flavor: dick grayson
𖹭 summary: wedding cake tasting with your fiancé
𖹭 cw: cmbyn, fluff, lil bit of angst, i believed i was a poet for a sec, suggestive, food play?, english is not my first language, first fic
𖹭 wc: 4.2k
“Call me by your name, and I’ll call you by mine,” the TV murmured in front of you, casting the soft glow of the scene over your face and the ceramic mug held in your hands.
“Elio…” you mumbled the name under your breath alongside Timothée Chalamet’s voice, “Elio. Elio. Elio. Elio. Elio. Elio. Elio. Elio.”
The sound of heavy rain droplets hitting the windows accompanied by the actors’s soft-spoken dialogue reached your ears like a slow-paced melody.
Your chest rose and fell as you breathed in the pleasant mix of scents: chamomile from the steam of your tea and lavender from the candle you’d lit; its flame, the moonlight, and the screen illuminating the otherwise dark apartment.
A wool-knitted blanket draped over your naked thighs, your bare feet sticking out and hanging off the edge of the sofa’s cushion, maintaining a comfortable balance of warmth and coolth in your body.
It was the perfect calming ambiance, almost romantic even.
But your attempt to indulge in the tranquility the atmosphere offered was futile. Your heart doesn’t allow you to do so when he’s not with you.
Fortunately, or unfortunately —you haven’t decided yet, you’re used to it.
You’ve learned to go through your nights alone, feeling the overwhelming presence of his absence during dinner, the emptiness that takes up too much space on the opposite side of the bed, and hearing the strident silence at the lack of his voice.
You’ve learned to endure the mundanities of life with a heart full of worry, to read while your mind subconsciously prays for his return, and to bathe pitying the water that touches a skin that only wants to be touched by him.
Because loving Dick Grayson means fearing for Nightwing.
Fearing that he’ll return with a wound so deep, it’ll leave him in pain for days.
Fearing that he’ll return with a scar not physical, but that’ll take his peace of mind for the rest of his years.
Fearing him not returning at all, swallowed by the city and dragged away into a place so far away, impossible for you to reach.
Not tonight though, because when you hear the window slide open, you knew that she had granted you another day of him. Blüdhaven had been merciful enough to let him go home to you, and kind enough to leave him untouched.
You watched silently as he crawled in through the window, a cold breeze entering alongside him uninvited, making its way into your living room until it caressed your shoulders so gently it made up for the chill that ran down your spine.
The breeze carried with it a sprinkling of fine droplets that settled on your carpeted floor seconds before his feet did.
He stood in front of the window, his lean figure backlit by the reflection of the moon, carving shadows across his muscles and frame. His black locks twirled around the strong gusts of wind, moving fluidly through and around them.
White eyes stared at you intensely from the black domino mask, the contrast reminiscent of the brightness of the moon in a dark sky akin to tonight’s.
Electric blue ran across his chest like a dangerous river, standing out against the black spandex of his skintight suit, the symbol was the center of attention.
There, he appeared powerful, unreachable, and untouchable.
Godlike.
The illusion vanished when he took a step closer, closing the window behind him, the warmer lightning allowed your eyes to revel in the golden tan of the visible skin from his neck to his lower face.
Your gaze then traced his jawline and the slope of his nose, the outline of his features so delicate, you believe the lines were drawn by the skillful hands of a very passionate artist.
Finally, your stare settled on his smile. The pearly white of his teeth has its own unique shine, more discreet than that of a star’s, but brighter than the moonlight’s. The reddish tone of his lips might as well be your favorite color, and you are certain you won’t find it in any place other than his mouth.
And at that moment —just like every time he looks at you, that smile stared back at you with a love so ardent, it made your heart melt.
“Hey, beautiful.”
“Hi, Nightwing.”
You hadn’t noticed that his hands were busy holding something that he covered with a jacket —to protect it from the rain, you assumed— until he carefully placed the object on the coffee table —jacket and all, right next to where you’d just set your mug.
Before you had time to react, Dick was already sprawled on top of you, wrapping his arms around your waist as his dank chest pressed against your dry one.
Nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, he took an exaggerated sniff and then sighed in delight.
“Mm, I missed you,” his voice was muffled where his mouth was pressed against your skin.
“Why are you sniffing me like a dog?” You laughed, scrunching up your nose.
“Woof, woof,” he barked, playfully biting into the sensitive skin of your neck.
“Dick!” You gasped, slapping his shoulder.
“Sorry,” his lips pressed sweetly onto the mark he’d just left, your body relaxing until you saw him looking up at you with eyes full of mischief.
You were about to warn him about whatever he planned on doing, but his actions were faster than your words and he stuck out his tongue to lick a long stripe from the bottom of your neck up to the back of your earlobe.
“Stop acting like a dog!”
“Sorry, you just make my animal instincts come out,” he snorted.
You rolled your eyes, doing your best to pretend that he didn’t manage to get you all hot and bothered with his weird teasing.
Not like you were tricking anyone though, especially not Dick.
He continued leaving a trail of sloppy wet kisses along your neck and collarbones. His hands slid under the blanket that covered your legs, calloused palms caressed your thighs in slow movements, higher and higher until they reached your ass to give it a light squeeze.
Because you knew he was about to get all cocky about successfully completing his mission of making you embarrassingly horny, you decided to not give him any time to tease.
“Ugh, get off me!” You tried pushing him away, but Dick —in all his stubborn nature— didn’t budge. “You’re all wet and sweaty, it’s disgusting.”
“I love it when you make me all wet and sweaty,” he breathed into your ear.
You groaned at his words, throwing your head back in annoyance while he just laughed his stupidly sexy laugh against your flushed cheek.
“What’s that?” You shifted the focus of the conversation because curiosity was eating you alive.
“What’s what?” He pulled away with a confused expression, you simply nodded towards the jacket and whatever it was hiding still sitting on the little table.
Dick immediately brightened up, his eyes widened comically, and he sat up so fast, you feared for his neck.
He reached for the jacket and threw it carelessly somewhere on the floor, revealing a slightly crumpled, white, rectangular box.
He grabbed it carefully —complete opposite of the treatment he’d given the jacket— and placed it on your lap.
“Open it.” He whispered his command in a tone so sweet, it made your teeth ache.
Your hands followed his words before your mind could process them, because you trusted him so much, your body had grown accustomed to simply obeying whenever it heard his voice.
As you lifted the lid, something sugary and deliciously mouth-watering filled your nostrils, you smiled at the pleasant scent.
Inside, there were at least ten neatly-cut cake slices; each its own layered combination of fluffy sponge, flavored mousse, buttery frosting, and decorative ingredients like fruits or grated chocolate.
“What are these?” The question left your lips in the form of a surprised, breathy murmur. It was a stupid question, the cake slices probably looked at you deadpan when you asked it, but by the way Dick had handled the box with so much care, you knew it was much more than just cake.
“Wedding cake samples.” Your eyes immediately shot up to look at him when he answered.
Dick was already staring at you, his smile was shy now, less playful and confident, but still as beautiful. You saw the rosy, pink blush slowly coloring all of his neck and cheekbones without asking for permission.
“You know, since the date is approaching— Well, we still have a year and two months, but time flies and all that—” he abruptly cut himself off again, “Not that we’re under any pressure! We have a lot of time for all the planning and stuff!”
“Dick.”
“I thought we could do something like date night— or date morning since it’s already like 2:00 a.m.,” he corrected himself with a nod.
“Dick.”
“We don’t have to choose right now, there are a ton of other bakeries that offer different options for the cake—” he was talking so fast, he had to take a deep breath and clear his throat, “for our wedding.”
Your heart stuttered at that, it’s ridiculous how giddy you get every time you remember he’s now your fiancé, soon-to-be husband.
You could never get over how much you love Dick Grayson. You’ve been together for years and he still makes you nervous just by looking at you.
Still makes butterflies fly in your belly with his compliments, heat pool between your legs when he flashes you a smirk, and your heart beat out of your chest every time he says ‘I love you’.
And you could never get over the fact that he loves you.
When you saw him open his mouth to continue his rambling, you leaned into him, cradling his face with both hands and pressing your lips against his before he could speak.
He didn’t hesitate to kiss you back, his shoulders relaxing as his hands settled gently on your waist, feeling the smile of your lips on his as you kissed him.
Pulling away slowly, you giggled at the sight of him desperately chasing your lips, baby blue eyes pleading through his dark lashes.
The sight was adorable, and you felt a hint of pride thinking about how only you get to see him like this.
Shy, pathetic Dick Grayson’s a rare sight; unimaginable for the rest of the world, reserved just for you.
“I think tonight’s the perfect time to start with wedding preparations,” you smiled, tenderly caressing his cheekbones with your thumbs.
Dick beamed up at your words, his cheesy smile highlighting those prominent dimples that make him look unfairly adorable.
“So it’s a date?”
“It’s a date.”
Dick went for a quick shower with the promise of not making you wait for long; in the meantime, you read through the names and descriptions of the different flavor options he’d brought.
‘Chocolate and hazelnut sponges layered with nutella buttercream and coffee mousse’, ‘Vanilla sponge with fresh fruits and vanilla butter cream’, ‘Oreo sponge layered with strawberry mousse and Oreo buttercream’, so on and so forth.
“Three minute shower,” Dick panted, clumsily pulling up his grey cotton sweatpants as he rushed out of the bedroom, “Not even Wally is that fast.”
He plopped down on the empty space next to you, not even trying to hide his excitement as he reached for you with one arm and for the box with the other.
“Dick,” you stopped him, “what are we gonna eat with?”
“What— Oh, you’re right!” He jumped off the couch and rushed to the kitchen.
He returned with a silver fork in his fist and a cheeky grin on his face, you couldn’t help but giggle at the sight.
It was ironic, how he knows he can kiss you and see you out of your clothes whenever he wants to, but he still does little things like this, bringing only one fork to share, as if he’s just a boy crushing.
He placed his hand on one of the backrest cushions to support his weight as he jumped over it, landing perfectly on the spot he’d already claimed.
“Show off,” you rolled your eyes at his theatrics.
“Hey, I’m an acrobat!” He circled your waist with one muscular arm and effortlessly lifted you up to set you on his lap. “I deserve to brag about my skills every once in a while.”
You bit back the smirk that threatened to break on your lips when you heard the hiss he made as you wiggled on his lap, pretending to get comfortable as you took the fork from him.
“Are you wearing anything under those sweats?”
“No.”
“I can feel it.”
“Great, that’s your dessert.”
“I’m pretty sure that cake counts as dessert.”
“Good, then it’s the main dish,” he winked and you turned your blushing face away from him.
“What should we try first?” you asked, squinting your eyes at the rectangular-cut slices in the box.
“You’re the one who calls the shots, babe.” Dick pressed a soft kiss to your jaw, staring at you adoringly even when you weren’t aware he was doing it. “You choose.”
“Hmm…” humming as you contemplated the variety of cake options sitting inside the box, a slice with a moist, yellowy sponge and creamy white frosting caught your attention —mainly because of the cute little flowers that adorned it. “This one,” you pointed at it.
“‘Lemon Elderflower,’” Dick read the name as you grabbed a small piece with the fork and lifted it to his mouth.
He willingly opened his mouth for you to feed him the pastry and then closed his plush lips around the fork as he took the bite, eyes never leaving yours.
You then retreated the fork from him to grab another piece of the chosen slice and take a bite of your own, all while Dick was still chewing with a thoughtful expression —deciding whether he liked it or not.
When the strong citrusy flavor hit your tongue, your neutral expression automatically morphed into one of absolute disgust.
Dick watched with an amused smile, entertained by the way your chewing slowed and your lips pursed. You saw him raise his eyebrows as he put in his best efforts not to laugh.
Until you gagged, and he couldn’t hold back anymore —didn’t even try to. He let out a loud, unapologetic laugh at your suffering.
You glared at him through glassy eyes, your face probably tomato-red, and he extended his cupped hand to your chin for you to spit it out —an act of kindness in the midst of your humilliation.
“I don’t like that one—” you coughed, your words came out in an embarrassing, high-pitched rasp as you looked around for anything that could help you clean your tastebuds.
“Really?” Dick chuckled. “I would’ve thought you loved it.”
“You’re not funny, Richard.”
“I respect your opinion, but I like to think I have a great sense of humor. Maybe you’re just a bit dramatic,” he shrugged, mocking smile still on his lips as he took a tissue from the Kleenex box that sat atop the low-slung table to clean his palm.
You shot him a deathly glare over your mug as you gulped down the remains of your now cold tea.
He simply smiled his characteristic teasing grin and reached for the fork between your fingers. “Okay, now it’s my turn to—”
“No!” You moved the fork away from his reach so fast, both of you flinched. Dick looked concerned for a second.
“Woah—”
“I have an idea!” You interrupted him, coughing after you nearly choked on your drink. “Close your eyes.”
That made him smirk, but he did as he was told.
“Is this foreplay?”
“Shut up and concentrate.” You knew he couldn’t see the evil grin plastered on your lips, but you still hoped he couldn’t feel it. “You have to guess the flavor.”
“Okay—,” his mouth opened when he spoke, and you didn’t hesitate to take the chance to shove the forkful of cake into it.
He had to chew only once before his face contorted in the same way yours did minutes ago.
“IS THAT CRANBERRY—?!” Now it was your turn to laugh your head off.
“Correct!” You cheered, patting his shoulder. “Great job, you’ve earned another bite!”
He caught your wrist before the fork could get anywhere near his mouth. Gripping it firmly, the veins on his forearm popped out.
“Don’t even think about it.”
You had to bite your lip at that, his tone was stern and his voice deep. You love it when he gets all bossy like that.
But you rather tell yourself you only obeyed because you have a soft spot for the man or whatever.
“It isn’t that bad!” You argued, chewing on the piece he’d rejected.
“Lemon Elderflower isn’t that bad.”
“Whatever,” you rolled your eyes, digging the fork into a different slice you didn’t bother checking the name of, “we need to get serious, these are important wedding decisions.”
Your mouth opened, ready to be the judge of whatever flavor you had randomly picked, and just as you felt the sweet treat graze your lips, Dick snatched it with his own mouth —like a street dog stealing a sausage.
“Dick!” Your brows furrowed. “Why did you do that? That was mine!”
“Oh, yeah?” You saw the grin forming and immediately clocked that he was onto something.
“Yes—”
Dick grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you towards him with a fast, sudden movement. His lips caught yours in a hungry kiss.
It was unexpected but definitely not unwelcomed.
Your palms found their place on his naked chest, steadying yourself on top of him and feeling the rapid beat of his heart under your touch.
Dick parted your lips with his tongue and you allowed him to do so without putting any resistance. His tongue slipped into your mouth, and with it the piece of cake that was in his. Neither of you chewed on it —like an unspoken agreement, both understanding that the fun of this game lies in passing the food from one mouth to another.
Your tastebuds reveled in the buttery taste of frosting and perfectly-baked dough while your tongue seeked more of the taste of him.
The wetness of yours and Dick’s saliva seeped into the chocolatey sponge, making it lose its structure and crumble inside your mouths.
The luscious consistency of the buttercream was messier to work with, some of it slipping out of your lips between open mouthed kisses. You didn’t care though, if anything, it made it hotter. You felt Dick lick some of it off the back of your front teeth with the very tip of his tongue, making you moan at the delicious sensation, his lips tastier than any cake.
Your nails dug into the skin of his pecs, scratching softly, and you swallowed his whimper along with some syrupy chocolate.
Dick started pulling away slowly, and now you were the one desperately chasing his lips, as if you were under a spell that made you believe you needed his kisses to live.
Although, now that you think about it, a spell isn’t necessary, you do need his kisses to live.
Staring into each other’s eyes, Dick and you fell into a comfortable silence as you both tried to regain your breath.
The moment shifted from passionate and steamy to softly intimate in a matter of seconds, so smoothly you couldn’t tell when it changed.
Dick’s face was still so close to yours —you felt the hot puffs of air from his breathing touch your nose, and you took this moment as an opportunity to admire him, something that you consider part of your nightly routine by now.
The honeyed light from the candle’s glow painted shadows on his face in precise strokes, so detailed you could appreciate the dark reflection of his lashes on his tan skin if you looked close enough.
His black hair smooth like silk, you want to do nothing more than run your fingers through it as he falls asleep on your lap. It was like the perfect frame for the prettiest photograph.
Crystal blue eyes so full of life, you would believe it if he told you the ocean itself was trapped inside them; you could practically see the waves, moving so elegantly and dangerously at the same time, just like he does.
His lips were swollen, remnants of white frosting delineated the edges and tiny crumbs of chocolate sponge had made their home on the corners. They looked like your favorite candy, one you would never get tired of eating. His lips always caught your eyes first.
“So…” Dick started, grinning from ear to ear at your lovestruck expression. “What did you think?"
“Huh?” You blinked, shaking yourself out of your trance.
Dick poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue, looking very, very proud. “‘Bout the cake, baby,” He cleaned off some frosting off your cheek with his thumb. “Did you like the flavor?”
Oh, this smug bastard. He knew the flavor of the cake was the last thing you’d cared about, too entranced with his kiss to even think about it.
“I— it was great.” You nodded, knowing it wasn’t convincing at all. “I think it’s my favorite actually.”
“Really?” Dick asked, looking really satisfied with himself, pinkie finger caught between his teeth as he smirked. “What flavor was it?”
Okay, so that’s totally not fair. And ugh, you wanted to kiss that cocky smile off his face so bad.
You realized you’d been quiet for too long when he started chuckling, body shaking with laughter at the sight of your dumbfounded expression.
You felt heat rise up to your cheeks and immediately tried to defend yourself, you knew you weren’t the only one that was turned on.
“Oh, please,” you scoffed, “I can feel your little friend all excited under me.”
“My ‘little friend’ will have you moaning my name until you can’t take it anymore, so I say be nicer to him,” he gently nibbled your lower lip, smirk not faltering for a second.
His dirty, unfiltered words made you even more flustered —if that was even possible. Hiding your face in the curve of his neck, you muttered a quiet “I hate you” that both of you knew you didn’t mean at all.
You missed the way Dick’s smile softened when you buried your face into his neck, and how his own blush had appeared on the apples of his cheeks when he felt your warm ones brush his skin.
But you didn’t miss the tender touch of his lips on your temple, or the feeling of his fingers tracing patterns on your lower back.
And you certainly didn’t miss the vulnerability in his voice when he whispered “I love you, I can’t wait to be your husband” so lovingly, tears pricked your eyes, but you didn’t let them spill.
You didn’t rush to say it back. Instead, you let yourself bask in the comforting feeling of his arms holding you, knowing you’ll cherish the memory of those words forever.
You thought about the day you met, how his bright smile was enough for an introduction; the first time he kissed you, how his eyes stayed close after you pulled away, confessing he was scared that he was dreaming and he’d be forced to wake up; the first time he made love to you, how he cried into your chest telling you how much he loved you; when he proposed, so nervous he forgot his speech and simply dropped on both knees, extending the ring to you as if he was offering a sacrifice to a goddess.
You thought about that night, when he slipped in through the window, barely alive, still masked, Nightwing still a stranger to you. And then he said your name, and you recognized that voice in an instant. Blood was spilling everywhere, cascading out of his body and running like a river through your floors, copper scent giving you a headache.
You thought about how you begged him through sobs to not close his eyes, to keep looking at you as your shaky hands tried to clean up his wounds to no avail, because the blood kept spilling, drenching him and staining you.
“When you least expect it, Nature has cunning ways of finding our weakest spot,” the movie spoke from behind you.
Your life was never the same after that night, fear has never been more present, and you know you’ll probably never know peace of mind again.
But it takes just one look at him to remember how his love makes everything so worth it.
Because you are so hopelessly and irrevocably in love with Dick Grayson. You will be forever.
You let the first tear drop, shyly running down your skin and softly landing on his.
“I love you too, I can’t wait to be your wife."
this is probably shit but it's my first fic so be kind girly pops!! also, ignore this fuckass layout, i don't know how to use dividers and can't even add a title
tysm for reading!! likes, comments, follows, and reblogs are so so appreciated!!
please do not copy, translate, repost, or feed my work to ai (especially this!!)
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