♡| It has to be padding

Hello my loves, im aware its been a while since i last posted. A whole bunch of shit happened and while i definitely won't be posting everyday i am back after a much needed break. I am so grateful for everyone of you and its insane that in just a few months we're at 700 followers, thank you so fucking much!! work on requests will resume at some point, i hope you enjoy and thank you for always supporting me <3

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It was no secret that Nightwing was renowned for his beautifully sculpted ass. In fact, it had become something of a running joke among Gotham's vigilantes. His suit did little to discourage the rumors, either. The sleek black-and-blue material hugged every curve with almost suspicious precision, and whenever he vaulted over a railing or crouched on a rooftop, it was impossible not to notice.

You had never given the subject much thought until the previous week.

You and Stephanie had been sitting in the Cave, scouring street-camera footage for anything that might help with a case, when Nightwing suddenly appeared on one of the monitors. He landed directly in front of the camera, his back turned to it as he surveyed the alley ahead. The angle was so close, and so unfortunatly placed that his ass took up most of the screen.

"That has to be padding," Stephanie said, leaning back in her chair with a disbelieving chuckle. "There's no way it looks like that naturally."

You gave her a long, unimpressed look before turning your attention back to the footage. At the time, you dismissed the comment as another one of Stephanie's jokes.

Then Jason brought it up.

"You know that's padding, right?" he said one evening, sounding entirely too confident. "It's physically impossible otherwise."

Apparently, the subject of Nightwing's ass had come up more than once within the Bat-family. That was strange enough on its own, but the repeated accusations began to make you curious. You had seen wearing everything from loose basketball shorts to fitted training clothes and painfully flattering skinny jeans. His silhouette never seemed to change much. Unless he had committed to wearing secret padding at all hours of the day, the theory did not make sense.

So, for the sake of putting the family's suspicions ,and your own growing curiosity, to rest, you agreed to investigate.

Unfortunately, your investigation consisted almost entirely of discreetly ogling 's ass whenever he happened to be nearby.

Or at least, you thought you were being discreet.

That evening, you and had plans for dinner. You dressed up and met him at the door, where he immediately bombarded you with an embarrassing number of sweet compliments. His grin widened every time you tried to brush one off, and by the time he guided you toward your table, your face was warm.

Your eyes drifted downward as he walked ahead of you.

It was purely observational, you told yourself. You were collecting evidence.

The date unfolded as naturally as it always did with him. Conversation flowed easily between you, punctuated by laughter, playful teasing, and the occasional brush of his hand against yours. Still, every time stood up, turned away, or walked across the room, your gaze followed him for just a little too long.

After dinner, the two of you ended up back at your apartment. moved comfortably through the kitchen, loosening his collar as he poured you a drink. You leaned against the counter, once again studying the fit of his trousers while trying to determine whether Jason and Stephanie's ridiculous theory held any merit.

Without turning around, spoke.

"Do you want to grab it," he asked, amusement coloring every word, "or are you just going to keep staring?"

You froze.

glanced over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised and a knowing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Judging by the thoroughly entertained look on his face, your investigation had never been nearly as discreet as you had imagined.