes your tit harder, kneading the soft, pillowy flesh. His mouth moves to your jaw, the length of your neck, the back of your ear. He’s kissing every bit of skin he can find.
His other hand grabs ahold of your hip, sliding you further down the sheets and flush against him. You can feel his cock, hard and leaking pre as it throbs against your thigh through his pants.
“Ric…” you moan. Right, that… that’s a problem.
Dick’s brows go tight and he lifts his mouth from your collarbone, panting as he rests his forehead against yours.
“You can call me Richard,” he breathes. “Okay?” You nod and he wastes no time to latch onto your lips again, his hips rocking forward against your thigh. “You’re so beautiful…”
You reach down and undo the button of his pants, the sound of the zipper almost echoing in the dark room. Your hand slides quickly into the fabric, under the cotton of his boxers to find him twitching at attention.
He hisses sharply. “Wait— fuck—”
“Oh my God,” you whisper, as your fingers wrap around his thick cock. You get them all the way around his girth on the second try and squeeze slightly. “You’re… wow, you’re big.”
Dick looks down at you with a shit eating grin and you roll your eyes. His mouth latches onto your breast and you arch up against him with a cry.
You start stroking him slowly, your hand pumping his cock while he kneads both your tits, squeezing and playing with them like they belong to him — or like he hasn’t seen a pair in centuries. “Fuck— that feels so good…” he moans against your neck, thrusting up into your fist. “You’re so good…”
He snakes a hand down and dips two fingers into your panties, marvelling at the wetness he finds.
He rubs over your needy folds then parts them, stroking up and down and circling over your throbbing clit as the front of your underwear turns dark from slick. “So fucking wet… did you get like this for me? Is this what you wanted?”
You whimper against him, your other hand reaching up to tug at his hair. “I want you,” you whisper, mouth meeting his again in a sloppy kiss.
Dick adjusts himself between your legs, the weight of him practically pinning you under him. You release his cock to push his pants down, your fingers slick with his pre.
“Come here,” he seizes your wrist and brings your digits into his mouth, the heat of his tongue licking your fingers clean and tasting himself on your skin while he rubs your clit, grinding the heel of his palm down with dizzying force.
“Richard— fuck— too fast—!”
“I know, just ride through it, baby,” he coos at you, kissing your hairline. His body folds over you as his hips come down, grinding his underwear clad cock right against your pussy.
He thrusts his hips back and forth, his hot, heavy cock humping you, as the thick ridge of his shaft rubs perfectly over your folds through your soaked panties.
“Shit, you’re leaking all over me…” he groans against your lips. “Prettiest pussy creaming just from this… I barely touched you…” He feels lightheaded from need.
“I’m gonna cum,” you cry, your hand finding his length again, pumping him in short tight strokes while he fucks you through your clothes and torments your pussy with his fingers. “But it feels so good. Don’t stop— ah, Richard, please.”
Suddenly, Dick thinks he’s so easy. He can’t even find shame.
You shudder hard and your back bows, a silent scream ripping from you as your orgasm crashes down, thighs shaking around his hips and tears leaking from the corner of your eyes.
He kisses you while you come down — deep, passionate and hungry like he’s in love with you, as he grinds against your sopping cunt. Your panties are so soaked they’re sticking to your skin and the tip of his clothed cock as the obscene wet sound of fabric rubbing against your creamy folds fills the dark room.
Dick’s hand slides down and he yanks your panties to the side, exposing your puffy little pussy as you jerk his cock faster. You watch him as he looks between you two, your chest heaving, and the gears turn in his head.
So much for the code.
Now he’s got his underwear pushed down and his swollen cock directly against your bare, dripping cunt, sliding up and down, coating the length of him in your frothy cream, fucking up against your palm as you press down flat on his shaft, pushing his cock flush against you.
“Fuck, honey… I can feel how hot you are,” he pants. “If I put it in right now, I’m gonna cum.” Your legs wrap tight around his waist, each bump of his tip against your bare, sensitive clit has you trembling in his arms.
“Richard—”
“I know,” his breath comes harsh, strained. Your hips are moving on their own, bucking up to meet his every hump and the sticky sounds are borderline pornographic. “I know you want me to… Tell me you want it, baby.”
“Fuck me,” you whine, your mouth reaching his neck, the harsh bob of his adam’s apple, the underside of his jaw. “Fuck me, please. Feels so good…”
“Oh fuck, fuuuck, baby— I know, I know,” but he keeps grinding harder, faster, his pelvis nearly slamming against yours. You can feel and hear the plap! plap! plap! of his heavy balls pressing against you with every roll of his hips. “I’m so close…”
You’re both breathing like your lungs are turning blue.
You stroke his cock faster, hand flying up and down his thick shaft while he humps against your bare pussy. Every thrust has him sliding through your swollen folds, leaking all over you.
“I’m gonna cum—” Dick chokes out suddenly, eyes squeezed shut. “Oh fuck, it’s right there— I’m gonna cum—!”
You wrap a fist around him and aim it right at your pussy, pumping furiously and he lets out an open mouthed cry, so beautiful and almost girlish. His eyes roll back into his skull as he jerks forward, cumming hard.
Thick, heavy ropes of hot cum shoot across your pussy, dripping down your clit, painting your folds and soaking your hole.
You’re both panting, staring down between your bodies and Dick’s eyebrows pinch from the exertion, his arms wrapping around you.
He doesn’t think about the fact he’s now got two hundred dollars less to his name. Or the fact he quite literally gave you part of his government name.
“Hey,” he whispers into your neck once you’ve both stopped gasping for breath.
You hum in response.
“Can I take you out to dinner?” Dick asks, a hand stroking up and down your side.
“Sure, I really do need those gardening tips.” You nod against his skin and he smiles wide, absolutely giddy.
Well, who said he couldn’t possibly turn 1013 Parkthorne Avenue into a real home?
summary : work lost its fun when you dated richard john grayson and broke up with him a year later. what made it worse was having to go on missions with him at bruce wayne’s beck and call. what took it to hell was getting infected by a pollen that made you want him. good news, he needed you.
contains : mouth-watering smut !! mdni, read at your own risk. yearner!dick, ex!dick, aphrodisiac trope, of course poison ivy is involved in this one, yes dick is scrumptious so we want him, munch!dick, ripping of shirts, he’s highkey an ass man, yes consent is involved, he’s still a gentleman, p in v, fingering, mentions of masturbation, riding (+ face), almost kitchen sex but unfortunately not, some witty banter, yk, yk , dry humping, over-clothes munching, did I miss anything?
inspiration : sports car (t.m)
The worst thing about being DICK GRAYSON’S ex was having to get over him.
You’d been doing so well, avoiding scrolling on his Instagram, where he’d reposted Polo Ralph Lauren’s ad of him being their new poster boy. Jeans slung low, the band of his boxers covering half his v-line, shirt bunched up so your eyes could follow the slope straight into your wet dreams, sunnies perched on his nose, baby blues peeking out. Thumb tucked in a belt loop, fingers of his other hand carding through his hair.
Frustrating. Sexy. Making you more chronically online for him than you thought.
When did you start mulling over him like this? Maybe when he once took off the Kevlar of his suit with you in the Batcave. When his abs flexed during a routine stitch-up. His lips dropping open, fixed on yours while you did it.
Maybe you two weren’t over each other. Who the fuck was he to keep you hooked on a feeling?
He wasn’t over you, his eyes followed you when you walked past him. He dropped the sweetheart, dotted his i’s and crossed his t’s when it came to pining over you.
It hurt when he plummeted from heaven, falling for you.
Long winded romances were built to fail, your line of work made sure of that. A year’s worth of kissing in cars, making out on the Batjet and whispered promises sacrificed for fifteen days of bruising.
The kissed brick should hurt less, it was a mutual splitting, but rules as old as time dictated being friends with your ex was taboo. No one said shit about being almost friends, though. Lobbed insults slipped straight down both your waistbands, put rose in your cheeks, shocks in his heart.
Enough about him.
Saving the world from pollution was a noble act, it should be commended, but the line was drawn when biological warfare started to poison intentions. Tim had uncovered radiation signals from the mountains in Alaska, further reconnaissance uncovered a small camp where men in white hazmat suits conducted unknown experiments.
Naturally, Bruce wanted you and Dick to destroy said camp immediately.
The mission had been fine, routine, clean-cut, a trudge into unknown waters when the tent revealed mini-greenhouses, glass cages three holes poked into the top, incubating small, pulsating, glowing flowers, sticky pollen floating, clinging to tendril, stem and petal.
Yeah, they were strange, and supposed to be a passing thought after the charges went off, the tents going up in smoke and flames. After you’d dragged all unconscious personnel out of harm’s way.
“That’d been easy,” Dick had remarked. Oh, if only.
Your cells caught fire within the hour, so had his. Sweat dripped down his neck, his suit felt like a fucking greenhouse by itself, the ends of his hair stuck to the back of his neck, his knees fought against surrender. Your throat dried up, muscles ached, waves of saturated need riddled a heat-addled brain.
This was worse than your luteal.
You needed him, like needed him. It was the only thing your stupid brain could focus on, not Bruce’s hurried voice on comms during the flight home, it was secondary. Call his body the primary.
He wasn’t sleazy. Despite his screaming body, he kept as much distance from you as he could. Distanced himself. Shut himself in his room in Wayne Manor to get away from you, advised you to do the same. Your brain just accepted it, the walls of the guest room closing in on you.
Your hand had slipped past your panties a million times. You’d circled your clit in the way Dick used to, hand moving by itself in the rhythm he’d built into your mind. It was what worked best, but it was just surface shit, it did nothing. Honestly, felt like you were touching hot water, with how flushed your skin was and wet your fingers were but never once did it make a difference with how you felt.
Life was out to fucking get you.
Dick had tried everything too. Swallowing to push saliva down a throat rubbed with sandpaper. Taken off his clothes to feel cold air. He’d run his body over with beating cold water from a shower head. He wrapped his hand around himself and rubbed, but it made no difference, his body still burned, burst into fire for you. Water. He needed water.
The breakup had happened for a reason, ok? Your relationship was chasing you, but work was faster. It was all consuming, the stakes, dangers were running high, something else that crashed and burned with a heated argument and ‘we’re over’s thrown like punches.
Bruised knuckles blanched against the counter, other hand clutching a very full glass of water. His shirt stuck to his skin, even his baggy Calvin Klein sweats constricted him. Everything was claustrophobic, chipping at him with a chisel.
He lifted the glass to his lips. Water dripped past his lips, sliding down his chin, landing next to the sweat stains from his chest clinging to his shirt. It did shit all, his mouth was as dry, throat as scratchy, temperature high as Vesuvius.
You at the door, you stared. Watched, observed, droplets of sweat and water sliding across his collarbone your tongue’s calling, jaw begging for your lips, his lips themself soft, parted, pliable. You could lick up his neck. Shove him down onto a bed, position yourself above his face, he’d let you, probably. He did love eating pussy—
Wait, what?
You shouldn’t have gone into the kitchen, looking for a glass of water to soothe your mouth. Spectacular luck, ending up in the same place as the object of your thoughts right now. Your navel tugged, attempting to drag you closer to him. Your navel succeeded easily.
“Hey.” He rasped, the back of his hand dragging across his forehead. He could see his outline in the sweat when he looked at it. “This— fuck, it feels shitty, huh?”
You hung your head, any chance you grasped to look at him was dangerous.
“Tell me about it.” You mumbled. You couldn’t recognise it, it’d been roughed up by the fucking pollen shoved down your throat. Hay fever had permission to shove itself up your ass at this point. You itched the back of your neck, horniness addling your pussy.
You felt it when you walked, every word, every breath, it was desperate to its core, screaming for Dick. And his dick. Both of them. “I— I don’t know how much longer I can go like this, Dick.” You forced, swallowing (ow). The wince was clear as fucking day.
He started. “It hurts that much? Shit, I—” You felt the jolt in your navel again when he stepped closer, hands flying up, stopping short of your cheeks. He couldn’t. He couldn’t touch you, it would make the coil winding in his brain snap. His hands dropped, sighing, head bowed. “I can’t do anything, sweetheart, not ‘till Tim gets back with a cure to this thing.”
A cure to a reanimated thousand year old plant that was used during Ancient Egypt to encourage procreation. Right.
You turned away from him, dissociated from your body as it reached to grip the jug of water, filling the same glass he’d drank from once again. Taking a long sip, water sliding over the burn in your mouth, no relief, no dissipation. “I don’t wanna be a pessimist, but the plant’s centuries old. I doubt Tim can find a cure.”
“Have more faith in the little guy.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “He’s pulled miracles out of his ass before.” Tim probably had more brains than Einstein.
The glare he got in return was venomous. "I'll have faith when my knees aren't Jello." Faith wasn't much of an option when you'd had five failed orgasms. At least when you were with other one nights after Dick, you felt something. Even if it wasn't as satisfying.
"Touche." The silence beat on your ears, his breath in punctured that. "Look, we can hold out a little longer—" You vehemently shook your head.
Your voice came out unintentionally as a snap. "Can't you see? We're stuck like this. For — I don't even fucking know how long — and this hurts and burns and you're telling me that we can hold out a little longer?" Your fist banged the marble counter. All this frustration stemmed from the intense sexual frustration, so he didn't take it to heart. "I call bullshit."
It was unhelpful that he was also sexually frustrated. "Oh, I'm sorry." He hissed sarcastically. "I'm sorry that I'm working to protect your dignity here and keep the bit of autonomy we have left. I don't know if you want this— shit, sweetheart, do you even think about me?"
Of course you did. You thought about him every day cause your brain was obligated to think about him during every resting moment. Hot sweat plagued your midnights, imagining his lips on your neck in your dreams. The pinch in his brow when he hit the spot. Shameless, loud moans that his neighbour gave him a dirty look for the next morning.
"Of course I do." You said stiffy, spine rigid, need crawling up your back. This seemed like the type of argument which used to end in make up sex. "You're my coworker, I have to see you every day—"
Your sentence was cut off with a scoff. "That's not my question." He pressed, straight, perfectly trimmed brows furrowing. "You know that's not my question."
"Do we need to have this discussion when an aphrodisiac is eating us alive?" You hissed, shrinking into yourself. This discussion was always taboo, you both took the breakup like a brick with your lipstick print and his lip balm on it. "This hurts, ok? I don't have the energy to argue."
His eyes melted on hearing it, it hurt your heart more than it already was pained. "We don't." Folding his arms, a breath puffed from his nose, shoulders slumping. Broad shoulders your nails needed to dig in and break skin. "This sucks balls." I hate seeing you hurt, was the ulterior message.
"It really does." You looked at your feet. Maybe you could drop to your knees, undo his drawstring, suck on him for desperate clarity.
Maybe that would work.
You could feel it oozing off him; the half-baked thoughts of what you’d look like over him. You could take the chain around his neck with your finger and tug him towards you. Or his waistband. All while pain struck your abdomen. “Is it hurting— well, yeah, it’s hurting, but is it too much?” He asked softly, his chest, his broad chest connecting to an unfairly slutty waist calling your name. Despite the sweat adorning his temple, his eyes were locked on you. Out of horniness or concern, though? It was impossible to tell.
The corners of his eyes crinkled. It was concern.
You hesitated, then your head bobbed. Loosely, in what you thought was a nod. You wiped sweat off your neck, white noise pumping into your brain. “Yeah.” You rasp, taking in as much oxygen as you could to avoid delirium.
“I can help. If you want.” He was too close. His voice too gentle, hands raised like you were a fucking wild animal, even then, his eyes searched yours for a sign to stop. “I can kiss you, it might— it could take some of the pain for a second.”
This was the pollen talking, not him, you had to remind yourself. You were broken up.
“You sure?” Your breath came out in a whoosh, your body singing the closer he got. He needed to get closer. Closer. So close he was inside you.
He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter what I want, you’re in pain.”
“So are you—”
“Just listen.” He said, your vocal cords forgetting their function. “If I kiss you, you could stop hurting. Even if it’s for a short while, it could work.” But if he did, he didn’t know if he could stop.
You frowned. “Weren’t you the guy preaching about autonomy?”
“Do you want to feel better or not—” Your lips sealing over his answered that question. Pretty fucking well.
Fuck.
He’d have let you pull away, but the coolness dousing his head had his lips chasing after yours when your head reared back, the gap you made between your lips closed again when he kissed you hard. Hand gripping your jaw, one coming to grip the back of your thigh, locking it around his hip. Good grief.
Could you pull away? Did you have the strength to pull away? You only had the strength to yank him closer by his sweat-weighted shirt, pushing your hand in his hair, yanking at the strands. Normally pulling that hard with the danger of ripping out chunks of hair would have a man hissing and running for the hills, he just moaned. Loudly enough for you to wonder if he was faking it.
He wasn’t. Every kiss pressed to your lips by his starving mouth went straight to his dick. His hand on the back of your thigh sent signal after signal to your pussy that switched off your rational thoughts. Talk about a downstairs brain.
The ripping of fabric was followed by his shirt flumping onto the floor, a heap of cotton that was torn by the seams at the side. Hot kisses to the side of your neck paired with him massaging your thigh with strong fingers made your pussy clench— you’d never felt close to coming from a hand on your thigh before.
His tongue flattened. And dragged, all the way up your neck, to take your earlobe in his mouth and suck. Suck enough so your nails dug into his shoulders, breaking skin. Pain translated into pleasure, pleasure translated into euphoria, the sick fucking cycle that had your panties clinging to your legs.
“Shit, gorgeous.” His breath pulsed against your ear, tip of his tongue following the shell of your ear. “You gotta use me. Fuckin’ use me, honey.”
“Dick, maybe we should—” Wait, why were you about to preach autonomy?
Jesus H. Christ. Your hands moved forward on instinct, thigh dropping, shoving him in the direction of his bedroom, laving over his pulse, forcing him to bury his hand in your hair, his eyes rolling back, hips jolting forward to grind on your thigh. His body was on autopilot, hooked on a feeling, on the lack of pain, or fire burning his nerve endings.
His back hit the bed. Head sunk back into the pillows, rosy lips dropping open when your pussy dragged over his dick, through thick sweatpants, of course, didn’t stop the aphrodisiac from making him think it was heaven. His voice cracked as he whimpered, he fucking whimpered, grabbing your ass and grinding you back down, so you obliged again, and again, to the point where you were humping him. To the benefit of both of you.
He was muttering nonsense, brain not connected to his mouth of vocal cords, stammering. “So close— shit, shit, sweetheart, stop,” He stilled you, tugging at both your waistbands, five seconds later those garments, sweats and panties, were chucked across the room. He beckoned you with two fingers, flushed cheeks betraying breathlessness. “C’mere, baby.” He mouthed at your pussy over your sweats, it wasn’t enough. Who was he kidding? It would never be enough.
His tongue swiping over his bottom lip told you everything. “Classic.” You scoffed, but your pussy throbbed. It was typical of him, to put you first. He shouldn’t put you first. “We don’t have time for this—”
“Yes, we do.” He said sharply, taking your wrist and shoving your hand in his hair. “I said use me.” His lips burned down your stomach, holding himself up off the bed without his hands. Curse him and his insane ab strength. “You had no problem with that before.”
You rolled your eyes. Your pussy reminded you to get a move on, prompting you to roll your hips over the muscle of his thigh. Without thinking, he encouraged that. Literally without thinking, his hand moved of its own accord. “You can survive without eating pussy.” It wasn’t like you didn’t want him to eat you out, he did a stellar job. Always to the point where you had to go nonverbal. You were just being a jerk.
He fake-gasped. “Wow. That’s offensive.” He pulled you onto his face without further hesitation, his tongue sliding up the length of your cunt— oh. Your hand in his hair gripped tightly, a curse-string rolling past your tongue. Was it meant to feel like you were ascending into some ninth heaven? Was that him or the aphrodisiac?
Maybe just him.
“Mm, Dickie, fuck—” You gasped, even better was his tongue slipping inside you, his thumb rolling your clit, circling, circling, larger, larger, expanding, legs shaking, eyes rolling back, pussy jolting to grind on his nose and lips.
His tongue pulled out, replacing it with his fingers, two slender digits curling, stretching you out till his knuckle pressed on that spot he always managed to find. How did he always find it? It felt unfair. “That’s it. C’mon, honey, that’s it, make yourself feel good.” He breathed, muffled by your cunt, kitten licking whatever juices didn’t drip onto his fingers.
Maybe it was the failure of every one night stand since you two broke up. Maybe it was the aphrodisiac, but you were barrelling towards a high he was making you addicted to. This shouldn’t even be happening. A part of you whispered that this would send you into an impossible-to-leave rabbit hole of yearning and fucking year-long pining.
You shut that part of you up.
“Dickie,” You moaned, a white-hot coil in your core winding up, ticking down — ten, nine, eight — “baby, m’close.” You called him baby. Against all reason, you called him a pet name. That’s it, you were what everyone called ‘in deep’.
He really needed to hear that. His fingers pumped, curled, tongue rubbed your clit, all he could do to help you get there. “Mhm?” He mumbled, drinking you up. Every fucking drop, aching, sandpaper-esque throat soothed. “Yeah, gorgeous girl, give it to me, ok? I’ve got you, m’here.”
Fuck him and his sweet talking. It had you shaking as you came, he didn’t waste a drop, licking everything up like anything wasted was the loss of a billion dollars.
He was honest to himself. Any drop of you wasted was the loss of ambrosia. Can’t put a price on that.
He withdrew his fingers, placing them in his mouth, licking the digits clean with a moan. As if the image couldn’t get more erotic, you smeared all over his mouth, the tip of his nose and his chin. “You get better every time.” He grinned, but, to ruin the mood, his dick gave him a less than welcome reminder that it existed. Pain lanced through his body, making him wince, blunt nails pressing into your thighs. “Sorry, sorry, I—”
You got it. Like hell you wouldn’t. The last of your high ebbing away caved to let aching settle in your bones once again, screaming for you to actually, you know, have his dick in you. No two ways about it.
“No, I know.” You yanked at his drawstring, helping him out of the unnecessary layers of his sweatpants and his boxers, both of them disappearing into a corner of the room. He sat up, finger lifted, tilting your chin so your lips tenderly met his. Like there wasn’t an aphrodisiac making you both desperate. “Condom?”
“I didn’t anticipate this happening.”
“Even better.” You breathed, kissing him, the taste of you flooding your tongue. He groaned, grabbing your tit, squeezing, swinging your leg so your pussy was nestled at the tip of his cock. A millimetre away from bliss.
His nose bumped yours, fighting off his flush, blown-out eyes darting to your lips then back up. Like you were Aphrodite’s gift to men. “We can stop.” He murmured, lips brushing yours again, his lashes fluttering, lids closing. “Just tell me to, and we’ll stop.”
You laughed. Quietly. “We’re kind of beyond asking.”
“Stop that, stop fucking arguing, just tell me if you want to stop.” He moaned in frustration, mouthing at your pulse. “I won’t let you do anything till I hear it. Tell me, sweetheart.”
“I don’t want to stop.” You murmured so he could hear you, grabbing his chin to kiss him, muffling the moan you both let out in that sloppy exchange as you sank down onto his waiting cock. No resistance, just slip, giving way to euphoria that clouded your brain. “Oh, fuck.” You whimpered, clawing at his back.
His eyes rolled back, if he’d been deeper than his balls in this pollen, he’d already be coming. “O—Oh, baby.” He stammered, squeezing your hip to encourage you to move.
This was what the pollen wanted. You feeling full, snug on him, lifting yourself so only the tip of him was in you before sinking down entirely. His lip caught between his teeth, propping one leg up to roll his hips up, matching each and every lift and fall of those glorious hips. This alone was euphoric, this alone sent you spiralling, nails raking down his abs, through his hair, talking dirty into his ear so you could drag him down with you.
Where did the lines blur? When did the line between aphrodisiac and emotion blur, maybe with the whisper of “Shit, baby, I love you” that he whined into your ear? It was hidden by the cacophony of pornographic moans the two of you were surprising yourselves with.
Never in his life had he sounded like that. He wanted to sound like that more often, it told you how irreplaceable you were.
He was holding out, gripping restraint, his high here and approaching fast, his head bowing down. Taking your tit into his mouth, sucking, other thumb flicking and essentially bullying your clit. Telling you to get a goddamn move on.
A cry tore from your throat, your entire being giving way, clutching his hair, his arm, as you came, the constricting of your pussy around his dick making him follow straight after, his low moan humming against your skin, pleasure rolling, wracking, wrecking, voices cracking, words disintegrating into whimpers and indiscernible sounds. His mouth coaxing more, burning up your chest, your neck, your jaw, your lips, tugging your bottom lip down with his thumb.
“I think we’re gonna need to go a few more.”
Around seven rounds of sex, sucking dick and eating pussy later, burning need faded into a pleasant hum of your weary bones. You were never going to go into an environmental terrorist’s biohazard camp ever again.
The pillows were unusually soft, but maybe your sex-exhausted brain was making you think so. So far, all you’d done is stare at the ceiling, as if this was a Tuesday where you hadn’t, y’know, slept with your ex due to an aphrodisiac.
Dick padded out from the bathroom, sweats slung low like in his jeans in that stupid Polo Ralph Lauren ad. Warm, wet, soft towel in his hand, he gently coaxed your legs apart, running the towel between your legs to clean you up.
You rolled your head to look at him. “What are you doing?” You mumbled.
“Taking care of you.” The answer was, apparently, so simple. He pushed the glass of water on your his beside table towards you. “Drink. You’ve had it rough.”
“What about you?” You took the water, letting it slide down your throat. Finally soothing it. That’s how you knew the pollen was out of your system.
He sat down beside you on the bed, tucking his legs under the covers. “Well, my legs feel like pudding, my dick’s been worked nine ways till Sunday, and my kneecaps feel creaky from the backshots.” He shrugged, lips curving into a lopsided smile. “Exactly how I wanna be.”
“You’re weird.”
“I love you too.” He chuckled, your world regaining its footing when he said that. You leaned towards him, kissing him again, this time without lust or motive or anything, just feeling him. Feeling the way he melted, like he always did.
His eyes blinked open when you pulled away. “Can we give us another shot?” He asked, shy. That was new. “Uh, only if you want to. No pressure.”
You took a breath in. This could fail. Crash and burn again, leaving you to thirst over his modelling gigs and all of him. But it’d never be worse than not trying at all.
summary: Overtime meant Bruce’s paperwork should’ve been your only problem. Instead, it turned into Dick Grayson pinning you to the desk because, of course, he never makes your job easy.
pairings: dick grayson x secretary!reader
warnings: 5k words. mature themes. unprotected p in v. internal ejaculation. breeding kink. semi-public sex. rough sex. clothed sex. breast play. clit stimulation. marking. overstimulation. dacryphilia. (light) d/s dynamics. degradation & praise kink. read & consume responsibly.
note: I am going back to my nightwing obsession and this is just the start of it!
It always felt like Dick lived to get under your skin. Every time he came into the building, he was always stopping by your desk just to bother you. Sometimes he’s leaning on the edge like he owns the place. Sometimes he stole your pen. Sometimes he commented on how you never smiled. Sometimes he just stared until you finally snapped at him. Everyone else in the office thought he was charming. To you, he was a distraction you didn’t have time for. The only reason you were still in the building tonight was because Bruce had dumped last-minute documents on you before rushing out to whatever excuse he made. You were finishing a report in his office, trying to ignore the silence that hung over the empty floor, when Dick slipped inside. You didn’t even hear him at first until he was suddenly behind your chair, warm breath against your neck as he asked if you were really working this late for Bruce. You turned with a scowl, told him to quit it, and that was all it took. His mouth was on yours before you could even stand.
Now you were sitting on Bruce Wayne’s expensive desk with your blouse pushed open, lips raw from how hard he kept kissing you. His hand slid under your skirt, pushing it up over your thighs while you clung to his shoulders. He groaned into your mouth when your fingers tugged at his belt, and you whispered against his lips, “You’re only here to make me lose focus.” He smirked, biting your bottom lip before saying, “And it’s working.” His tongue pushed past yours again. The kiss is messy and hot while your legs are wrapped around his waist as he presses closer. You let out a muffled whimper against his mouth when his bulge in his pants ground right against the thin barrier of your panties. His grip tightened on your hips like he wanted to keep you pinned to the desk. He broke the kiss for just a second just to rest his forehead against yours as he muttered, “You taste better than the coffee you pretend not to like when I bring it.”
You huffed out a breathless laugh, nails dragging across the back of his neck. “Shut up,” you whispered, kissing him again, because the last thing you wanted was to give him the satisfaction of being right. His hands were already pushing your blouse apart. Fingers pop the buttons one by one until they hang loose over your shoulders. The cool air hit your skin at the same time as his mouth dragged down your neck. It feels wet and hot at the same time while his fingers shoved your skirt higher. He didn’t bother being slow. The fabric bunched at your waist and your panties hooked down in one rough tug that left you bare on the desk. You gasped when his teeth scraped your throat and his palm squeezed your breast through your bra.
“You know it’s almost midnight,” he muttered against your skin, lips sliding to your collarbone while he yanked the bra cup down. His thumb rubbed over your nipple until it peaked under his touch. “What are you even still doing here? You planning to open the building yourself in the morning?” You let out a broken sound when he sucked at the top of your tit, biting just enough to make you jolt. Your head tipped back and you clung tighter to his shoulders. “I had work to finish,” you managed, voice obviously laced with annoyance but shaking at the edges. “Bruce doesn’t do his paperwork, so I have to.” Dick laughed under his breath and kneaded your breast harder, rolling the nipple between his fingers. “Figures. He leaves, and you’re stuck here making sure the world keeps spinning for him.” His tongue flicked over the sensitive skin again before he dragged his mouth back up to yours. He steals another kiss that makes your lips throb.
You moaned into it when his hand slipped lower to brush the bare skin of your thigh. It doesn’t take long before his hand finds the wet heat between your legs and the rough pad of his finger parts your folds. You felt his smirk against your mouth as he pressed just enough to make your hips jolt. “So wet already,” he whispered. “I think you like being caught like this.” He bites at your lip again before kissing it softly. “Don’t,” you warned, though the sound broke into a breathy whine when he pushed a finger through your slit and circled your clit. He chuckled and licked into your mouth, swallowing every noise you made as his other hand kept your tit squeezed tight, thumb flicking over the hardened tip until you were arching off the desk under him.
His mouth left your skin just long enough to mutter, “Missed this.” He removes his hand from your tit just to move it towards his belt and work with it before he kisses you again. His mouth is moving like he’s starved and can’t get enough of it. The metal buckle clinked while he continued to open it and then the sound of his zipper filled the room. He pressed his hips against your bare cunt while he worked his pants lower. He continues to grind his hard length against your slit through the fabric. You broke from the kiss to glare at him. His chest is heaving as his hand shoves your bra down even further. “Missed this? You’re always here. You show up every chance you get just to annoy me.” He laughed against your mouth, and his cock pushed heavier against you now that his pants were open. The heat of it slid over your folds and made you shiver. “Not the same,” he said, dragging the words low while his lips brushed your jaw.
“I see you at your desk, sure. I steal your pens, drink your coffee. But this? Fuck, I haven’t had this in a month.” A gasp broke from you when his cockhead rubbed over your clit, wetness smearing across the thick head. Your hand snapped down to his wrist, nails biting into his skin. “Stop acting like you’re owed anything,” you hissed, even as your legs trembled open wider for him. He grinned like he caught you in a lie and rocked his hips harder. He’s sliding his length along your slit until the fat tip presses right at your entrance. He didn’t push in, but the tease made your cunt clench in anticipation. “You’d throw me out if you didn’t want me here,” he said, biting lightly at your ear before groaning when your pussy throbbed around nothing. “But you don’t. You let me back in every time.”
Your back hit the desk as his hand caught your thigh, holding you open while his cock rubbed slowly along the wet seam of your folds. Every stroke dragged heavily over your clit, and you couldn’t hold back the way your hips tilted up to meet him. “Nngh, fuck- stop acting like you know me,” you panted, trying to push him back, but your hand clutched at his arm instead of shoving him away. He grunted low, cock sliding again over your swollen clit, smearing more slick. “I know you like this,” he said with a rough smirk against your throat. “That’s enough.” Your protest died the second his cock pushed into your pussy, slow but unrelenting. The thick stretch forced a moan out of your throat even while your nails dug into his shoulders. Wetness clung to him as he pressed deeper until you felt full, stuffed, his cockhead nudging as far as it could go.
“Fuck-” you gasped, tilting your head back when his thumb came down on your clit, rubbing in messy circles. Sparks shot through your belly, and your legs tensed around his hips. “Dick… nghh- if this costs me my job, I swear, I’ll kill you.” Your voice was strained, caught between anger and the hot tremor rolling through you. His mouth dropped to your tits without even hesitating. Lips wrapped around your nipple to suck it until it throbbed under the pull of his tongue. The wet drag made your back arch, and you whimpered as his teeth grazed lightly before his mouth moved to the other breast. Between the drag of his cock sitting heavy inside you and the swirl of his tongue on your tits, you were shaking.
He only pressed deeper when you threatened him, hips grinding forward like he wanted every inch buried. His words were muffled against your skin as he sucked harder, “Worth it.” You squirmed against him, your hand pushing at his chest even as your cunt clenched tight around him. “You’re an asshole, you know that? Always barging in, always- ahhnn, f-fuck, don’t-” Your complaint cracked when his thumb pressed harder on your clit, rubbing it in rough circles while his cock throbbed deep inside you without pulling out. A heavy groan rumbled from him when your pussy tightened even more around his cock. He broke from your tits long enough to growl, “God, you feel too good. Month without this and you’re still fucking perfect.” Your breath came out uneven, lips parting around a moan you tried to bite back.
“Hahh, nghh- stop… talking… like that.” Your hands clutched his hair instead of pushing him away while his mouth returned to your tits. He’s sucking greedily and messily. His cock stayed buried. Not moving, but every grind of his hips forced you to feel how deep he was and how soaked you’d gotten already. Your cunt clenched around him while he stayed buried to the hilt. His cock pulsing against your walls. The drag of his thumb on your clit made your thighs tremble. Every slow circle pushes you closer until your chest heaves against his mouth. His mouth remains around your nipple like he’s pumping milk out of you. His tongue was swirling while his other hand squeezed your waist. “You’re fucking insane,” you gasped while your fingers clawed at his hair as his mouth tugged harder. The words broke into a moan when his teeth grazed sensitive skin. “Nghh- Dick, I’m serious. If this ruins my job, I’ll- hahh, I’ll kill you.”
He groaned against your tit, the vibration making your nipple throb. His hips pressed forward, cockhead grinding deeper inside your cunt without pulling out. “Shut up. You’re clenching like you love it,” he muttered, lips dragging back to your other breast, tongue flicking until you cried out again. The pressure on your clit grew rougher, his thumb rubbing fast now, not gentle. You tried to twist away but your body betrayed you, pussy squeezing tight around his cock with every pass of his hand. “F-fuck- stop, nghh, don’t do that-” you begged, though your nails dug deeper into his scalp instead of pushing him away. “Month without this and you’re dripping all over me,” he rasped against your chest. His mouth left a wet trail between your tits before sucking hard at the soft flesh just above your nipple. He didn’t even wait for your reply before pressing deeper and forcing your cunt to swallow him down again.
You bit your lip until it hurt to try to hold back the sound clawing at your throat. The slick rub of his thumb on your clit finally dragged it out and a shaky moan broke loose. “Nnghh- hahh, Dick, fuck- I can’t-” Hearing you crack seemed to break his restraint. His hips drew back at last, the thick length sliding out halfway before driving back in with a wet slap. The sudden thrust made your head fall back against the desk, your moan spilling free, loud and shameless. His teeth gritted as he slammed back in again, balls smacking your ass while your pussy clenched around every inch. “God, yeah- that’s it,” he groaned, his thrusts picking up into a rough pace. The desk creaked under both your weight as he fucked you hard, the sound of skin meeting skin echoing in the office.
You choked on your own voice, eyes squeezing shut as the pounding forced your body to rock against him. “Sh-shit- too much- hahh, nghh, slow down, fuck-” The words came out broken, tangled with every gasp as his cock drove into you over and over. He pressed his forehead against your tits while his hand kept working your clit, refusing to let up. His thrusts only grew harder, the wet squelch of your pussy growing louder each time he bottomed out. Your legs trembled as he forced them wider around his waist. “I missed this. Missed you,” he panted, his words hitting hot against your skin before he sucked your nipple back into his mouth. Every thrust sent sparks up your spine, your moans spilling freely now with no control.
“Ahhnn, ffffuck- nghh, hahh, Dick-! I’m gonna-” Your nails scratched red lines down his back as his cock battered into you, relentless and deep, until your body gave in completely. His thick and hot cock stayed buried inside you while his mouth dragged across your tits. Every slow pull of his lips over your nipple sent a shiver through your body. The steady rubbing of his thumb on your clit continues and makes your thighs shake and moan despite how you tried to hold back the sound in your throat. It still slipped out anyway. A broken little moan that only made him groan against your skin. “Mmhh, fuck, you’re perfect like this,” his voice is low when he mutters while he sucked harder on your nipple. His hand cupped your other breast, kneading it roughly before pinching your bud until you gasped. “No wonder Bruce keeps you around… favorite secretary he’s ever had.”
Your chest burned with heat that wasn’t only from his mouth. “D-Dick,” you whispered while feeling embarrassed at the way your pussy clenched just from the tease. “Don’t… don’t say that.” He chuckled against your breast, breath warm over spit-slick skin. “What? You think he has a clue how pretty you sound stuffed full of cock?” His hips pressed forward while he said it, cockhead grinding deeper into your cunt without moving out. “He doesn’t. Only I get this.” Your nails dug into his shoulders as your face heated, the words twisting inside your chest. You couldn’t bring yourself to answer, only a shaky moan falling out when he rolled your clit harder under his thumb.
“That’s what I thought,” he groaned, sucking one nipple into his mouth while his cock twitched inside you. His tongue flicked mercilessly, drawing more whimpers out of your throat. “Sweet little secretary, acting all shy, but squeezing me like you want me to ruin you right on his desk.” Your head tipped back at the filthy words, lips parting around a whimper. “Nnghh- stop saying that, fffuck, I can’t-” He shakes his head before he says, “You can.” Words gritted while he let go of your breast to grab your hip. The hand between your thighs never stopped working your clit, rubbing harder, faster, until your legs shook against his sides. “You’re taking it so fucking good.” Before you could respond, he finally pulled his hips back. His cock is dragging wet and slow out of your cunt before slamming back in with a wet slap.
The sudden thrust knocked a moan out of you. It’s clear and loud. Your hands clutched at his back. “Ahhnn-!” you cried, toes curling as he drove into you again, balls smacking your ass with the force. The desk rattled under the weight of his thrusts, every push deep and rough until your vision blurred with heat. He grunted hard, jaw clenched as he fucked into you. “Christ, you’re so fucking tight. Been thinking about this every time I saw you bent over those files. Pretty little blouse, short skirt. All I could picture was this pussy gripping me.” His teeth sank into your breast again between words, the sting mixing with pleasure until you gasped loudly.
“D-Dick, nghh, don’t, oh god-” Your body betrayed you, cunt clenching tighter around his cock, milking every thrust even as you tried to protest. The shame only made the heat worse, your clit throbbing under the rub of his thumb.“Yeah, that’s it. Moan for me,” he growled, fucking into you harder now. His hips snapped against you in quick and heavy thrusts that made your whole body jolt with every hit. Wet sounds filled the office. The slap of his cock in your pussy mixed with your cries until it was all you could hear. Your legs were trembling and breath catching in broken moans. “Nnghh, hahh, fffuck, Dick- it’s too much- ohhnn, god-!”
“Take it,” he rasped, forehead pressed against your tits while he kept pounding you into the desk. “Bruce’s perfect secretary is getting railed like a slut in his office. You love it.” The shame made you clench harder. Your pussy gripping his cock in greedy spasms before you buried your face in his hair to muffle your cries, but your body gave you away with every arch of your back. Every wet sound of him fills you over and over. His cock finally started to move, just dragging out slowly before sliding back in deep. The stretch is making your whole body jolt. Your legs dangled against his back, and you trembled as his hips found a steady pace. One of his hands pressed tight to your waist while the other gripped your hip to keep you steady so you would not slide down the desk.
Every thrust pushed you back, but his hold kept you exactly where he wanted you. Pinned and open for him. “Mmhh… fuck, that’s it,” he groaned as his sweat beaded on his forehead. His eyes watch your pussy swallow him down. His words were heavy but his touch stayed careful. He’s steadying your body with each hard push inside. “You’re perfect like this… You feel so good.” You can feel your cheeks heating while uncontrolled noise spills from your mouth. The stretch from his cock inside your pussy was overwhelming, yet the way he steadied your body made you feel almost safe in the mess of it.
“Nnghh- Dick, hahh, slow- it’s so deep-” you gasped, nails digging into his shoulders as your tits bounced from his thrusts. His lips brushed your ear as he answered low, “I’ll take care of you… just hold onto me.” His hips slammed forward again, the thick length bottoming out in your cunt with a wet slap. The desk rattled under your back as your moan cracked into the air. The hand on your hip tightened when your legs shook, his grip firm enough to keep you steady. “That’s it, baby… you’ve been working so hard, I know. Let me fuck some of that stress out of you.” He pulled back and drove in hard again, groaning at the way you clenched tight around him.
Your chest burned at his words, every compliment slipping under your skin. “Nnhh- oh god- don’t-” The words fell into another whimper when his cock slammed back in and rubbed right where you were weakest. “Don’t say that… I’ll- nghh- I’ll lose it-” He kissed your jaw as your body trembled beneath him, voice steady even while his thrusts grew heavier. “Yeah?” His cock dragged out and pushed back in, hard enough to make your tits bounce under his chest. His mouth caught one nipple again just to suck it into his mouth while his hips never slowed.
Your hands clutched the back of his neck to pulling him closer as your cries turned high and broken. The sound of his balls slapping your ass filled the office while wet heat dripped down the inside of your thighs. Every time he bottomed out, the weight of his cock had you twitching around him, cunt clutching tighter no matter how much you tried to hold back. “Fuckkk- nghh, ohh- Dick-!” you cried, your legs trembling against his back. The words tumbled out messy as your nails dragged across his skin. “It’s too much, hahh, I can’t- ohhnn!”
“I know,” he groaned, kissing the swell of your breast between thrusts. His hand on your hip squeezed firmly, guiding your body into every push. “You’re taking me so well. The prettiest thing I’ve ever seen sitting at that desk… and even prettier like this.” His voice cracked with effort as he buried himself to the hilt, holding you tight while his cock pulsed deep inside. “God, I’ll never get enough of this…” Your head tipped back against the desk, lips parted around moans you couldn’t bite down. The steady drag of his cock, the wet slap of his thrusts, and the low praises spilling against your skin had your body giving in completely. Your nails rake along the warm skin of his back under his shirt, and he lets out a grunt that vibrates against your ear. The fabric clings to him with sweat. It makes it easier for your fingers to dig in harder.
Your forehead presses into his shoulder, teeth sinking into the curve of his neck because you can’t hold yourself quiet. “Fuck… keep doing that,” he mutters, voice rough in your ear as he thrusts deeper. His hand clamps around your waist to steady you against him so he can move harder and his cock stretches you open with every push. A shaky breath tumbles from your lips and it muffled against his skin. Your bite makes him hiss but he doesn’t stop, instead his free hand slides down between your bodies. His fingers spread your folds so he can rub your clit in messy circles. The sudden touch makes your legs jolt, and he chuckles lowly. “Yeah… there you go. Can feel how wet you are.”
You whine into his shoulder, nails dragging across his back again, and your cunt clamps around him so tightly it forces a curse out of his mouth. His cock drags out slowly just to slam back in, and you let out a broken moan. He presses his mouth to your ear and his hot breath rushes over your skin. “You like that, don’t you? Pussy’s taking all of me.” His fingers keep rolling your clit, slick and steady, while his cock drives into you over and over. Your voice shakes when you manage to answer, “Feels so fucking good…” The words melt into another moan as his hips snap forward. “Yeah? You’re clenching like you’re gonna milk me dry,” he groans, teeth grazing your earlobe before he bites down lightly.
His back flexes beneath your nails when you drag them down again. “Shit- keep marking me up, I don’t care. Just hold onto me.” Your body jerks with every push, and legs trembling while he continues to move inside you. His hand tightens on your waist to stop you from falling back on the desk as he moves against you. Fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. Your forehead stays pressed to his shoulder and your mouth is dragging wet against his skin as you bite down again and again. You’re leaving him dotted with teeth marks. He shudders when you do it. “Fuck, you’re not letting up,” he pants, rutting into you harder, cockhead hitting deep enough to make you cry out against his throat. His fingers on your clit don’t stop, rubbing fast and messy now, making your whole body twitch in his hold. “I’m close-” the words spill from you, broken by a gasp when his cock slams deep again.
“I know,” he answers quickly, voice a low rasp. “Can feel you squeezing me.” Your nails drag hard across his back as your cunt starts fluttering around him, and your forehead presses harder into his sweaty shoulder. A cry tears out of you, muffled by his skin, while your body shakes in his grip. “That’s it… fuck, that’s it, cum all over me,” he groans, hips stuttering as your orgasm pulls him closer to the edge. He fucks you through it, fingers never leaving your clit until you’re shaking so much you can barely hold onto him. When he finally pulls his hand away, it smears slick over your waist as he grabs you tighter, pumping into your spent pussy with heavy thrusts.
His mouth presses hot against your temple while his voice breaks into a rough growl. “Not letting up ‘til I’m spilling in you.” Your body is still shaking, pussy fluttering tight around him as he fucks through your release without slowing down. The tight squeeze around him makes his breath catch, but he holds you firmer, voice rough as he says, “You feel so fucking good.” Your face presses into the side of his neck, heat soaking through his shirt as tears slip down. A broken whimper escapes against his skin, and your nails dig into his shoulders because every thrust drags you further past the edge. He groans low when you shudder hard around him, chest heaving against yours.
“Shit, you’re still clenching like that? Gonna make me lose it,” he mutters, the words hot against your ear. The sound pulls another cry out of you. A muffled sound as you bite down on your lip while your body trembles from the overstimulation. His hand strokes your hip steadily and firmly. He’s guiding you into his thrusts like he can’t let go. “Breathe, baby, just breathe through it,” he urges, kissing along your hairline, sweat dampening his forehead. His cock drags deep, pushing through the wet mess between your folds. Each stroke forces a new shiver out of you, thighs twitching as your chest rises in stuttered gasps. “I can feel every drop of you,” he grits, fucking harder now as his own control frays. His mouth brushes your jaw, his voice breaking with a groan. “You’re perfect. Fuck, I’m gonna cum inside-”
The words cut off as his hips drive forward, and his whole body shakes against you. The sound that rips from his throat is rough. Almost guttural. Like he has been holding it back for too long. His cock jerks deep and each pulse sends more slick warmth spilling into your cunt. He mutters against your skin, “God, you’re gripping me so good… you’re not letting me go.” Your nails dig harder into his shoulders when he grinds in deep again, refusing to pull out, grinding until his tip kisses the very end of you. “Stay right here,” he pants, voice hoarse while his thrusts falter. “Take all of it for me… fuck, I can’t stop.” His mouth finds the corner of your lips in a desperate kiss, teeth grazing before he groans into your mouth as another hot spill fills you.
He presses you down into the desk like he needs every inch locked inside, and his hand squeezes your waist until you whimper against him. The thrusts turn ragged as his body locks tight against yours, and he spills the last of it into your cunt. The sudden flood of his cun pushes a sob out of you, your pussy squeezing down around the twitch of his cock while he curses into your throat. His hips grind forward until every drop leaks warm between your folds, dripping down your ass onto the desk. He doesn’t let go, still holding you close, chest pressed to yours while his cock throbs inside you. His voice comes softer now, murmured through heavy breaths. “You did so good for me. Took it all so good. Look at you… fucked me perfect.”
Your face stays pressed into his neck, damp with tears, body trembling in his arms while he’s still twitching from the orgasm and you’re also a mess like him. His breath slows first, chest pressed heavy against yours until the weight starts to ease. His cock is still seated deep, twitching with the last pulses, but he finally lets out a low laugh against your hair. “Christ… look what you do to me.” Carefully, he leans back enough to see your face. His hands steady your hips when you flinch at the movement, slick already sliding down the curve of your ass. “Hold on-don’t move yet.” One hand leaves your waist to fumble at the side of the desk, pulling open the drawer he’d spotted earlier. He drags out a half-crumpled box of tissues and tugs a few free with messy fingers. He eases out of you slowly, cock wet and flushed as your pussy leaks down your thigh. The loss makes your body jolt, and he immediately presses a hand to your stomach, grounding you.
“Easy. Just me.” He crouches slightly, wiping carefully between your legs, dabbing away the mess before it can drip too far. The tissue catches on your swollen folds and you whimper, but his touch stays gentle. “Shhh,” he murmurs, eyes flicking up to yours. “I’ve got you. Don’t need Bruce’s desk looking like a crime scene.” The tease is light, but his hand is tender as he works, switching tissues when they get too soaked until you’re clean enough. Once he’s finished, he tucks himself back into his pants and fastens them quickly. Then he turns back to you, hands bracketing your waist. “Up we go.” His voice is steady when he lifts you off the desk. Cradling you against his chest like you weigh nothing. You make a weak sound of protest but your face is nuzzling into the crook of his neck, and his grip doesn’t falter.
The short walk to the leather couch in the corner is silent except for your uneven breaths. He lowers you down onto it with care and sits beside you immediately so you don’t tip over. One of his arms remains wrapped around your shoulders before he pulls you closer against him. Your blouse looks like a mess while it hangs loose on your body. Both of your bodies are sticky with sweat, but all you feel is his body heat. His nose brushes your temple as he whispers, “You did perfect. Took everything I gave you, even when you thought you couldn’t.” He presses a kiss to your hairline, voice softer now, almost a promise even if neither of you will name it. “I’ve got you. Always.” You let out a tired laugh, eyes half-shut as you mutter, “Yeah, well… we better clean this place before it reeks like sex tomorrow.”
SUMMARY: Dick Grayson—acrobat, vigilante, master of grace—manages to break his nose on your bedframe in his eagerness to fuck you.
WARNINGS: established relationship, sexually suggestive content, horny couple and horny ramblings, wandering hands, injury, blood
WORD COUNT: 3.2k
READ ON AO3
Your entire body is humming.
Dick's fingers are interlaced with yours and your skin feels like fire— a steady insistent heat that has now settled low in your stomach. You're floating as you enter your building's elevator, untethered from gravity, from sense, from anything that isn't the boy pulling you inside.
Your fingers separate as his hands find your waist, and he presses closer, closer, until there's no space left between you at all. His mouth finds yours immediately.
It's giggly and breathless and imperfect, more sensation than technique. Your fingers tangle in his hair as you smile against his mouth, and you feel his answering grin, the slight scrape of teeth against your bottom lip that makes your stomach flip.
Dick's reaches blindly for the door close button, unwilling to break your frantic kissing, and you're about to dissolve into him completely when—
"Wait! Hold the elevator, please!"
Dick tenses, his movement uncertain as he pulls away from your embrace. His gaze flickers from you to the panel of buttons, and there' a split second where you watch him weigh his options— a specific brand of mischief dancing at the corners of his mouth.
You know exactly which button he's considering.
"Dick," you warn, pushing lightly at his chest.
You'd be more inclined to indulge in your more selfish tendencies if your building’s elevator wasn't notoriously hard to catch. It would be downright cruel to ignore the plead.
Dick sighs, but he's already reaching for the door open button. "I know, I know."
And even as he steps back with exaggerated reluctance, you know the protest is all performance. He would've held the door anyway. You find the act overwhelmingly endearing— the pretense of being dragged into doing the right thing when kindness is his baseline.
Dick manages to steal one more kiss before the stranger rushes in, smoothing his hair as he stands straight.
"Thank you so, so much," they say and you smile, nodding, unable to give them any real attention at all. You're trying your best to look like a normal person who definitely wasn't just seconds away from doing something extremely inadvisable in a semi-public space.
You and Dick stand side by side now, and your hands are next to each other but no longer touching. A careful inch of space that feels infinitely charged. You're so aware of his presence that it borders on painful.
A sense of giddiness sings through your bloodstream, and your cheeks are beginning to ache from the effort of containing your smile. The ghost of his mouth is burning against your lips. You can still taste him perfectly.
But despite practically inhaling him a few moments prior, you can't bring yourself to look at him now. Can't bring yourself to glance sideways because you know that if you do, you'll combust. You'll reach for him. You'll forget entirely about the stranger politely looking at their phone.
You watch the numbers climb as the elevator continues its descent.
3... 4... 5...
In a few short minutes, Dick's mouth will be on you again. The thought makes heat pool low in your belly.
You bounce slightly on your heels, restless, trying to channel this energy somewhere that isn't directly into Dick Grayson's orbit.
His hand swings next to yours. You could easily interlace your fingers, fall into that natural pattern you've worn into your lives. But Dick hasn't reached for you yet—something he does instinctively. It makes you wonder if he's basking in this too. This strange secrecy of domesticity. A performance of restraint for sixty seconds.
You shift slightly, moving your arm until you can feel his fingers next to yours. Your chest tightens as you risk a glance his way.
He's already looking at you. A barely restrained grin pulls at the corner of his mouth, and his eyes—god, his eyes—drop to your lips for a fraction of a second before meeting yours again.
Desire coils low in your stomach. Tight and insistent and completely overwhelming.
His index finger extends slowly, dragging across the back of your hand. It's featherlight. More intimate than anything else that's happened tonight. Your breath catches and you tighten your lips, trying desperately to maintain composure.
But god, all you want to do is jump his bones.
You're staring at him now. Can't look away, really. His finger trails up your wrist, your forearm, drawing invisible patterns on your skin, and you feel it everywhere—in your chest, your throat, the base of your spine.
The elevator dings.
Your floor.
Dick's hand immediately tangles with yours, and he's moving, pulling you forward with barely contained urgency. "Have a good night!" he sings over his shoulder, all charm and ease.
You manage to parrot a breathless repetition of his words as you stumble after him, and you catch the stranger's knowing smirk as the doors close.
Then you're in the hallway and Dick is kissing you—unabashed, hungry, teenager-desperate. Your back hits the wall and you laugh against his mouth, hands in his hair, pulling him closer even as you're trying to move toward your apartment.
"C'mon," you breathe between kisses, but he's not listening, lips trailing down your jaw to your neck.
When you finally reach your door, you fumble for your keys with shaking hands. Dick is immediately behind you, his body pressed against your back, mouth finding your shoulder, your neck, anywhere there's exposed skin. His fingers slip under the hem of your shirt, splaying against your stomach, and the heat of his palms against your bare skin makes you gasp.
"You're not helping," you say, trying for scolding but landing somewhere around breathless.
"That's because I'm not trying to help," he murmurs.
He kisses behind your ear, takes your earlobe between his teeth, and your whole body responds—arching back into him, your hand stilling on the doorknob.
"Dick..."
"Mmhmm?" His tongue traces the shell of your ear.
You manage to shove the door open.
Inside, everything happens in fragments. Kissing. His shirt coming off. Yours following. A trail of clothing leading to your bedroom. You're ahead of him, naked before he's managed his pants, and you settle on the bed, pushing yourself back until you're leaning on your hands.
The position is deliberate, calculated to drive him insane—back arched slightly, legs falling open just enough to be inviting, watching him through your lashes.
Dick pauses in the doorway, hands frozen on his belt buckle. His eyes drag over you hungrily. Everything in his body language screams that he wants to devour you, and the sight alone makes you feel bold— sexy. Unbelievably desirable.
And totally, completely, drenched.
"You just gonna stand there?" you ask, letting your voice drop lower. You put your weight on one hand, the other drifting down your stomach. "Should I start without you?"
That gets him moving. His eyes flash dark and he fumbles with his belt, yanking it free. "Don't you dare."
You smirk and let your hand drift even lower. "Or what?"
"Or I'll—" He's struggling with his button now, fingers clumsy with urgency. You bite your lip to keep from laughing. "Jesus, why are pants so—"
"Need help?"
The offer is innocent but your tone isn't.
"No, I just—" He gets the button open, shoves his pants down, and begins to kick his shoes off. "These fucking laces—"
You open your mouth to tease him when it happens.
His foot catches. His eyes widen. There's a split second where you both realize what's about to happen, where time seems to slow down enough for you to register the trajectory, and then—
The sickening crack of his face meeting your bedframe.
"Oh, fuck—" You're scrambling off the bed, dropping to your knees beside him. The carpet burns slightly against your bare skin. "Dick?"
Your hands hover over him, unsure where to touch. He groans—muffled, pained—and rolls onto his back. Blood is already streaming from his nose.
"Oh my god, are you okay?"
You automatically scan the scene even as your heart pounds: he's caught most of the blood with his hands cupped over his face, but some has escaped, decorating your rug in abstract, blooming shapes.
"No," he says, nasal and thick. "Definitely not okay."
You help him sit up, gentle hands on his shoulders, and he cradles his nose with both palms.
"And maybe my dignity," Dick groans faintly, "If you can find it anywhere."
Dick is sitting on the edge of the bed when you return, shirtless and hunched over slightly, one hand holding a wad of tissues to his nose.
You're wearing his shirt now, and you've pulled on a fresh pair of underwear. The ones from before were already soaked through before disaster struck—and you're trying very hard not to think about how this is absolutely not how the night was supposed to go.
The blood has soaked through the white fabric pressed to his face. The sight is jarring, even to your blood-seasoned eyes, but the speed of the spread doesn't raise any concerns. Just the normal profuse bleeding of a normal hurt nose. Dick seems more inconvenienced than pained.
He looks up at the sound of your footsteps and his shoulders relax, posture straightening slightly. His eyes catch on what you're carrying. He raises a brow.
"...Pizza rolls?"
You tilt the bag, examining it in all its frozen glory, and bite back a laugh as you wrap it in a thin cloth. "What? I don't have an ice machine, remember?"
The corner of Dick's mouth curves upward, the expression slightly obstructed by the blood-stained tissue. "You bought some cold packs a week ago."
He's right. You’d bought them specifically for moments like these—the inevitable injuries that come with your lives, the sprains and bruises and apparently sex-related bloody noses.
"I know, but I keep forgetting to put them in the freezer," you admit with a sheepish shrug, walking closer. It's not your fault that your lives are so busy.
"I need to get you an ice maker, then," Dick says.
"For what?"
"Emergencies. Drinks."
You tilt your head. "And all of your future horny-fail wipe-outs?"
He tsks, shaking his head, but his eyes gleam with mirth even as he winces slightly at the movement. "Too soon, babe. Too soon."
You bite back a smile, the muscles in your cheeks aching from the effort, and close the distance between you, stopping just in front of where he sits. He pulls the tissue away from his face, examining it briefly.
"Still bleeding?" you ask.
Dick shakes his head carefully. "Nope, thank god."
He tosses the wad of tissue onto the bedside table. It lands half on the wood, half on his phone screen, and you grimace slightly at the mess but don't comment. You've both dealt with worse. Blood and bodily fluids stopped being squeamish territory a long time ago.
You take in the sight of him—hair disheveled, nose already swelling, dried blood crusted at his nostrils and smeared across his fingers. Still as handsome as ever.
He reaches out and wraps a hand around one of your wrists, tugging gently. When you resist, he makes a sound of complaint—somewhere between a whine and a grumble, like an upset dog who's been denied his favorite spot on the couch.
He tugs again. "Come closer."
"No."
"Why nooot?"
"Because you need to keep your head level."
"My head is level."
"It won't be if I'm closer." You raise an eyebrow, waiting for protest.
Dick's eyes gleam with something mischievous. He won't even bother lying. You both know he'll tilt his head back to look at you the second you got close enough, injury be damned.
"Please?" He tugs again, more insistent, and you feel your resolve cracking. "I'm injured and in need of comfort."
He wins—as he always does—and you let him pull you close enough that he can wrap his hands around the backs of your thighs. His palms are warm through the fabric of his shirt, fingers spreading possessively, and something in your chest goes soft.
You raise the bag of pizza rolls, holding it carefully as you try to find the best angle to press it against his swollen nose.
Catching his expression, you pause.
He's looking at the bag again, nose wrinkling slightly before he winces at the motion. "And you're sure that's all we have?"
"Yes."
"One hundred percent?"
"What's the difference? It's frozen and big."
He doesn't say anything, and you know he's just drawing it out for the fun of it. You roll your eyes affectionately. "You expect me to pull a bag of ice from my ass, or something?"
He laughs, the sound immediately followed by a wince. "Ow. Don't make me laugh." But he's grinning despite the pain. "Wouldn't that'd be a neat trick, though."
You're so over him right now. Affectionately, but still. You narrow your eyes. "Do you want the pizza rolls or not? They're getting soggy."
A dramatic sigh leaves him. "Fine. Roll me."
His stupid words make you snort—an inelegant sound you'd be embarrassed about if it were anyone else. "You're such a loser. C'mere."
Thumb pressed gently against his chin, you tilt his head downward into a better position. Your other hand brings the bag to rest against the bridge of his nose.
Dick is still looking at you through his lashes. You can only imagine the slight strain there must be in his eyes to look so directly upward despite the downward tilt of his head. But he seems determined to keep his gaze on your face, unwilling to look away even for comfort.
Something in your chest shimmers with warmth.
You ignore his gaze on purpose, wanting to bask in it a little longer—the idea that the man you're in love with enjoys simply gazing at you, even when there are more important matters at hand.
But you start to feel too exposed, almost nervous under the weight of his attention. "You're staring at me."
"Can't help it," he murmurs, running his hands up and down your thighs in slow, soothing strokes. "My pretty girlfriend—being so sweet to me, using her pizza rolls."
You shake your head, but his words sink into your bloodstream anyway, warming you from the inside out. This is different from the heat earlier—less urgent, more tender.
"And the bag is unopened," you say softly, playing up the tragedy. "So I'm basically sacrificing them for you."
"Oh, sacrificing, huh?" There's amusement in his voice. "Liar. You're just gonna put them back in the freezer."
"Uh, no. They're gonna be all soggy and wet, so they won't freeze the same again. I'll have to throw them away."
You're being serious, and from his expression, he knows it. He's amused all the same.
"Well, I'm so sorry for inconveniencing you with my bleeding nose."
"Apology accepted." You grin, unable to help yourself.
You gently lift the bag to peer at his nose, the skin now slightly pink from the cold. Your free hand cups his cheek, thumb dragging along the line of his cheekbone.
"It's totally broken, isn't it?"
He tightens his mouth and gives a small nod. "Oh yeah, no question."
You frown, something sweet and aching blooming in your chest. Poor sweet, pathetic man. You press the bag back against his nose and Dick grimaces as a few rolls shift, redistributing their weight.
"Sorry," you say softly. "I think they're thawing."
"Hmm. You think?" There's no real bite to it, just teasing.
You roll your eyes affectionately, applying slight pressure to hold the bag steady. It shifts again—barely, a minuscule movement—and Dick lets out an exaggerated whimper.
"Ouch."
"Oh please, that didn't hurt. You're such a faker."
You've seen him take hits that would hospitalize a normal person. Watched him shrug off injuries that make your stomach turn. But here, now, with just the two of you, he turns into this—soft and needy and dramatic about the smallest discomforts.
You love it.
Dick grins, unapologetic, and reaches a hand to hold the bag against his nose. The other grabs your wrist, pulling your hand away from his cheek, and he guides it to his lips to press a soft kiss to your palm.
"Why are you being so sassy to me, hm?" you ask.
"Because I was so excited to fuck my beautiful girlfriend, and instead I broke my nose on her bedframe."
The words send heat curling through your stomach—a reminder of where this night was supposed to go. You laugh, opening your mouth to respond, when you find yourself thinking about how he'd bought the frame just last week.
He'd been very enthusiastic about having bedposts, for reasons that had absolutely nothing to do with aesthetics and everything to do with other nights. Silk ties and murmured praise and—
"What is it?" Dick asks, watching your expression shift.
You shake your head, trying to dismiss it, but the image of him begins to replay in your mind. His widening eyes, the split second of realization, the sound of impact. Fighting back your laugher, you attempt to distract yourself by running your fingers through his hair.
His face falls, unamused. "You're thinking about me falling, aren't you?"
Your chest is tight with barely contained glee, eyes almost prickling with tears. "I'm sorry! It was just so funny."
"I'm glad my pain amuses you," he mutters, but he's biting back a smile.
The laughter breaks free now, spilling out of you. "And you, of all people. So much for those quick, agile reflexes, huh?"
Dick pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue, looking away as he shakes his head. "You're so mean, you know that? A real bully, laughing in the face of a wounded man."
"You love me."
"I love you," he agrees without hesitation, and your laugh turns soft.
Your fingers are still in his hair, gentle and soothing, and his eyes have gone half-lidded from the attention.
"Are you sure you don't want to go to the doctor?" you ask quietly.
"I've had worse."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one I'm giving."
He removes the bag from his nose, setting it on the covers beside him, and you immediately start to protest. "You should—"
"C'mere," he says, hands reaching for your hips, pulling you forward.
You resist, hands now bracing against his shoulders. "Dick, you're hurt—"
"Yeah, my nose." He looks almost offended that you're protesting. "Not my lap. Sit."
There's something so affectionate in his insistence, so earnest in his need to have you close, that you let him pull you down, settling carefully onto his thighs as his arms immediately wrap around your waist.
He tries to bury his face against your neck—instinct, muscle memory—but pulls back with a wince when his nose makes contact with your skin.
"Okay, maybe not that," he mutters, and you chuckle softly, fingers carding through his hair once more.
"Yeah, maybe not."
You sit like that for a moment, in the quiet of your bedroom, Dick's hands tracing patterns on your lower back through his shirt. The pizza rolls slowly thaw beside you.
"You know," Dick says eventually, his voice slightly muffled. "I still think that bedframe was a good investment."
You grin and begin to imagine all the ways you can use it.
AUTHORS NOTE: this started off as smut but then i was like lol imagine he tripped and then i was sucked in my by love for silly, goofy couples. hes just so boyfriend to me asdfgj
as always, thank you for reading and please lmk if you enjoyed <3 i operate entirely on positive reinforcement like a dog with treats hehehe
