Mila

okay, so, first off, if you try to initiate something with this man when he first appears, he WILL just stand there, looking at you like this 🧍‍♂️

if you try flirting with him during his first appearance, he will not fully understand at first but if dean explains it, he might get a bit flustered

overtime, however, he becomes accustomed to the idea of sex, he is an intelligent being just trying to learn the way of humans after all, especially after getting some education from...the pizza man

i feel like, especially if your castiels partner, your first time with him will have to be a bit more educative and instructive at first, so you'd be taking the lead, not to worry though, as he learns fast

at first, he'd be slow, analysing your expressions, and making sure he doesn't hurt you, however -

he is very obedient in a sort of way, so if you want him to go faster, he will

enough of clueless first appearance cas for now though..

overtime, I feel like he'd be comfortable with most things that don't involve hurting you physically

he is definatelty a switch, but leans more to the dom side, just wanting to please you, but doesn't mind if you take control

this mans stamina...my god..

speaking of him being an angel, I wouldn't be surprised to start seeing the heavens with his stamina, he could go for HOURS if you needed it, even if he's already cum

though, at the same time, if he is especially needy or if he's going a bit rougher with you per request, he will finish quite quickly, and become a bit more cuddly

let me just say, this man, WHIMPERS and GROANS so shamelessly

he is also very into roleplay

maybe a bit too into it at times... like, pizza man situation for ref

'that'll be 20 dollars, please'

'oh, no, I don't have any money to pay with.. maybe I can pay you another way?'

'sorry, no money no pizza'

'cas! your supposed to play along'

he isnt goofy in the moment, my man just slips up at times i swear

he is also another one that loves having his hands on you

his fav position is probably either doggy, or reverse cowgirl

to me, cas seems like an ass guy, so I feel like he'd love seeing your ass bounce as he fucks you

he also secretly loves it when you mark his neck up, and will be so blunt about it to dean and the others

'cas, what the hells that on your neck?'

'this...is from sexual intercourse with (reader)..'

this man is so shameless without realising it and I'm here for it

he will fuck you literally...where ever and whenever you need him

is obsessed with your pretty little noises, if you aren't vocal, he'll accept it as a challenge to make you make some pretty noises, or ask if your enjoying yourself

his favourite place to cum is probably inside you, or on your tummy

he just loves seeing it drip down from your hole or body..

the first time you gave him head, he came so quick

he does love receiving, but also giving you oral, he thinks it's the most perfect thing he's ever witnessed, watching you squirm under his relentless tongue

i also feel like he'd love watching porn with you if your into that, if not, he'll ask if you can make some together to watch it back, to learn more about how to pleasure you

definatey asks sam and or dean for sex advice, again, very shamelessly

for some reason I feel like cas would really be into watching you strip or master bate

overtime, I feel like he'd love lingerie too

like at first, he didn't really understand it, but now, he just sits there admiring you for a moment in your new set, he even is so gentle with it, instead of taking it off of you he always slides it to the side

aftercare was a bit confusing for him at first, he didn't get it, but quickly caught on as if it was natural instinct the moment you told him your muscles were aching

he treats you like a fine, brittle piece of China afterwards, cleaning you up, holding you if you requested it, and watching over you the entire night, even helping heal your muscles so you don't ache anymore (so sweet)

though, if your more of a brat, I feel like castiel would have a more rougher side

if you've been teasing him all day, he will not hesitate to scoop you up when his patience wears thing, teleport you to the bedroom, and fuck you right there and then

he will have you on your hands and knees, and is DEFINATELY into spanking

if you've been especially bratty, he'll smack your ass and edge your pussy with his fingers, keeping you from release while making you count the slaps, if you forget, back to number one you go

afterwards though, he makes sure to cuddle you up just right, and like I said, heal you and watch over you the entire night

I need this man so bad oh my lord

You never imagined your quest would lead here, tangled in the chaos of myths come to life, with the weight of betrayal heavy on your heart. As an Apollo kid, you’d always prided yourself on your healing abilities, your sharp aim with a bow, and your unyielding sense of justice.

 But justice felt like a distant memory now, especially when it came to Luke Castellan. He was the boy who’d stolen your heart back at Camp Half-Blood, the one who’d promised you the world under the strawberry fields’ sun-dappled leaves. And then he’d shattered it all by siding with Kronos, becoming the very traitor you’d sworn to fight against.

The quest had started innocently enough, or as innocently as any demigod adventure could. Anataleus had tasked you and Clarisse La Rue with retrieving the Golden Fleece, the mythical artifact that could heal Thalia’s tree and reinforce the camp’s borders. 

You were Luke’s age, both of you turning 19 this year, and while Clarisse was all brute force and Ares’ fiery temper, you brought the balance with your Apollo-given gifts: healing, prophecy glimpses, and a knack for soothing tensions. But the sea of monsters had other plans.

 A sudden change of heart from Clarisse towards her “brought back from the dead crew” caused the ship to steer towards the escalating whirlpool sweeping your small boat off course, hurling you and Clarisse onto the shores of Polyphemus’s island, with no idea where Percy and Annabeth were swept off too, perhaps even dead.

The island was a deceptive paradise at first, bleating sheep that seemed too perfect, too docile. But danger lurked in every shadow. You and Clarisse had barely regrouped, shaking off the saltwater and sand, when Polyphemus found you. His massive, single eye gleamed with hunger as he lumbered toward you, his club swinging like a pendulum of doom. Clarisse fought fiercely, her spear clashing against his crude weapon, but you were caught off guard by a stray swing that sent you flying into a rock. 

The world spun, pain exploding in your skull, and then… nothing. Blackness swallowed you whole.

When you came to, groggy and disoriented, you were tied to a massive wooden post in the Cyclops’s cave, ropes biting into your wrists. Clarisse was beside you, struggling against her bonds, her face a mask of fury. And then there was Grover, sweet, loyal Grover Underwood, the satyr who’d been missing for weeks on his search for Pan. 

You knew it was him, but he wasn’t himself. He was dressed in a tattered wedding gown, complete with a veil that he kept fidgeting with, his goat legs hidden under layers of fabric. “Grover?” you whispered, your voice hoarse. “What in Hades’ name are you wearing?” He blushed beneath the veil, his eyes darting nervously. “Long story. Polyphemus thinks I’m his bride. Something about empathy links and satyr magic confusing him. I’ve been stalling him, but… yeah, this is awkward.”

Clarisse snorted, though her eyes were sharp with calculation. 

“Great. We’re stuck with Bridezilla here. How do we get out?”

Before Grover could respond, Polyphemus’s booming voice echoed through the cave. “More guests for the wedding feast! You smell like half-bloods. Delicious!”

Polyphemus himself then explained his plan he’d captured you as bait, it turned out, luring Percy and Annabeth into a trap. 

The Golden Fleece hung tantalizingly on a tree outside the cave, glowing with false promise. But as the hours dragged on, tied together in a huddle of desperation, you learned the truth from Grover’s whispers: it was a fake. The real one was hidden deeper in the Caves heart, by a monsters, Polyphemus himself.

Percy and Annabeth arrived as predicted, but the trap sprang shut. Percy dove into the cave to rescue you, only for the massive stone to slam down, onto the rope trapping him with the rest of you. Annabeth, invisible thanks to her Yankees cap, slipped in just in time to avoid capture. “It’s a fake!” she hissed from the shadows, her voice urgent. “The Fleece on the tree—it’s not real. I saw the weave; it’s enchanted cloth, not the genuine article.”

Polyphemus laughed, his single eye rolling in delight. “Smart little demigod. But too late! You’ll all be my dinner now.”

Annabeth stalled him masterfully, her invisible form darting around, whispering taunts and distractions. 

“Over here, you one-eyed freak!” she’d call, buying time as Percy worked on the ropes with a hidden dagger. You felt a surge of hope, your Apollo senses picking up faint prophetic whispers: help was coming, but at a cost.

And then Luke appeared. You didn’t see him at first, but you heard the commotion outside, the clash of swords, the roar of the Cyclops as he lumbered to open the cave entrance just a crack to investigate. Luke must have followed the quest, shadowing you all from afar. His voice cut through the din, sharp and commanding. 

“The Fleece—it’s a decoy. Polyphemus, you idiot!”

The Cyclops roared in fury, swinging his club wildly. Annabeth, trying to help, scratched at his leg with her knife, but he anticipated it. His massive fist connected with her invisible form, sending her flying into the cave wall. She materialized upon impact, blood trickling from her temple, unconscious and pale.

“Annabeth!” Percy screamed, surging forward, but the cave held him back. You strained too, your healing instincts kicking in, desperate to reach your sister. Through the small opening in the cave door, you could see the chaos outside, while inside Percy screamed to Annabeth, Polyphemus advancing, Luke dodging with Celestial Bronze in hand.

But then Tyson burst onto the scene. The young Cyclops, Percy’s half-brother, whom you’d grown fond of during your time at camp. He was like a brother to you too—clumsy, kind-hearted, with a innocence that reminded you of better days. “Bad brother!” Tyson bellowed, charging Polyphemus. They grappled, a titanic struggle that ended with both tumbling off the cliff’s edge into the churning sea below.

“No!” you cried, tears stinging your eyes. Tyson had saved you all, but at what cost? The cave shook with the aftermath, dust raining down.

Outside, Luke seized the moment. He’d found out the fleece was a fake. But somehow, you weren’t sure when or how, Percy had tried to snatch the Golden Fleece from the table inside the cave, his reasoning being for Luke to save Annabeth. Percy and Clarisse argued fiercely over it, Percy insisting on using it to heal Annabeth first. 

“She’s dying, Clarisse! Give it here!”

Clarisse relented, her face twisted in reluctance. Luke watched from the shadows, his expression unreadable until Percy mentioned your name. “(Name) is in here too, Luke. Your… whatever she is to you. Polyphemus tried to kill us all, including Annabeth.”

Luke’s demeanor shifted like a storm cloud breaking. His eyes darkened, jaw clenching. “He what?” The fury in his voice was palpable, a reminder of the boy who’d once vowed to protect you from anything.

The strawberry fields at Camp Half-Blood, months before the betrayal. The sun warmed your skin as you lay beside Luke, your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. His fingers traced lazy patterns on your arm, his scar from past battles a stark line on his cheek. “You know,” he murmured, his voice soft, “one day, when all this demigod crap is over, I’m going to marry you. Build us a life away from the gods’ games. I’ll love you forever and ever, no matter what.”

You’d laughed, tilting your head to kiss him. “Promise?”

“Swear on the Styx,” he’d replied, pulling you closer. Your lips met in a sweet, lingering kiss, the world fading away.

Back in the present, that promise felt like a cruel joke. You’d been dating then, inseparable, but when Luke defected, stealing the Master Bolt and aligning with Kronos, you’d assumed it was over. He left without a word, becoming the enemy. To you, the breakup was implicit in his treason. But to Luke? Apparently not.

He healed Annabeth with the Fleece, her wounds knitting together in golden light. Then, with a wave of his hand, perhaps some dark magic from Kronos, he pried the cave entrance open just enough for one person to slip through. “Come out,” he called, his voice directed at you. “I’ll open it for everyone after. Trust me.”

Percy nodded at you urgently. “Go. Try. We need a way out.”

Hesitantly, heart pounding, you squeezed through the gap. The moment you emerged, Luke’s hand brushed your hair, a tender gesture that sent shivers down your spine. “There you are,” he whispered, his eyes softening for a split second.

Before you could react, he scooped you up like a sack of potatoes, slinging you over his shoulder. Annabeth, still groggy from her injury, was in his other arm, cradled protectively. 

“Luke, what—put me down!”

you protested, kicking weakly, but exhaustion from the quest,the fights, the hunger, the fear, washed over you. Your vision blurred, and unconsciousness claimed you once more.

When you awoke, the world had shifted. Soft sheets enveloped you, the gentle rock of a ship lulling your senses. You were in a lavish cabin, the captain’s quarters by the look of it, aboard the Princess Andromeda, Luke’s floating fortress for Kronos’s army. Panic surged, but then you saw and felt him: Luke, sitting beside the bed, his hand gently caressing your face, fingers threading through your hair.

“You’re awake,” he said softly, his voice a mix of relief and something deeper, hungrier. “Gods, I missed you.”

You should have fought, screamed, demanded to be released. But the way he looked at you…Like you were his world, which to him, you were, unchanged by the war—made you fold. “Luke… what have you done? The others—”

“They’re fine. I let them go after you were safe. Percy and the rest escaped.” His thumb traced your cheekbone. “But you… I couldn’t leave you there. Not after what that monster tried to do.”

You sat up slowly, the room spinning a little. “You kidnapped me. I’m against you in this war, Luke. You betrayed everyone—betrayed me.”

He shook his head, eyes fierce. “We never broke up. You think I’d let go that easily? I left to fix things, to end the gods’ tyranny. For us. For a future where we don’t have to fight for scraps.”

And somehow, in some mysterious way, you both opened up, talked for what felt like hours, which before came easily, the words tumbling out. 

He explained his side, the anger at the gods for abandoning their children, the promises Kronos made. You shared your pain, the quests without him, the loneliness. 

Tyson’s loss hit you hard; you’d confided how the young Cyclops felt like family, his sacrifice a fresh wound.

As the conversation deepened, the air thickened with unspoken longing. Luke’s hand never left your skin, tracing patterns that ignited old flames. “I missed you so much, my love,” he murmured, leaning closer. “Every night on this ship, I thought of you. Can we… just for a moment, forget the war? I need you.”

Your resolve crumbled. “Luke…”

“Just the tip,” he promised, his breath hot against your ear. “I don’t have condoms here. It’ll be quick, I swear. I won’t cum inside. Please.”

You nodded, desire overriding reason. He kissed you then, deep and claiming, his hands roaming your body like he was relearning every curve.

Luke’s lips trailed down your neck, nipping at your collarbone as he peeled away your tattered quest clothes. You were bare beneath him in moments, your skin flushing under his gaze. “So beautiful,” he whispered, his fingers dipping between your thighs, finding you already wet. “Missed this, my gods, missed you.”

He rubbed himself against you frist, his hard length sliding between your thighs, the friction delicious. You moaned, arching into him, your hands clutching his shoulders. “Luke, please…”

“Just the tip,” he repeated, positioning himself at your entrance. He pushed in slowly, inch by agonizing inch, stopping at the head. The stretch was exquisite, your walls clenching around him. He groaned, hips twitching as he fought for control.

You wrapped your legs around him, urging him deeper, but he held back. “No, love. Promised.” Instead, he thrust shallowly, the tip teasing your sensitive spots. His hand slipped between you, fingers circling your clit in time with his movements.

The quickie built fast, your breaths mingling in gasps. He pulled out to rub between your thighs again, the slickness making it glide effortlessly. “Gods, feel so good,” he muttered, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss.

You came first, the orgasm crashing over you like a wave, your body shuddering. Luke followed soon after, spilling onto your stomach with a low moan, true to his word.

But that was just the beginning. The “quickie” stretched into hours, your bodies entwined in a haze of passion. He took you again, this time from behind, his hands gripping your hips as he thrust deeper, still careful, still promising restraint. “I love you,” he panted, his scar brushing your back. “Forever.”

Luke knew he was a pervert, and even though you too knew this perfectly well, he kept denying it because you actually didn't know how disgusting he could be.

At the same time the man doesn’t bother pretending he's not obsessed with your panties.

Luke’s eyes keep snagging on you, on the innocent sweep of fabric doing a terrible job of hiding what’s underneath. That’s his problem !! You just want to tease him, don't you? It's you who keeps making him need to see !!

He started just imagining the lace pressed warm against your skin, straps sitting perfectly on those spongy hips he loves so much.

But soon that morphed to an absurd need to know what were you wearing, and it even led him to try and put his hand inside your clothes, skirt or pants, that man will know what you're covering that cunt with one way or another.

His strong, calloused hand run through the fabric and maybe squeezes your ass just to annoy you, to make you feel embarrassed if you guys are in a public space.

And oh! He's satisfied once he figures out what it is— Some lingerie, maybe a thong...Fuck it, this man even loved those old, used and somewhat broken ones you have. He was just like that about it.

Of course, he loved being able to eat your pussy with your panties still on.

“Time for some inspection around here.” He would say when your poor cunt was at his mercy, when your legs were bent and your knees were touching your chest. “Pretty thing so wet for me.”

“You’re enjoying this too much.” You say, embarrassed, because even though he has you pinned to the bed like this, and it was pretty normal for him to love this position, his hands didn't even try to remove the underwear that reveal a wet stain screaming how much you like being manhandled.

And Luke, Captain Luke, Swordsman, Son of Hermes, didn't even say a word to you because it seemed like he wanted to talk with another part of you; his face was already buried between your thighs. Not even a little foreplay for the tonight !

His nose was pressing against your clothed clit, which you felt swelling from the rush of blood and the arousal. The surprising thing was when he suddenly let out a deep sigh as if he had inhaled as much as possible and finally let go.

“Damn love, when did you change these?” he asked, an indecipherable tone, making you not knowing how to feel.

Was it a bad question? Was he disgusted???

Your face turned red in a second, you couldn't even see his face because he wouldn't look at you, his eyes were on your clothed cunt and that made it even worse because you knew that wet patch probably grew on the fabric.

"Yesterday night?" You answered with insecurity, you didn't want him to feel it was gross.

Luke gave you a small grunt; that answer didn't seem to please him! So when your legs tried to move to close his hands were immediately pulling them back towards your chest, making you whine.

“Next time you have to leave them on longer,” Finally he was talking to you, but oh, the words that came out of his dirty mouth as he took a little bite out of your panties... “That way they'll be more seasoned with my favorite flavor.”

“Uh?! Don't be gro—” You could barely say more as your fingers got tangled in his hair.

Luke simply loved eating your covered and soaked cunt, his tongue dragging from your entrance to your clit where he would lightly bite, seeking to mark it even more. A few wet kisses here and there that had you trembling in a matter of minutes, adding saliva to the mess that was your underwear.

He wasn't a freak, he just loved being able to make out with your pussy like this, wasn't it cute?

“Luke wait- wait—!” You couldn't move properly, only whimper and try to shove him away. But he was still there, slurping and kissing. The fucker was even laughing against it!

" Too much— Too much—," you whined, it really was too much. Luke was all but bullying your aching clit with his teeth.

He continued like that until you felt your panties were completely soaked in different juices, and that made him hook a finger to the waistband.

‘Finally!’ you thought. Finally he was going to get rid of the only thing that separated his mouth and cock from your abused hole!

Wouldn't that be incredible?

When your eyes opened and you saw his face you knew it wasn't about that, his finger immediately tugging the clothe up hard enough to make you think he broke them which granted a moan.

Your fat lips seemed to devour the fabric, making your precious folds stand out and your clit protrude even more.

“Fuck..” His eyes were on them, watching intently as your hips moved because of the slight stinging. “Your hole is trying to swallow. It’s so fucking cute, she's talking to me.”

His thick tip pressed against it, seeing how your hole opened and closed with need. “Luke, take them off now..”

“What? No.” The tip kept pressing, making the fabric sink slightly into your hole. “I’m going to paint these panties with my seed and then you’ll give them to me.”

He wasn't kidding— oh no, he was going to have those nasty panties of yours for him to jerk off when stressed out!

Still, he wanted to give you a little more of pleasure since you were being so good with your legs to your chest and that pretty fucked up pussy at his mercy.

His hand, still hooking the garment up went to giving your battered folds and clit little slaps. That plap plap plap making you protest weakly with the hips bucking into his cock.

“Yeah that's it, I'm gonna cum here babe..” His breathing was slightly agitated, your legs trembled in search of that much-desired orgasm.

And as your wet cunt was slapped over and over again harder each time paired to the whiny little hitches of breath between moans the thick ropes of white started to paint the love of his life making your weak body slump forward, the poor little overstimulated pussy giving a few weak spasms.

"Let's keep going, let me fuck you with these on."

“Luke no—! That's too much..”

And did he fuck you with those still on, could you really blame your boyfriend? Seeing how your panties outlined from your beautiful ass to your clit and to your yearning hole made him kind of dumb.

★ eiris 2025 not proofreaded ! ❩

(( 𝑟𝑒𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝒽𝑒𝑟𝑒 )) 𝓂𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⸝⸝ 𝑙𝑢𝑘𝑒 𝑐𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑎𝑛 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘𝑠

Dick Grayson had always been a whirlwind of energy, the kind that pulled you into his orbit whether you wanted it or not.

 As Nightwing, he danced through the shadows of Gotham with effortless grace, but around you, his girlfriend of nearly a year, he transformed into something far more personal—a cocky, touchy force of infatuation that made your heart race and your skin tingle.

You'd met him during one of his patrols, caught in the chaos of a street brawl, and from that moment, his blue eyes had locked onto you like you were the only light in the dark city. 

Your dark hair, the curve of your hips, the way you bit your lip when you laughed—it all consumed him, turning him into a man who couldn't keep his hands or his desires to himself.

Your relationship had sparked slowly, but Dick's hunger ignited instantly. He was whiny about it, always pushing with that smug grin, his touches lingering like promises. You played it cool, denying him with a firmness that only seemed to stoke his fire, leaving him frustrated and you secretly thrilled by the tension building between you.

It started on your first real date at a cozy Italian spot hidden from Gotham's grit. Dick's arm draped over your chair, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your bare shoulder, sending shivers down your spine. The candlelight flickered across his sharp jawline as he leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear. "You look so damn good tonight," he whispered, voice rough with want. "Makes me want to ditch this place and get you alone. Feel you under me."

You felt the heat rise in your cheeks, sipping your wine to steady yourself. "We're in public, Dick. Cool it."

He pouted, those full lips curving into a playful frown, his eyes pleading as he shifted closer. "Come on, just a taste? In the alley out back? I've been hard thinking about your mouth all day." His hand slipped lower, brushing the swell of your breast through your thin blouse, bold and unapologetic.

You swatted him away, a laugh bubbling up despite the spark in your core. "No, behave yourself."

But Dick never really behaved. As you left the restaurant, his arm snaked around your waist, pulling your body flush against his side. At a stoplight, he buried his face in the crook of your neck, lips grazing your skin. "Pull over now, and I'd have you pinned to that wall, skirt up, fucking you quick and deep before anyone notices."

"No," you said, voice steady even as your pulse quickened. "You're impossible."

"Insatiable," he whined back, revving his motorcycle as you sped into the night, his body heat seeping through your clothes, his mind clearly elsewhere—on you, bent and begging.

The teasing became a rhythm, one that pulsed through every moment you shared. A week later, curled up on your couch for a movie marathon, your legs stretched across his lap. His strong hands kneaded your thighs, starting innocent but sliding higher, fingertips teasing the edge of your shorts. You could feel him hardening beneath you, the thick ridge pressing up. "Please," he groaned, voice low and needy, guiding your hand to feel his erection. "Right here on this couch. I need to be inside you. The screen's just noise—your moans would be better."

You pulled your hand back, crossing your arms over your chest. "Not every hangout turns into sex, Dick. Have some patience."

He flopped against the cushions with a dramatic sigh, raking fingers through his tousled hair. "Patience? You're driving me crazy. I can barely focus with you so close." That cocky smile flashed as he tugged you onto his chest, your heart thudding against his. 

"One deep kiss? For me?"

It turned into several, his tongue hot and insistent against yours, but you broke away before his hands could wander too far, leaving him whining into your shoulder about how cruel you were being.

Public spots were where his boldness shone brightest, turning everyday outings into charged games. On a sunny afternoon at the Blüdhaven boardwalk, the ocean breeze tangling your hair, Dick intertwined his fingers with yours. But soon, his other hand rested on your hip, thumb dipping under your tank top to stroke the soft skin of your waist. The salty air mixed with his cologne, intoxicating as he nodded toward the Ferris wheel's colorful lights. "Private car up there—no one would know. I'd have you bouncing on my cock, the whole city spinning below us."

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth pooling low in your belly betrayed you. "Ridiculous. Absolutely no."

He dragged you toward the line anyway, pressing his chest to your back, his arousal nudging your ass through his jeans. A soft, desperate whine escaped him as he rocked subtly. "Feel what you do to me? That's your fault. Let me fix it."

You elbowed him gently, suppressing a shiver. "Control it, Grayson. We're not animals."

He didn't control much that day. Stolen kisses in the dim arcade, where his hand squeezed your ass amid the flashing games; a grope in the bustling crowd around a juggler, his fingers digging in possessively; whispers during a sticky cotton candy moment, his lips at your ear promising how he'd lick the sweetness off your thighs if you'd just say yes.

 Every denial from you only amped his infatuation, his touches growing more insistent, his whines more playful yet edged with real need.

Even Wayne Manor wasn't safe from his advances. During a quiet family evening, with Bruce buried in his study and Alfred in the kitchen, Dick lured you to the library with talk of his childhood comics. 

Instead, he had you backed against the towering bookshelves, his mouth hot on your neck, sucking marks that made your breath hitch. His hands roamed your sides, bunching your shirt, grinding his hardness against your thigh. "God, I've craved this all week," he murmured, voice thick. "Let me drop to my knees, taste how wet you are for me. Right here, between these shelves."

You gasped, shoving at his broad chest. "Dick, not in your family's house! No way. I know for a fact Bruce has hidden cameras.”

He whined, forehead dropping to your shoulder, his breath ragged. "Why do you do this to me? I'm aching so bad it hurts." His eyes lifted, burning with that arrogant certainty—he'd break you down, eventually.

Months blurred into this intoxicating push-pull. Dick's obsession deepened; his texts during patrols buzzed your phone nonstop—shirtless gym pics with captions like 'Wish you were here, riding me instead' or 'Door's unlocked. Come let me fuck you senseless.' You'd fire back teasing rejections, keeping the edge sharp. In every brief touch, he sought more: fingers lingering on your lower back during goodbyes, lips brushing your temple in crowded elevators, his body always gravitating toward yours like a magnet.

One starlit night at a Gotham rooftop gathering, the skyline twinkling like diamonds, Dick cornered you near the ledge. The bass from the party below thrummed through the air, but up here, it was just you two, the wind whispering secrets. He pressed you against the cool metal railing, hands firm on your hips, drawing your core against the solid line of his cock. "Dance with me," he said, but his body moved with a different rhythm, hips rolling suggestively as his mouth captured yours in a searing kiss, tongue delving deep.

You pulled back, breathless, the city lights reflecting in his dilated pupils. "Not here—anyone could look up."

"Let them watch," he rasped, cocky edge sharpening as he nipped your earlobe, fingers slipping under your dress to trace your inner thigh. "I want to hike this up, slide into you under the stars. Please, I'm begging."

"Not today," you managed, though your voice wavered, body leaning into him despite your words.

He whined softly, wrapping you in a tight embrace, his heart pounding against yours. "You're killing me slowly. The best kind of torture."

The tension simmered until it boiled over on that one electric night. Dick had been out with Batman, hunting an arms dealer through Gotham's labyrinthine alleys. The stakeout demanded focus—the shipment could arm half the underworld—but your image haunted him. 

Perched on a jagged gargoyle, Bruce's gravelly instructions fading to static, Dick's mind wandered to you: the sway of your ass in those tight pants that morning, the floral hint of your scent as you kissed him farewell. His cock stiffened in the confines of his suit, throbbing uncomfortably as he pictured you spread on your bed, legs wide, taking every inch of him until you shattered.

He shifted, gaze slipping just long enough for the van to vanish into the fog. Back in the Batcave, the failure hung heavy, Bruce's fury erupting like a storm.

"Richard! What the fuck was that?" Bruce's voice boomed, his imposing frame looming as he stripped off his cowl, eyes like white-hot coals.

"Distracted," you heard Dick mutter later in your mind's replay, but in the moment, you'd been home, oblivious.

Bruce didn't let up. "Distracted? This is Gotham—people die when you lose focus. If you can't lock it down, you're benched."

The reprimand sliced deep, igniting the frustration Dick had bottled for months. His erection hadn't fully faded, now twisted with anger and raw lust. He tore out of the cave, motorcycle roaring through the streets to your building, the wind whipping his unresolved need into a frenzy.

You were on your balcony, your private sanctuary high above the urban sprawl. Potted herbs swayed gently in the breeze, string lights casting a warm, golden haze over the space. Wrapped in a thin robe, you reclined in a cushioned chair, tea steaming in your hands, letting the day's stress melt away. The city's distant hum was a lullaby—until a shadow leaped from the fire escape, landing with predatory silence.

Dick stood there in his Nightwing suit, the black and blue material clinging to every ridge of muscle, his domino mask shadowing his fierce gaze. His chest rose and fell rapidly, a storm brewing in his stance.

"Dick?" You set your cup aside, rising slowly, worry knotting your stomach. "What happened out there?"

No words—just action. He closed the distance in a blur, hands clamping your arms as he hauled you up, crushing your body to his. His kiss was savage, lips bruising yours, tongue invading with desperate force as he maneuvered you toward the railing. The taste of him—sweat and adrenaline—flooded your senses, his gloved fingers digging into your skin.

You gasped against his mouth, hands pressing his shoulders. "Dick—slow down, talk to me."

"No talking," he snarled, voice gravelly with pent-up fury and hunger. His hands ripped your robe open, the fabric parting to bare your naked form beneath. Cool air pebbled your nipples as he cupped your breasts, squeezing roughly, thumbs circling the peaks until they ached. "You've teased me endlessly. Not tonight, tomorrow, not yet—every damn time. I'm taking what's mine now."

Your protest died in another brutal kiss, his teeth grazing your lip, drawing a sharp sting that made you whimper. Through the reinforced suit, you felt him—his cock, enormous and rigid, grinding against your stomach like a promise of ruin. Dick was huge, the kind of size that bordered on overwhelming, and in your heated whispers before, he'd confessed how it turned him on, knowing he'd stretch you to your limits.

He whirled you around, bending you over the railing so your torso dangled precariously, the night breeze kissing your exposed skin. Gotham stretched out below, a glittering web of secrets. "Look down there," he commanded, fisting your hair to arch your neck, forcing your eyes to the abyss. "The whole city's watching. And I'm going to fuck you where they can see—claim you loud and hard."

"Dick, wait—we can't—" Your words fractured as his gloved fingers plunged between your thighs, finding your folds slick with unexpected arousal. He groaned, a deep, throaty sound vibrating through you, as he shoved two fingers inside, thrusting without mercy, knuckles deep.

"So wet for me already," he moaned, the whine creeping back into his tone as he curled his digits, stroking that sensitive ridge that buckled your knees. "All those nos, but your pussy's dripping. Begging for my touch. Take these fingers—get ready for what's next."

You clutched the railing, knuckles white, a moan slipping free as he added a third finger, twisting and spreading to accommodate his girth. The stretch burned sweetly, his pace unyielding, free hand yanking down his suit's zipper.

His cock sprang free—heavy, veined, the head flushed and leaking. Thick as your wrist, nine inches pulsing with need, he fisted it once, a loud moan escaping. "Ahh, fuck... look at this monster. All because of you. Been dreaming of breeding you, filling that tight hole until you're overflowing."

The breeding fantasy tumbled out, primal and unchecked—he wanted to pump you full, watch his seed take root, mark you irrevocably as his. His fingers slid out with a obscene squelch, and he notched his tip at your entrance, the broad head parting you.

"Dick—condom, at least—Bruce would kiss us!" you panted, but he surged forward, embedding half his length in a single, ruthless drive.

"No protection," he grunted, moaning long and low as your walls fluttered around him. "Raw. Gonna breed this pussy deep. Make it mine." He inched further, splitting you open, the fullness bordering on too much. "Shit, you're gripping me like a vice. So small against my big cock—take every inch, feel how I stretch you."

You cried out, the size consuming you, a delicious ache blooming as he sheathed fully, balls pressed to your ass. No pause, he withdrew slightly and slammed back, setting a brutal rhythm, hips pistoning with the force of his frustration. 

Each thrust punched a moan from him—whiny at the edges, then raw and animalistic. "Oh god, yes... ahh, your pussy’s sucking me in. Milk me, baby, Ngh! just like that."

He railed you mercilessly, Batman's scolding fueling the frenzy, hands bruising your hips as he yanked you back to meet him. The railing groaned under the assault, city lights smearing in your teary vision. "Gonna flood you," he panted, moans escalating. "Breed you full—pump this womb until you're carrying me."

The words ignited something in you, your body betraying your earlier hesitations, pushing back to take him deeper. His massive cock battered your depths, the size kink alive in every drag, every stretch that made you feel utterly possessed.

Dick's thrusts stuttered, his whines turning frantic. "Fuck—close, so close... ahh, take my cum!" He buried deep, cock throbbing as he erupted, thick spurts coating your insides. He rocked through it, moaning with each pulse. "Yes... filling you up, breeding you good... so much seed for my girl."

He didn't withdraw. Instead, he pulled out just enough for cum to trickle down your thighs, then dropped to his knees behind you. His tongue lashed your clit, sucking greedily, fingers diving back in to push his release deeper, fucking it into you with wet, insistent strokes.

"Dick—oh fuck—" you whimpered, fingers tangling in his hair, the mask rough against your skin.

He rose, eyes blazing through the mask. "Not done. Need to ruin you more." With acrobatic ease, he scooped you up, carrying you to the lounge chair and laying you out like an offering. He peeled off the upper suit, exposing his sculpted torso—abs rippling, chest heaving, then ditched the bottoms entirely. Bare save for the mask, his cock already swelling again, he straddled you.

"Open wide," he demanded, and you parted your legs, thighs trembling. He thrust home, slick with his own cum, moaning as he filled you anew. "Still so damn tight around me. Love how my huge dick owns this pussy."

This round started measured but rough, his weight pinning you, one hand trapping your wrists overhead while the other pinched your nipple, rolling it harshly. He ground deep, circling his hips to stir you, moans spilling freely—breathy, needy. "You... ahh, perfect. Gonna breed you again, flood you until it sticks. Feel me throbbing? All for knocking you up."

The dirty talk shattered you, orgasm ripping through as your walls clamped down, milking him. He chased it with a shattered moan, hips jerking. "Ahhhh.. cumming—yes, take every drop!" Hot jets mixed with the first load, his body shuddering atop yours.

Still buried, he flipped your positions, you sat on top of him now, his hands kneading your ass as he urged you to move. "Ride me hard. Show me you want this breeding."

Exhausted but fired up, you rolled your hips, his cock spearing new depths, brushing spots that made stars burst behind your eyes. Beneath you, Dick whined, that cocky facade cracked into pure vulnerability. "Fuck, yes—grind on my thick cock. Squeeze me tighter."

The night dissolved into a blur of rounds, bodies slick and entangled. Back against the wall, your legs hooked over his arms as he pounded upward, fingers in your pussy first to stretch, then his cock claiming you raw, moans echoing his obsession with your tightness, his size, the urge to breed. By the third, your muscles quivered, but he flipped you onto all fours on the chair, entering from behind with a guttural groan. "One more load—ahh, shit, you're made for this. Taking my big dick like a champ."

He fingered your clit through your climax, then thrust deep, moaning hoarsely as he came again, seed spilling over. The fourth blurred into the fifth—on the floor now, with you beneath him, his pace slowing to deep, grinding rolls, whines softening to pleas. "Please... let me fill you one last time. Need to breed you completely…"

You nodded, spent and sated, and he drove in lazily but profoundly, voice breaking on your name, as his final release pulsed weakly, plugging you full.

Collapsed together on the balcony's cool tiles, his softening cock still sheathed inside, Dick's softer side emerged. He nuzzled your neck, lips tender now. "Sorry if I was too rough," he murmured, breath evening out. "But I can't stop wanting you. Love you too much."

You traced his jaw, feeling the stubble beneath the mask's edge, a smile curving your lips. "I know. And maybe... I won't say no next time."

His eyes sparkled, cock giving a faint twitch. "Yeah? Promise me that."

For now, you stayed tangled, the city a silent witness to your surrender, the air thick with the scent of sex and possibility.