It was Dick’s favourite day of the year, and that was your birthday, the one day where he could pamper you and spoil you, his girlfriend, his princess, and you couldn't say anything to him or say no. Because it was your birthday, and on your birthday you could get present after present and he’d get to feel happy because you’d feel so, so good.

Great.

He’d cleared your schedule, let you go to bed early the previous night cause he’d definitely wake you up early— oh, and he forgot to mention that you usually forget it’s your birthday. Lucky you, having him there to remind you every time that it’s your special day and he was there to spoil you rotten.

You were woken up with soft kisses by Dick, his hands running over your thigh, waist, hair and hips as he murmured sweet nothings into your ear to wake you up— c’mon, give him a damn break, he just loves you to the third degree. That’s what you got for having a whipped boyfriend who worships you.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He murmured in your ear, a sort of giddy excitement in his chest— it was your birthday, he could pamper you and treat you like his princess and if you said no he’d just become a pouty puppy that you just couldn’t say no to.

“Wake up f’me, pretty girl.” Dick chuckled, knowing that it was seven in the morning on a Saturday, which was an ungodly time to wake up for the weekend, but he was so excited and you looked so pretty in the morning and he couldn’t wait to shower you with kisses and lots and lots of sweet lovin’.

Your birthday.