#nightwing masterlist

You crossed the entrance without making a sound, went straight up to his room, and when you opened the door you found him lying on the bed, with an open book on his chest, the cast resting on several pillows and the face of a dramatic martyr.

"As far as I can see, you're alive, darling. How lucky you are." You said from the doorway, taking off your jacket.

"Barely. You don't know what it was like to watch three documentaries in a row about antique furniture restoration. I'm about to ask Alfred if I can rearrange the bookcase by color."

You approached, giggling, and carefully climbed onto the bed, lying down beside him. "So you need me to keep you from leaving your life as a security guard and becoming a decorator?"

"Exactly. My righteous soul is in danger," he replied, turning slightly toward you with that soft smile that seemed innocent as he rested his head on your chest. "And besides... I missed you."

You stroked his jaw, and he closed his eyes for a second, as if that simple gesture was what he truly needed to heal. Your lips found his in a slow, leisurely kiss, until you felt his hands clutch your waist with a mischievous smile until you pulled away. "I missed you too, Dickie."

He groaned faintly, as if hearing that nickname weakened him more than any wound on the battlefield. "Don't call me that if you're not going to stay all night," he said, hiding his smile in your collarbone, his voice vibrating against your skin.

"I have to go to college tomorrow" you sighed, your fingers playing with his hair.

Dick pulled away just to look at you, his brow furrowed slightly and his expression a mixture of Greek tragedy and subtle emotional blackmail.

"You can skip it. For a noble cause. You can say your boyfriend is slowly dying of boredom and needs constant company to survive."

You laughed softly as he gently pulled you towards him again, cradling you against his chest. "You're very persuasive for someone who's immobilized in one leg."

“I’m using the only thing I have left: my charm,” he replied in a deep voice, kissing the top of your head. “Don’t leave me tonight, i beg you, im young, vulnerable and horny”

You rolled your eyes, but clung to him with the same need. Dick had that dangerous ability to persuade; the way he touched you made you dizzy, the way each touch felt as natural as breathing. At some point, between laughter, soft kisses, and wordless promises, you both ended up under the sheets, sharing the warmth of a moment that seemed eternal. You couldn't help but think the force he used while he tried to move with his leg in a cast was ridiculous, but even that was adorable in its clumsiness. And you couldn't help but help him settle in while he gently pulled you on top of him, as if nothing could hurt him more tonight than the distance between you.

"Dick, are you sure there's no one here?"

"Trust me," he replied with absolute certainty, running a hand down your back. "We have the mansion to ourselves. It's a blessing from the universe. As if Gotham were saying: Today, Dickie, today is your turn to be happy."

You kissed him again, deeper this time. Your fingers tangled in his hair as he caressed your waist, his breathing mingling with yours. Your legs were on either side of his hips, the heat between you slowly rising like a tide. His hands, firm but gentle, gripped your waist, slowly guiding you to continue grinding his clothed cock, which you could feel growing at the friction of your panties.

"You look beautiful," he murmured, his voice husky from the closeness, while his fingers went up just below your shirt, trying to remove it and let him see your songs moving to your rhythm.

Your smile curved at the sight of him so exhausted. You slowly lowered your torso until his lips found yours again. The kiss was hungrier, deeper. Your hands moved up to his already ready cock, feeling his muscles tense beneath your fingers.

"You're killing me," he murmured through gritted teeth, his smile barely trembling as he felt his cock sink into your wetness. "What a beautiful way to die."

"sure no one's there, right?" you whispered against his ear, a playful smile on your lips. "I don't want them to see me riding on your cock."

"I told you..." Dick whispered, smiling against your neck as he held you against him, not wanting you to move yet, both of you in his bed, sharing the warmth under the sheets. "No one's home. Alfred's in the cave, and Bruce left tonight. He never comes around."

His lips moved down your collarbone, and you chuckled, stroking his messy hair. His leg was in a cast, yes, but that hadn't stopped him from moving his hips toward you with that signature "I've been through worse, this isn't going to slow me down" look.

His hips found a rhythm of their own, slow but determined, grinding against you with clear purpose. That smile of his settled on his face.

"Look, I'm hurt, huh?" he murmured against your skin. "You could show me some mercy."

"More mercy than this?" you replied, unable to stop yourself from laughing softly, your voice barely trembling from everything you were feeling. "I'm riding you with my tits in your face. I can't do much more..."

Dick's laugh was drowned in a deep sigh. His fingers gripped your waist tightly, as if he needed to anchor himself to you so he wouldn't lose his mind.

The room, once silent save for broken whispers, was now filled with rapid breathing, wet thuds, and the creaking of the bed as the heat grew between you. It was a moment suspended in time, so intimate that it hurt to think it might end soon.

Dick's lips found yours in a hungry, almost desperate kiss, while his body, still limited, surrendered completely to what you allowed him to do. "Keep squeezing my cock baby, I'm gonna cum, shit," he murmured, his voice breaking, his forehead resting against yours.

Your hips began to move with more urgency, as if each touch sought to satisfy all the pent up needs of all those days of waiting. Dick looked at you as if you were all he needed to stay whole, as if the pain in his leg were just background noise compared to the comfort of having you like this, so close, so devoted. His fingers trembled slightly against your skin, but they didn't stop clinging to you, guiding you, seeking more of that connection that seemed to envelop them completely.

"Don't stop," he murmured, his voice hoarse, against your neck. "Please... don't stop."

"Dick, are you awake?" Bruce's deep voice cut off abruptly.

Both of you froze in that instant even though you had both had the best orgasm since you started dating, still feeling his thick threads of cum filling your soaked pussy, your first reaction was to cover yourself with the sheet up to your head, leaving Dick with his head resting against your chest, letting out an exhausted grunt.

Bruce didn't move for a couple of long seconds. "...You should be resting," he said at last, in that serious, dry tone he used when he was suppressing the urge to lecture.

"I was resting," Dick replied without lifting his head from your breasts, still hidden in the sheets.

"And no lock on the door."

"Whose fault is that?"

Bruce took a deep breath through his nose, as if he were doing mental yoga to keep from setting the mansion on fire. "Finish ruining the bed," he said, turning toward the hallway. "But we'll talk tomorrow."

Clic.

The door closed firmly.

Silence.

Dick stood there, leaning against you, completely motionless.

"Richard?"

"Yes my love?"

"I'm gonna kill you"

Major Tag Key

(☆) 》 Implied/not explicit

☆ 》Angst

☆ 》AU

☆ 》Character Death

☆ 》Fluff

☆ 》Platonic

☆ 》Romantic

Playlist ☆ ☆

↳ "I know that when I'm with you I feel more alive than I ever have before."

One-shots & Mini Series

Note: Works greater than 1,000 words

Drabbles

Note: Works less than 1,000 words

His eyes scanned the city from the ledge of the building where he stood. Every shadow was a potential danger, every reflection in the puddles, a hidden enemy. He leaned against the ledge, trying to imitate Bruce's imposing posture: shoulders straight, gaze firm, breathing measured.

The wind brought him a subtle sound: boots hitting metal on the adjacent roof. He knew it was you; he'd met you when he was about 18, a completely hormonal teenager, which remained a constant inside of him to this day. You'd always caught his attention; you had something, or maybe he was drawn to the forbidden. He knew that Bruce and you had had something, definitely not a relationship, but something had happened. You appeared to be considerably younger than Bruce, you looked pretty, and that suit looked amazing on you, letting your silhouette shine wherever you went. God only knew what he did every night when he returned to his room after finishing patrol with Bruce and you.

He tried to modulate Bruce's deep voice in his mind, prepare to speak as he would, maintain the composure and authority expected of Batman. But as the figure drew closer, every attempt at imitation mingled with the tingling attraction he felt toward you, causing the perfect stance to wobble just as you leaped onto his roof, with that smile that completely disarmed him.

Dick remained motionless, though he felt his body betray him. The rain soaked his cloak and trickled down his shoulders, but each drop seemed to go unnoticed by the proximity of your figure. The tickling in his chest had nothing to do with the night's chill.

You moved a little closer, keeping a safe distance, and he noticed how the shape of your shoulders, the slight sway of your hips, even the way the hood clung to your hair, kept him trapped. For a moment, he wanted to forget everything: the cloak, Gotham, the mission, his father, just to feel your closeness.

Your eyes shone beneath the mask, fixed on his, and for a moment Dick wondered if you'd always had that dove-like look, you looked so pretty, how could Bruce possibly enjoy all this?

"Bats, it's so good to see you all right," you said again, your voice cutting through the night like a wet edge of rain and desire. "Did you miss me?"

Dick swallowed, trying to concentrate, imitating Bruce's deep tone, but his voice cracked a little. "Gotham... always needs me to be whole."

You arched an eyebrow, clearly amused, and your smile showed that you'd noticed something in his tone: it wasn't Bruce, even though he wanted you to believe it was. You took a step closer, and the touch of your body against his made him hold back a sigh that shouldn't have escaped a Batman in full control.

"Always so serious… "you whispered, letting your hand slide down his chest, barely touching the armor."You look tense Bats, let me help you… "

Dick tried to respond, but his words were choked by emotion and the envy he felt for Bruce. Every touch, every glance, made him feel like a teenager again, caught between Batman's authority and the desire you provoked in him.

You leaned completely against him, his body reacting instinctively to the warmth of yours, to the weight of your presence. Every inch you shared seemed too intimate for the mission, but it was impossible to resist. The tension between you grew with every second, mixing danger and desire in an electric cocktail that kept you on the edge of everything.

Dick swallowed, feeling the tingle of attraction mix with the responsibility of being Batman. Every touch, every look from you disarmed him and made him feel like a teenager again, caught between his duty and the desire you provoked in him.

"No… I can't, we can't." he said, trying to maintain his composure. "Gotham…We have to patrol."

You leaned in slightly, bringing your face close to his, letting your breath brush against his mask as a mischievous smile played on your lips.

"Mm... Have I told you I love that you're so responsible?" you whispered. "Always so hard to tempt..."

Dick swallowed, trying to keep his voice deep and steady, the Batman tone Gotham had come to expect. Every word you spoke made him hesitate, and every touch of your body against his made him feel vulnerable.

“No… this isn’t the time for… distractions,” she said, struggling to maintain her composure, even as her breathing began to quicken.

Your fingers slid gently down his arm, then up to the base of his neck, brushing against the armor and the wet fabric. The proximity of your body, the heat you emanated, made him feel trapped, with no escape. “Oh, Bats…” you murmured, tilting your head. “I know even Batman has his weaknesses. I know you so well.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to concentrate, remembering the responsibility he had, all he could do was pray that something would get him out of this situation and that the trouble he was causing wouldn't be noticed.

“Enjoy yourself a little, Bats,” you whispered, tilting your head and letting your breath brush against his mask. “You know I’ve always liked you to take care of me… to protect me.”

Dick swallowed, feeling his self-control begin to crumble. He tried to modulate Bruce's voice, to maintain Batman's composure, but your proximity, your gestures, the way you mimicked every detail of what he did with Bruce... they completely disarmed him.

You stood inches away from him, breathing slowly, the rain soaking his layers and mixing cold and heat on your skin. With a deliberate, slow gesture, you brought your hand to your mouth and moistened it, the movement almost imperceptible but charged with purpose. Every second that passed, his gaze couldn't leave you, trapped in the tension you generated.

Then, with a calculated movement, you began to slide your hand down his torso, skimming over the armor, slowly moving down his body, almost reaching his crotch. Each touch was measured, deliberate, exaggerating the gestures you once shared with Bruce to drive him crazy, to make him feel the forbidden, to make him doubt his self-control. Dick swallowed, his jaw tensed, and his breathing became more rapid.

"Mm... always so stiff, Bats," you whispered, your breath brushing against his mask. "But I know even Batman has his weaknesses... and I like to discover them."

He closed his eyes for a moment, struggling to stay steady, trying to modulate Bruce's deep voice, trying to maintain his composure, as your hand lowered just a little further, marking territory without touching what was forbidden.

Just when it seemed like all his remaining control was about to snap, you gently took him by the shoulders, placing your hands firm and warm on him, and looked him straight in the eyes under his hood.

"Shhh… calm down, Batsy..." you whispered sweetly, with a smile full of mischief and tenderness. " Or should I call you Nightwing?"

Dick's eyes flew open, a chill running down his spine. His body still reacted to every touch, but now his mind screamed at him that everything had changed: she knew, she knew the truth, and yet she still played with him like before. His heart pounded, a mixture of relief, confusion, and desire he couldn't ignore.

"I…" he stammered, searching for words as his jaw tightened. "It's not… it's not what you think."

You leaned slightly toward him, letting your breath fan against his mask as a mischievous smile played on your lips. "Mm... I hope Bruce doesn't find out about this," you whispered, your voice thick with mischief. "Because if he does, he'll punish us... both of us."

Dick felt his heart race even faster. The mix of innuendo, playfulness, and your closeness completely disarmed him. He wanted to say something, to correct you, but the right word eluded him amid the desire and tension that consumed him.

You gently pulled away, placing your hands on his shoulders for a moment before taking a step back, holding that mischievous gaze that left him vulnerable and speechless.

"Mm... but don't worry, Bats," you murmured, in that playful tone I knew so well. "If you don't tell him, I won't tell him either. No punishments."

With one last flirtatious gesture, you turned on your heel and walked away into the rain, leaving Dick breathing heavily, his heart pounding, and the feeling that he had just crossed a line, even if nothing had materialized.

Dick doesn't say anything at first. He just looks at you, with that calmness that contrasts with the intensity of a few minutes ago. "We could stay like this all night," he finally whispers, his voice deep and low, like a secret just for you.

You close your eyes and smile against his skin, feeling the pulse of his heartbeat beneath your cheek, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat change with the passing minutes as his other hand rises to your hair, playing with tangled strands, while he murmurs.

"I love it when we're this close... and it's just us," he whispered, though his tone no longer held its initial calm. There was something darker in his gaze now, a tension you recognized instantly, you felt it deep inside you.

Your lips curved into a half-smile. "I thought you were tired..." you said softly, without opening your eyes, but aware that you were provoking him, and you liked it.

He raised an eyebrow and lowered his hand from your back to the curve of your waist, pausing there, as if deciding how much longer he was going to let you play. "Never from you," he replied, with that certainty that always managed to disarm you.

The silence returned, but it wasn't peaceful anymore; it was charged, thick, filled with an electricity that could break at any second. You could feel his gaze scanning your face, his fingers gently squeezing your waist, and your own body responding to that touch without you having to move.

Dick sat up slightly, resting his weight on one elbow, and his other hand began to trace a slow line from your waist to the top of your thigh, as if every inch of your skin was territory he had to explore slowly.

His eyes never left yours, and even though he didn't say anything, his breathing was heavier, deeper. The heat from his body radiated against yours, and you could feel it, not just physically, but in the way he watched you: as if he was gauging how long you could last before giving in again.

"Do you know what you're doing to me?" he asked in a low, barely audible murmur, his voice laden with a mixture of fascination and warning.

You smiled without responding, just moving your hand to the back of his neck, tangling your fingers in his hair and pulling him a little closer to you, making his muscle memory recall magnificent moments between your legs. He closed his eyes for a moment, as if that simple action ignited something he'd been trying to contain.

"Don't provoke me if you don't want this to start again," he said, his deep tone vibrating against your skin.

The room seemed to shrink, the air thick and heavy. Your lips brushed his, barely, he not letting you give him a full kiss. It was enough for his hand to tighten on your thigh, marking his presence, reminding you that, even though everything had been consummated between you minutes ago, the spark was as alive as ever.

Dick looked at you as if he were measuring your every reaction, as if he knew exactly what to do to keep you stuck in that middle point between calm and despair.

Your fingers tightened around the back of his neck, closing the gap between you, searching for the kiss he kept purposely denying you. Your breathing was no longer calm; you wanted him again, you wanted him now.

"Dick..." you whispered, in that tone you knew he recognized as a plea disguised as provocation.

He smirked, his nose barely touching yours. “Are you that desperate?” he asked, his voice sounding dangerous, as if he knew exactly the answer.

"Don't play with me like that..." you said with a trembling voice, while your fingers clung more tightly to his body, wanting to break his will and make him finally give in to the need you both felt.

His fingers tightened their grip, as if he wanted to mark you, to remind you that he was in control, but also that he enjoyed every moment of that tension. Your heart pounded, the need to have him inside you, and the closer he was, burned you, but something about that provocative calm kept you trapped.

Dick let out a slow smile, full of complicity and defiance, while his fingers squeezed with a little more intention, running over you as if he wanted to tattoo every inch of your skin with his touch until he reached your pussy.

"You know I like to keep you waiting," he murmured, his voice deep and soft at the same time, brushing against your ear like a forbidden caress. "But I also know you like it, so don't act like that. Be good to me."

His hot breath brushed your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. The tension between you was almost palpable, a slow, delicious play of control and surrender, of pent-up desire that exploded with every glance, every touch.

Your chest rose and fell with yearning, wanting more, wanting all of him. But there was also a dark pleasure in that waiting, in that slow dance where each second stretched like a promise.

Dick held you close, his lips seeking yours, but not giving you everything at once, as if he wanted to savor this moment until the last beat. “Don’t move,” he whispered against your lips. “Let me enjoy this, because when I’m done, you won’t want it to stop.”

And then, with a mixture of patience and contained hunger, he kissed your mouth again, this time with an intensity that made you lose control, but without breaking the slow and addictive rhythm he set.