Summary: the boys are shocked by other men’s behavior
Warnings: shitty boyfriends (scary)
Dick Grayson
You and Dick were out enjoying the rare nice weather in Bludhaven. He took you to your favorite ice cream shop before the two of you walked across the street to the park. You were now parked on a bench, talking about nothing in particular. The subject of conversation wasn’t nearly as important as enjoying the other’s company. Your words slowed when another couple walked by who were clearly having a much worse day than you and Dick. They were arguing, engaged in a screaming match with each other. Dick gave you a quick glance before you both piped down, not having to do much to hear the conversation.
“I just feel like you don’t see me Rich! Everything I do, everything I say is a fucking problem to you!” The woman yells.
“Yeah? Well if you would just shut the fuck up for once, maybe I could fucking think! I can’t do shit with you constantly nagging at me Jessica!” He yells back. Dick’s jaw literally drops and he can’t do anything to stop it. He immediately turns to you eyes wide as the scene plays out before you. Pure disbelief was written all over his face, even your own brows shot up in surprise. The woman slaps her, hopefully soon to be ex, boyfriend before storming off. He stands in stunned silence before looking around at the small crowd of onlookers who gathered to watch the spectacle. He huffs and storms off in the opposite direction of his girlfriend. Once the crowd disbands, Dick starts talking, immediately ready to debrief the whole situation.
“Babe… that was insane. Have you ever seen anything like that in real life? You know I’d never talk to you like that, right?! I think I would rather die,” Dick emphasizes, still in awe about what he just saw. Even when you two argue, you were still the love of Dick’s life. He would never disrespect or yell at you over a disagreement. You smile at your kind-hearted man and press a sweet kiss to his cheek.
“Thank you baby, I know.”
Jason Todd
While at lunch with your friends, you were showing them some of the photos Jason took of you on your date. “So I’m thinking about posting these, but I’m not sure. What do you guys think?” You ask, passing your phone around the table so they could look at it.
“You should def post them girl! They are so cute! Where’d you take these anyway?” Your friend asks curiously.
“Jason took me to this breakfast place last weekend. The photos online looked like it might make for a cute photo op, so I got more dressed up than usual. When we got there, it was literally the perfect scenery so I had him take these,” you respond. Your friends are immediately looking at you, confused looks on their faces. You raise an eyebrow as you look back at them, “What?”
“Are you telling me Jason, your boyfriend, took these stunning photos of you?” Another of your friends asks and you nod.
“Uh yeah? Isn’t that what I just said?” You say confused.
“Wow. I can’t believe it. It is worse than pulling teeth to get my boyfriend to take photos of me,” your friend says. Apparently it is a shared experience because all your friends sitting at the table nod to agree.
“Facts. Even if he does, they are always fucking terrible. The angle is all wrong or I look god awful. I would never post a photo he took of me,” your friend laughs, but the sound is hollow. Clearly, a disguise for some complicated feelings. Your friends eventually get your phone back to you and you can’t help but to shrug your shoulders.
“I guess you guys just need to train them better. He didn’t take super amazing photos at first, I had to give him some pointers. Jason is a more artistic guy than he lets on, and he likes to make me happy so he learned my angles. Maybe I’ll have him teach a class on how to take photos of your girlfriend,” you state, making your friends laugh. Maybe you could also have him teach your friends to not accept the bare minimum, but you kept that part to yourself. You open your phone, going to your messages with Jason to shoot him a quick test.
You: I have offered you up
Jay❤️: I am literally scared to ask
You: To teach other boyfriends how to take good photos of their girlfriends. Apparently this a problem other people have??
Jay❤️: 🤦🏻
Jay❤️: Lack of home training
Jay❤️: Lemme know when
Bruce Wayne
You and Bruce had just finished taking photos and answering press questions before the annual Wayne Enterprises’ charity gala. It was a mission you and Bruce shared to constantly donate, both time and money, to the charities and causes that were important to you. But, this event was the Super Bowl of fundraising. Millions would be raised and sent to charities doing amazing work in and around Gotham.
The event was being hosted in an older building that maintained its old money aesthetic. There were wide, grand stairs that led to the front door. You groaned at the base of the stairs and looked up. Roughly thirty stairs loomed largely before you. “Next time I insist on wearing my brand new red bottoms, remind me these events love buildings with a ridiculous amount of stairs,” you say. Bruce smiles at you and before you can start your ascent, he carefully picks up the train of your dress. Making sure it doesn’t get caught, dirty, and it makes your steps easier.
“You know my offer is always on the table, I’ll just carry you up these. Promise I won’t even break a sweat” he states, standing close to your side just in case you trip or lose your footing. You smirk and look back at him, all the trust he would catch you before you could fall.
“Bruce Wayne! Think of the scandal and gossip you would cause. I can see the headlines now. Crown prince of Gotham breaks every high society rule by carrying beautiful girlfriend up flight of stairs,” you tease with a faux gasp. Bruce shakes his head at your antics which makes you smile. When you two are almost at the top, you hear grunts. Looking back, you find a woman tugging desperately at her dress. It was stuck on something you could not see, maybe a chip in the stairs. She looks at her useless date for help, who is engaged in conversation and walks inside without her. You immediately recognize the look in Bruce’s eye. The silent battle he fights whether to leave you or help her.
“Go, Bruce,” you reassure softly, putting a hand on his chest. “I’m okay, we are almost there anyway. Meet me inside.” He looks grateful, taking your hand off his chest to press a tender kiss to it. You take the last couple stairs to the top and turn around to find Bruce. He is on one knee, delicately removing the woman’s dress from whatever it was hooked on.
The media were already having a field day with this, lights flashing rapidly in Bruce’s direction. You could see the stories the tabloids were going to spin as if you wrote it yourself. One might read “Playboy Back Again!: Bruce Wayne flirts with Mysterious Woman?” Or another one might say, “Wayne to the Rescue: Bruce Wayne Saves Woman from Fashion Emergency." You can’t help but smile and shake your head at yourself. How sad was the world that a man showing basic chivalry was front-page news?
Wally West
Wally was lying on the couch in your apartment, his head in your lap. You were nose deep in your newest read, draped comfortably in a blanket. The quiet atmosphere had a calming effect you both enjoyed. With your lifestyles, you and Wally didn’t get a chance to relax nearly enough. The tranquil environment was disturbed when Wally spoke up,
“Babe, do you think I like you too much?” He asks. The question throws you for a loop and has you immediately putting your book down.
“What?! Why would I think you liked me too much? I actually don’t think it is possible to like your partner too much. Where is this coming from?!” You ask, almost bewildered by Wally saying that. He was definitely clingy and loved to be in your space, but you always found it extremely endearing. It was your whole thing. You would pretend to be annoyed that he wouldn’t leave you alone, he would bother you until you stopped complaining, and then you would be together for hours. Did something happen that Wally thought you were no longer joking?
“When I was hanging out with the guys, I made a joke about you keeping me on a tight leash. They did not find it funny and said I was 'too into you,' and eventually it would 'scare you away,'" he whispers solemnly. Anger is the first thing that overcomes you. Next time you saw Wally's friends, you were going to give them a verbal lashing they would never forget. Then you look at your usually happy boy, whose whole demeanor has deflated. You grab his chin softly so he is forced to look at you.
"Wals, I have never thought you were 'too into me.' One of the reasons I agreed to go out with you was because of how adamant you were about your feelings for me," you reassure, cupping his face, which he affectionately leans into.
"I didn't think it was possible to be too into your partner, either, until they said something, then I got it into my head. I always thought boyfriends were supposed to be obsessed, in a healthy way, with their girlfriend," he states. You smile at him and lean down to press a kiss to his lips.
"And you are absolutely correct, Wally. Nonchalant is in style, and not enough people think it is cool to be unapologetically in love with their partner the way you are, Wals," you affirm.
"That is sad. That is very, very sad."
"I know, baby. That is why you are the only one of your friends in a long-term relationship. Remind them of that next time they try to give you shit for loving your girlfriend," you reply, pressing one more kiss to Wally's lips, who smiles against you.
summary: the lifeguard at the beach you’ve been frequently visiting this summer has taken a liking to you. maybe he’ll make you more than some girl he knows at the beach.
cw: beach, big bodies of water, uses of petnames ('princess', 'favorite girl'), some explicit language
masterlist! word count: 1.3k
a/n: eeek!! this is to celebrate 156 followers and the end of summer vacay! thank u soso much i cant say it enough <3
it was a tuesday, the sun was beaming and the vast beach was filled. every spot was taken, children laughed and played. people lounged on their towels tanning, reading books, or listening to music. groups of friends chatted and ate the food they’d brought from the pier.
dick grayson was in charge of the few three hundred square feet before him. one blue tower six hundred feet to his left and the same to his right. he’d taken up this second job as a lifeguard every summer since he turned eighteen. he liked it.
the kids who always came up to him to ask silly questions. the elders who’d ask for directions or who he’d help to set up their tents. watching families and groups of friends just have a good time. dick relaxed to the sound of laughter mixed with the waves.
there was some parts he didn’t like, of course. the uncomfortable feeling when teenagers would giggle and ask for his number which he’d have to tell them to shoo and that he was way older. the drunk or idiotic men who’d stumble onto the sand and bother people who were trying to relax. blowing the whistle at someone who’d swam way past the buoys.
and the whole part of the job, the life guarding. sprinting into the ocean to help someone who’d panicked out in the water and dragging them out into the sand, running the procedures he was trained for. his own friends always joked that in some other universe he was a superhero. he never thought so, it sounded ridiculous.
as he sat out the tower under the shade with his sunglasses on and bright red swim trunks. dick was paying attention to the surroundings, seeing no trouble but people having a good day at the beach. god, it was fucking hot. he sighed heavily, tilting his head back briefly with his arms draped on the beach chairs armrests.
for a guy who loved working on the beach sometimes he really he hated the heat.
at the same beach, you frequently visited now during the summer finding it was the only way to cope with the unforgiving sun. you’d found a perfect spot that was away from everyone enough to give yourself some privacy. you were relaxing on your towel, sunglasses on and feeling the heat of the sun nipping at your skin. you wore the beach attire you preferred, feeling the nylon fabric hugging your chest.
you were there to relax. under your sunglasses, your eyelids were closed and you listen to the music playing from your speaker. listening to the sounds of chattering, giggles, waves, and seagulls.
“you again. you know, i’m just starting to believe you’re coming just to see me.” a voice breaking the peaceful ambience. you let your eyes flutter open, revealing the sight of the lifeguard standing before you. dick grayson.
since you’ve started coming to this beach back in may, you somehow formed a friendship with the lifeguard. a flirty friendship. you both only ever saw each other at the beach, not talking on the days either of you were taking a break from the sun. it sounded strange but it was thrilling, lighthearted, and fun.
“you can believe what you want but i’ll admit that this is a view i can always look forward to,” you flirt back. you place your sunglasses onto your head and sit up. his jet black hair shined under the sun, some strands moving through the beach breeze. “what are you doing over here? i’m not in any danger.”
dick grins, the cute dimple on his cheek coming into view. “just came to see if everything was up to my favorite girl’s standards. the sand okay? temperature to your liking?” he teased before he shook his head, his hands on his hips as he took a glance around to make sure everything stayed okay before back at you.
“i came to give you a heads up that my lunch is in fifteen minutes. thought i’d invite you to go for a swim?” he asked, his eyebrow perking up. you two hadn’t really done something like that. it was usually just talking, you hanging around the tower he was always stationed at to chat and laugh.
you hesitate but as your eyes roam over his michelangelo carved physique, you couldn’t imagine why you’d say no. you nod, “call me when you’re ready.” you tell him before putting your sunglasses back on, laying back down, and closing your eyes.
fifteen minutes later, dick was walking in front of you towards the ocean. “you can swim, right?” he smirked, looking over his shoulder. “i mean, if you can’t that’s not problem. i can keep you afloat and safe, can’t say i won’t be thinking about giving you mouth to mouth.” he winked.
dick was smooth and that made this flirty friendship so much more enjoyable and exciting. “i can swim but maybe i’ll play damsel in distress so you can get your fill. god knows i’d have a good time.” he smiles at your response, relief you match his wit as he reaches back to take your hand as you both step into the world.
it’s freezing. your breath hitches, and your grip on his hand tightens. “shit, that’s cold,” you whisper and he chuckles. “you can do it, princess. before you know it, you’ll get used it and it’ll feel real good,” dick taunts as he carefully guides you deeper into the water.
dick wraps his arm around your waist as your feet begin to lift off the sand floor and float into the large body of saltwater. it only gets colder from there, your arms wrapping around his neck with a light squeal of the freezing temperature against your body. the only warmth comes from him being pressed against you.
he laughs at your reaction. his laugh was bright, filled with pure joy of being in your presence. one arm stretched out to keep you both floating and swim deeper, still staying behind the buoys because dick was strict about those rules and he wasn’t going to risk your lives just to impress you. this was good enough. under the water, he lets his hand glide lightly against the skin of your waist, not wanting to push any boundaries but wanting to know what your skin felt like under his palm. a thought dick had been having when you two first started talking.
“feels good now, hm?” dick asks, using his hand to cup some water and pour it along your neck and the top of your head. “hey! i can acclimate myself!” you shiver against him, a light shake in your shoulders where the water dripped along.
the two of you float into each other’s arms. yeah, you could swim but for a moment you’d let this hot lifeguard keep his arm around you a little longer. “have you gone to any of the beaches up north?” he asks suddenly. out here, you couldn’t hear the people on the beach. just the waves, occasionally ship honking in the distance, and him. you shake your head.
“well, that water is clearer. colder. but the beach itself? stunning. a lot like the girl in my arms,” he smirks, liking when he flirted with you and seeing you roll your eyes. “anyway, it’s got big rocks. the rocks are covered in that bright green algae. some flowers even grow along the sand too. was thinking i could take you there sometime.”
“oh, on a date?” you tease.
but he didn’t seem to be joking, nodding. “yeah, but not our first one. i think we’ve had enough beach together, i’d like to see you in a different light that isn’t the sun. maybe like in a candlelight dinner scenery?”
you were quiet for a moment, even if he didn’t seem serious you were telling yourself there was no way he was actually being genuine. you chuckle awkwardly, trying to keep the conversation light. “uh, like.. actually?”
dick grins, amused by your subtle confusion. “like actually. after we get out of here, i’ll finally get your number and we can plan something. what do you say? you can say no, i’m good with rejection. i just thought i’d shoot my shot with you before summer’s over and i’ll never see this pretty face again.”
taking in a deep breath and mentally weighing your choices, you found nothing holding you back from giving this a try. “alright, yeah. we can take our fun outside the beach.”
dick lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding, throwing his head back in relief. “oh, thank god. i lied about being good with rejection. i don’t think i’d ever get over being turned down by you.”
a/n: like i said i cant thank u all enough. i only started writing these fics a week ago and i couldnt be more grateful that u guys actually enjoy what ive wrote. i am the happiest girl in the world!
thinking about how dick grayson would love to roleplay with you ⊹₊⟡⋆
whether it’s being a doctor, university professor, pilot, or a mysterious stranger you met at a bar he takes his roles very seriously. wants you to be fully immersed in whatever fantasy you’ve chosen to indulge in that night.
Summary: Dick takes care of his girl when she comes home drunk from a night out
Warnings: suggestive, consumption of alcohol (I feel like whenever I read these the reader always has shitty friends, so reader has friends who actually like her)
Dick was relaxing on the couch, waiting for you to get home from girls' night, when his phone lit up with a text from you. After reading it over, he realized it was your friend using your phone.
"She's pretty sloshed, Dick. We just left the club and you guys are the first stop. I'll knock when we get to the door," it reads. Dick can't help the smile that takes over your face. You really needed some time with your friends, and he was glad you enjoyed yourself. You were also a great time when you were drunk, so Dick could not wait for you to come home.
Ten minutes after that text was sent, Dick got up at the sound of a knock at the door. When he opens the door, he finds you leaning against your friend. The two of you were giggling to yourselves at whatever was said. When you look up at Dick, your eyes light up, and you jump into his arms. He grunts at the shock of it, but recovers quickly and holds you up. He smiles gratefully at your friend.
"Thanks for making sure she got home okay. From the looks of it, you guys had a lot of fun. Is everyone alright? Do you need anything?" he asks your friend.
"Thanks, Dick, it was fun. Everyone is okay, the girls are in the car waiting for me. Have a good night, and you better take care of my girl!" she yells as she walks down the hall, and Dick laughs.
"You know I will!" he yells back, closing and locking the door. Your head is resting on Dick's shoulder while he uses his arm to support you under your butt. He rubs your back and begins to walk to your bedroom, "Let's get you ready for bed, pretty girl."
"I don't wanna go to bed, Dick! Wanna hang out with you!" you yell, right in his ear. He flinches but smiles at you nonetheless.
"You don't have to yell, princess. We can hang out. I wanna get you comfy and out of your clothes and makeup first," he says. When you two reach the bedroom, he lays you down on your shared bed. Dick starts by taking off your heels, then reaches to shimmy your bottoms off. You bite your lip and watch as Dick's arms flex while they undress you.
"Are we gonna have sex?" you ask, hoping your tone is sultry. But your words were slurred together instead. Dick laughs softly as he makes quick work of your shirt, getting you down to only your panties.
"No, baby, I am not gonna have sex with you," he says with a smile, walking away so he can grab a shirt for you. Immediately, your face turns into a deep frown, and you cross your arms.
"Do you think I'm ugly?! Why don't you wanna have sex with me?!?!" you ask, tears burning your eyes. When Dick comes back, he can't help but smile at how cute you are with that pout. He uncrosses your arms so he can slip his shirt over your head, and wipes a stray tear from your face.
"You know, I think you are the most beautiful girl in the world," Dick expresses. He helps you sit up so he can adjust the shirt on your body.
"So, why don't you wanna have sex with me? Are you having sex with somebody else?!" you gasp, eyes widening at the imaginary connection you made. Now, Dick laughs while picking you up. He walks you to the bathroom, where he rests you on the counter. When he looks at you, there is still a serious pout on your face. Dick presses a soft kiss to your lips, and that makes you smile.
"Because, when you wake up tomorrow, you aren't even gonna remember asking me to have sex with you. But, when you sober up in the morning, I promise to make it up to you," he states, extending his pinky finger towards you. After thinking it over, you interlock your pinky with his.
"Fine. I'll allow it," you huff. Dick grabs the cotton pads and your makeup remover. After applying some to the pad, he instructs you to close your eyes and gently begins removing your makeup. You hum softly in obvious satisfaction, and Dick takes the time to appreciate all the beautiful features of your face.
When Dick is done, he rubs your thighs soothingly before asking, "Honey, do you think you can wash your face, or do you want me to do it?"
"I can do it, but I'm hungry, Dick," you whine and pout for emphasis. Not that you needed to. Dick would do absolutely anything for you.
"Want a grilled cheese? I can make it just how you like it," he says. A big smile takes over your face as you nod happily. "Alright, you wash your face. I'll make it after I put you into bed."
"But Dickie, you said we could hang out. And I'm not ready for bed," you protest. Dick takes a deep breath as he decides if this is a battle he wants to fight.
"How about you lie on the couch and wait for me. I'll put on your favorite movie, and we can cuddle when I'm done. It shouldn't take me that long to make your sandwich," Dick reasons. Your smile returns as you nod and jump off the counter. The couch and the bed were the same distance from the kitchen, but that was not an argument Dick was going to have with you right now.
Dick waits patiently for you to wash your face and do your skincare routine. When you are done, he picks you up again to walk you to the couch. As promised, he lays you down and puts on your favorite movie. He takes the throw blanket off the back of the couch and drapes it carefully over your body. Dick presses a kiss to your forehead before heading to the kitchen.
Dick decides to make a grilled cheese for both of you. When he was done, he also grabbed you a cold glass of water and joined you on the couch. You sit up immediately, and Dick places the plate in your lap. He sits next to you, and both of you eat in silence. The movie is the only sound to fill the room. When you are done, Dick forces you to take a couple of sips of water before lying down. You rest on top of his chest, your eyes heavy. It does not take long for you to doze off in this state. Tipsy, full, and in the arms of the man you loved.
The next morning, Dick was right, and you don't remember asking him to have sex. Or the corresponding almost meltdown. But he does keep his promise, taking you right on the couch. Turns out sex with your boyfriend was the most effective hangover cure.
WHERE : a case you and dick were working ended up getting a little frisky. the kind which constituted an hr violation.
THIS STORY CONTAINS : detective!dick, forensic scientist!reader, booth!dick, bones!reader (heavily inspired by the tv show bones), hookers, sexually frustrated!dick, dick is not a playboy in this, leaning towards the opposite for the plot, a murder, mentions of strangulation, sexual tension ( I think ), pussydrunk!dick, reader has no social awareness, dick does, smut ( mdni ! ), marking, unprotected ( PLEASE BE SAFE THIS IS NOT A REPRESENTATION OF REAL LIFE ) switch!dick, dom!reader, disguised as a science experiment, hair pulling, oral (m), riding, grinding, heavy making out, I’m NOT a medical student, guys, there will be inaccuracies
“Poor girl.”
That’s what DICK GRAYSON muttered to himself, standing above the body of a woman who looked to be in college, blonde, basically covered in glitter. Dirt stained her skin, and mud, her red bralette and panties torn. He turned to an officer securing the crime scene, frowning. “Hey, Rutgers? When’s forensics gonna get here?”
“I’m here.” Your boots against the stone floor weren’t lost on him, the smile tugged at his lips before he even saw you, as you put on covers and ducked under the yellow tape. Your face fell as you saw the girl. “This is the fifth this year.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been counting?”
“At least thirteen prostitutes a year are lost to homicides in Blüdhaven.” You replied, putting on latex gloves, tilting her chin up. “Presence of blood, no sign of wounds in proximity.” You swabbed the blood, placing it in a bag and handing it over to an assistant. “Send it to the lab for testing.” Redness on her neck caught your eye. You raised your camera, clicking a photo. “Thin, uneven bruise on her neck. Consistent with a kind of chain.”
"Tell me, doc," His lips pinched out of sympathy for the girl, "do you ever, you know, feel squeamish when examining bodies?"
Your look was quizzical. Some may call it incredulous. "Examining bodies and crime scenes are my job, in order to bring about justice and closure, if I can't look at a body, I don't know why I'm here." You tilted her head to the right and left. "Small, oval, yellowing bruises surrounding her mouth and jaw, reminiscient of fingerprints. She was grabbed, by the jaw, rate of blooming suggests the force was exerted by a man." You moved further down, checking the tears in the lace. "Mud tracks, tears, particulates in scrape wounds suggest she was dragged, backwards, this was where she was left, likely dead." Further examination of the body led to you pulling a hot pink synthetic fibre from the hairs at her nape. "She was choked by handcuffs."
"The... pink and fuzzy kind?" Dick blinked. That was a new one.
"Do sex handcuffs usually come in different variations?"
"That's not what I— nevermind." He laughed nervously. "But we know cause of death now, right?"
"We do." You looked up. "Strangulation. It's likely that the suspect was one of her regulars, a sexual affair gone wrong."
"You make a solid guess, but leave the detective work to me." He laughed, then gestured at your gloves. "Pretty festive, huh?" The latex was littered with fine red glitter.
You were early into the BHPD's lab the next morning, examining the pictures of the body. You couldn't wrap your mind around a few details. Luckily, Dick was first in the door with coffee. "Morning, doc." He glanced at the photos. "You usually wait until I get here to start the homicide investigation."
"I wanted to get an early start." You glanced to him. "Why would a call girl decide to walk out without a coat or jacket to cover herself?"
"Never took you as one for purity culture." He quipped, handing you a coffee. "As weird as Blüdhaven is."
"I'm not a purist." You shot back indignantly, pinning up more photos. "It's a carnal human need to have intercourse, it helps balance the endorphins in your system, sex is a useful tool to help you achieve optimum efficiency in everyday life."
He smiled to himself, nope, professional discussion. He schooled his expression. "You're saying she was unwillingly led out."
"My team found gunpowder residue on her back, from a gun recently fired before her passing." You passed him the file with the photo. He took a good look.
"The attacker had a gun, attempted a kidnapping, she fought back and was strangled with a pair of sex cuffs." He mused, nodding. "Good work, doc. Any DNA results?"
"The test on the blood should come back with your prime suspect." You replied, stopping to sip your coffee. "We found some disturbed skin under her nails as well. Hopefully it'll turn up with a match."
"Great work." He grinned. "Never knew you were so sex positive."
"We wouldn't have libido if there was no function to it." You answered, staring straight into his eyes. He had an urge to tug his collar. "You seem very reserved about this case, Detective. Are you not sex positive?"
He tripped over his thoughts. "I'm definitely sex positive, don't get me wrong, have it if you want, I just never feel the need or the urge, just... once every few months."
Now your eyebrows were raised. "You struck me as a man with a high sex drive."
"I work homicide and my, y’know, night job. You could assume my drive isn't incredibly high." He shrugged, sipping his coffee and glancing to the board, wrinkling his nose. "I'm not a stripper kind of person."
Your expression when you turned to him made his heart drop into his stomach. You were planning something mischievous, that's what that look meant. He couldn't help but wonder what went through your mind sometimes. "We should go to the strip club. To... interview suspects."
“Sounds like there’s an agenda behind that.” He folded his arms, but you just gave him an innocent look, like you weren’t planning anything. You probably were.
You looked like a cat that got the cream when you both entered the strip club. He’d never seen you so happy to be anywhere but the lab and your own apartment before. “You’re very smiley.” He commented lightly, rolling his shoulders back. There were a lot of girls eyeing him up, while on the laps of rich men wearing suits and flinging around money. Many had rings on their fingers. His nose wrinkled. “Why’re you so happy?”
“Because a strip club is the perfect place to experiment with a man’s innate desire to procreate.” You grinned, talking in his ear. “It’s an experiment. Every one of these girls have a separate hypothesis: that a certain physical aspect of themselves will attract the attention of a man. If their hypothesis is correct, the conclusion is that they receive both validation and money to support their finances. Which is why the most common age for strippers to be is ages 21-24 in Blüdhaven; they’re looking to pay off debts.”
“And?”
“And their youth appeals to a man’s need for validation. Societal standards has made the concept of youth so enviable that it feeds on insecurity.”
“You think I need validation?”
“No,” You said vehemently, “I think you need to release your sexual frustrations.”
He frowned, spluttering over his own words. He had sex. He wasn’t a prude or anything, he just never had time to… y’know. “I’m not— hey, I’m not sexually frustrated.” A hand stroking his other shoulder almost made him jump, turning to see a woman dressed in black lingerie, eyeing him like he was some kind of snack. He swallowed hard.
“Hey, handsome.” She purred, running a finger down his jaw. His eyes were firmly on her face, which did surprise you. His self-restraint was incredible. “Private room for three?” He immediately held up his badge, her smile dropped, so did the demeanour. “You’re BHPD?”
“Detective Richard Grayson, I’m with the BHPD’s forensic scientist, ma’am, can I ask you a couple of questions about your coworker, Sandra Hewitt?”
“Honey?” She asked, brow furrowing slightly. “Thanks her stage name— she’s been missing, is she ok?”
“She’s dead, ma’am.” He guided her to sit as a gasp left her mouth, covering it with her hand.
She was stammering, shaking. “But she— nothing was wrong, she was happy. She was seein’ a guy, talking about marrying him.” That caught both your interests.
“Victims of homicide are most likely to have been killed by someone close to them. A spouse, a partner.” You muttered, she heard it.
“Murder—?”
Dick shot you a look, great going. “I’m going to ask you to focus…” He left a pause for her name.
She swallowed. “Holly. That’s my real name, not my stage name.”
He gave her a reassuring smile, hands in his lap. “Holly. You’re doing great, just… can you give me anything about this guy? A name, description?”
“She called him Billy.” She replied quickly, her eyes widening, details piecing together. “He was rich, real rich, gave her expensive sets and diamonds. She went to go see him last week, never came back.”
Dick held up a photo to you the next day, of a good-looking man in his late thirties. “This is William Turner, nicknamed Billy, several welfare checks conducted at his residence. CCTV at the Scarlet Lounge shows him coming regularly and spending time with our vic. They were seen leaving together with, guess what?” He slapped down another photo, “Pink, fuzzy handcuffs.”
You peered at the photos. “You can also see a concealed firearm.”
“Exactly. We have a BOLO out for his car and a warrant for his arrest.” He smirked, smug that the case was solved so quick. “If we’re right, the skin under Sandra’s nails should match with his DNA.”
“Well done, Detective Grayson.” You smiled, sorting through the evidence. “Are you working your night shift today?”
“Unfortunately, yeah, but we can have celebratory wine tomorrow.” He grinned, patting your shoulder. “Great work, doc. At least we can bring justice to one stripper, huh?”
Growing up a trust fund baby meant Dick always had good wine. You were sat, legs crossed, on his couch, both of you sipping his merlot. His lips were rosy from it, laughing at something you said. “Why are you so keen on me getting laid, doc?”
“Because I refuse to believe that you receive no gratification or at least limited pleasure from a sexual encounter.” You shot back with a short laugh, wine almost sloshing over the edge of your glass with the shaking of your hand. He steadied it before your giggling ended up with his rug being stained.
“Hey, I receive gratification, or pleasure, or whatever you call it, in fact, women are pretty pleased with how I handle sex.” Geez. Sounded like overcompensating now that he said it, he wanted to cringe.
You shrugged. “Well, I hypothesise that you exercise self-restraint by focusing entirely on the female’s pleasure, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing—”
“So, what, you want me to… let someone else be the giver?” He asked, scratching the back of his neck. Somehow, a tingle in his stomach told him you were going somewhere. “Am I a science experiment to you, doc?”
“If you’re volunteering.” You replied, setting your glass down. “What if someone took an entirely scientific approach to your pleasure? It might end up being enjoyable.”
“You must be fun in bed.”
“I‘ve been told I’m proficient in bed, and I use my knowledge of nerves and the human body.”
“Alright, then.” He put down his glass of wine. “I’ll… be your test subject.” He half-expected it to not work. Whatever the ‘scientific approach’, as you coined it, was.
He did not expect to be swept into an open-mouthed kiss. Your hand was cupping the side of his neck, thumb pressing into a spot that felt like you were unwinding his body, his own hand holding your thigh helplessly as you shifted yourself to straddle him. Your lips were moving like you owned him, demanding his be pliable, the wine from your tongue flooding his when it pushed past his lips. Your other hand invaded his hair, tugging the hair at the bottom of his scalp, eliciting a soft whine from his throat, swallowed by your mouth.
“That was your lesser occipital nerve,” You murmured, all he could manage was a hum when your lips replaced your thumb, pressing on that spot on his neck that made his hands grip you tighter and his hips bucking upward. “That’s your vagus nerve reacting.” The murmur was sweet in his ear, punctuated by your soft sucking on his skin. His breathing was heavy, eyelashes fluttering, hand coming to cup the back of your head, holding your hip and rolling your cunt down onto his quickly-hardening dick through his trousers.
Maybe you were onto something.
“Fuuuck, doc,” He panted, desperately pulling the buttons of your blouse open as your hand snuck down, sliding over his chest, stomach, squeezing his thigh.
“Sciatic nerve,” You breathed, then shifting your hand up to cup his dick and squeeze, his head falling back against the couch cushions, a deep groan leaving his mouth. “Maybe,” You pressed another kiss to his— his vagus nerve, right, “dual stimulation is the most effective.”
His cheeks were rosy, flushed, you couldn’t help but wonder if he’d considered modelling at all. He was conventionally attractive, after all. Your hands worked open his shirt, took off his badge, buckle, unzipping his trousers and sunk to the floor, on your knees.
“The inner thigh is one of the most sensitive parts of the body, bar the groin,” You informed like he wasn’t painfully hard, sliding down his boxers with careful hands. His cock was embarrassingly attentive for you, his hips twitching when your finger traced a vein in admiration. “Impressive length, Grayson. And girth.”
He laughed between shallow breaths. “Dick, sweetheart.”
“I know what I’m touching.”
“Yeah, no, I meant call me that. My name.”
“Right.” You nodded, licking his tip, he swore loudly, “Dick.” Your mouth closed around the head of his cock, then you lifted off and licked up his length, up the vein you traced, fisting his base while your saliva slicked his tip.
He was unusually vocal. More than you were expecting, trying not to push your head down, all the while eliciting whimpers and praise. From the angle you were at, you could see the expanse of his body, his broad shoulders, well-built arms, chest, and abdominal region. He was well groomed, shaved, powerful legs that you could examine clearly from between them.
Huh.
He was so close. You could tell, from the pitchy quality of his voice and how he had his hand pushed into his hair, red from his neck to his cheeks. “Yeah, doc, baby, just like that, fuck—!” He came in your mouth, which you did drink up happily, it tasted somewhat salty.
An amazing taste, actually.
It never occurred to either of you that HR would frown heavily upon two assigned partners having sex with each other as a science experiment. It had to violate about ten department rules, but… what management didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them, right?
Dick tore his gaze from the ceiling to look at you. You, on your knees, blouse half open, lacy bra staring him in his face, back up to your lips, where you scooped some of his come off your chin with your index, putting it in your mouth, licking it clean.
His mouth dropped open. He could have come from that alone. You weren’t willing to give him a break, though, cause you were already pulling your trousers down, and your mismatched panties. On brand for you, somehow. “Should I… get you ready?” He asked, biting his lip in anticipation and concern.
“Oh, don’t worry, I’m ready.” You replied quickly, which had him raising an eyebrow. “I know my body.” That would mean… you got turned on from the making out and sucking him off. Wow. Hard not to get an ego boost from that—
Fuuuck, you weren’t willing to sinking down onto him, warm, slick pussy enveloping him and making his head spin one more time. His choked moan made you smile, even though you let out a deep sigh from your mouth at him filling you, his mouth covering yours, coaxing a soft whine from your lips and a sloppy kiss. “What’s the — mmh — choice behind this position — shit — doc?” He asked, cupping your cheek, keeping his mouth on yours so he didn’t let out more embarrassingly loud noises as you started to move up and down his cock.
“Optimum,” Kiss, “pleasure for both parties involved,” You breathed as his hands took over, rocking you in tandem with your breaths against his lips. Your hands took the liberty to trace his body, the hard and the soft ridges, the swell of his pectoral muscles and the strength of his thighs. “Your body.”
“What about it, sweetheart?” He moaned, a little incoherent from the feel of your cunt.
“It’s magnificent.” You kissed his neck, making his jaw go slack as you, again, teased the vagus nerve, where a small red bruise was forming. “Like a marble statue.” That was an ego boost for sure. He, however, focused on taking off your bra, pressing his face between your tits, kissing your slightly damp skin, thumb pressing on your clit as he sped up your rocking, his mouth meeting yours once more. You took his bottom lip between your teeth, tugging, your pussy fluttering around him.
Yeah, that did it.
He was coming hard, filling you up, his head falling to your shoulder, flicking at your clit one more time to push you over the edge, which it did, you moaned, your hand in his hair as he kissed your shoulder, nails raking down his back, leaving red trails. They fucking should.
After the waves coursing through one body to another subsided, he took in a deep breath, trying to make up for the air he lost when you were taking apart his carefully cultivated self-restraint. “Are you alright?” You asked, never taking your eyes off him. He couldn’t help his laugh.
“You were onto something, sweetheart.” He kissed up your neck. “Cause m’not done.”
Summary: Dick thinks his diminishing sex drive is a result of age until you come into his life.
Warnings: Dick has a dick problem. Implied sexual themes. Written on my phone.
Dick has accepted he was getting older. Not that he was anywhere near B’s age, thirties is still young. His body still moved well and he arguably fought criminals better now than in his youth. Experience combined with an older physique making him a better vigilante. One thing Dick did notice was that as he got better at crime fighting, his sex drive tanked.
That is not to say he couldn’t get hard anymore because that was not the case at all. Every now and then Dick rubbed one out when he felt the situation called for. After failed relationships with Kori and Babs, Dick focused his mind on superhero business. In his 20’s, his apartment would have been a revolving door of women to satisfy his physical urges. Now, he rarely felt that way towards a woman at all. Maybe it was because women became less of a priority in his life, maybe it’s because he was getting older. Regardless, Dick accepted it as his new way of life. That was until he met you.
You, you, you. After mentioning the pretty woman he met at the dog park with Haley, Wally convinced Dick to ask you on a date. His apprehension wasn’t because of you at all because you were without a doubt one of the most stunning women he’s ever seen, and he used to date an alien. But dating and love weren’t a priority to Dick anymore. He asked you out thinking it wouldn’t be more than a nice dinner with a pretty lady, but you changed everything.
Dick knew you were gorgeous, but he also found out how funny, smart, down to earth, and passionate about your career you were. You were everything Dick was looking for in a partner. Dick never expected himself to be here, in his thirties in a new relationship, but here he was. Dating you has been a dream. You make him feel things he hasn’t felt in years. Every time he was with you he got these butterflies that he hasn’t felt since his first crush. Dick felt what could only be described as child-like joy when he was around you.
Speaking of feeling like a kid again, Dick could not keep his dick (pun intended) down around you. After your second date he walked you back to your apartment where you pressed a sweet kiss to his cheek before retreating inside. It was innocent and quick, yet, Dick stood at your door with the goofiest smile on his face… and a raging hard on.
He thought his problem would get better the longer you two dated. It was his first time being involved with a women in a long time and his body was excited is all. It’ll adjust after a few weeks to a month and everything would be normal. He was wrong. The longer you dated the worse it got. It didn’t matter what you two were doing. You wanted to try the new coffee place that just opened up, boner. You had errands to run and Dick tagged along with you, boner. He was at your apartment and the two of you were playing board games, boner. All you had to do was look in Dick’s direction and he felt all the blood rushing to his pants. He felt like he was going through puberty a second time. It got to the point where even jacking off was not cutting it anymore. Dick would lay on his back trying to catch his breath after blowing a loud onto his stomach, just for his cock to still stand at full attention. Hard and wanting more.
As if his situation couldn’t get worse, you were completely oblivious to the effect you had on Dick. He would have much preferred if you knew your power over him and used it to your advantage. But you didn’t. So, everytime Dick got hard around you he felt like a pervert. Knowing you were innocently living your life while he spent a majority of his time around you with a rock hard boner.
The first time you noticed it was when you were spending the night at Dick’s. The two of you were cuddled together getting ready before bed, and your ass was pressed right against him. It was taking insane levels of will power for Dick not excuse himself to take care of his boner in the bathroom. Then you attempted to kill him. You were shifting against him, causing your ass to rub against his front. His sweatpants did nothing to hide how hard he was as he tightened his arm around your waist. You looked up at him in confusion “You okay dickie?” You asked innocently, looking at him with those big eyes. Dick had to take a deep breath and start thinking about five things he could see, four things he could touch. He gave what he thought was a reassuring smile, but it only made you more concerned.
“Yeah babe, I’m okay. I just need you to stop moving so much” he responded, his voice hoarse. You go to argue that you were trying to get comfortable when suddenly you notice the flush crawling up Dick’s neck and something pressing into your ass. It took a minute but your lips formed an O shape in understanding before you rolled back over quickly, halting your movements.
In seriousness, Dick’s biggest fear was that his boner problem would make you feel pressured to be intimate with him because that is not what he wanted. He did not want you to feel like you had to move any quicker than you were ready to. If his bodily reactions weren’t a good enough indication, he cared deeply and was crazy about you. The feelings were not entirely one sided. You too thought about what sex with Dick would be like. But this was the first man you’d dated in years and you didn’t want to rush anything.
The first time you initiated anything physical with him, Dick felt like a virgin all over again. You had went on a great date to the new Thai place that opened by your apartment. The movie you two were watching was quickly forgotten when you kissed Dick and got in his lap. Of course Dick had been hard all night. When he picked you up, you were wearing the new blue dress you bought recently. From that moment on he knew he was a goner. He spent most of the night admiring and letting you know how beautiful he thought you looked.
The minute you started kissing Dick he thought he was going to explode. Then you started to rock your hips into his. Soft pants left your swollen lips at the feeling of his boner pressing against your core. Dick had to squeeze your waist tightly and bury his head in your neck. His warm breaths coated your skin while he tried to slow his heartbeat down. He was genuinely seconds creaming his pants like he was 13 all over again.
“Baby,” he voices “you’re gonna be the death of me”. You stop immediately, suddenly concerned you did something to hurt him.
“Is it me Dick? What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” You ask in quick succession. Of course the first time you try to initiate anything physical you are about to kill your boyfriend. This kind of thing would only happen to you. Dick laughs breathlessly against your neck closing his eyes.
“You didn’t hurt me pretty girl… you truly have no idea what you do to me do you?” He asks, but he already knows the answer as you shake your head no. “If you keep grinding on me like that I’m gonna cream my pants like some pre pubescent boy with a playboy magazine,” he admits, feeling his cheeks get warm at the confession. You sit with what he said before a smile takes over your face. You begin to grind down on Dick again while he makes eye contact without you, gripping your hips to ground himself. He stares at you, baby blue eyes glassy like he’s about to start crying. You tug softly at his hair which elicits a broken moan from his lips. You watch as he comes undone below you, holding your soft body to his.
When you two finally do have sex, it’s as amazing as both of you imagined. It does little, however, to curb Dick’s issues. And you still have no clue how much of an effect you have on him.
summary: when reader has a bad date, she runs into dick on her way home
word count: 1.7k
warnings/tags: sfw, fem!reader, cursing, mention of sex (once), mention of reader drinking, fluff, no y/n
The stifling heat of Blüdhaven's humidity is starting to press against you and feel like it's seeping into your skin. Every step on the uneven concrete makes your feet ache a little bit more from your heels, but the promise of a warm bed and bottle of wine is the only thing keeping you putting one foot in front of the other.
You should’ve known better than to go on a date with the guy you were talking to for a couple of days from Hinge. One would think you’d learn your lesson after multiple failed Hinge dates, but no, you kept trying. It all started okay—a nice restaurant, an easy greeting, but as time passed you started to see the red flags waving in front of your face.
For close to an hour, you listened to your date talk and talk and talk. Never once did he ask about what you or your life, just kept droning on about himself to the point you tuned him out and just nodded along. At some point, you caught him talking about his ex-girlfriend and even going as far to compare the both of you.
Then was the matter of the bill, which he asked to split, which would've been fine if he didn't tax you one dollar and fifty cents for trying a bite of his pasta—which he offered you to try—or telling you to split the price of the appetizer 75/25, since you ate seventy five percent of the mozzarella sticks.
And the cherry on top of the night: he asked if you wanted to go back to his house because he had such a great night, and when you politely told him you were pretty tired and just wanted to head back home, he claimed he lied and had the worst date ever before stomping off into the night. At least now you don’t have to worry about texting him to tell him you didn’t want to go out again.
The walk to the subway is starting to feel infinite, and you’re getting ready to just call an Uber, when your phone rings in your purse. You grab it and quickly answer it after seeing the name Tim Drake, your best friend, calling you.
“Hey, loser,” he drawls from the other side of the phone, “How’d the date go?”
“It was perfect. He brought me flowers, said I was the most stunning girl he's ever seen, had so much in common with me, and we finished it off by having banging hot sex in his car.”
“Really?”
“No. It sucked and he made me pay extra for the bite of his pasta that I tried.”
“Shit. I’m sorry.”
“It's fine.” You kick your foot against a rock. “I should’ve known better than to go on another Hinge date after swearing them off for a reason.”
“I don’t think I have patrol next Thursday. I could come down to Blüd and we could have a movie night?”
Memories of the bad day movie night tradition pops into your head. Too many nights shared together watching shitty movies and eating take out after days would go from bad to worse. “Yeah, I’d love that. Invite Kon too, I haven’t seen either of y’all in forever.”
“I’ll make sure to let him know.” The quiet clacking of Tim’s keyboard pauses as he asks, “Seriously though, are you okay?”
You take in the surprisingly quiet city around you as his question sinks in. “Yeah,” your voice is quieter than you’d like it to be, “I’m just a little lonely after moving, but I’m sure I’ll settle in here soon.”
“You can always move back,” he hesitantly offers.
“You know I can’t. I wanted to start over and actually build a life for myself. I can do that here. It's just… taking some time.”
“Well, you always know there’s a couch for you to crash on if you are ever feeling homesick.”
“I know and appreciate it, Timmy.” You pull the phone back to glance at the time. “I’m gonna go so I can keep heading home.”
“Text me when you’re home please so I know you didn’t get kidnapped.”
You say goodbye and hang up the phone, feeling that familiar weight pressing against you whenever you talk about how you still haven’t found where you belong in Blüdhaven after living here for 4 months. You’d thought by now everything would be perfect, but no, here you are walking back from a shitty da—
You're jarred from your thoughts as you watch your phone slip from your hand and align perfectly to slip through the gap of the metal grate on the sidewalk. You crouch in front of the grate to see the still lit screen mocking you from the dark pit it fell into. “No, no, no.”
What the hell do you even do in this situation? Most places are closed this late at night, and even if they weren't, who on earth do you call to collect your phone? You’re so deeply stuck in your thoughts that you don’t hear your name being called out until the third time. You look up in the direction it came from just in time to catch a glimpse of a familiar three legged pitbull barrelling into you.
Haley jumps into your lap, sending you falling onto your ass where you were crouching, but makes up for it as she greets you with such enthusiasm. You reach up to pet her head as she nussles against you. “Hi, Hales.”
You glance over, catching sight of the all too familiar mop of inky black hair and piercing blue eyes that are now fixed on you. His mouth is tugged up in that perfect smile of his that pops the dimple on his right cheek, “Sorry. I didn’t think she’d literally knock you on your ass.”
Dick Grayson offers you a hand to stand back up, which you gratefully accept. Being best friends with Tim meant running into his long list of siblings often, and also forming friendships with them. Dick, however, was the only one you’d try to avoid as often as possible because you had the biggest crush on him. It started when you and Tim were 16, messing around with some of the gadgets you definitely shouldn’t have. You ended up falling, spraining your wrist and scraping your knees pretty badly.
Dick had heard the commotion of crying and when he saw you there, Tim trying to calm you down, he stepped in. He was gentle as he moved your wrist around, coming to the conclusion it was a minor sprain, then used the first aid kit Tim brought over to clean and bandage your knees. You thanked him, gazing up at him as if he were your guardian angel, but after that narrowly avoided being left alone with him in fear you’d say something embarrassing. But now you're older and totally over it…
“It’s okay, I love seeing Haley anyways.”
He looks you over, finally seeing the formal outfit you wore for the date that now feels like it was weeks ago. “You look really nice,” he says as his eyes lock back onto yours. “Something special tonight?”
“Oh, yeah, I’m on my way back from a date.”
“A date! That's great…” He trailed off when he saw the disappointment that lingered on your features. “Not great?”
“It was an unforgettable date, just not in a good way.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay, I’m glad it didn’t work out anyways because I doubt he was going to be my soulmate.”
“His loss for missing out on the incredible woman that was right in front of him.”
You duck your head as the heat rushes toward your face. Definitely not over the crush.
“Why were you crouched down here earlier?”
You’re brought back from your daze of running into Dick, that you remember why you were even stopped here. “My phone. It dropped down there and I don’t know what to do.” You gesture to the grate.
He follows your gaze, “Ah.” He ponders for a second, “Hold this and let me try.” He passes you Haley's leash and you watch as he leans down and grips the grate like he’s just going to lift the hundreds of pounds that separates you from your phone. Your jaw drops in shock as the sound of metal clashing together breaks the silence of the night. You watch him lifting the grate and shifting it enough to fit an arm through the side, then reaching down and grabbing your phone.
You starstuck, “You just lifted that.”
He laughs easily as he wipes the dirt from your phone with his shirt, staining in the process. “Yeah, I did.” He casually hands you your cellphone back and moves the cover back into its slot.
“And here I was thinking I was going to have to fumble around like a fool trying to get my phone back, when you just swooped in and made it look like it was nothing.”
“Swooping in, as you put it, is both my day and night job.”
“Showoff,” you mumble as you hand Haley's leash back to him. “Thank you, though.”
“You’re welcome.” He glances around before his gaze falls back onto your date night outfit. “Are you doing anything for the rest of the night?”
“Besides going home to watch a movie with ice cream and wine?”
He laughs, “Yeah, besides that.”
“Then…” You jokingly check your watch, “No, I’ve got absolutely nothing to do.”
“How about grabbing some food with me? There's this food truck with amazing tacos just down the street.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I don’t want your night to end on a bad note. Besides, I’m sure Haley wouldn’t mind getting some of our scraps of food.”
Hope bubbles in your chest, “Only if you’re sure and it won’t take away your time from anything.”
He nods, “I want to cheer you up.”
“Okay then, yeah.”
He offers his arm, which you hesitantly loop your own through. “Let's turn this night from a bad date, to the best date ever,” he says as he starts guiding both you and Haley into the direction of the food truck. You can’t help but feel grateful that the date ended up how it did, because it led you to this moment.
authors note: i really dont know how i feel about this one, but any writing is experience to learn from soooo im posting it
