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lovelettersforthedamned · 6 months

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I Lived That Night Too

--genre + trope: angst, hurt/little comfort, nsfw.

--pairing: pattinson!bruce wayne x gf!vigilante!reader

--word count: 1.7k

--summary: after a run in with the joker a few months ago, bruce has been extra protective over you, and you've had enough.

--warnings: graphic depictions of violence, mentions of blood, mention of a potential SA, angst, mentions of food, bruce and reader are mean to each other, some kisses, very very light fluff.

--gif credits: @bittwitchy

The sun set a few minutes ago, leaving the warm lighting of the overhead lights flooding throughout the corridor. Dinner was almost ready, yet Bruce was still in bed, recovering from his previous night out. Halloween was always tough for Gotham’s masked vigilante, the holiday becoming the motivation for those who dwell in mischief.

The past year has haunted Bruce, even in his unconscious mind. Visions of that night dance across his eyelids.

The night air was humid, the first warm night kicked off the start of the Summer weather. Even though warmer nights were upon those living in Gotham, rain poured heavily. You prepared to go out for the night, making your rounds around the city, making sure the peace was kept. There was no warning, no sign of disturbance in front of you as the front tire of your motorcycle caught on something, flinging you through the air.

It’s not the initial impact of the fall that hurts, it's the pavement under you scraping your skin as you’re dragged by a man, the only feature you can pick up on is his recognizable laugh. He stops under a streetlight, the sudden brightness making your eyes squint, unable to process the figure’s next moves. His silhouette, raising a bat, is the last thing you’re able to see before a flaring pain in your stomach erupts. The pain moves to your side, then to your head, and finally to your hands.

The warm air seemed to heighten the stench of your blood, the metallic smell making you nauseous. The man above you inspects your body, making sure his work is done. A small nod follows his lingering eyes before leaning down to uncurl your, now broken, hand, “Hold this for me, would you?” As he peels back each broken finger, with the last remaining energy you had left, a scream leaves your lips. In your now open hand, he places the same bat he used to harm you carefully in your grasp, positioning it perfectly before walking away.

The gravel beneath his feet crunches as he’s relieving this moment once again. His eyes squint to focus on the sight in front of him, a body lying in the gleam of a streetlight, twitching. As he walks closer, there's a pit in his stomach, he knows that it’s you. There’s not an inch of your body that isn’t covered in a cut drowned in blood. His gaze ran up and down your shriveled figure, finally looking at the bat you’re holding, pieces of wood splintering at the barrel. His eyes lock onto the words that are jaggedly carved into the body of the bat.

BATTER UP.

He freezes at the sight of the engraving, the only movement coming from his eyes, darting back to your beaten face. He feels an unexplainable force weighing him down, he can’t move, and he can hardly breathe. The first person he contacts is Alfred. Back home, Alfred can see everything, due to Bruce’s advanced contact lenses. The older man is also in a state of shock, you were hardly recognizable.

It takes Alfred’s pleas to shake Bruce out of his dissociative state. All Bruce could think of was what his life would look like without you, and how much he feared for your life.

Waking himself up from the same nightmare he’s had for months, he looks around, confirming his surroundings. The light patter of rain hit his window, the sound alone trying to pull him back to sleep. Checking the time on the clock behind him, 7:48 PM, he pulls back the covers and starts to make his way downstairs, quickly pulling a shirt on and grabbing a pair of sweatpants from the dresser.

Descending the stairs, he looks down at the scene in front of him. You’re sitting at the dining table with Alfred, participating in small talk as you eat dinner. A plate is set beside you, waiting for Bruce. His presence isn’t known until Alfred’s voice greets him, and a small peck is placed onto the crown of your head. Looking up at Bruce, you can tell he just woke up, his hair is messy and his eyes are still plagued with drowsiness. Grabbing his hand, you remind him of the plate made for him, a teasing tone poking through your voice, “Are you going to sit down? Or are you just going to keep standing there, my love?”

“I have to go back to work,” he takes a breath, “there’s too much to do, I’m sorry.”

You take this as your queue to follow him, grabbing his plate of food as you rise from your chair. Before you leave Alfred at the table, you exchange a knowing look, you both know that he won’t stop helping those who live in this city, you just wish he would take a break sometimes. His workload has doubled since you’ve been ‘out of commission’. It’s frustrating watching him stay out another hour or two to make up for the time he lost without you there, but Bruce would rather stay out all night than let you join him again.

There’s a comfortable silence between the two of you as you make your way down to Bruce’s area beneath the building. As you enter, Bruce makes a beeline toward his monitors and paperwork sprawled out along the desk. Following behind him, you place the plate down and start to work alongside him. Since Bruce hasn’t let you join him out at night, you’ve convinced him to let you at least do investigative work at home. Before he agreed, you swore you were going crazy. Of course, you went out often, but the thrill of working on something became your drug, and without it, you were having withdrawals. And as much as Bruce didn’t want to admit it, you were good at this, and he needed another set of hands to go over the things he’s collected.

After an hour of rummaging through some evidence Bruce has collected in a missing persons case, you can see that his body tenses, coming to a realization. Since you worked together, you caught it just a moment after he did. Something isn’t adding up. There’s an entire chunk of information missing, and coincidently, it’s the last piece you need before coming to a definitive answer on this case. “I have to go back,” his eyes are still glued to the screen in front of him.

You’re quick to interject, “But you just got back, you haven’t even eaten anything for Christ's sake. You can go out later.”

“No, I can’t,” he rises from his chair, “I’ll figure it out.”

“Well, you would’ve figured out what we were missing if you just let me go out there with you,” you’re frustrations rising enough to confront him about what had been on your mind all evening.

He raises his hand to rub his eyes in frustration, “Fuck (Y/N), you know why I can’t let that happen.”

“It happened so long ago, it doesn’t matter.”

“But it does,” his voice raises an octave, the sudden volume change echoing throughout the room, “it haunts me.”

Anger flows throughout your body, the sound of your voice surpassing his, “It was my fault, Bruce! I let my guard down, I wasn’t careful.”

“Do you know how scared I was,” he turns to you, “ I saw you laying in a pool of your blood and I thought you were dead.”

You stand up, now closer to eye level as you look up at him, “I’m sorry, but you don’t think I’ve learned from this too? I’m the one who went through all of this. I’ve laid in a bed for six fucking months, thinking about what I could’ve changed and what I could’ve done differently. When I was lying on that street, I thought Joker would take advantage of me, and somehow that scared me more than the thought of what bones he broke. You can’t save everyone, Batman.”

Your words end the conversation, and seeing Bruce stand there speechless was your signal to leave. You don’t care if he was going to respond, you just needed to get out. It wasn’t long before you put on your gear and warmed up your motorcycle, the familiar sound of the engine roaring to life brings a smile to your face. You waste no time in heading out into the biting air of Gotham in November, anxious to do what you’ve been waiting and craving to do for the past six months.

As soon as Bruce hears your motorcycle rev to life, he immediately rushes over to put on the gear he took off not even twenty-four hours prior. Climbing onto his own motorcycle, he follows loosely behind you.

It doesn’t take long for you to reach the location of where the evidence was collected. Entering through a side window, you can feel eyes bore into your back, no doubt your boyfriend peering from a spot above you. Bruce is not only looking into the window you climbed in but also the surroundings around you, making sure it’s clear.

It doesn’t take long for you to find the golden ticket of this entire investigation, a SIM card, smaller than a penny. Standing in the alley you call out, “You’re not as sneaky as you think you are, babe.” Jumping down from his hiding spot in a nearby fire escape, he makes his way towards you and grabs the SIM card from your fingers. “You’re welcome,” you spit out.

Inspecting it, he asks, “Where was it?”

“Under the filing cabinet, someone slid it in between the cracks of the metal,” you mutter, sneaking behind him and snatching back the device before walking away.

Bruce grabs your wrist softly, stopping you in your tracks, “I’m sorry…for holding you back. You don’t need to be sheltered and you proved that.”

Looking over your shoulder at him, you speak, “I never did, Bruce.” A beat goes by before you turn and kiss his cheek, “I’ll see you back at home.”

--author's note: HEY GUYS!! i was 100% supposed to post this on halloween or the day after, but work kept me away from finishing this:( writing for pattinson!bruce specifically is so hard, because wdym he's an introvert and is awkward and probably very awkward and a loser??? im so used to writing babes like peter, so this was fun to try! don't forget to support your writers by liking, commenting, and reblogging!!! my asks/inbox is OPENNN, so send me anything you would like to see on this blog and i will get back asap...ok bye ily<3333

#battinson #pattinson!bruce wayne x reader #dc #batman x reader #batman oneshot #batman angst #pattinson!batman x reader #pattinson!batman x f!reader #oneshot #fluff #angst #hurt/little comfort

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jangofctts · 2 years

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Feel the Heat (Batman/Bruce Wayne x fem!reader)

PART ONE PART TWO PART THREE PART FOUR

Rated: Mature, Explicit 18+

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: !!spoilers!!, some fluff!!, twisted the timeline a bit sorry ig, smut, explicit language, unprotected sex, vaginal fingering, squirting, jealousy, unashamed lesbian smooching, slight praise kink, mentions of violence/death, (lmk if I missed anything please!!)

a/n: aha thanks for your patience!!!

This is a stupid idea—going back to the Wayne Tower.

What are you even hoping to gain from this?

A stupid apology? An explanation?

You don’t know.

Bruce Wayne will always have his secrets—this you know. Middle school—sitting in the nurse’s office after class—Bruce holding his bleeding nose between his crimson stained hands while you did your history homework on the counter, littered with bloodied tissues and cotton-balls. He told you the other kid swung first—you promised him you wouldn’t tell Alfred. You remember the emergency room—junior prom night—broken collar bone and road rash all up the right side of his body. A piss poor attempt at driving his father’s motorcycle—you ditched your date to come pick Bruce’s ass up. When he tried to unwrap those stale muffin’s they give you as consolation, he burst into silent sobs when he couldn’t do it. His tears weren’t over the broken bone or icky muffin—rather the bike. The paint was scratched to hell. These sorts of things you’re privy too. The rest? You’re not so sure.

Not all of it is intentional. Isolation has a keen way of threading through one’s social life, binding together the art of conversation. He’ll never jump to share unless you jam the rusty pliers between his teeth and wrench his jaw apart. Unravel and sort through the mess of words to find a sensible answer—but that’s more of your mother’s way of things.

It still doesn’t stop you from throwing yourself at all those stupid walls he throws up. They’re flimsy when it comes to you. So, while the request to see you a day later from the whole funeral fiasco is not a surprise, your annoyance certainly is. It’s not really…aimed at Bruce. More of a cumulation of stress that has no outsource other than your morose friend. So when you arrive to the Wayne Tower, snappy and lightly rained on, you’re ready to tear into him.

Too bad you’re too much of a fuckin’ crybaby to follow through.

When those stupid nickel plated elevator doors slide open, you startle—completely throws you off your game. You don’t expect Mr. Bruce Wayne himself to be waiting to greet you.

Disheveled, shoulders drawn inward, hair an utter mess. God, he looks like shit. Why does he always look like shit? It’s the vampiric nature of this penthouse—you know it. Or his complete disregard for eating something other than a singular blueberry.

Bruce fiddles with his fraying sleeve. He attempts to smile but immediately drops the act the second you pointedly quirk a brow. He scowls. “Blue—”

True. You’re a coward when it comes to verbal confrontation, but pettiness? Oh, you can manage that just fine.

You mash the close door button. The metal squeaks on its hinges, shuttering as Bruce shoves his forearm between them. The doors snick back open. “Oops. Wrong floor.”

“Blue,” he protests, stepping to the side as you pout and shove past him. “Blue—wait.”

You wave him away and flee to the dining room. You fling your bag over one of the chairs and stalk towards the little bookshelf tucked away in the corner. Watery light streams through the gothic windows, highlighting the swirling dust motes. Bruce’s bare feet pad over the tile and then the plush rug, lingering behind you as if he were your shadow. You tense when his fingers touch your shoulder—he pulls back.

“I’m sorry I left you,” he murmurs, words mournful and reaching.

Your throat tightens, fingernails biting into the sot flesh of your palms. “You didn’t pick up the phone—I was so worried.”

No answer. You grit you teeth.

“I called almost every hospital, you know.”

Still nothing. Only a hollow exhale and a shuffle of loose fitting clothes.

You roll your bottom lip between your teeth. “Where did you go, Bruce?”

You were left there alone, swept into the crowd and mass panic—and you only wish he was there too. And at the end of it all, you don’t really care where he’s been or where he goes, just that he cares. You willingly outstretch your hand into the burning house, will watch it corrode and blacken all for his sake, but he chooses to sit and let the flames devour him.

This time, he reaches out.

“Carmine Falcone,” he says. You recognize the name from the funeral. A pause. He works his jaw, rubs at his arms, then sighs. “He knew my father."

Oh.

Gives the situation more a basis for understanding—still doesn’t excuse the abrupt depart. You watch him out of the corner of your eye. There’s more to this story—but now’s not the time to pry. Not yet.

Goosebumps rush down your spine as his fingertips meet the base of your neck. When you don’t turn around to bite, he sidles his body up to yours. “I’m sorry, Blue.”

“No,” you sneer, shrugging off his advances. Your feelings are still a bit tender. It doesn’t do much of anything—it’s just a strange dance of avoidance and of weaving limbs attempting to ensnare you. “I’m mad at you.”

Bruce’s hand slides down your forearm and slots around your wrist, pinning your arm across your waist. The other arm soon follows, trapped against your body with Bruce’s own limbs acting as the restraint. It’s a flimsy hold—one push and he’d fall away quicker than grains of sand through a sieve. Yet, as Bruce tucks you against his chest, most of your resistance ebbs. “Blue.”

“Don’t,” you whine, eyes squeezing shut. You’re angry for fuck’s sake—you’ll be damned if you simply give up your grievances just because Bruce is caging you close. You’re not some cheap-ass date nor feeble willed. You grit your teeth and dig your heels in. “Didn’t you hear me?”

Goosebumps rush up your arms as Bruce’s thumbs rub light circles on the delicate outcrop of your wrist bones. You feel his nose press into your hair, his exhale ruffling the strands atop your head. “Hm.”

His little hum is posed more as a question—quiet and lifting in the way questions do in the case of feigning innocence. Bastard. “I said I’m—”

Dry lips and scratchy stubble brush the dip of your shoulder. He mouths your name inaudibly into your skin like a patchwork of saccharine blessings and devotion—so sugary sweet that the roof of your mouth tastes like fuzzy static. Bruce imbeds devout kisses up your throat that curves out for him as offering. “You’re what?” His lips vibrate as the words tumble out, goading you into finishing your fallacy.

His plush lips latch onto the line of your jaw. You swallow and claw at the fleeting strands of your sensibilities and blink away the haze of desire. “I said I’m angry at you.”

You shiver, bitting back a gasp as his tongue trails a slick line up to your earlobe. One arm unlatches itself, fingers moving to sweep your hair off your shoulder. Though as they trace the slope of your shoulder, they hesitate over the the base of your neck. A dull flare of pain radiates out as Bruce curiously kneads the skin. “Did I leave this?”

A stab of panic lacerates your gut. Your first thought is to lie—tell him that yes, the mottled skin matching the teeth of Vengeance belongs to Bruce—but the guilt tastes bitter on the tongue. You clench your teeth. “I’ve uh…there’s someone else.”

The admittance does not deter him. Bruce’s hands find the hem of your shirt and skate up your bare stomach and sensitive sides. “Do I know them?”

“Why would you?” You sigh, smoothing your palm down his forearm. “You don’t have any friends.”

Bruce’s chest rises, intending to disprove the accusation. You beat him to it. “I don’t count.”

He snorts and runs his thumbs over your ribcage, setting the nerves alight. “Do you like him?”

You swear you feel Bruce’s lips upturn into a smirk, but just as you think it, it dissipates. Bruce’s lips touch your cheek as his hands rise higher, brushing the underside of your breasts. A noise of approval rumbles through his chest as you lean more of your weight against him. “Why?”

Bruce shrugs. You inhale sharply through your nose as he pushes one hand under the elastic band of your sports bra, deft fingers curling around the pliant flesh. “Competition,” he murmurs against the shell of your ear.

“Tall, dark and handsome,” you say, eyes fluttering shut. He rolls your nipple between his fingertips, other hand traversing back down the line of your sternum, over your stomach and to your navel. It’s pathetic how easily he’s lit a fire under your skin—hot and pressing, working up your body until it only craves him. “H-hard to beat.”

Bruce toys with the hem of your leggings, waits for your breathy consent, and then wiggles his hand into your pants. He dives past the thin elastic of your underwear and past your curls to touch your clit. Bruce smiles into your neck. “It is.”

Your head tips back against his chest, knees buckling at the raw pleasure that sparks from his fingertips to your body. He cinches closer, the sinew and muscle of his arm flexing to keep you from falling. A ragged gasp tears from your throat as his fingers brush teasingly over your clit, only to delve further between your wet cunt. He spreads the gathering wetness, gliding his fingers through your folds at an achingly slow pace—a prideful show of self satisfaction—how easily you unravel for him. Delicious heat simmers in the pit of your stomach, increasing tenfold as his middle finger experimentally circles your entrance. Your breath stutters as he dips only the first half inch of his fingertip inside of you—you clench around him and whine.

However, the angle is a little too awkward to fully seat his finger inside of you. Instead, he slips his finger up, dragging it back up to your clit. You jolt as he catches the underside of your clit, unprotected and searing. You claw at his forearm circling your front, nails harpooning into his skin. Bruce’s other hand unlatches from your breasts, slides out of your shirt and slots his hand over your jaw. He carefully twists your head, inviting you to look up at him. Dark hair spills over his forehead, irises blown wide and mouth parted. If anything, you’d say he’s the one who’s splitting apart at the seams.

You squint—there’s a smudge of something black under his eye—you hadn’t noticed it before. Like dust, or paint maybe. Before you can wiggle a hand between your bodies to inspect it further, Bruce nudges your nose with his.

“Kiss me,” it comes out in a strained gasp, because desperation is the venomous snake that’s bitten you both. Holding each other on the razorwire and the ivory snake fangs of your bodies—the burning a solid boundary of trouble and hysteria alike. “Blue—”

You neck strains at this angle, but you’ll bear the discomfort. His lips meld to yours, tasting like blueberries and mint tea. His lips are always forgiving, soft and feathery like he can’t quite fathom that you’ve decided to kiss him. You understand—loss decorates his chest like medals of war. Better the aloneness than the hurt—days that feel scripted and arduous. Barely fumbling his way through habits and requirements as if each of his bones were made from concrete. You’d carve him a slice of sunlight if you could, but you can’t. The only thing you can offer are your outstretched fingers and a promise not to leave again.

You cry into his open mouth, hot tongue sliding against yours as you part your lips. Bruce’s fingers don’t stop rocking against your clit, your slick arousal making a mess of your underwear. His fingers split, massaging the swollen nerves between the two digits, breaking away from your mouth to tuck his chin over your shoulder. Your head rolls back as your hand jumps up to bury your fingers into his hair. You’re nearing your end already. “Fuck—Bruce.”

He pants into the crux of your neck. “How many?”

Your hips roll into his hand, confusion blooming. “W-what?”

“How many times,” Bruce says lowly, “did your friend make you cum?”

You keen. What the fuck—what the fuck. You shouldn’t react in the way you do—swallowed by a wicked rush of arousal and heat—your cunt clenches hard and fuck, you’re right on the edge of orgasm. “I-I don’t—don’t know.”

Teeth pinch around your tender flesh, marking the space right above Bats’. Bruce paws at your breast. “How many? Once?”

Tears push at your eyes, squeezed shut as you scramble for an answer. You nearly burst into tears right then and there as his fingers cease their movements—you were so close, but now you’re plummeting down the mountain of ecstasy. You arch against him and yank at his hair—you don’t care that it’s bratty, nor the way the sound of his name filters past your teeth like a petulant princess. “Bruce.”

“Blue,” he mocks. Your fault for forgetting that Bruce is an only child—he gets what he wants.

You wet your lips and nuzzle your nose into his throat. “T-twice…”

Bruce’s lips draw into a grin. “I can do better.”

You hips stutter and jerk as his fingers leap into action. They roll over your clit, tight and fevered circles that shove you off that edge—your body seizes. You cum onto his fingers with a strangled cry, sparks of blurry white alighting behind your eyelids as you twist in his arms—jittery with nowhere to go. Bruce continues to swipe his fingers around your throbbing clit, your nerves burning hotter than wildfire, spreading from your core all the way up your stomach and down to your toes. You're shaking, and over the roar of your pulse, you hear Bruce murmur his praise. And maybe, if you were a better person, you’d tell him he’s competing with a shadow. You don’t even know his name or what he looks like—but it’s too late now.

Your stomach drops as Bruce’s hand loosely curls around your throat, his fingers over your clit refusing to give you a chance to recover. You don’t scrape the bottom, you’re swept into a wild whirlwind of scraped nerves—too blistering. The discomfort doesn’t last long. Another orgasm bursts through your core, quick and bright as Bruce’s fingers twitch around your throat. It singes your insides and fuck—your vision goes a bit fuzzy.

A broken groan falls from your lips as Bruce mercifully retracts his hand. His fingers are drenched, leaving behind shiny spots of wetness over your tummy as he flattens his palm over it. You’re still twitching, panting and swimming through the clouds of lust. Your throat bobs under Bruce’s hand, and as he slots his hips closer, you feel the bulge of his cock pressing against the base of your spine.

Bruce plants a kiss to your temple, the soft skin cool to your flushed skin. You sniff and clumsily wipe at your watering eyes. Bruce’s laugh is soft—reserved. “You ok?”

“Peachy,” you croak. You tilt your head and dot a quick kiss on the underside of Bruce’s jaw. His grim mouth upturns into the traces of a smile. He boxes you in against the window and slips his hands up your shirt.

“Can I take this off?” He murmurs into your ear. You nod, lifting your arms for him to slide it off. You bra comes next. A appreciate groan rumbles through his chest upon seeing your bare chest. You shudder when Bruce cups your breasts and thumbs over your nipples. His palm skates to your pants. “These too?”

You shuck them off faster than the blink of an eye. There’s a ruffle of fabric behind you and then Bruce is just as bare as you. His hands drift over the dips and swells of your body, his warm chest molding to your back.

He threads his fingers with yours, pinning your hand against the frigid glass. The city is shrouded in fog today, ghostly towers and the brief glimpses of the road down below swimming in and out of view. Raindrops splatter over the glass, the beads rolling down the flat surface until they conjoin into rivulets of water that mimic branches of lightning. A deep rumble of thunder reverberates through the window—typical weather for early November. A soft touch on the swell of your hip, draws you back into the present.

Bruce peppers kisses over your bare shoulders. “I want you.”

“What’s stopping you?” You goad, dipping a hand between your legs to touch his cock, nestled in the apex of your thighs. He hisses between his clenched teeth, fighting the instinct to mindlessly take you without regard. Your fingers roll over the head of his cock and then, inpatient, you guide him inside of you. “Shit—”

Your breath catches in your throat, no time to adjust as Bruce rocks his hips forward, pressing you tight between the cold widow and his body, splitting you open on his thick cock. You’re wet enough to take him with little resistance—soft and searing. Bruce whispers a curse, his lips brush up under your ear, the wet noises your body makes, obscene in the quiet space. Your breath fogs the window and when you catch his blissed out reflection, you clench around him. Bruce throbs, thick and perfect inside your tight, spasming cunt, hands tightening around your hip and hand.

You claw uselessly at the glass as you try to acclimate, sucking in tapered breathes while pleasure seeps through every pore. Bruce’s groan is rougher than gravel, a sound that has you tightening around him like a vice—threatening to cum again. It feels different like this, bent over in a way that his cock reaches a place you’d never be able to get to yourself. Bruce allows you a moment before he starts thrusting into you, sparking a sensation deep inside you with each movement so hard that it becomes sharp—not painful—but fuck, you’re gonna walk with a limp tomorrow. His hips roll into you, setting a rough pace that drags out a punched sigh every time he rocks up—

There’s no easing into it, nor does Bruce dare tease. It’s just there all of a sudden, pleasure and a touch of pain blasting through you all at once, throwing you to the flames.

“Fuck,” Bruce gasps. His grip tightens around your fingers, then falls away to trade in his hold for your breast. You squeak and hook onto his forearm. “Fuck—you’re perfect.”

Bruce drops his head into your neck, his grunts now muffled. Bruce’s fingertips move from your hip to between your legs, seeking out your abused clit. You flinch and press your forehead into the glass, welcoming the bitter chill as distraction until your nerves become used to his touch once more. “Y-you’re—ah—gonna kill me.”

He laves his tongue over your flushed skin, tasting the salt of your perspiration and the sweetness of your perfume. “Little Crybaby Blue—you’re tough.”

You’re not sure why the words pluck at such a visceral part of you. Shredding you apart for the third time without mercy. Your teeth pierce your bottom lip as you cum—everything surging up hot and molten. Bruce peels off your back, fucking you through it, and you can’t distinguish anything in the haze aside from his burning skin under you, in you, on you—the only anchor you have as the euphoria rockets through you. His name comes out garbled as you wail for him, the only warning either of you get before your knees buckle under you.

Your aching cunt weeps at the loss of Bruce’s cock as he catches you before you topple to the floor. Christ—your limbs are a mess—a feeling akin to being drunk. Your back meets the plush rug, the remnants of your orgasm still radiating out through your veins and arteries. Your legs are splayed open, your hip joints winging in protest as Bruce hooks his hands under you knees and pries your thighs further apart. You squeak as he suddenly yanks your legs over his knees, cock pulsing at the seam of your pussy as he folds over you, strong arms posting above you.

Your murmur his name and cup his stubbled cheeks. A lopsided smile graces your face as you push a strand of his hair behind his ear. Your gaze drifts back to that black smudge under his eye—you wipe the oily substance away with your thumb. Huh. “You wearing eyeliner now, Brucey?”

Bruce swallows and drops his chin. His shoulders lift with a shrug. “Something like that,” he says faintly. And then he kisses you. You gasp into his mouth and his tongue sinks deep into yours, devouring and greedy.

Bruce leans his weight onto one arm and breaks the kiss. He doesn’t go far, your lips just barely graze his. His hand finds his cock, flushed and twitching as he drags the blunt tip of himself through your folds. You both gasp as he finds your entrance, seating himself only partially inside of you. What the fuck. You arch and claw at his bicep, begging for all of it. Bruce doesn’t budge.

He quiets you with a kiss and rolls his hips. Your entire leg twitches and jerks over his hip, praying he’ll go deeper or something. “Bruce—please.”

You’re not expecting him to start moving the way he does—oh fuck. It’s a twisted, deep, burning pleasure that sparks through you, diffusing outwards from each calculated thrust. This pace is controlled—slow—but the brutal up and down thrusts that meet that little pleasurable spot inside you dead on, make up for the near-teasing tempo.

Bruce sits up, gripping your hips to counteract your ceaseless wiggling. You grab at him, clutching onto his arm and his bare chest, leaving behind red lines upon his pale flesh. You cry at the overwhelming sensation, straining and babbling for mercy or more. You can’t rightly tell. Your toes start to curl as the feeling overtakes your very soul. God—fuck, this is so fucking unfamiliar. Shoved down your throat and you can’t do anything about it but take it. You face the pleasure heard on, pure fire blurring the seams of your mind, hot and amorphous through your entire body. Fuck—you feel like crying. Are you crying? Probably.

You hiccup. Bruce murmurs gentle praise and yep—you’re crying. Blunt, white hot pressure builds up, tightening like a drawstring pulley against all the muscles below your waist. The strangled cry you make, like some wounded thing, should embarrass you as Bruce pulls out completely—ashamed by how desperately your cunt clamps down around nothing for what seems like an eternity. Bruce doesn’t seat his cock back into you until you stop writhing and clawing at his arms. Fuck him. Fuck this—

Bruce reaches out, cupping your cheek and thumbing the tears that dribble into your hairline. His thumb drops to your lip, toying with the plush skin until your tongue flicks out to taste his skin. Bruce grunts. “You’re so pretty.”

It’s right then that you realize you couldn’t be friends anymore. You’ve fallen into the arch of his fingerprint, the tender loops of his heartstrings. The tiny scars of childhood and the creases in his skin that you’d know numb and blind. You’re no different to him—he knows you—knows all the little ugly bits of yourself and still finds them beautiful. He’s handing you this secret insecurity of displaying desire. Something he is so afraid of—of it being stripped away. You don’t get to bask in the vulnerability—

Bruce shoves back inside of you and everything comes back full force as soon as he starts moving again. You clutch at his wrist and mouth his name, strong hips rolling into with devastating accurate and poise—you’re falling apart. Bruce pulls out again but this time, as your cunt spasms and arches with the loss, wet heat suddenly coats your inner thigh. His voice trips into a ragged moan, threaded in awe. “Shit—you liked that.”

Sparks zap and crackle through you long after his touch is gone. You don’t—fuck, what—

It clicks quite abruptly, what’s happened—a blush that encompasses your whole body burns through you. Christ—you didn’t even know you could.

His slides back inside you and you wail his name. “Do it again,” Bruce breathes, jerking his hips into you hard. You don’t know how he’s doing this to you—does this count as an orgasm? Fuck, you don’t know—you’re on the knife’s edge. All you know is Bruce, his cock spearing into your wet heat and the cloud of ecstasy. You don’t know where Bruce’s burst of confidence came from—it’s unlike him to just take. Almost like targeted vengeance on behalf of all the times he’s let you slip through his fingers, coaxing the molten pleasure out of you. You blink up at him, your vision blurry with tears as he leans down to whisper against your lips.

“Does he make you feel like this?” It’s spoken so delicately in contrast to the force and persistence of his movements, that it’s jarring. Is he really still thinking about that? It doesn’t fucking matter—

Even if you wanted to voice your opinion—you can’t fucking speak. It just tumbles into a realm of beyond worse as Bruce yanks himself out one last time. You can feel your floor muscles automatically flex against the sudden emptiness inside you. Your cheeks burn as he chokes out a broken moan, self satisfied and glued to your thighs that have become wet again. “No,” he answers for you, pushing your shaky legs off his hips. His keen eyes bask in the fruits of his labor, watching you struggle through the aftershocks. You shiver each time his hand rubs at your exposed thigh. “He doesn’t.”

You feel like lead, your limbs don’t work properly, as if you’ve severed the nerves that connects you to them. Fuck—your eyes, still blurry, drift to his tummy…then lower. He’s still hard—glistening in your arousal and flushed an angry red. You spare not a moment nor a thought as you reach out to touch him. He slides easily into palm—Bruce curses and drops his chin to his chest.You pump his cock the best you can at this angle, appreciative of the way he bucks his hips up to help you. Bruce crumples atop you a moment later, leaving just enough space for you to jerk him off, but close enough that you’re both melded together.

He mouths at your jawline, that dark and jealous streak seeping out of his body. His demeanor softens, drawing back into the familiarity of the Bruce you know. Your pussy clenches as Bruce whines into your ear—his hand pawing at any available skin that he finds. You can feel his cock throb—he’s close. You whisper his name and bury your other hand into the hair lining the nape of his neck and tug. His lips curl into a snarl.

“My B-Blue—”

Bruce’s teeth latch over the skin of your collarbone, one more thrust into your fist, and he’s spent. Bruce cums in your hand, over your hip and upper thigh. Fuck—that has no business being that fucking hot—covered in his spend while he shakes and grips you like you’re his only tether.

You let your hand fall lax. Bruce unlatches his teeth over your now mottled skin, and jumps to steal a kiss. You still can’t fucking talk—he’s robbed you of your ability to form words. He peppers kisses over your forehead, down your eyes and over the bridge of your nose. Memorizing each inch of skin with his plush mouth. Your heart aches for him—you hope your hand, threaded through his hair and tenderly massaging his scalp, conveys the message.

You like it here—crushed under his weight and the plush rug under you that’s probably given you rug burn on your ass. You like the way you can feel his heartbeat pound through the ivory makeup of his ribcage and the way his breathing evens out to a gentle puff against your neck.

However, the universe has a funny way of ruining a perfectly good moment, doesn’t it?

Footsteps echo down the hall—Bruce’s head rears, eyes widening as Alfred steps around the corner. There’s no time to give warning nor throw on a shirt or something. “Bruce? Everything—”

Alfred’s eyes drift down to your disorderly selves. Quicker than you can say Wayne, Alfred spins on his heel, throws a hand over his eyes and books it back the way he’s come. “Chrissake,” you hear him announce, carried by the tall ceilings and the echoey nature of the Wayne Tower.

You start giggling—what else is there to do? You’re soaring on endorphins—so much so that everything is bathed in humor.

Bruce blushes. A deep red that stains the hollows of his cheeks, his throat and the tips of his ears. You snicker and sweetly touch his scarlet skin. “Oops.”

Bruce groans and buries his face into your neck, holding you tight to escape the embarrassment. You cradle his head, carding through his hair and running your fingers over each inch of skin you can reach. This feels normal—right.

You wish you knew if he feels the same. But tragedy looms over Bruce like a cloud. You don’t know how to stand between this darkness of his life and the curled, shaking fist around the heart of his past. How to tell him that he has always been loved. But every time he opens up the book of his life, leafing though the thin, opaque paper, it is always the same story about aching. The same rabid hymnal of flight, of fingers breaking and twisted lungs. He’s strangled the light of better things between his fist like the ocean floor, the vacuum of space. You think it’s probably cathartic to him—to suffer the same pain everyday. Bruce could be be loved like an explosion and still be left cold. Whatever is broken inside of him only wants to devour. The love just slips right off from where he can’t feel it, a tiny swirl of mint toothpaste in the sink of his childhood. The little white menthol fingerprints spelling out apologies, guilt—

It’s an uphill battle to love him—but what fault is there in trying?

“I’ll drive you back.”

“What?” You ask, called back to the present.

Bruce kisses your shoulder. “Tonight, when you leave—I’ll drive you back home.”

“Tonight?” You echo, eyes drifting to the window. “It is eleven in the morning.”

Bruce shifts and turns his head to smatter kisses up your cheek. His quiet mhm vibrates over your skin.

“Is this your way of asking me to hang out with you?”

He nods and finds your lips. It’s a languid kiss—sweet and long.

“Fine.”

-=-=-=-=-

Selina knows this depraved club like the back of her hand. The vile happenings and the shameful acts that the upstanding arms of justice in Gotham should avoid at all cost. Yet here they are—greedy hands and lecherous eyes that can’t help themselves. Less of them have been down here as of late—happens when a serial killer is targeted men like them—but again, these stupid fools can’t quit.

And neither can Vengeance.

Selina only agreed to it for Annika—to wear this dumb earpiece and recording lenses so Vengeance could creep on all the unlucky souls here. The DA’s office, cops, social workers—all of it incriminating evidence that could land their asses in jail for life. Selina isn’t sure what exactly Vengeance is looking for. Loose ends maybe—a trail that leads back to this supposed rat that’s got everyone in a twist.

Vengeance is muttering in the earpiece, reading off names and loosely directing Selina to a mark worth sinking her claws into. It all falls to shit the moment Selina’s eyes drift to the bar, illuminated by a rainbow of LED and neon lights. She’s a pretty little thing, hugging the wall as her fingers fidget around the rim of a half empty tumbler. The black, sequined cocktail dress, hugs her frame like a glove, and every other moment or so, she tugs the hem of her dress back down her thighs. There’s plenty of hospitality workers, and though Selina works topside now, she knows or knows of the girls down here. While Vengeance’s sharp inhale that crackles through the earpiece solidifies Selina’s assumptions, the girl on her own, sticks out worse than a crayon in a box of colored pencils.

Selina sidesteps a drunken patron, eyes locked on the girl. “You know her, hun?”

“Talk to her,” Batboy orders sharply. Raw desperation laces his tone. Oh, he really must like her.

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Selina sighs. “She’s a looker, huh, Batboy?”

No answer is given. Selina, quickly traverses the space, the bass of the heavy music vibrating through the air. The girl’s eyes flick to Selina, a quick look over to analyze he potential threat she may pose. They double back when Selina flashes her a smile—the girl squirms in her seat, touching one foot to the floor to bolt if she needs. Selina tiptoes he finger over the mahogany bar top, forcing back her snicker as panic wells in the girl’s flighty eyes. When she tries to leave, Selina slides a hand over her forearm. Selina leans in close, lips brushing her ear. She freezes. “Vengeance says hello.”

Blue shifts her weight in her seat. Her eyes, painted in neat eyeliner and glittery eyeshadow, widen. The ends of her mouth quirk into a faint smile. Innocent. Kind. You don’t find much of that in Gotham anymore. Then again, the girl shouldn’t be so trusting of Selina simply because she uttered a name she was familiar with. She settles back in her seat and offers her hand.

Selina eyes the outstretched limb and slips her hand into hers. They’re a little dry compared to the softness of Selina’s skin. They’re warm, though. “Blue.”

“Selina,” she smiles, allowing her hold to linger a little too long to be considered friendly. “Whatcha’ drinking, hun?”

“Selina,” Vengeance warns in her ear. “Careful with her.”

Selina heads him no mind. After all, he’s the one who directed Selina over here.

“Oh, uh—” Blue flounders and tucks a hair behind her ear. It’s a deliberate move—a wire is taped behind her ear—damn kid works for GCPD. Not that the signal will ever reach down here. Falcone and the Penguin have this place safeguarded and jammed. She lets the strands of her hair fall back into place. “Fizzy water and lemonade.”

Selina’s shoulders bounce with a laugh. “Never heard of that before.” Blue ducks her head and shyly offers her glass. “I used to get it as a kid—wasn’t allowed to drink soda.”

Selina takes up her offer and wraps her lips around the straw. Mauve lipstick stains remain on the white plastic. It’s alright—the lemonade is too sweet for Selina’s liking. She places the glass back into Blue’s hand. “Sounds like a boring childhood.”

Blue’s nose scrunches and waves her hand in dismissal.

“Ask her why she’s here.”

Selina inwardly sighs.

“So—what’s a girl like you doin’ in a place like this?” Selina purrs, crossing her legs and leaning closer. She props her chin up with her hand, limiting the chances of someone overhearing their little chat. Maybe, if fortune favors, Blue knows something about Annika.

Blue sips her drink. Her tongue rolls out to collect the excess moisture. “Same as you—and Bats. Looking for familiar faces.”

“It’s not safe here,” Bats harps, “She needs to leave—tell her.”

Selina lays a hand on Blue’s knee. Blue’s eyes drop, brows lifting in mild surprise. She doesn’t pull away. Selina smirks and rubs her thumb over the soft flesh, cooing softly as Blue clears her throat. Oh, she’s a treat to tease. “Hey—why don’t we help each other out? I think I know what you need.”

“Selina.”

Blue twists a strand of hair around her fingers, curiosity piqued. “Yeah? Like what?”

Selina lightly traces her fingernails further up Blue’s leg, the head pounding music and the nodes of her sweet perfume a perfect mix of risk and stupidity. Though just as Selina parts her lips to dangle a tidbit of information for Blue, an unwanted third party blunders through. Blue and Selina jerk apart, startled, hackles raised—

“How much do you—hic—ladies want,” a man, dressed in a disheveled three piece suit, slurs, “for a little—y’know...two on one.”

Selina scowls at the idiot in question who gestures to himself, shit-eating grin plastered across his aging, perspiring face. Blue blinks rapidly, the muscles in her jaw jumping. She recognizes this man—

“Jackson Pollard—DA’s office,” Vengeance supplies. “Get Blue out of there before he notices it’s his boss’ daughter.”

Shit.

Selina grabs Blue’s hand, and slips out of her stool. Blue follows. “Sorry, hun. We gotta run—girl stuff, y’know?”

The man’s lips, covered in a thick, graying mustache, purse. He squints and jabs a meaty finger at Blue. “Wait…don’t I—”

Selina grimaces and wrenches Blue out of the corner and into the fray of dancing girls and suited men. Blue grips Selina’s hand like a lifeline as thy navigate through the club. Vengeance nags in her ear—it’s drowned by the music and the thumping of her heart.

Selina herds Blue into the little side hallway, leading to the dressing rooms. She pins blue against the wall—her eyes shine in the dim lighting, her lips parted in protest. “Listen, baby—you a detective?”

“Crime scene tech,” she specifies. Selina feels her voice vibrate under her hand that presses on her sternum. “Why?”

Selina chews her cheek. “My friend—Annika…she’s missing.”

Blue’s brows dip into a worried furrow. “I-I’m sorry—she’s the Russian girl, right?”

“Yeah, exactly,” Selina nods, hope flickering in her chest. “You gotta help me out—you have access to police records, you can look for her. See if she pops up anywhere.”

“Don’t ask her that—she already risks her job for me.”

Selina’s hope sputters out like a candle as Blue frowns. She looks away, eyes finding the floor to stare morosely at. “I don’t think—”

“Please,” Selina grovels. “I can get you a list of regular patrons—Falcone keeps it as blackmail.”

Her face lights up. Blue contemplates for a moment. She outstretches her hand. “I can’t promise I’ll find anything.”

Selina takes her hand to shake on it. “Deal—wait here. I’ll be back in ten.”

“No—don’t leave her,” Vengeance protests in the earpiece. “Selina—“

Selina smirks. She lifts her hand to cup Blue’s face and runs her thumb along her cheekbone, shimmering with highlighter. “I’ll kiss her goodbye for you, Vengeance.”

-=-=-=-=-

The second you stepped into the underbelly of the Iceberg Lounge, you go radio silent. The wire and the camera tap out instantaneously, becoming a static blur. You suspect that who ever manages this place installed a jammer—weaselly bastards.

You have no choice to navigate blind. Your word is not reliable on its own in the court of law, but you’ll have to make do. You make a game of it—memorizing all the faces, the girls, who’s downing Drops like M&M’s. You recognize some of them. Lawyers that work under your dad—you turn your head to hide you face each time one of them passes by the corner you’ve chosen to occupy. This was a stupid idea.

Yeah, you fit the bill for this kind of undercover work, and the ID you use looks similar to you, but damnit. Gordon should have known you have too many ties in Gotham now. The police, the DA’s office, your mother’s senatorial shit. You just hope the gaudy makeup and your skimpy dress is enough to pass under the radar.

It doesn’t.

But not by who you’d suspect.

Batboy’s colleague. Selina is what she calls herself—if it’s even her actual name. Regardless, it’s your saving grace—plucks you from the jaws of danger and offers you exactly what you’ve come for. A list of names.

Nothing comes without a price—you figure you could poke around for her friend but the chances of finding her are…slim. Everyone knows that you have about 24 hours or less to find the victim alive—it’s been four days. Whatever. It’s worth checking.

The kiss is unexpected—not unpleasant in the slightest, though—a little too short if you were to complain. Her lips are soft and yours taste like lemonade. A thrilling blend of voracious passion and firecrackers that explode in your chest. You wonder what Bat’s will say to you later—it’s kinda funny.

Selina pinches your cheek and promises she’ll be back in ten minutes. So you wait, huddled in that dark hallway and twiddling your thumbs as working girls pass in and out. None of them pay you any mind. Ten minutes pass—then twenty.

You gnaw at your thumbnail—dread making a home inside your head. Selina isn’t coming back.

Left with no other option than to escape or keep digging—you bolt from the hallway and towards the gold-plated doors that lead to freedom. Your heartbeat drums in your chest as you reach security. They glare down at you with indifferent eyes, and just as they crack the door open for you—a hand clamps down over your arm. At first you think it’s Selina—

Wouldn’t that be fuckin’ nice?

Your blood runs ice-cold—panic lacerates through your veins and kicks your pulse into overdrive. You don’t have to know his face to realize who this man is. Dark sunglasses, silver teeth and a sharp suit. His sly grin curls up his withered face as yours crumbles into despair.

Carmine Falcone.

#well yeeha #batman x reader #batman 2022 x reader #bruce wayne x reader #pattinson!batman x reader #pattinson!batman #bruce wayne #batman #selina kyle #selina kyle x reader

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celestialnxva · 2 years

Text

Two Rose Petals, Intertwined

༄ Ch. 1 of the 'Hiraya' Series.

(Pattinson) Bruce Wayne x Reader

Summary: With your life falling apart, sitting in an open park in the most dangerous parts of Gotham City so late at night is the least of your concerns. A masked vigilante, on the other hand, thinks otherwise.

Tags: 'strangers' to friends (don't worry, romance will happen lol), fluff, hurt/comfort, angst, mentions of suicidal thoughts, canon typical violence.

WC: 6k+ words.

Timeline: before the events of The Batman.

main masterlist. | batman/hiraya series masterlist.

It wasn’t news to anyone that Gotham City was a dangerous place to be late at night. Any Gothamite who grew up after the golden era of the city was taught to stay inside, for there were many criminals who roamed the streets, looking for a reason to hurt someone for their sick pleasure. It was common sense, and any citizen concerned for their life would heed this warning and stay at home.

So why were you sitting outside in the park at the darkest hour of the night?

There were multiple reasons as to why you were willingly putting yourself in danger tonight. You would think that anyone who was living your life would do the exact same thing. Fired from your job, disowned by your family, kicked out of your home, completely bankrupt; why should you be concerned about staying out tonight? Even if you wanted to stay inside and protect yourself, you didn’t exactly have a choice to do so.

So what more did you have to lose?

Relaxing your tense body into the stiff bench, you looked out towards the remains of what used to be a flourishing park; a park that everyone used to stroll around and play in. The last memory you had of this abandoned park was when you were but a small child. Young and naïve, your frail body did the best that it could to support your energetic spirit, helping you sprint excitedly around the park perimeters. Your mother was so happy then, and you’d like to believe that it was because you weren’t sick during that time. You could say the same about your father too. Though they never really accompanied you on your trips to the park, they still cared for you back then, and remembering that type of care as they disowned you years later was painful enough as it is.

Life was so simple back then, you concluded. You cited that time to be the best time in your life. It was especially a happy time because you remembered fondly of a little boy that loved to play with you each time you visited the park. You knew of the boy’s name, of course; who wouldn’t know about the infamous Bruce Wayne? You did ponder over the years as to whether or not you should reach out to him, but you decided against it. Why would you? He would only grimace and look pitfully at the pathetic being you have blossomed into. They say that a childhood friend was meant to become a distant memory of your childhood; but. a part of you hoped that he still remembers the special times he spent with you.

But thinking about your lovely childhood didn’t seem to distract you enough from the current predicament that you were in. Thinking about your childhood friend and the loving gazes your parents held for you wasn’t enough for you to forget about how bitterly cold your life had become. Going to this park did not take your eyes away from your worn-out wheelchair beside your favorite bench.

And with that, you realized that life wasn’t worth living for anymore.

So you allowed yourself to cry, after years of keeping your sorrow hidden deep inside your heart. You let out a soft sob, a small display of the overwhelming agony your body and your mind had been in since the day your little body collapsed on the kitchen floor; a day you will always remember. You let your body collapse with the same vulnerability as it did back then; and for the first time, you allowed yourself to feel the hopelessness of your lonely life. You let yourself do so because you knew that tonight, you would finally let the corruption of Gotham City take you out the same exact way it had taken your life away from you all those years ago.

So, you waited for the inevitable, only hoping that your murderer would kill you quickly and efficiently.

But instead of a gunshot to your head or a knife to your back, you heard a loud explosion echoing in the distance. Startled, you clutched your chest to calm your racing heart as your eyes reflected the orange hues of the destructive fires. Typically, you have grown to ignore these explosions, but tonight, the destruction seems beautiful to you. Despite police sirens wailing irritatingly, the fire’s smoke swirled up into the cloudy, night sky. Barely were you able to see the stars through the veil of polluted air, but to you, it was normal. It was what made Gotham City–well– Gotham City.

Mesmerized by the sight, you allowed yourself to forget about your problems for a little while. Even if they were faint, you could feel the stars shine their light upon your tear-stricken face. A small smile graces your features from the feeling of the little glimpse of Nature above and around you. It was if it was shielding you from the rest of the world, your own little oasis from the pain and suffering of life around you. Its arms ghosted against your cold skin, and embraced you protectively. At this very moment, you felt like you were going to be okay. Maybe–just maybe, it was okay to let yourself revel in the peace through the one way you knew best.

Not caring about others seeing you now, you removed your gloves to reveal your scarred hands. Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes and took in the smell of both the polluted air and the grass’ faint morning dew. Now grounded, your hand extended outward and splayed open with your palm side up. From there, you simply allowed yourself to exist and let the magick take control.

You first felt this pull towards magick when you were younger. You weren’t exactly sure how or why, but what you did know was that you wanted to learn more about it. With only a little training from a next-door, old witch, you have managed to possess a tiny fraction of the magick you knew you were capable of. It had the potential to be powerful, yes, but only when wielded properly and fully mastered. You supposed that this was yet another failure to add to your long list.

Even if you wanted to quit many times in the past, something–rather someone–kept telling you to continue honing your powers on your own. None of this was clear in your head, but the details of it all doesn’t matter anymore; not when you have nothing left except for magick and your wheelchair beside you. So, you allowed yourself to exist and let the magick take control.

Waiting was the hard part, but once the ‘spirit’ comes, the spirit brings out beautiful magick that you never thought you were capable of creating. This time, it was even more beautiful than the last time you did this. Sparks that resembled swirls of light blue wind slipped from your fingers tips and towards the wilted tree across from the park from you. When you felt the wind rub delicately against the harsh bark of the tree, you imagined the tree blossoming and spreading its newfound youth to the rest of the park. You imagined your beloved park to be like it used to be.

And when you opened your eyes, you watched it all happen in complete, childlike wonder.

Like you imagined, the swirling winds spiraled from the bottom of the tree all the way to the tallest branch. Like a flower, the naked branches bloomed luscious, green leaves; each leaf looked exactly like the way you remembered it. One by one, the same was done to each tree. Looking around you, the winds picked up its pace until the entire park had miraculously transformed into a blossoming garden of flowers, trees, and neatly cut pathways from the center fountain to the small playground across from it. For the first time in years, you smiled genuinely and unconditionally.

You did it. Now, you can be a child again.

With the same shaky hand you extended out to the tree earlier, you let your now-weighted fingertips slowly twirl to form a beautiful red rose. Silently, you watched the rose float only inches above your fingertips. It was beautiful, yes, but something was missing. You thought for a moment on what this dilemma could be, but then it came to you.

It had to be a briar rose.

Briar Rose, the name the little boy used to call you. The poor kid’s parents died when you two were only nine years old, but it still didn’t deter him from seeing you at the park. Although you had certainly driven many kids away from you at that point with how sickly you had become, it never fazed Bruce in the slightest. He was the only boy–no–the only person who treated you like you were a human being. At that point, you two had become each other’s comfort. He was your Robin, a symbol of hope that everything would get better for you; and you were his Briar Rose, the only soft happiness he had when his life grew the ugliest thorns. Sure, these were quite grim nicknames to call each other as kids, but after going through hell, those names were the best both of you could come with.

As your mind wandered to the kind boy, you only hoped that he was happy without you. You hoped that he knew how much he meant to you.

Before you knew it, the thorns that had been spiraling around the rose had started to crush it. In slight panic, you relaxed your tense fingertips and let the rose breathe. The tears you thought had dried an hour ago had come back at full force once again, drowning you in both happy nostalgia and bitter grief. As your shaky hand drew the floating rose closer, your tears had soon dripped down through the spiky thorns and landed gently on the flower’s delicate petals. And as you cried, you looked up at the stars above you and tried to smile through the overwhelming feelings spilling from deep inside you.

“Thank you for everything, my Robin,” you whispered reverently into the cold air.

And with the newfound hope Robin’s name gave to you, you allowed yourself to close your eyes, finally at peace.

The city lights flickered and the shouts of angry criminals robbing screaming citizens echoed around the park did not make it past the barrier of green trees and the protection nature gave to you. If someone could see you now, they would surely not believe their eyes and simply walk away. And you wouldn’t care. Leaving you alone was the best thing anyone could do tonight.

Unfortunately, someone did see you, and that someone was none other than the Batman.

———

What was meant to be a swift night on patrol quickly went south when some mad man who called himself ‘The Joker’ had committed mass murder on innocent people at one of Gotham City’s banks. When he became Batman, he knew that he would be facing difficult battles with the same type of criminal scum that killed his parents; but no one could ever predict that Batman would be faced with criminal masterminds. Joker was committing a smaller act of crime with robbing a bank, but senseless murder for the fun of it, exploding the bank entirely, and having a getaway plan that fooled even the great detective was an unsettling thought that continued to plague his mind for the rest of the night. Clearly, he needed to rest early tonight if he wanted to outwit his new adversary. But as he walked up to the Batmobile to make his way home, his eyes caught onto the sight of a rose petal floating in front of him. Normally, he would just ignore it like it was any other leaf, but this rose wasn’t a normal one he had seen before. Roses as red as blood didn’t exist in Gotham City anymore, not since he had seen them when he…

Nevermind that now.

Against his better judgment, he walked past the Batmobile and followed the rose petal. He watched from the shadows how it seemed to float like it had a life of its own. Twirling elegantly with the direction of the cold breeze, the petal glowed even under the dimmest of street lamps in Gotham City. Batman picked up his pace to keep up with the petal; but as soon as he caught up to it, it suddenly disappeared. Trying not to panic, his steady eyes looked around him, looking for where the petal could have gone.

It did come back, though, and it came back with a sight Batman had never thought he would ever see in his life here. The lone petal appeared from the shadows around a street corner, but the petal was not alone anymore.

Accompanying the petal was another petal beside it.

The petal resumed the familiar dance in the wind, but now completely intertwined with the other petal. He watched with curiosity as the petals danced and twirled around him, as if they were caressing him delicately. It seemed inviting to him, almost as if they were meant to lead him somewhere. His gut feeling was typically never wrong, and it was telling him to continue following this strange anomaly. If he believed in magic, then he could certainly buy that it was a harmless trick. But what if it was another dangerous villain that could control nature?

Or what if it was something else entirely?

A feeling unknown to him, yet completely familiar bubbled up his chest; and since he didn’t like not knowing things, he simply couldn’t wait any longer.

Closing his eyes for a moment to take a deep breath, he started to sprint towards a certain direction, hoping that these mysterious petals would take the hint and guide him. As he expected, these strange partners twirled past his head and guided him along the way. He used the wind the petals traveled on to keep him steady while he sprinted forward. With his thoughts racing in his mind, he could only hope that as he turned this street corner, he would find something that didn’t pose a threat to Gotham City.

And when he did turn that street corner, his paranoid eyes fell upon the strangest, yet most beautiful sight he had ever seen in his life: fresh, luscious nature, and at the very center of it, a seated stranger.

Stopping in his tracks, he immediately hid himself in the shadows before he could allow himself to observe you. He hesitated to, especially after his fiasco with the Joker. Remembering the potential threat this stranger could pose brought him back to his senses. He tried to force himself to look up away from the beautiful scenery in front of him (as tempting it is to call it so); but try as he could, it didn’t stop the racing of his heart whenever his eyes settled upon the stranger. He could only see the back of their head from where he stood, yet he felt so drawn to them. He couldn’t place the reason why. But as he narrowed his eyes to observe nervously, the flower petals peeked from the corner of his eye. Shifting his eyes over to stare at the two, the petals slowed down and moved towards where he stood. The wind propelling them forward brushed its ghostly fingertips tenderly against his cheek. The breeze felt so human, specifically a human that he somehow felt connected to. As the breeze and the petals floated away and towards the stranger, he couldn’t help but wonder if what he was seeing was an actual ghost. His mother did tell him that ghosts were probably real.

Maybe it was his mother standing there.

The thought made his heart skip a beat, but as he thought about it more, the stranger looked nothing like his mother. The wheelchair beside the stranger easily gave that away. What he did find strange, though, was that this park was supposed to be wilted and abandoned. Just yesterday he visited it, and it looked nothing like what he was seeing now. Now, it looked like it was brought to life, a sanctuary amongst the gritty reality of the apartment complexes around it. It looked… It looked like what he remembered this park used to look like back then when he played at the park with the one person he cared for so much, and the one person that he never seemed to know entirely.

Briar Rose.

The memory was a painful one for him because he was just a boy when he met them. Joyful and full of life, they were one of the few happy memories he could remember before his parents died. Briar Rose, his best friend and first love.

‘His only love,’ he remembered, but could never admit it to himself.

There was a pang in his chest remembering the loss of his childhood friend. He had searched for them for years since his sudden disappearance when they were only ten years old. He cursed himself for never asking for their last name, and even then, there were no records of them. It was as if they didn’t even exist. After so many years, he had decided to ease the pain in his heart by telling himself that they died. It was a way that at least gave him peace of mind—that they were safe in the Afterlife, and not suffering in this hellhole he called life. But despite all efforts in forgetting about his friend, he couldn’t erase the feeling of their hugs, their fingertips caressing his cheek, their knuckles playfully rubbing against his head, and especially their laughter.

There was just no forgetting of a someone as special as them.

Before he could dwell on this past memory any further, he heard a soft sob come from the stranger’s lips. His eyes snapped back to full attention and stared at the shaking figure. They must’ve been so cold and so lonely if they were hanging around alone in the worst parts of the city and in this abandoned park. The assessment of their vulnerability eased the detective’s mind a bit, for this stranger did not seem to be a villain or a threat of any kind. This stranger was just a Gothamite. If that was the case, he didn’t really need to be here, now did he? He was Vengeance, not some babysitter to a stranger with their own problems. But as he turned around to grumble about his time wasted in chasing random petals, one sentence slipped out of the stranger’s mouth that made his entire world turn upside down all over again.

“Thank you for everything, my Robin.”

His blood ran cold.

There was no possible way.

He just–

The stranger.

It couldn’t be.

‘My Briar Rose…’

Feeling out of breath, he pressed his back against the grimy building. He scanned the stranger all over again, finally connecting the dots. The rose petals, the wheelchair, the flourishing park, all of it were clues to lead him back to his childhood friend. The same childhood friend he was staring at was the one that he thought was dead; and now, he didn’t know if he wanted to cry, to hug you, or to walk away. None of those options seemed appealing in the slightest, but he had to make a decision quickly. What if you slipped from his fingertips again? What would he do with himself?

So, like the wind that led him to you, he propelled himself towards where you sat, the lone petal so close to intertwining once again with his other petal.

His Briar Rose.

The closer he got, the more he tried to compose himself. Even though he missed you dearly, he was just a stranger to you. He wasn’t Bruce Wayne. He was Batman. It was ironic to think about how he had always thought of Batman being the more comfortable mask to wear than ‘Bruce Wayne,’ but now, he wished he could strip all his armor off and be the childhood friend he always was to you.

Now only a few feet away, he could see you admiring a floating rose in your hand, the rose adorned with thorns wrapped protectively around it. He didn’t know you could be capable of doing magic; magic wasn’t even real to him before he set his eyes upon you. Yet, it did not deter him from drawing himself closer to you. He restrained himself desperately, and tried to pull away to leave you alone, but he just couldn’t. Not when he had finally found the love of his life.

Shyly, he hid behind one of the trees outlining the edge of the park. He tried not to laugh sadly at his position being the exact same one he had met you in for the first time. Hiding behind a tree and too shy to talk to the bubbly kid who only played with themself and their parents nowhere in sight, now here he was, too shy once again to approach you.

Unfortunately, he would not stay in his hiding spot for long.

“Come out. I know you’re there,” you said amusedly without turning your back, exactly like you had done so when you first met him.

He froze. Was he ready enough to see you again? Was he composed enough to pretend to be someone other than Bruce Wayne? Was he ready to see the look of disappointment when you realize who he is and what he had become?

You know what?

Fuck it.

With a shaky exhale, Batman pried himself away from his safety spot against the tree and walked towards you. In the pale moonlight, you seemed to glow, and even without seeing you yet, he bet you looked as attractive as you had been in his eyes since he had met you all those years ago. Little by little, he kept his footsteps steady despite his stuttering heartbeat pounding in his ears. You were here, you were finally here, you were–

As he made his way to you and turned to face you from his place within the shadows of the park, his face fell at the sight. You had been crying, obvious from the blood-shot eyes and dry tear marks against your skin. He didn’t know it could be possible, but you looked sicker since he had last seen you. Your exposed hands shakily resting on your lap were scarred from what he assumed to be from a fire. Yet despite all of these observations, what caught his eye the most was the flower that floated above one of your hands resting on your lap. It confirmed to be what he feared and hoped for at the same time:

A beautiful, red rose, locked inside intertwining thorns. Protected, yet tragically removed and isolated from the rest of the world. Briar Rose.

He said nothing, for he did not have any words to express his shock and delight. Though you had grown, you still had this youthful hope that everything was still going be okay. He wondered what had happened in your life to bring you as low as seeking refuge in an abandoned park so late into the night. Whatever it was, he was only grateful that he found his way back to you. So while he did say nothing, his eyes swirled with emotions both known and unknown to him; but all of them belonged to you and you alone.

Luckily for him, you did have something to say.

“Don’t be afraid. I know this situation may be weird to you, but I promise you that I’m not a criminal, Batman,” you said with a weak chuckle. It surprised Bruce that you could tell who he was, but then again, not many people stalked you from the shadows in the way that he had done. Alfred told him that it was impolite to stalk people, but Alfred was Alfred. He didn’t have to listen to him. Mostly. But for you? He would listen. So, with a heavy heart, Bruce stepped forward into the lit up space that the fountain provided light for. Bruce, with his tall figure built and geared up for battle, stood in front of you with as much stoicness that he could muster. He hoped that it would be enough for you to not figure out his true identity.

But with how easy it was for you to recognize that Batman was spying on you— albeit unsettling to him—he couldn’t help but wonder if you had already figured him all out.

He looked like the very definition of seriousness and indifference, but in your eyes, he seemed defensive. You wondered why. “Come, sit with me for a little while,” you offered, but he made no move to sit beside you. You tried not to bite your lip in disappointment and instead looked down to tend to your rose. You supposed a ‘no thank you’ wouldn’t hurt to hear from the vigilante, but who were you to think that you mattered to anyone in this world.

This did not go unnoticed by Batman; by Bruce.

Despite his nerves telling him to run away and hide in his tower again, to run away from all of these weird and vulnerable feelings, he propelled himself forward and sat down on the spot on bench beside you. He turned his head and gently maneuvered your wheelchair closer to you. The gesture was small, but with the fond smile you gave him, he was glad to do so. If you wanted him to do small tasks, tend to you like he used to, then he will let it be; just for tonight.

A moment of silence passed between the two of you and before he could force himself to start with small talk, you spoke once more.

“I’m a little surprised to see you here, Bruce. I thought you’d be fighting crime on the other side of the city tonight,” you murmured to him quietly while you continued to thread the thorns around the poor rose. Bruce, on the other hand, did not have the casual reaction you did in figuring out his identity.

“How—?” he tried to start out. He turned to you quickly with panic in his eyes. “Wh-How did you—?”

“Oh please,” you scoffed. “I knew from the moment you hid behind that tree. And looking at me like you saw a ghost, Bruce? It’s not hard to connect the dots. I don’t need magick to figure that out.”

Despite all of his shock and his nervousness, he did his best to relax back into his spot beside you. He supposed that he wasn’t really so subtle about knowing you, but it still unnerved him with how observational you are. But then again, with all the adventures and mysteries you solved as children, he wouldn’t necessarily be surprised. He supposed that he could at least drop some anxieties about keeping his identity hidden from you, even if it did make him nervous to know that someone else knows about his identity as Batman. He didn’t want you to worry about him, so he just sighed deeply and rubbed his gloved hands on his armored thighs. Another wave of silence passes between the two of you until—all of a sudden—you both start to chuckle. Unspoken feelings passed between the two of you, feelings that only you two would know and laugh about.

“I see you’ve taken my advice of being a hero quite literally,” you snorted.

“And you seem to actually possess strange magick skills despite you convincing me to believe that magick wasn’t real,” he joked back lightheartedly, a side of him that he doesn’t let anyone see—except for you.

After a shared (and equally awkward) laugh, you both calmed down and fell into a more comfortable silence. It surprised you of how quiet Bruce has gotten over the years, but back then, he expressed that you gave him room to grow and become himself around you. Maybe the years without you forced him into shy isolation again. You would make sure to fix that, but before you could do so, you knew you had to explain to Bruce about your situation—the reason why you’re here. Bruce seemed to be thinking the same thing.

“Let me help you.”

It was your turn to look up at him flabbergasted. You were going to protest, to yell at him to not feel an obligation to take care of an old friend, but he wouldn’t have any it. In fact, he knew exactly the right way to silence you: the infamous charming Wayne smile that still made you weak in the knees. How did this kid get even more handsome since the last time you saw him?

Your heart beating loud in your chest, how could you refuse? He was finally here, and the nature clearly blessed you with this opportunity to reconnect. But one thing kept you from saying yes, an important setback that really made you hesitant to accept his offer: He was Batman.

Seeming to sense your hesitation in your shift in body language, he slowly reached up to barely brush against the skin of your cheek, a comfort gesture that he had always done when you were crying from pain in your body or the intense bullying from the other children at the park. The gesture made you freeze in your place (as it had always done) and soon you felt your anxious shoulders relax as well.

“Look at me,” he says gently, though firm in his tone, wanting to connect with you once again. Once you had done so, he takes a moment to collect his thoughts; and when he had done so, he began the speech that he had been too cowardly to tell you when you were still kids:

“I should’ve done this years ago. I knew that you were suffering in silence from your parents’ negligence and the pain from not getting proper treatment. I was so focused on avenging my parents that I failed to see the severity of your situation.” He took your hands into his gloved ones and his eyes softened with each word that slipped from his quivering lips. “I’ve spent years trying to find you and now that you’re here, I don’t want to lose another chance of asking you the one question I have always wished to tell you.”

Finally, he squeezed them gently to emphasize the truth of his words. The act only made you more nervous, wondering what could be so important for him to wait for so many years in order to say it to your face.

“I want you to come stay with me.”

Oh.

“Pardon…?” you squeaked out breathlessly, unsure of what to make out of his request. He let out a sigh and looked down at your intertwined hands defeatedly. When he did so, however, he noticed that two of the rose’s petals had fallen off of the flower and onto his hands. Taking it as meaningful symbolism of their friendship, he now had more determination.

“I want to give you the best treatments, a safe place to live, and a sustainable job that doesn’t force you to suffer in silence from all your bodily pain,” he explained further. When he saw you were still hesitant, he started to caress your hands with his thumb soothingly.

“I know that this is your battle to fight, and you don’t have to work for Wayne Enterprises if the idea of me having a full monopoly over your life makes you uncomfortable; but,” he looked back down shamefully. “I just want to make up for lost time and show you that life isn’t so bad; not when you have someone you care about by your side.”

He might be speaking subtly about his own feelings towards you, but he figured that you could at least reciprocate his friendship, even if it hurt to not tell the honest truth. Not yet.

It took a while for you to think. You weighed the pros and cons as he spoke, but his last sentence caught you by surprise. Did he…?

You looked up and saw him practically sulking and you almost laughed out of amusement. He looked ridiculous and almost childish, despite his intimidating suit. You supposed you had to respond to his offer now.

He felt one scarred hand reach up to caress his exposed cheek, and it caused him to shudder from his first intimate touch from a person since he last saw you. Noticing his sensitivity in your presence, you finally chuckled amusedly out loud and gently tilted his head up to look at you this time. He refused to believe that was blushing from a single gesture from you. Frankly, that would be pretty embarrassing if that were true (it was true).

“‘Someone you care about,’ huh?” you started before your amused smile turned into a cheeky smirk. He gulped.

“You seem to be speaking from experience. Do you mind telling me who the lucky person is? Will I get to meet them?” you said teasingly. You only hoped to the Universe that the pang in your chest was one of hope that he would say that he has always loved you and not of the pain of knowing that Bruce had fallen in love with someone else and it might be too late for you to confess your lifelong secret.

But judging from his now flustered expression, you were more hopeful for the former; and now, you were pretty sure of what he is going to say.

“I…” he trailed off and tried to look away from you, but your hand was firm in keeping his eyes fixated on you. You were clearly not going to let him off the hook without an answer, so he flew all reservations and subtleties out the window and finally spoke his truth.

“I care about you, (y/n). I always have,” he said quickly before his eyes did the best it could to look away from your piercing gaze. He waited in anticipation for your reaction. Even though his feelings were so much more than a friendly affection towards his friend, he couldn’t allow himself to get too excited right now, not when his friend’s safety and well-being was more important than any lingering feelings he had.

He knew, of course, that you must be thinking that he was too corny, but your reaction wasn’t something that he expected.

Instead, you stayed silent, conveying to him to explain more; and when he looked back to see you more intrigued rather than offended, a newfound hope blossomed in his chest. He hated how terrifying it felt to be in love with you for so long; and he knew that once he started, he wouldn’t be able to hold back any longer; not after so many years apart.

“You have always meant a lot to me, ever since the moment I saw you splashing around in the fountain. I have never stopped caring for you, even after so many years apart. I…” he gulped. “I couldn’t move on and I couldn’t forgive myself for being away from you for so many years without a single goodbye. You deserve better–I know–and maybe it’s too late to ask you to forgive me for leaving you so suddenly; but, at least I can rest easy, knowing that I properly said goodbye to you,” he confessed with an embarrassed look on his face.

Even though he had told the truth, he still followed up with a final statement. “So if you want nothing to do with me, I completely understand and just go—”

You lunged towards him and hugged him tightly.

You were hugging him.

He was in your arms again.

You were hugging him.

Oh God.

This inner dialogue repeated over and over in his head, to the point where he almost forgot to hug back. Dirty, shaky from the cold, and body bruised from all the punches he had sustained in his last fight, he hugged back with all of his heart, soul, and mind. From how tight you squeezed him in your arms, he took this as a silent statement of your forgiveness for his sudden absence and your acceptance of his offer. If he could float, he would be soaring high in the clouds right now from this euphoric feeling.

Eventually, this hug had to end, and he tried his best not to chase after your retreating embrace. Before you could say anything to reaffirm what he already knows, he was already quick to shower your scarred hands with reverent kisses, each one a silent ‘thank you’ for giving him a chance to be in your life again.

As you sat on the lone bench beside Bruce and relished in his comfortable company, you understood now that he didn’t want to fix you with his care, his money, or his power. No, he wanted to give you another chance to heal–both mentally and physically. He wanted to support you and your journey, just as much as you had been his inspiration to become Batman. You understood that, ultimately, he just missed you and wanted a chance at happiness with him your side.

And even if he most likely will never reciprocate your romantic feelings, you knew that he loved you in his own way. He always had and he always will.

Even as years had gone by and many real problems threatened to break you two apart, you would always come back together and give this friendship another chance. So, you and Bruce will always remember this special day, the day that two rose petals finally met again, intertwined, and dancing harmoniously through the soft winds of life itself.

---

general taglist: @venomsvl @v0idl1nq

#bruce wayne x reader #pattinson!bruce wayne #battinson x reader #batman x reader #bruce wayne #the batman #writing #fanfic #dc x reader #pattinson!batman x reader #the batman x reader

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sp00kymulderr · 1 year

Text

tell me your secrets before we fade to black

Part 1

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x gn reader

Fandom: The Batman (2022)

Warnings: Blood, injury, cursing, alcohol mention, nothing major for this part.

Word count: 2,228

A/N: Old draft that I randomly decided to start editing last night, now I’m really in to it again so here we are!

Summary: He’s broken, and he has broken your heart. Now you’re finally beginning to let go and make your peace with never seeing him again, but how often these things just don’t go to plan.

When the heavens open from grey, dreary skies Gotham feels most like home to you.

This city that seems to consume its inhabitants, eat them whole – soul and all.

It’s freezing, breath shaking out of you in a visible fog as you dodge through the crowd of fast opening umbrellas, your hands tight around a warm paper cup to stop them tingling in the cold. There’s a storm coming, wind picking up too. You watch as detritus from the street is raised up by it dramatically, flying high and catching on leafless branches to be left to hang. Remnants of this miserable moment.

You watch quiet as the city moves with it – people head-down fighting against the gusts, skeleton trees with heavy branches shaking against it, the rattle of objects flung from their proper place. Even the buildings seem to be fighting for their place in it, empty desolate blocks with windows rattling loudly.

It is miserable, and yet it always feels like home.

Gotham has taken a battering time and time again, still trying to rebuild itself from every pain it has endured and always preparing for the next. It feels so strangely normal now, you and the people and the city desensitized to it all.

Truth be told, it isn’t the place you had planned to be at this point in your life. It wasn’t where you’d expected to stay, seeing as most of those you knew had moved on long ago. But after everything you’d seen this city endure you felt a fierce loyalty to it, a camaraderie with the others who couldn’t seem to leave it. You belonged to Gotham now, and it to you.

Perhaps it had already taken your soul.

But then again, might it have something to do the hopeless candle you hold. Because even though it’s been months since you last crossed paths, knowing he’s here keeps you hopeful too.

It has been near impossible to forget Bruce Wayne, to let him fade from your memory the way he had from your life. Years on and you were still seeing him, too often, in all the little things you shared. Haunted by him, in a way. Forgetting him was impossible, and moving on was even harder.

A ghost, he was in every place you had been, in every memory you had shared. He lived in the time between places, the moments that passed between minutes. When you'd been young the city was yours, you'd run through those parks that now looked so dark and dreary. You'd crashed through the streets in synchronised giggling chaos as young friends often do.

He'd always been a part of your life, always somewhere in it. And yes, he'd changed after losing his parents but who wouldn't? It had hit everyone in this city hard, everyone who hoped for better for Gotham had felt the shock wave of the Wayne's death run through the city. It had torn Bruce apart, you’d watched him and felt so helpless to save him. Thankful when over the years you saw him put himself back together, learn to cope better.

And then he disappeared.

He left your life like he'd never been part of it, left you with no friend to turn to – no inkling of hope that he had ever or would ever care for you the way you did for him. Just...left. Left you devastated and confused, wanting a reason for his suddenly no longer existing.

You never got that. Never got any word from him but the odd, unimportant text. It had been two years now, and he was no where to be seen. Hiding up in his tower and presumably whiling away his life in lonely isolation. Desolation.

That tower – that was half the problem. How can you escape the reminder that he's here in your city when every time you look up you're reminded of exactly where he is. You have half a mind to waltz up there and demand an answer, demand something...anything...to give you some peace about losing your closest friend.

But you don't. You can't. He's stubborn, but so are you, and you won't make the first move to rekindle this relationship when you put everything in to keeping it alive as he slowly became a memory. You're angry about it. About the fact that he's abandoned the city too. He was cared for and supported, by them, by you. Your family, your friends. Your feelings for him held him up for moments when nothing else mattered.

You've tried to call him, to see if hearing your voice will make him see some reason. Last year, you'd called the landline to be told you he was unavailable. Alfred had told you the same. You'd tried his cell. No answer. Five times.

You'd lost him. Eventually you had to admit it.

He'd gone.

And so, you tried your damn best to forget about those days and those stupid feelings you seemed to have always had. You'd thought about leaving after that, when you'd decided to give up on him, considered joining your family who had moved away a while ago. Or even going further afield, somewhere new and unknown. Nothing was really stopping you - you could do it if you wanted to.

But you don't want to, not really.

This is home. It has always been. Gotham is the place you know the best, it's the place that knows you best. Despite it's chaos, it's many wounds and cracks in the framework this city is the one you feel too attached to to ever give up on. No, you were giving up on him, not Gotham.

You carried on with your life, with your job and your little apartment and your slowly dwindling social life. Sometimes you went to the events, just to see if he'd be there to. But not because you want to see him, certainly not for that. Just to see if he'd ever show his face again, represent his family in all their philanthropy again.

You wondered if he was sorry for that, for the lack of care he had for the foundation. For the lack of help he was giving to the city that raised him. He could've made something of it all by now. The things he could've done, if he had just tried harder to fight through his demons. Bruce was smart, smarter than anyone even gave him credit for - he had been brilliant, bright, a strong mind and soul. He could've made so much of the opportunity he had.

You just wanted to understand him, to ask him why he didn't keep the legacy alive like he'd once said he would. All you wanted now was to know what he was thinking. But you'd never be able to ask him that.

You had to move on. To stop thinking about him. Stop looking up at that fucking tower. Wondering where he is, which of the many rooms he's pacing in. You hope he's not standing still. Hope he's not quietly rotting away in his own misery.

***

It's a few weeks later, after the storm, that you are home and lonely and wallowing with a drink and some music that drowns the solemnness away a little bit. You hate him on nights like this, for making you feel this way. Lonely. Loneliness was not in your cards, not before this. Even when your family had left and you'd stayed behind for college you'd had every opportunity to stay close with friends and cared for by someone. By Bruce, sometimes, when you were getting closer. And now. Now you were lonely even when you tried not to be.

You try to shake off the thoughts, just enjoy the melody that doesn't remind you of anything and let it lull you slowly to rest.

Some time late the noise at your door stirs you suddenly awake. A strange sound, a shuffling and what sounds like the muffled noise of a person. Someone outside your door. Your head jolts up too fast at the first thud, causing a pain in your neck that makes you wince. It’s not the raucous noise of your neighbours kids, being far too late for that and far too early for it to be anyone leaving for work. There is a groan, perhaps a hand hitting the door with little force, the sound of something heavy falling against it. You hold a breath and tried not to be afraid, releasing it quietly as you move slowly toward the door to investigate. You weren't fool enough to not consider something dangerous awaiting you.

It isn't until you hear the sound again, the raking groan and the stutter of your name - there is pain in it, quiet as the sounding is. With not enough thought you go to the door, peeking out to see a figure standing against the frame, propped up with one shoulder against the door. You gasp, loud, and you know he hears you.

Opening the door, fumbling with the chain, you stand still in silence as your heart beats like it wants to rip out of your chest in a bloody cocophony of blind panic.

"Bruce" you finally gasp out, after some time, processing what you see before you. He’s there, barely standing at your door. It takes you forever to register his stance, the panting, the hand drawn tight to his left side.

Every single emotion crosses through you at once; your body shakes with it. Violent and visceral. He's here.

He's here.

You've spent more than a year of your life trying to chase him out of your mind but he’s here anyway.

"Bruce" you repeat, still in disbelief but this time more urgent. There's something dark, sticky covering his hand. It's not blood. Why would he come to you like this. It's not blood.

He doesn't speak. He barely looks at you, but winces in pain as he moves towards the threshold where you stand. Suddenly there's anger bubbling inside you, anger that tastes like pain. Like the last two years is all coming to a head in this one moment and a reddened, screaming monster has manifested from it. Why are you here, you want to scream. Why did you come here. Why didn't you come here sooner. Why did you leave me.

It tears you apart, all those questions. But he's barely hanging on, head sagging as his body almost sways. "Please" he whimpers. Please. Your heart aches miserably.

"Please" before he falls to the floor and almost through your door.

"Bruce!" urgent now. His knees hit the floor and then all of him, with a thud. When his right hand moves to ease his fall it is covered in the dark red slick of his blood. You rush forward, gasping, to pull him up and inside your apartment. He's saying something in your ear as you struggle to drag him. You can't quite make it out but it's something like sorry.

Sorry! A world that is too little to late now.

Sorry. But it heals a broken fragment of your heart, just one, and it's a start.

For a moment, everything is spinning, circling out of control like a waking nightmare because this isn't fathomable. You've spent two years wondering and wishing and cursing over him, pining for something that never even fucking was. And he's spent two years hiding away from you and your love and everyone else in the world and suddenly, like a bolt of vicious lightning hitting you straight in the chest he's appeared.

You can't being to understand everything you're feeling as you prop him up and all but drag his heavy frame to the couch that you'd been miserably falling asleep on five minutes ago. His bulk is more than you remember, he's difficult to move and barely conscious enough to help you so you dump him on the closest seat of the couch unceremoniously and try to make sense of the mess in front of you.

Your heart is racing, palms sweaty, tingling all over with something - shock, adrenaline, unbearable anger perhaps. All you can think is why is he here, why me. Again, again and again. Why would he come to you? He moves, grunts a little as he tries to prop himself up on the mess of cushions and blankets he's currently lain across. Bleeding on to your favourite blanket. Great.

The blood. Shit, the blood. What do you do? He should go to hospital.

"No, can't" he says, gravelly and raw. You hadn't realised you had even spoken the thought out loud.

"Just need to check the wound. I couldn't..." he's struggling to speak, clear pain in his voice.

"Bruce I...." you don't know what to say.

He's pulling up the grey baggy tshirt that covers his torso. There's blood on his fingertips. Fuck.

"What happened?"

He doesn't answer. Passes out instead.

What are you meant to do here. What are you meant to fucking do. All you can think is useless thoughts about your own feelings and there is a man possibly dying on your little two seater next to your half drunk glass of wine. You laugh, you laugh because it's absurd. It's completely fucking unbelievable.

So this is how Bruce Wayne stumbles back in to your life.

#it's a thing idk #gideon writes again maybe #pattinson!bruce wayne x reader #pattinson!batman x reader #battinson x reader #the batman x reader

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moonlight-prose · 2 years

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BLOOD ALONG THE MOON

a/n: since i saw the batman movie i've been stuck with this story and well i took a long time to finally come back to it. a big major hug and thank you to @mandocrasis who i first told about this story and who loves it as much as i do. i hope y'all enjoy the love story of a bat and his daywalker.

summary: as a journalist in gotham your one goal is to find the truth hidden within the depths of the city. yet it seems things always go wrong in a city that thrives on chaos.

pairing: the batman/bruce wayne x f!reader

each chapter has it's own warnings, but the story remains 18+.

PLAYLIST | AO3 | INSPO TAG

MAIN STORY

i. fight like gods | 4.6k+

ii. familiar faces | 5.8k+

iii. wicked nights {COMING SOON}

iv. TBA

DRABBLES + ONESHOTS

dream girl evil | interlude | 1k+

#the batman x you #the batman x reader #the batman x y/n #pattinson!batman x fem!reader #pattinson!batman x reader #pattinson!batman x you #pattinson!batman #the batman smut #the batman #the batman 2022 #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne #my writing

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wilders-girl · 1 year

Text

Gilded City- Part Two

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Fem! Reader (Batman in there too hehe)

Rating: Pretty PG !!

Warnings: Mention of a strip club, implied sexual harassment in the workplace, overall pretty fluffy though

Word count: 2,596

A/n: hey everyoneee 😏 excited for yall to read this insanely long chapter (bc I got carried away). It's a lot of cute shit with the one and only babygirl Brucie pookie (I regret typing that.) Anyways enjoy!!!!

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The concept of darkness wasn’t a frightening one. Not to me. Not when I’ve lived like this for so long; embracing the unknown, living comfortably with fear. Darkness was a reality.

I woke up enveloped in darkness.

I remember the heavy shroud of black that anesthetized me before, but opening my eyes to the same darkness was unexpected.

Strangely enough, I still didn’t feel afraid.

I felt the reeling delay of movement and my head spun. I groaned, but it reverberated in my head and I felt much worse. I finally creaked open my eyes to see that I wasn’t walking, but getting carried.

A sudden fear paralyzed my body as I began to recall what happened before I blacked out. One of them kidnapped me.

I tried to focus my cloudy eyes, wincing at the sensation of my pulse hammering in my ears. I mustered up enough strength to move my arm up to push his face and hopefully cause him to stagger so I could run.

Wait, what was that?

I squinted, craning my neck to look up and find that the strange material I felt was the vinyl-esque material of a mask.

The pieces didn’t click for a long while. My eyes were still focusing and unfocusing like a broken digital camera trying to process the image in front of me.

There was a silence before he sharply inhaled, his lips pressed into a line, and looked me in the eyes.

With a slow exhale, he blinked a couple times like there were tears in his eyes. Haint blue eyes looked down at me. They were the saddest eyes I’ve ever looked into, yet they filled my senses with deep solace. A warm breeze blowing through the ancient porches of the South. A lonely mourning dove crying out in the pastel, temperate mornings of a better place.

With the softest, most gentle eyes, he placed me down even more gently onto an impossibly soft surface I realized was my bed. I felt I was losing consciousness again, but I fought it. I wanted him to stay with me forever. I hadn’t felt safe since I moved to Gotham, but he made me feel vindicated. My salvation.

Slowly, he slid his hands out from under me and turned to become one with the shadows of my apartment, fading into nothingness just as he’d appeared.

I reached a shaky hand out towards him.

“Wait.” I whispered, noticing white bandages littering my arm.

He paused briefly, turning his head to look at me but not his eyes.

He was silent for what seemed like an eternity.

“Stay.” I pleaded under my breath.

He shook his head and I noticed his body tense like he was restraining himself from moving. His fists were balled, shaking angrily.

Finally, his hands opened up and he breathed deeply.

He looked at me with those sad eyes again, this time filled with remorse.

They spoke for him. “You know I can’t do that. You don’t know who I am, what I’ve done.”

“Will I see you again?” I asked foolishly. I knew the answer.

All he did was shake his head bittersweetly.

“I hope not,” he murmured.

And with that, my angel flew away.

—

His voice was absolutely irresistible. Rich and smooth like the finest cognac, but it burned your throat all the same. It was weathered, husky. Dark red velvet; the heaviest, thickest curtains blocking out the piercing, blazing light of Arizona. Or maybe the endless torrent of rain that Gotham eternally seemed to sport. A safeguard against the harsh, loud world outside.

I couldn’t get enough.

I thought about him a lot over the weekend as I tended to my wounds. The violence that happened to me was almost a memory thanks to whatever magic he worked. I wasn’t convinced it wasn’t all just a dream. He appeared and disappeared like a true shadow, just like the legends- the rumors.

But he’s a man. He’s real. I know that now. To a criminal, of course he’d seem like a wraith that silently kills in its wake. Somehow, that wasn’t the same Batman I met in my room that night.

I want to say that my questions are answered now that I’ve interacted with him. But that would be a lie. In fact, I have more questions now than I started off with.

Why did he save me? Chasing the scum is one thing, but to aid the victim is something else in its entirety. There were rumors he gave up on being “vengeance”. Maybe this is what he meant; to have a heart.

By the following Friday, I was feeling well enough to walk around my house almost like normal. Looking at the barren state of my fridge, I decided I needed to go grocery shopping whether I liked it or not.

Around 12 pm, I stepped out into the cloudy day, waving down a taxi to get to the produce store easier. I couldn’t walk the whole way, and I knew not to get cocky lest I broke something else.

—

“Have a good day honey!” The sweet auntie smiled after ringing up my groceries.

I shot her a quick smile in response, heading next door to the chinese bakery to get a quick lunch.

It was relatively empty for midday, but I jumped on the opportunity to get two fresh BBQ pork buns. The man behind me in line seemed relatively familiar, but I didn’t recognize him until the cashier took the name for his order.

“Sorry, just a couple more minutes, okay?” The chef leaned over the counter with an apologetic smile, snapping me out of my shock.

“Yeah, no worries!” I reassured her, trying to ground myself as the man stood a polite distance away from me also waiting for some buns.

I must have been obvious in my shock, as I heard a quiet chuckle next to me.

“You know, out of all the bakeries I’ve been to in Gotham, this place has the best pork buns.” He spoke lightheartedly.

I nodded, looking at his face with furrowed brows to confirm to myself that this was, in fact, who I thought it was.

Dressed casually in a grey layered sweater and black jeans, it was hard to believe I wasn’t dreaming again.

“Yeah, they’re great. Especially when they’re fresh.” I stammered.

“Worth the wait huh?” He cocked his head at me.

“One hundred percent.” I smiled back, feeling a little less awkward.

“I’m Bruce.” He extended a hand casually.

I shook his hand, momentarily getting lost in the feeling of his cool grip before remembering to introduce myself too.

“Bruce, and…” The chef struggled to read the cashier’s handwriting of my name on the ticket.

“Thank you.” I responded, sporting her a forgiving smile.

I heard Mr. Wayne give his thanks to the cashier, and I prepared to wrangle all my bags for the taxi ride home.

“Do you need any help carrying those?” He asked softly.

“I’m alright, thanks.” I laughed, flustered. “I’m taking the cab home, so it’ll just be a battle getting all my stuff in one of those little things.”

“Ah,” he nodded, pursing his lips. He then paused to think for a second.

“If it’s alright with you, I could drive you.”

The proposal had my eyes bulging out of their sockets.

“Of course, I understand if you don’t want to,” He quickly interjected. “Gotham’s not a safe city by far.” He looked away, a hard expression on his face.

“My car’s a little bigger than a cab, though.” He joked, seemingly pushing himself out of the headspace he entered.

“I- yeah, um…” I shook my head, trying to comprehend the situation. There was no way this was happening to me.

“Sure,” I sighed. “I’ll take you up on that offer.”

He looked down at me, hints of genuine surprise in his eyes.

Such pretty eyes. The fluorescents did them no justice.

“I’m not parked too far from here,” He spoke in that quiet way of his.

He took the grocery bags from me before I had any time to protest, and began to walk outside, holding the door for me as we left the bakery.

I stepped wrong on my injured leg and had to limp a little right before getting to his car, and he looked at my leg with a strange expression. His eyes flicked to the white bandage peeking out of my sleeve and then back to my leg. The expression was mostly sadness, but I saw fragments of regret and guilt in his eyes.

For a second, I thought I saw those same sad eyes that I’d been thinking about all week.

Popping open the trunk, he placed both of the bags in the back of the car.

I opened the passenger door and sat down, buckling myself in as the intrusive thoughts seeped into the forefront of my mind. I wondered if this was the last time anyone saw me. I just got into a stranger’s car, no questions asked, with the justification that he was driving me home and he was famous. Maybe also because he was good-looking.

Something was seriously wrong with me.

Before I could overthink any more, he stepped into the car and turned the key.

Soft music started playing, and I quickly recognized it as Depeche Mode. I couldn’t help but smile a little, knowing a literal millionaire liked the same group I did.

“I used to have a motorcycle,” he hesitantly said after pulling out of the parking space.

“I ended up getting rid of it.” He finished after a pause.

I nodded.

“Always good to change things up.” I responded politely. He was trying his best to keep small talk going, but it wasn’t working. Poor guy, he probably hasn’t spoken extensively to a civilian, like, ever.

“Which way are we headed?” He looked at me ruefully.

“Ah, right.” I totally forgot he was taking me home. “You can drop me off at the strip club next to the karaoke bar. I live close by.” I auto-piloted the answer, forgetting that not everyone knew where I worked.

My face slowly heated up as I realized and I struggled to explain myself.

“It’s just a big landmark, you know? Not like I go there or anything, I just…” I sighed.

“Wow, I really wish I’d have chosen anywhere else.”

I saw the corners of his mouth turn up in almost a smile in my peripheral vision, and my face heated even more somehow.

“No worries, I get what you mean.” He responded.

A silence ensued, shifting from awkward to comfortable, as Policy of Truth played softly in the background.

“Never again is what you swore the time before,” I softly sang, tapping my fingers on my leg to the beat.

“You know this song?” He asked, turning his head to look at me briefly.

“Yeah,” I laughed. “They were one of my dad’s favorite groups.”

“Good taste.” He responded simply.

The rest of the ride was a comfortable silence. I still couldn’t believe I was being driven home by Bruce Fucking Wayne.

He’d gotten more involved in society recently, no doubt trying to fix that broken reputation of his. The news never spoke of him except to call him a shut-in. They described him like a traitor; one of Gotham’s biggest failures. No wonder he tries so hard these days. Who knows, maybe him driving me home was all a really well thought out publicity stunt.

Everything in the news got amplified when the Edward Nashton fiasco was at its peak a couple months ago. They call him The Riddler. Sure, the guy’s in jail now, but the damage he did impacts us still.

They only got the city fully de-flooded a couple weeks ago. Socially, of course, the impact was even more profound. He created an army of people who thought they could kill the Batman. The message of reforming the city got lost, of course. People want an excuse for violence and now that they have a target, it makes it so easy for them.

It had to be hard for Bruce, too. Being excluded and looked down upon if at all from everyone to suddenly being thrown into the public eye must have given him whiplash. The Riddler targeting him in his attacks was simultaneously the best and worst thing that happened to his career. I guess not much changed, though. To everyone in this city, he was a sob story before and he still is now.

I was snapped out of my thoughts as I felt the car stop a little ways away from my workplace.

He didn’t look over at me for a minute, hands still on the wheel, blinking quickly as if he was trying to figure out what to say. I decided for him.

“Thank you a lot, Bruce. Truly.” I smiled at him.

“My pleasure.” He awkwardly smiled back like he’d forgotten how.

We were quiet, just looking into each other’s eyes for a moment. His forced smile melted into a genuine grin. He sharply inhaled, breaking the silence.

“Right, let me help you get your bags.” He popped the trunk, then stepped out of the car; I followed suit.

Wordlessly, he handed me my groceries and pork buns.

“I guess,” I hesitated, looking away for a moment. “I’ll see you around?”

“Probably.” He simply stated. “I hope so, anyway.”

I couldn’t help but smile up at him. This had to be a dream.

“Thanks again.” I spoke softly.

“Of course. Get well soon.” He ended the sentence with my name, then got into his car.

I started to walk away at a brisk pace, eyes slowly widening as I realized he said my name.

Bruce Wayne remembered me.

Suddenly, the cold weather wasn’t a problem for me anymore. I was as hot as an oven with a fever, walking as quickly as I could to my apartment.

Shutting the door behind me, a wide grin broke out on my face and I practically skipped to my fridge to shelve my groceries. Replaying various moments of my afternoon, I giggled like a maniac and tried to remind myself that he was a stranger to me, and treated me with regular levels of politeness.

“Get a grip!” I spoke out loud, shaking my head. I was disappointed in myself for thinking about him like this. “No more thinking about Bruce Wayne.”

—

I spent the rest of the day thinking about him, so that wasn’t helpful.

I sat in bed with a cup of tea and reviewed the text I was about to send to one of the girls I worked with.

“Hey, just wanted to tell you I’m coming back to work Monday. If you’re working over the weekend, can you tell Joey? I tried texting him but got no response.”

The last part was a lie, I never texted my boss. He always took my texts as invitations to come over and “help relax my muscles”. I never let him, thank God.

I pressed send, knowing she wouldn’t respond until the morning if she was working.

Laying in my bed after finishing my tea, I realized just how tired I was, and went to sleep almost immediately.

I dreamed about the Batman, as I do most nights, but this time Bruce was there too. Two incredible men I didn’t deserve and barely knew I existed were taking care of me like I meant something to them.

Only in my dreams.

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Be sure to comment ur thoughts on this, I love reading what you guys think abt my work ♡ (reblogs n likes r appreciated too)

#bruce wayne x reader #pattinson!batman #pattinson!bruce wayne #pattinson!batman x reader #batman x reader #the batman

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usetheeauthor · 2 years

Text

I Know What You Did Last Weekend 18+ (Smut)

Battinson!Sub!Bruce Wayne x Kravitz!Dom!Selina Kyle x Switch!Curvy!Villain!Fem!Reader

A/N: This was long overdue. I think both Zoe and Robert are absolutely hot so I had to do it to ‘em! The picture is not meant to represent the reader’s appearance. This switches between POVs. It’s first person for your POV in the beginning while Selina’s and Bruce’s are in third/second towards the ending. Also, this is really filthy and Selina’s def top 😅 Enjoy!

Word Count: 5.1k+

Summary: Bruce goes undercover at the popular nightclub, “Club Succubus”, in search of a serial killer who murders very powerful men. Selina wants vengeance. She’s looking for the woman who killed her father when it should’ve been her. Little did they know, you’d be a lot tougher to resist.

Warnings: use of Y/N, violence, murder, blood kink, threesome, oral sex (m & f receiving), DUB CON, dom/sub dynamics, p in v penetration, unprotected sex (pls be safe), cum eating, girl on girl, spanking, slight mommy kink, slight ass worship (reader’s got a wagon), use of oil, face sitting, use of handcuffs, hair pulling, dirty talk, slight themes of misandry and misogyny, implied body shaming

Y/N’s POV

The smell of sex wafting through the air. That was the way I liked it. I craved an atmosphere of full debauchery and zero inhibitions. Club Succubus was my creation. Here…I did whatever the fuck I want. No rules, no worries, no bullshit. Hell, I even recognized some cops frequenting this place of sin.

I look over at the entrance recognizing the face of a man whom I’ve despised for so long. Carmine Falcone. The dirty bastard. He’s taken business deals from me for as long as I can remember. The crime world was dominated by men and no one took a woman getting her foot through the door seriously. Slowly but surely, I’ve found my footing in this city along with loyal members who help carry out my plans for Gotham. But him. He was always an obstacle that kept me from being fully feared by everyone. That will come to an end. There’s no place for a man like him in this city. I’d be doing everyone a favor getting rid of him.

I’ve flirted with him times before. It wasn’t lost on me that he’d dismissed me because I was a curvier girl. Yet, here he was in my nightclub specifically looking for me.

His eyes land on mine as I sat in VIP section. I smirk. He makes his way over to me, eyes intense with lust.

“Baby, you’re looking ravishing.” He says, breathlessly raking up and down your figure.

“Mr. Falcone,” You smiled before standing up from your purple, tufted throne chair. You sauntered down the short steps towards him. “You know, I wasn’t sure you’d come. After all, I was convinced that you were way too vanilla. Couldn’t handle a body like mine.” You ran your hand over his shirt and see his Adam’s Apple bobbing.

“It’s not like that, baby,” He bites his lip, hypnotized by your hands roaming his body. “Just…you intimidate me.”

“Why?” You pout, keeping up the innocent ploy.

“Well, I have all the things you want. Power, the fear of the people, loyal subjects at the palm of your hands. You must be mad at me, babe,” He grips your ass, pulling you closer to him. “Can’t help how good I am? The ladies love an alpha.”

“All those things are true. Especially the part about me being mad. I’m so mad, in fact,” You lean into his ear. “I’d like to punish you.”

Taking his hand, I led him to a private room in the back. I could practically taste the power pouring into me. I was soon going to be queen of Gotham.

When we arrived to the room, I immediately threw him onto the bed earning a surprised chuckle from the trashy douchebag.

“Whoa, honey, I make like it rough but I’m still fragile.” He says looking up at me. I pull out some handcuffs from the drawer nearby, swaying my hips side to side as I walked over to him. I grab his wrists, putting them above his head and locking them to them into place.

I shove a hand down his pocket. “I don’t have any cash on me if that’s what your looking for. Didn’t know this ‘business’ exchange required any compensation.” He smirks.

“No, babe, I’m looking for this,” I show him the magnum. “Gotta have protection, right?” I yank his pants and underwear down his ankles before rolling the condom over his unimpressively average length. I climb over him, sliding down on his length. “Besides, I’ll get all the compensation I need right here.” I whispered, darkly.

I began riding the crime lord, trying to keep myself from rollin my eyes at his insufferable moans. While his mind was occupied by the pleasure, I slowly pull out a dagger from my thigh holster. I knew it’d only be minutes until this was over. Taking my chance, I stab him in the chest as he reached his climax.

I lean over him. “I told you I’d get my compensation.”

His eyes were wide, coughing up blood as he began processing the image of the knife in his chest. “You won’t get away with this. Do you know who I am? I have connections. Fucking cops work under me. You’ll be on a lot of powerful people’s lists. You’ll be dead before you could even step out the door.”

“You’ve underestimated me, Mr. Falcone. Your men, the ones that you brought to protect you, they belong to me now. Those cops you have working for you, mine. Everything is mine now. The power, the fear, the people all mine!” I shout as I continued to stab him over and over. The blood gushing and spraying all over the bed and room. I laugh maniacally, finally reaching my climax from the high of finally winning.

When I’ve had my fill I looked down at my finished product, the crime lord looking barely recognizable. I hop off of him, walking over to the mirror. I smile at my reflection. My tight white dress and hair covered in blood. I resembled Carrie and I absolutely loved the look. This was the look of a new boss.

~~~~

Selina’s POV

“Authorities are saying that the body of Carmine Falcone was found his home on the evening of Saturday. His body was discovered by a dancer and lover who works at his nightclub. It is shocking to see a man like him go down so brutally to say the least but police are doing their best to search for the person or persons responsible. Until then—” Selina switches off the television set.

Her emotions were a mix bag. There was pity, sadness, joy, anger…it was all there. He was her biological father after all. Yet, he was a disgusting piece of shit that left her mother for dead. He was responsible for the death of her former lover, Annika. She wanted to be the one to kill him. Whoever did it stripped her from the right. She was going to find them and kill them. In her twisted form of justice, it would be an indirect way of getting back at her father.

She just needed to know who could have had the balls to carry it out?

~~~~

Bruce’s POV

*Inner monologue*

Y/L/N, Y/F/N. To those on the outside, you were just what they’d call a “girl boss”. An admirable woman with a business mindset. Every man’s dream. But I know women like you. You have a fiery spirit. In the wrong hands, however, that spirit can be deadly.

*end of monologue*

Bruce looked at your file name. You were the perfect match. In your younger days, You had time in and out of the criminal justice system for crimes against men specifically those in power. Now in your late 20s, they’d say you’d had a clean slate every since then. Bruce knew better. While law enforcement turned and looked away at certain things, Bruce took a magnifying glass inspecting the issues further. It’s what made him the best detective in all of Gotham. It’s what made the people believe in Batman.

Club Succubus. That’s the nightclub you owned. You couldn’t have gotten this powerful unless you had to stomp on a lot of toes including your biggest competitor. Bruce figured that instead of going as The Batman, he’d go as himself. That way he’d bait himself as your target. You went after men with money well here he was. Bruce Wayne, playboy billionaire, powerful, influential. It was just what you were looking for as your next victim.

~~~

Y/N’s POV

Somehow being at the top just wasn’t enough, I wanted more. I wanted to be bigger. Sure, business was booming and I’ve been running the town sweeping it with fear. Sure, the people were beginning to know my name. But I wanted a challenge.

As if God heard my prayers, in walks Bruce fucking Wayne! Walking into my club?! I didn’t take him for a guy interested in scenes like this. By the look on his face, this was definitely something he’s not into. Maybe he was looking for someone who could teach him the ropes.

I haven’t done much research on the guy so I don’t exactly have him on the list of men I’d like to kill (i call it the MiLK list) but he’s got the money. Who knows if I rock his world enough, I could get him to invest some of his money into my club.

I make my move. I stalk towards him like a predator to its prey. His eyes were on mine and if i’d blinked I would’ve missed the millisecond of lust in them. I reach the man in all black. He was quite gorgeous up close. Electric blue eyes, pink lips, a jawline that was evidence of God’s favor of him. It was the first time anyone had taken my breath away. I quickly recover.

“You’re Bruce Wayne. You’re hardly ever in the public eye. What brings you to a place like this? Looking for some fun?” I tease.

“Business, actually.”

“Really?” I tried burying my excitement as much as I could. Didn’t want to look eager. However, this could be my huge break.

He nods. “Mind if we could go somewhere more quiet to discuss?”

“Y-yes,”I stuttered out, too excited for your mouth to speak. “Right this way.” Just I took him by the arm to lead, a woman in a tight red stops you in your tracks.

“Omg! Have we met before?” She flashes a pearly, white smile at you.

She was gorgeous, soft golden brown skin shimmered under the neon lights. Her lips were red and full. Her eyes carried a look that was sultry yet dangerous. “Not likely. I would’ve remembered a girl like you.”

“My name is Selina. Selina Kyle.” She looks between me and Bruce. “I’d hate to interrupt. I won’t keep you long but I would love if we could go somewhere quiet. Maybe we can catch up.”

I was currently between two very sexy people. This just might work in my favor.

“Sure, we can all go.” I lift my finger in a “come hither” motion. “Follow me.” I lead them down the pink lit hallways. The music and thumping gradually decreasing in sound.

When we’d finally arrived to the room, the moment I’d shut the door. Selina presses me up against it, a knife to my throat. “I know you sent your men after Carmine.”

I laugh. “I didn’t send anyone after Carmine. I killed him myself, sweetie.”

Selina looks at me in shock.

————

Bruce’s POV

Bruce had it all figured out. He’d go to the nightclub in Bruce Wayne persona, knowing you’d bite because you went after rich, powerful men. He’d gather the evidence he’d get from your private room opening the case for the DEA to finally care.

His plan now out the window the moment Selina stepped in. She hadn’t recognized him. Only knowing him as The Batman. Of course she’d do something as reckless as this.

“She really is stubborn.” Bruce thought, gritting his teeth.

Selina continues, the knife still pressed against your neck. “How’d you kill him?”

“I stabbed him a bunch of time with his shrimp dick still inside me. Then I made my men put his body back in his office like it was a regular Sunday. Couldn’t have him rotting in my club. For some big boss guy who fucks anything that moves, he sure sucks at fucking. Didn’t make me cum once. I had to handle myself all on my lonesome,” You say in a teasing, pouty voice. “I think maybe you can change that.”

She presses the blade deeper into the skin, on the verge of breaking skin. “Why’d you do it?”

“Selina, let’s put away the knife. You don’t have to do this.” Bruce speaks up, walking over to the catty women.

Selina ignores him, her eyes still staring intensely at you. You still bore a smirk on your face.

“What’s so fucking funny?” She hisses.

“Are you one of his whores or something? I did you a favor getting rid of him. He was a piece of shit and you know it.”

“I-I was…his daughter.” She fidgets nervously.

“Oh shit,” You scoffed. “You mean, that fucker was your dad. No wonder you want to kill me. You’re avenging father dearest.”

“That’s where your wrong, kitten,” You can feel your pussy begin to throb at the raspy, sensual way she said it. “I wanted to kill him, too. He killed someone I loved. I wanted to do it. I couldn’t. The time wasn’t right. Then, you come in and you take what could’ve been my peace. The only way I can get closure now is if I kill you.”

Selina cuts a small line on your neck. You let out a pained moan that sounded as if you enjoyed it. You can feel that the cut had drawn some blood.

“Selina, it’s not worth it. You’d just be getting yourself in trouble. Then what will this all be for. Avenging the ones you love doesn’t mean having to kill those who’ve wronged you.” Bruce pleads.

This frustrates Selina. She was tired of people telling her what to feel; to do. She turns on her heels pointing the knife in his direction. “I am tired of people—-men… telling me ‘no’. I don’t think I’d want to hear anything more from you.” She points the knife at you. “You! You’ve got handcuffs somewhere around here, don’t you? Get them and cuff him.”

You were about to head over to the draw when she pulls you by the end of your hair. “Actually, you show me what drawer to get them. Don’t want you trying to reach for your handgun of anything.” She winks before pushing away at your head.

“It’s in the first drawer near the bed.” You were honestly fearful for your life. You somehow even felt bad for Bruce who’d only been an innocent bystander.

Selina reaches for the handcuffs also finding the handgun you stored there. “Good thing I went for it myself.” She laughs. Throwing the cuffs for you to catch, she aims the handgun at you.

“Cuff him.”

“What are you doing?” Bruce growls, fuming at this insanity.

She turns the gun to him. “I said I don’t want to hear you.”

Bruce complies understanding he needs to in order to make sure no one gets hurt. He puts his hands out in the front of him.

“Oh no, baby, I want them cuffed to the back. Suit jacket and shirt off, by the way.” Selina demands.

He shakes his head, his jaw clenching before doing what was commanded of him. He pulls off his jacket and shirt revealing his washboard abs. You clipped the cuffs around his wrists. Despite your fear, you were quite turned on. You could feel your panties drench at the situation; Bruce’s half nakedness not helping your state.

“Sit him on that chair.” She flicks the gun over to the royal purple accent chair.

You lead him to his seat. He lowers, looking up between the women. A tent suddenly forming in his slacks.

Selina pushes down at the top of your head. “Down, kitty.”

You obey, falling to your knees in front of Bruce and both your eyes met one another’s.

“I’m sure you know what I want you to do. After all, you like you’ve gone through this plenty of times. So go on.”

“I-I d-dont know what you want.” You stutter out.

“Awww, what happened to the ruthless bitch that had no problem killing my dad? Figure it out. You’re not on your knees to polish his shoes.” She squats to your level, pressing the barrel against your temple.

Bruce looks at you apologetically, only to find that you were completely enjoying this. He’s now convinced that he’s in a room with crazy people.

You bring your hands shakily up to his slacks, unbuttoning and unzipping them. You lower them just enough for you to have access to him boxers. His breath hitches when he feels your fingertips against his bare skin. Bruce would be lying if he said he wasn’t turned on by all of this. He blames the women for his corruption. He must not be thinking clearly. All he had to do was focus and— his thoughts are interrupted when he feels your hands wrap around his painfully hard member. He bites his lip to keep himself from whimpering. He wasn’t very experienced in the sex department only having had 2 partners because he’s always so busy. Any form of touch was enough to have him panting.

“Look at that fat cock, kitten. He’s so hard,” Selina licks her lips. “Every inch of that will be going down your throat soon. Wanna see you gag on it like a pornstar. Give me a show.” She sits at the edge of the king-sized bed, looking at our direction.

You wouldn’t hesitate any longer. You wanted to taste him. To make him see stars. You make no haste, swirling your tongue around the tip and giving it a fervent suck.

Bruce lets out a shaky moan, his head thrown back against the chair. Selina immediately stands up, strutting over to him, taking him by the hair and forcing him to look down between his legs; at you.

“No. You watch. She’s gonna give a performance of a lifetime so have some decency.”

You smile up at her before turning your attention back to his. Never had you worship a cock the way you would to his. You bring your mouth all the way down his length, letting him hit the back of your throat.

He whines. You can see his restraint to keep quiet. To keep himself from enjoying. You were going to break him. You bob up and down on his length, the suction noises filling the room. You look at him noticing the way his eyes flicked between looking into your face and staring at the way your ample ass swayed side to side in delight.

“Look how happy you made, kitty,” Selina moans, dropping to her knees next to you and tossing the gun a close distance away from her. “I think I’ll have a taste, too.”

The moment Bruce heard that, he knew he’d be a goner. You pull your mouth away, a line of saliva connecting your lips to the tip of his dick. Selina cups your face and plants an intimate kiss on your lips. Your tongues massaging each others as she attempts to taste him indirectly through you.

She breaks the kiss. “I think I wanna taste more.” She brings her mouth to his length and licks. You put your mouth back on him as well. Both of your tongues playing with the tip, every now and then your tongues would meet once again. You rubbed your thighs together, hoping to get some friction when you heard him finally begin to moan and tug at his restraints.

“Oh, he likes it,” Selina exclaims. “Don’t you, you little slut?”

He nods, breathing hard.

“It’s rude to nod. Tell us how much you appreciate us sucking your cock.”

“Thank you.” He says through a strained tone.

“For what?”

“For sucking my cock.”

“He’s such a good boy. Isn’t he, kitten?”

“Yes, he is. Maybe we could reward him.” You purr.

The two of you shoot each other a playful look before Selina bobbed her mouth on the thick, curved length while you licked and fondled at the balls. These women were trying to kill him. He was sure of it. Because how could any man survive this kind of bliss. It was all too much.

He’d forgot all restraint and soon he was moaning like a pathetic mess of a man. “Oh god. Please I c-can’t. Too much.”

There was no letting up. You’d both wanted to see him crumbles. His stoic presence soon a shadow of itself. You can feel his testicles begin to tighten. Selina’s mouth off him, jacking him off and staring at him determined. You also remove your mouth to look up at him, your hands rolling and squeezing his balls.

“F-fuck. M-mommy,” He whines pathetically. “Please.”

You and Selina look at each other and smiling deviously. “Ohhh, he’s looking for mommies. Someone missing their mommy? Don’t worry, Brucey. We’ll take real good care of you.” You say, sucking and running my tongue on his tip while Selina continue to jack his length. His body began to tense and you both knew you’d be rewarded with his cum soon.

“Cum for us, pretty boy. We wanna swallow it all for you.” Selina encourages. He lets out a loud drawn out groan, ropes of cum spurt from his dick. Selina and you indulge, licking frantically to make sure no a drop is missed. He shudders against you both, forced to take overload of pleasure. When you were sure you’d gotten everything, you both make your way up to kiss and bite at his neck. You’d taken the key for the handcuff finally freeing him. Bruce takes this opportunity to place a kiss on Selina’s lips then kissed yours, then you and Selina once again. Each deep kiss filled with lots of tongue and saliva.

Selina pulls down your lacy panties and you follow suit removing hers, groping each other’s breasts. The two of you straddle each of Bruce’s thigh, grinding your cores against his grey slacks. He grabs a handful your ass, the other hand pulling down Selina’s top, tweaking at her hardened peaks. All three of you moaning into the atmosphere. You rub two fingers on Selina’s clit as she rode his thigh.

“Oh, fuck right there.” She moans, grinding faster against him. You could tell that his pants would be soak in your arousals but he didn’t seem to care. He just watch intently, moaning at the sight of two beautiful women who were getting off to his thigh alone. You thanked the fact that Bruce’s thigh had been strong enough to carry your weight especially with how forceful your thrusts were. It seemed like he had a thing for thicker girl making sure his hands would feel every part of you.

Selina stops her movements, standing up from his thigh. Both you and Bruce looking at her. “I’m thinking we should move this to the bed. I wanna try some things,” She points at the mattress in front of her. “Y/N, I want you on all fours. Brucey, you’re going to fuck her nice and hard for me. Be as brutal as you like for all I care.”

You obey. It didn’t matter to you that you’d probably be killed or in jail after this. You were going to get what you’ve been craving the moment you’d set eyes on these two. You remove whatever’s left of your clothes before crawling on your hands and knees on the bed.

You bend over enough so that your ass in the air was the main focal point. Selina takes a bottle of oil, lathering your bottom and give you a hard smack. You moan at the contact.

Bruce removes his clothes, on his knees behind you his hard length dangling between thighs like a third leg. “I don’t know if I could do this.” He says, almost innocently.

“All ya gotta do is stick your dick in her. Not rocket science, baby.” She teases, yanking her dress over her head and joining you both on the bed.

He sighs. “No, I mean, this isn’t right. She’s a criminal. We’ve got to turn her in.”

Selina attempts to speak up again, but it was your turn to make your case. You were not going anywhere. Not until you’re ruined by them. “Please fuck me, Brucey,” You groan. You roll your hips back, feeling his dick rubbing between your ass cheeks. “I know I’m bad but all I ask is that you punish me. Take me how you want me. Wreck me from inside with your cock.”

Selina smirks, glancing at Bruce who’s breathing had gotten heavy. “Hear that, sweet boy. She wants it real bad. You can’t be cruel enough to leave her hangin’.”

His large hands pull you rough against him. You squeak at his sudden ferocity, a pool of wetness seeping out of your core. He smacks the heavy manhood against your globes, guiding it to your quiver core. You’d still been sensitive there so when he taps himself at your entrance, you shiver in delight. He prods his tip at the tight hole, letting your folds swallow him in with little effort from him. You both groan simultaneously.

“Fuck, that’s so hot.” Selina rubs herself, watching where the two of you met.

Bruce strokes shallowly into your pussy. The light sticky, wet noises filling the silence. You whine needing him to fuck you long and deep. You attempt to fuck back into him, he holds you still by your hips, pulling even more of his length out of you so that only the tip rests.

“Shit, please, I need it.” You sob. You’re practically crying real tears.

Selina pulls his cock from your core. Wrapping her plump lips around the bulbous head. She sucks him deep into her mouth, swishing her tongue around. “She tastes so good,” She pulls off him, easing him back into your cunt. Going behind him, she whispers in his ear. “Go on, baby boy. Fuck her. Make her cum hard.”

As if he’s a robot waiting on the commands of his master, he immediately drive into you. He bottoms out and you swear that he’s made a mess of your guts. He pummels into you, fucking you into the mattress. Your cries bouncing off the walls.

“Fuck, fuck, holy shit.” You were unintelligible. All you could do is curse or say things that you really couldn’t understand. Bruce ramming into you the way a beast ruts into its mate.

Selina could feel herself dripping with anticipation. She couldn’t wait to take his cock next but first she’s like to focus her attention all on you. Bringing your face up from the mattress, your tongues meet in a passionate kiss. Bruce takes your arms crossing them behind your back, pinning them down with one hand. Now your body’s sandwiched between Bruce powerfully thrusting into you and Selina who’d kiss you in a way that made your toes curled.

She snakes a hand down to rub your sensitive nub. You gasp, grinding into her hand. When you moved forward, you’d feel her aggressively flicking at it and when you’d moved back, his cock would nudge the deepest parts of you. It was an overload of pleasure you’d never experienced.

“Fuck me now,” Selina says, lying on her back. Bruce pulls out of you, using your juices to slide in with ease into her. She moans, licking her lips. “Oh my god, baby. You’re so big. You’re splitting me in two. I can see why my little kitten over there was screaming for her life.”

Bruce leverages himself up with his hands, angling his hips the right way to hit into her core from the side. She throws her head back and bites her lip feeling the thrusts getting more desperate. You squeezed your thighs together, wanting to get rid of the ache. She opens her eyes and notices. “Aww, kitten, I didn’t forget about you. Come here and ride my face.”

Your eyes light up. You hover your slick coated core over her face turned so that you were in the 69 position and facing Bruce. Selina gets to work, licking and sucking at your pussy the way she did when she kissed you. You ground against her face, looking at Bruce with half-lidded eyes. You grip him by the neck and he groans. You pull him forward for a kiss, mimicking the movements of Selina’s tongue but in his mouth. His thrusts causing you to bounce along with them.

He plucks at your hardened nipple then lowers his lips to them sucking and twisting each bud. Both of their tongues caressing your body. You felt so lucky. Maybe Selina has already killed you and you’d gone to heaven. Or a fun ass hell.

“Lick that sweet pussy.” Bruce growls.

He pushes your head down so that you were in between Selina’s legs watching his cock moving in and out of it. Her juices messy all over his cock and her inner thighs. You stick your tongue out, flicking between her clit and tasting his length sloshing around inside her.

“Oh, fuck! You both are so fucking good. So perfect.” Selina cries out, sticking a finger in you and pumping. You fuck back into her fingers. With one hand still on the back of your head, the other smacks your ass.

The room filled with each other your moans and whines. You were sure anyone who’d accidentally walk in would blush but most likely stay for the show. It was sinful, filthy, it was so fucking hot!

“I’m gonna cum.” Bruce groans.

“Me too.” Selina moans, curling her finger and touching the soft button deep in you.

“Oh my god.” You can feel the coil building up more and more. The pressure almost scaring you at how much it was building. Bruce pulls out of Selina shoving himself into your mouth and bobbing your head up and down. You swallow and suck around him. The same time he cums down your throat is the same time Selina decides to give you the hardest orgasm of your fucking life. You scream into the air, frantically rubbing at her flowery bud.

She quakes and shivers underneath you. You lick at her core until she eventually clamps her thighs around your head from other stimulation. “Holy shit.” She laughs, her head feeling light from the shattering of her world.

You roll off of her and the three of you laid on your back, staring up at the ceiling and breathing heavily. You can taste the remnants of them on your tongue; a reminder of your time with them.

You propped yourself up on your elbows. “So I’m guessing you’ll be turning me in to the authorities. It’s fine, though. I got all I needed anyway.”

“No, I think I’ll keep you, kitten. You’ll be my little play toy. What do ya think, Brucey? Should we keep her?” She bats her eyes at the blissed out man.

He groans. “Is that really appropriate?”

“Yes.” Selina smiles at you and you smile back.

You turn over to the brooding sex symbol. “I can make it worth your while, Brucey,” You kiss and suck at his neck. “I promise you I won’t be bad. I’ll be so good for you.”

Selina joins in, attacking at the other side of his neck. Bruce isn’t sure if he believes either of the women, but with their hands running ever so softly over his body, he can’t say he wouldn’t try.

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daughterofthequeen · 9 months

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So I want to write a Battinson series.

#battinson #battinson x reader #the batman #the batman x reader #robert pattinson batman #the batman fanfic #battinson fic #pattinson!batman #pattinson!batman x reader #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne x fem!reader #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne fanfiction

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visionsofmagic · 7 months

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day 10: bruce wayne [car sex]

࿓ synopsis • bats fucks you in his batmobile to teach you a lesson after you disobey his order.

―❦ nsfw, autonomous driving, one has clothes on one hasn’t, suited!bats, batmobile, markings, car riding, possessiveness, jeaolusy, pet names, swearing, master kink, rude!bats, identity dilemma, inner toughts, spanking, begging, brat taming, clothes full on/off, kissing, ‘is all I guess. • 1.9k • thought comic bats while writing but you can imagine this with any version of batman as you like of course. enjoy the beginning of the second week of kinktober event, hope you will like this week too! [kinktober m.]

“bats – please –“ as the gotham’s city’s night lights pass behind the black windows of the batmobile you’re in, your own voice gets silent by the loud sound of the road, yet, they reach to his ears that are covered with his black batman mask. “it’s too much –“

the man under you stays still even when his actions don’t stop – fingering your clit, he seems like he doesn’t care about how you’re sitting on his lap, soaking onto his black bat suit, getting wetter each passing time – having no dress on you makes the situation more sinful, especially when he has his own armored suit on, even the mask is still covering his face and ears – his bat ears is a source of balance for you to hold onto while taking his fingers as if it’s the first time he does this.

you have no idea how this man makes you feel stranger to being fucked by him whenever he has you like this – weak yet so powerful because of the whole situation.

it should’ve been a peaceful night, a simple mission – yet, it turned into something more, and you were the one to blame the moment you began to flirt with one of the guests to distract him. you were doing what he told you to from the other line of the call, giving instructions one by one with the help of the device on your ear. it was going all right until the man got interested in you, buying you drinks, joking around, and asking if you would like to follow him to do upstairs.

you didn’t yet you had to act close to the man to get rid of him because bats told you to leave his side immediately. your mistake was taking that decision; putting one of your hands on the man’s shoulder, raising on your feet, and whispering something into his ear before leaving. apparently, this made bruce go mad – causing him to give you a lesson that you had to learn right away.

the moment you entered the batmobile, he took you onto his lap, taking all your clothes from one to another, looking darker than ever – hands fast, lips kissing yours so passionately that you believe your lips begin to bleed, the suit remains on as he begins to finger you – he just opens the zipper of his armored pants, leaving his hardened cock visible to your eyes.

wanting to touch him, your hand goes to his cock, yet, it is stopped in mid-air. he doesn’t waste any more seconds, slapping your clit, he adds, “you had to earn it. you will not get it until you beg for it.”

now here you are; already cum for one time, its hints still on your thighs and his pants, however, he doesn’t stop – you know he waits for you to beg – you try not to beg, stubborn, believing you did nothing wrong, but, it’s too much – he knows every point to make you beg – the vigilante know your own body more than you do.

when he hits your g-spot with only his gloved fingers, again and again, you cry out loud, “bruuuce – aggh – please -!” the words go out of your parted lips on their own as your hands grip his bat ears strongly, bouncing on his fingers when he doesn’t move them. the knowledge of making a mess out of you doesn’t reach into your brain, so, you continue fucking his fingers – his dark-colored eyes look up, a smirk position on his attractive masked face, mocking you. “please! I need youu – aggh!”

“pathetic,” he remarks, “bouncing on my fingers as if they’re my dick,” a chuckle breaks the lewd sounds – the outworld out of the batmobile is long forgotten. “want it so much? want me to bend you over, fuck you in this car?”

without thinking, you nod rapidly, eyes half-closed, your second cum drips onto his fingers, high hits the body, feeling a bit exhausted yet ready to take his thick cock now.

your mind can’t comprehend what he’s doing but in a moment you find him lowering his seat, opening enough gap between your bodies and the batmobile’s front.

afraid of falling into the surface, you try to hold his shoulders – still can’t believe you fucked yourself on his fingers and cum onto them when he talked dirty. the power – the effect he has on you is incredible! the mind is so dizzy because of him that you realize what he has done after a moment, your widening eyes look at the front mirrors of the car, seeing the road in front of you – the scene changes faster than you think – you swear the car moves like a lightning.

the reality hits your face similar to the feeling of cold water washing your body over on a hot day. however, you can’t focus on it when bruce’s gloved and wet hands position on your waist, highering your ass up, pulling your body closer to his face.

when you hold onto the wheel to stay still, excitement and shock blurring the last cramps of your mind, fear of going in an extremely fast batmobile makes your blood boil – yet the trust you have for bruce is there, strongly holding you. his low voice reaches your ears after a while, and his hot breaths wash your pussy and ass holes that clench around nothing, making you jump in pure pleasure. “you disappointed me,” he says, “you disobeyed a direct order from me. that man meant nothin’ to me but disobeying – oh – what a bad choice y/n.”

you couldn’t wait any longer, knowing his one step away from licking you, lust takes control of you, and you begin to say how sorry you’re – how you didn’t mean to – both you and bruce know you did mean to, to get his attention, to get this side of him, because you’re a brat of him who he will tame.

“keep your begs for forgiveness for later. you have to prove to me that you’re capable of obeying me, you pretty brat.”

“anything, I will do anything for you bru -!” a slap to the ass, a slap to the pussy – scream escapes from your lips. “bats! just give me an order, will do it – just please – please fuck me already!”

“in that case,” he says, not licking you, making you pout in disappointment but when he lowers down your body, his cock’s tip meets with your aching pussy’s folds, he clicks a button, the engine slows down a little bit, the wheel of the car gets closer to you. “hold the wheel.”

you try to understand what’s going on, “what are you doin – aggh!”

his left-hand grips your neck, holding it tightly, closing the gap between your face and his, he points to the wheel that stands right in front of you. “hold the fucking wheel if you want to be fucked, y/n.”

swearing lowly, your shaking hand finds the wheel, holding it strongly, waiting for bruce to push a button – when he does, the engine starts moving faster than before. unlike the previous situation, this time, it’s you who drives the batmobile.

“bruce – how – “ your words are cut off by his deep voice.

“don’t take your eyes off the road. you will take us to the home without an accident. if you turn even a little bit, I will stop fucking you my love.” the difference in his words and voice make you go crazy, and that craziness doubles up when he lowers your body down enough to make him thrust his thick cock into your pussy, filling you up.

screaming with sudden pain and pleasure, your eyes roll over for a second before looking right at the road in front of you – gotham city still stays under the darkness of the night, the only voice that world excepts is the powerful sound of the batmobile riding on the endless looking road, the moans coming from you and swears from bats mixing with the flesh hitting the flesh can be heard by only you and bruce – the sin you commit cannot be known by another.

the focus you put on the road gets distracted whenever bruce shoves his dick into your wet clit. back of your thighs hitting his clothed thighs sends pain through your body, leaving red marks on your flesh – the balls that meet with your ass cheeks increase the sensitivity you have, making you cry as you clean them rapidly to see the road.

his name comes out of you over and over again, the brain is too occupied to drive, the mind is too crazy to function, and the body is too full of him, the man who wants to devour you, and doing it right now – using your body as he pleases, not moving his hips greatly, instead, he makes use of your body by lifting it up, then, pulling it down until his dick fills your walls deeper, harder and rougher.

“fucking brat,” he says, a poison that his voice holds captures you – you feel so pathetic as if you’re his fucktoy now. then why do you feel so high like the most powerful drug in the whole world gets into your veins with the maximum level, you ask yourself, then the answer travels to your mind after he adds, “can’t obey her master? what a pretty yet mindless girl you are, don’t you think?” oh, right, he’s the most powerful drug on the whole world, and now, you’re at his mercy.

“u-huh – agghh – oh myy – bats! please, please, please –“ you have no idea what you’re pleasing for, but he knows – he chuckles lowly, having fuck great entertainment thanks to you that you feel a kind of pride in an instant.

“u-huh?” he mocks, fucks you still, close to the edge, just waiting for the right moment. “too cockdumbed to even understand what I’m saying. but you do good my good girl, keep going, we’re close to the cave.”

the new information makes you happy, smiling widely, and looking outside clearly, seeing the cave’s entering. with the relief, you begin to drive the car more carefully than before, hands getting stronger, losing yourself in the pleasure of being fucked by bruce in his damn batmobile.

finally reaching your destination, you slow down the engine, the cave’s front door opens, and pushing a button, bruce hugs you from behind, making you sit down on his cock with an instantaneous speed, earning the loudest moan out of you.

the mouth standing beside your ear says, “cum. cum on my cock.” and you who doesn’t know she’s waiting for him to allow her – to order, do what he tells, cum on his cock as his hot semen hit the deep inside of you in sync.

kissing your shoulder, he holds your shaking body because of both the coldness of the cave you have entered and the opposite sense of warmness that bruce gives – the smell of highness on the air, chests getting up and down, breaths rapid and low, lust ends – its place gets completed with the affection of love.

“did so good,” the car’s door opens, bruce takes your body in bridal style after wrapping it with his cape. his gentle lips put kisses on your face as he walks into the bathroom of his room, watching your soft features, eyes closed to sleep. he smiles fondly, proud of you. “let me take care of my pretty girl now.”

❦ tagging: @lilvampirina & @snowprincesa1 & @dookiemeshibear *lots of kisses!*

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imagine--if · 1 year

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"What am I to you" Bruce Wayne/Battinson x reader?!?

A/N: I kinda just went with the flow on this haha, there's a smidge of riddler x reader too but hi battinson peoples!! It's been a while 😁🖤 enjoyyy, sorry if I didn't follow the trope as much as you wanted bahaha

Wordcount: 798

"I'm sending you to Wayne Manor. You'll be safe there."

You blink up at the mystery man clad in all black in shock, rubbing at the mild red tape marks around your wrists. Wayne Manor? Was he joking?

"Wayne Manor?" you repeat incredulously. "You can't just go to Wayne Manor. Bruce Wayne lives in Wayne Manor."

The Batman doesn't look up at you as he gently pulls a hand away from your wrist, cleaning the agitated skin area with a softness that should be alien to the vigilante, who stalks troublemakers and maniacs each night, warding them off the streets by any extreme means that doesn't involve guns.

"He'll understand."

You gape at him in a daze, the night's events a blur, making your head hurt just thinking about it. Of course, whatever drug that dampened the towel The Riddler shoved in your face before you were whisked off to a cold, crumby hotel room can't be helping either, and you swear you can still feel the effects making you feel weak and shaky even after The Batman stormed into the scene, cutting it short with an untamed rage you'd never seen in those dark eyes before.

Before all this, you'd never properly met The Batman, least of all been saved by him. It was only now that The Riddler was targeting the corrupt, trying to prove himself to Batman, and save you, his so-called angel, a beacon in this dark, cesspool city, from the corruption and the dangers lurking around every corner. But, if anything, The Riddler seemed like a danger to you, constantly sending you love poems and riddles on old-fashioned, cheesy valentines cards and promising his followers and viewers of his streams and trials that another reason to carry out his acts of terror was for you.

"So- so pure, and innocent, and angelic... and they're being corrupted! The influence of this rich, disgusting vermin of the city is attacking the biggest influence and symbol of hope in this forsaken place! I'm going to do something... something spectacular. All you have to do is watch and wait for a little while longer..."

If you'd have known that donating to charities for orphans and helping out true detectives like James Gordon with crimes instead of being bought off by Falcone would gain this kind of attention, you might have thought twice. But here you are. Being obsessed over by a murderous genius, and protected by a vigilante mystery man.

"Do you know him?" you ask Batman in wonder, as he frees your wrist, treated carefully and delicately. "Mr Wayne? I don't know if he'd be happy with me staying there. I mean, he doesn't talk to many people and... well, no one really knows much about him."

"He can make an exception," Batman answers you. "This is serious. I don't want you going back home or anywhere by yourself until Riddler's behind bars. You're a part of his plan, too."

You sigh, putting your hoodie back on and pulling the sleeves over your hands, fingertips poking out of the material. "I know. But I'm not your responsibility. You have enough to do already."

"It's my responsibility to keep you safe," The Batman argues. "I'm sure you're a very capable person, but this is dangerous. People have died. You know that."

"I don't think he'll kill me," you say after a beat of thought passes.

"He won't," The Batman says. "He won't go near you again. I'll make sure of it."

"Well..." you struggle to find the words, confused, as Batman goes over to his car, like something out of a sci-fi movie. "Thank you. But why do you care so much?"

The Batman freezes, glancing over his shoulder at you with an unreadable expression.

"No, I mean," you continue quickly, "apart from the fact that you're a vigilante and a protector and all. Like, what am I to you?"

You cringe inwardly at yourself after hearing the words come out of your mouth, and at the masked man's bemused expression. What the hell was he supposed to say to that? He was only protecting you because there's a terrorist on the loose, right? What exactly are you expecting?

What you don't expect is for The Batman to take a heavy step towards you, offering you a gloved hand to help you into the vehicle. His hand lingers in yours when you're sat down and he hesitates, an odd look of - what, insecurity? Flustered, just a little? - written in his features as he looks you dead in the eye, the intensity making your breath catch in your throat.

"Probably more than you think," he replies after a few moments of silence, and then his hand slips out of yours as the engine roars to life.

⭒❃.✮:▹𝓉𝒶𝑔𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 ◃:✮.❃⭒ (message me know if you want to be removed/added. ghost blogs/dead accs have been removed.)

@misadventures0fdes @junebugp @simestandswithtaylorswift-blog @carley-carley-carley @lostbunn @dragovegogrimborn @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night @edwardspumpkinpie @murderbimbo00 @sweetums0kitty @beel-mcburger @cml-san @jervis-tetch-my-beloved @bimboanime @phoenixgurl030 @dangerouslittlefairy @yoyoanaria @yaeyuuki @vinxlsketches @beenz-beenz @ghoulsgraveyard @birds-have-teeth @repostingmyfavs @r3ptiliaaa @for3v3rda1sy @glitterycheesecakegladiator @moonwritesblog @lilyevans1 @httpsunflowersleep @hxney-lemcn @callsigncrash @bokksieu @skateb0red @philiasoul@felicityofbakerstreet @deadlights-darling @ireadandream @tinyryder @kpopgirlbtssvt @truecobblepot @jessicainhell

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lovelettersforthedamned · 6 months

Text

THE BATMAN MASTERLIST

* : explicit content

ONESHOTS:

I Lived That Night Too

⭒⭒⭒

BLURBS:

sickfic + bruce

⭒⭒⭒

HEADCANNONS:

premature ejaculation*

⭒⭒⭒

#bruce wayne x fem!reader #bruce wayne x reader #pattinson!batman x f!reader #pattinson!batman x reader #pattinson!bruce wayne x reader #batman x reader #battinson x reader #battinson fic #battinson x you

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dreamtinblackandwhite · 2 months

Text

give & take

summary: bruce wayne x female!reader learning what their partner likes during sex

word count: 832

warnings: NSFW, SMUT, mentions of fingering, oral (both receiving), p in v sex, overstimulated, praise kink, degradation kink, face fucking, i think that's it?

an: let me know what you think of this one! it's not much but i wanted to get it out of my brain :)

bruce is such a giver.

he was so touch deprived when you first starting seeing each other that he just wants to shower you in appreciation for giving this back to him.

every night before he heads out to patrol, he’d burry his face between your thighs and greedily fingerfucks you until you’re seeing stars

every time the two of you are required to go to a public event, he’d make sure to find a secluded room where he would get on his knees for you after seeing you in that dress

if your response after he asks how your day was is anything less than ‘great, love, yours?’ he’d tug you off towards his bed and spend hours kissing every single inch of your body

praising you because he knows how much you love it:

‘such a good girl’, ‘you are so gorgeous squeezing around my fingers’, ‘you are doing so good, darling’, ‘you can cum again, I know you can.’, ‘be a good girl and moan my name while I tease this perfect clit, beautiful.’

this man would worship the ground you walk on and is utterly obsessed with every part of you

there were signs of him wanting more though. the way his eyes would widen and he'd blush so cutely after you told him it was okay to be rough with you. you'd tell him every night how you want to shower him with the same affection he gives you. but he’d ignore you to burry his face into your dripping cunt again whimpering and whining about how much he loves you.

you could see him fall into the blissful high of your warm folds wrapping around his cock so perfectly and he slowly would lose his composure. fucking you as if he didn't know you, plowing into you like his access to oxygen depended on it. his rough strokes against your sensitive core seemed to speak how much he loved using you - you just needed to drag that out of him.

you waited in the batcave for him on a stormy night that you couldn’t sleep. ‘what are you doing awake, darling?’ He’d ask as he slipped his cowl off with a concerned tone to his voice. you didn't need to say anything. just walk up to him and slowly peel layer by layer of his suit off, dragging your finger tips across each muscle, bruise, fresh cut, or healed scar as you exposed his skin.

‘you could have waited in bed if you wanted me,’ reaching for you, wanting to see more of your skin than what you were offering. you’d stop his hands before they could touch you, using them as anchorage as you floated to the floor on your knees. never breaking eye contact.

he’d already be hard, even innocent touches from you were enough to spark that reaction. but there was something about seeing how well you were swallowing him down, drooling and gagging around him with no care in the world...

there was no denying that bruce craved control. that’s part of the reason he goes out, he wants to control the crime of Gotham.

but this was different. you were strong, independent, you didn’t need bruce, you had all the control in your own life. but here you were, on your knees for him. His. His beautiful and perfect equal.

you saw the shift in his eyes when he accepted how much he loved this. his fingers tangling in your hair as a low groan rumbled from his chest. ‘good fucking girl,’ his eye bored into yours, drinking up the sight of you degrading yourself for him as tears formed in the corner of your eyes. ‘you’re prettiest when you’re messy like this for me.' he's never respect you more - you had so much power but you set it aside for him. this was his bliss.

and that’s when you both found the perfect blend of kinks. he felt the whimper he fucked into your throat and saw the familiar glint in your eye as you desperately rolled your hips forward. ‘you like this, don’t you? love being my secret little cocksucker, fully knowing you’ll turn around tomorrow and command respect.’ you’d nod your head, still working your mouth feverishly around his cock.

‘i love it too, baby,’ a moan would escape him that belonged in a porno as he twitched in your throat, fucking his hips into your face. his head would fall backwards at the disgustingly lewd sounds coming from your perfect lips only making his grip on your head tighten and his pace rougher. ‘take my cock like a good slut. y’ve such a good throat for me.’

after you swallowed his sticky load, he’d all but fall to his knees in front of you and hug you close, whispering little thank yous as he kissed your hair. ‘you were right,’ he’d finally say before kissing you hungrily and starting his favorite task of forcing you to cum until you’re overstimulated.

#battinson #robert pattinson #bruce wayne #robert pattinson x reader #battinson fanfiction #battinson x reader #bruce wayne x reader #robert pattinson au #bruce wayne x y/n #robert pattinson x yn #bruce wayne smut #battinson smut #the batman #batman x reader #the batman 2022 #the batman fanfic

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celestialnxva · 2 years

Text

Odd Circumstances

Bruce Wayne x Reader

Summary: After saving you from the Riddler’s wrath before he could get to you, Bruce must keep you hidden in the batcave until the Riddler is captured. Awkward conversations lead to newfound realizations.

Warnings: mentions of violence and death, angst, hurt/comfort, really intense pining.

WC: 5k words

masterlist. | main masterlist.

You knew of the Caped Crusader’s existence, just like any other citizen of Gotham, but you always saw him as more of a myth, rather than a human. You could sometimes see his car speeding through the streets or hear the shouts of thugs begging to be saved by his wrath, but never in your life did you expect to come face-to-face with the Batman himself.

Until now.

You were sitting in the living room enjoying a nice cup of hot cocoa that night. Your father, who ran one of Gotham’s most important technological companies, had gone out to conduct business with people whom you could care less about, leaving you alone in the large apartment. So engrossed into your favorite tv show, you did not realize a pair of dark eyes stalking you from the large windows behind you. It took several doorbell rings for you to snap out of your trance and make your way towards the door. You were expecting a family friend on the other side of the door, but instead, you opened the door to the last person you could ever expect.

“Batman...?” you asked in confusion. What the hell was he doing here? Seeing your brows furrow in suspicion, the masked man took a step closer to you, which caused you to take several steps back. You didn’t know why he was here, but you knew that it had to be for a terrible reason. Looking back, you tried to find a weapon to defend yourself with. His surprisingly gentle voice made you look back at him. “Pack your things. You’re in danger and I’m here to get you to safety,” he said plainly. When he saw that you were not exactly processing his request, he took a step forward towards you and shook your shoulder a bit. “Hey. Did you hear what I said?” he asked, his eyes narrowing in concern.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. At least he wasn’t here to hurt you. But if he’s here to get you to safety, then someone must be after your father. You realized something that you wished not to be true and you reached out to grip the man’s armored wrist. “Where is my father? Did something happen to him?” Like you feared, the taller man’s eyes looked away, refusing to tell you the answer. That was when you knew that what you had always feared finally came true. The Riddler must have gotten rid of him. Letting go of his wrist, you turned away from him, mostly to hide your incoming tears. After a few moments of silence, you spoke. “Stay here. I’ll just get a few things from my room.” You started to make your way to your bedroom before your heard heavy footsteps follow you. It seemed the Batman didn’t want to keep you out of his sight. Even if you needed to be alone, now wasn’t the time. There might be someone outside who could shoot you at anytime if he left you alone.

Not wanting to waste his time, you moved swiftly around the room to grab all valuables and a few pairs of clothes to last a few days. When you’ve zipped up your bag, you slipped it on and moved past the man leaning against the frame of the door. “Let’s go,” you stated numbly, already walking towards the door with the keys in your hand. He sighed at your behavior and followed behind you. You were then escorted to his car. As quickly as he came, he left, speeding off towards Wayne tower. You stayed quiet, not wishing to speak to the man next to you. It wasn’t like you didn’t like him. He was trying to protect you, after all. But you needed some quiet time to mourn your father’s death. After some thinking, you decided to lean against the window and close your eyes. Wherever you both were going, it seemed to be a long way from your place. Right before you fell asleep, he spoke.

“I’m sorry about your father. He was next on the Riddler’s list. I couldn’t get to him in time, but he told me to protect you instead.” He paused and turned to you, hoping to get any reaction. When you continued to stare out the window, he coughed awkwardly. “You’ll be taken care of with me. Until I figure out where the Riddler is, you should stay inside where you can be safe.” While he continued driving, you tried not to cry at your current predicament. Not only were you mourning the fact that both of your parents were now gone, you had to stay locked up in a place with a stranger whom you were terrified of. The Masked Vengeance. The man who everyone should be careful of crossing. Right now, you had to use this quiet time to calm yourself as much as possible. You can’t think of all the responsibilities of running a company now passed down to you, not now when your own life is on the line.

You don’t remember when you had dozed off, but you woke up from someone shaking your shoulder. You opened your eyes slowly. With how unfocused your eyes were, you could only make out a large figure hovering over you and you reached out to touch it. “Angel...?” you murmured out sleepily. Bruce was taken aback by your behavior and quickly avoided your touches. You must have forgotten what had just happened before you fell asleep. “Wake up. You can’t stay here forever,” he murmured back to you. The slight annoyance in his tone caused you to blink your eyes into focus and shake your foggy brain awake. Only then did you realize what you had just done and became acutely aware of how close the masked man was to your face. Your eyes widened and you gasped, scooting back against the window with your hand over your mouth. “Oh god, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to-” you cut yourself off and inhaled sharply before you clumsily unbuckled your seatbelt and got out of the car as quickly as possible. He watched you hopelessly and let out a sigh, getting out of the car as well. He grabbed your stuff and handed it to his butler while he carefully watched your every move. The scene in front of you was stunning: a large cave filled with one of the most advanced technology you’ve ever seen. They were not something you were familiar with seeing and you were certain that this was nothing your father had ever thought to make in his lifetime. In seeing all of this in front of you, everything just made sense now. With how Batman can just afford to be a vigilante with all those fancy gadgets and cars, it only made sense that he was rich. He must be some billionaire, but maybe one you’ve never heard of.

You didn’t wander away from the car that much, only quietly observing your surroundings. Bruce eyed your movements when Alfred spoke to get his attention. “Would you like me to prepare a room for your guest, sir?” He blinked and looked back at him before he nodded slightly. Alfred soon disappeared with your belongings while Bruce made his way towards you. You turned to look at him. “Do you want to rest? You can answer my questions about your father tomorrow,” he offered quietly. You shook your head slowly and ignored him, making your way towards the giant computer. “Nope. Ask away, Batboy,” you replied in a trance. Everything you saw was exciting. It was like you wanted to stay here forever, spend all of your time exploring all of the technology in this cave. You only wondered whether or not he got all this technology from a business competitor or if he made everything himself.

“Batboy? What….?” He scoffed under his breath. Seeing that you were more focused on other things besides him, he sighed and followed you around, desperately wanting to get your attention. Bruce had never been in a situation where someone did not care about the fact that he was Batman. Not once did you even ask him about his identity or why he decided to take care of you. Instead, his gadgets interested you. What a strange person you were. Losing his patience, he gripped your arm and made you turn around. “Look, I know you’re interested in my computers, but can you focus for me? I need your help so I can figure out where the Riddler is. Can you do that for me?” He asked, his tone raising slightly to show his frustration. In truth, he didn’t want another person in his space. It made him anxious over the fact that you have to stay with him for the next few days, but he had no choice. He just needed to get this over with as soon as possible. He searched your eyes for an answer when you finally spoke. “Alright. I’ll help.”

--------

A few days of working with him proved to be more awkward than you anticipated. You didn’t expect anything else, considering the fact that you didn’t really spend a lot of time with other people other than you father and you assumed that the Batman had no time to make friends with anyone. What started as him asking questions to you led to asking for your assistance in solving ciphers alongside him and Alfred. He wasn’t expecting you to adjust so quickly to your situation, but he was secretly grateful for your help.

One night, you sat on a stool observing his eye lens video tapes from last night when he arrived at the batcave. Last night, you heard about the bomb in the mayor’s funeral, but you could really care less about it. It’s true that the targeted rich men were being murdered in gruesome ways, but they were as corrupt as it gets in Gotham, including your father. He wasn’t exactly a saint either. If he found out how you really felt about him and your willingness to help Batman expose these corrupt leaders, he would be turning in his grave. Hearing loud footsteps approaching you, you turned to see Bruce as he greeted you with a soft grunt. Like usual, he updated you on new information from the next victim’s crime scene. You both worked in silence across from each other before you decided to finally talk.

“So…do you want to at least tell me about yourself?” You tried, not sure in how else to start. The other man stopped typing and slowly looked at you with an unreadable expression. You felt small under his gaze and you laughed nervously, fiddling with your fingers. “Great, haha. So interesting…” you breathed out hopelessly before immediately getting back to de-ciphering another message. He stared at you for a few more moments before he decided to change the subject. “We’re close to finding the Riddler. I need to keep finding clues, but an… ally of mine is willing to help me. She told me she has a lead.”

At the mention of a ‘she,’ you perked up to look at him in surprise. No matter who she was in relation to him, you already knew what she looked like and her name. Selina, the woman that kissed him yesterday. You watched it all happen on the eye lens tapes. For some reason, watching it then and even thinking about him liking her now made you feel sick. It doesn’t even matter what you felt about it anyway, since he probably thought of you as nothing of importance in his life. You sighed at your loud thoughts and looked back down to concentrate. Without a reply from you, it was his turn to be met with silence. He grit his teeth and stared at you, wanting to hear any confirmation from you. For some reason, your presence had always flustered him, made him confused. He couldn’t really grasp the reasons as to why he felt that way, but he considered those emotions as weaknesses. He needed to focus, now more than ever. But god, how was he supposed to focus when you were right there across from him, looking so…determined? So… pretty?

Wait. What? Pretty? Where did that come from?

He blinked away his intrusive thoughts and typed on his keyboard again. It was an hour later when you realized that you were hungry. A thought came to you head. It was unlikely, but maybe you could convince him to join you for a snack? It would give you a chance to really get to know him, to properly thank him for saving you. It may be strange to think, but the past few days have been fun for you, even exciting. To work with the Batman proved that you two could be a very good team. Even though he was a tough person to really like, he was the only person that you could talk to anymore these days. He seemed to think about you in the same way. This midnight snack run might finally be the time to get closer to him.

You yawned loudly and got off your stool to stretch. He looked at you from under his eyelashes curiously, wondering what you were up to. You seemed to be the playful type, he deduced from your attempts to tease him or make him smile, so you must have something up your sleeve now. Walking up to him, you had the most confident smile on your face since you’ve arrived here. “Well, Batman, I’m going to get a snack. Would you like to j—“ Before you could finish your sentence, you tripped on your step and fell forward with a surprised cry. Acting on quick instinct, he reached out to catch you. You gripped onto his arms in panic, staying there until you stabilized your breathing. Your clumsiness almost caused him to let out a laugh. He had to admit, you company was not expected, but it was certainly entertaining. Of course, you couldn’t tell that he thought of you fondly from the glare he gave you when you looked up at him. You laughed anxiously at the sight, your cheeks heating up in embarrassment from your position in his arms. “S-Sorry. I was… I was trying to ask you if you wanted to go get a snack with me,” you offered sheepishly.

Being this close to you, he finally took the time to observe every detail on your face. With every bump, every curve, every arch he found your appearance to be unique and beautiful. Were you always like this? Has he missing out someone so desirable? He mentally slapped himself for being so selfish and arrogant these past few days. Pushing you away from him has now got to be one of his biggest regrets. You seemed to be such a nice person, with how the many times you tried to talk to him or make him smile. The way you gazed at him seemed to him like you were nervous and intimidated by him, but for some reason, there was a gentleness you held for him in your eyes. He dared to think that your gaze could be akin to a look of longing. These details went unnoticed for so long, but seeing it all now took his breath away. He continued to stare at you with his eyes softening as each second passed by and you couldn’t help but awkwardly laugh again. “Uhh…Batman? It’s really okay if you don’t want to come with me,” you trailed off. Still, he didn’t respond to you. He just…stared. It was starting to get a bit creepy. You cleared your throat and slowly started to peel away his arms from your body so you could stand up. “I’m just gonna, uh…”

He scared the shit out of you when he suddenly grabbed your wrist and stood up. “Let’s go,” he stated before practically dragging you to the elevator across the cave. You should be happy, really, but you were just confused. What was he think about when he stared at you? Did you have something on your face? Did he really think of you as that ugly? The last thought stung a bit to think about, so you just decided to ignore it. Instead, you paid attention to the fact that somehow, he was holding onto your wrist. You gulped and looked up to take note of his features up close while you walked to the elevator. He had a very prominent jawline and he obviously had a very large build. But there was something that pulled you closer to him. You didn’t realize what it was until you made it to the elevator. He walked inside it first with you following behind him. When he turned around, he met your eyes once more and he froze up again. You could feel the hand on your wrist tense up, as if something caught his eye. He stepped closer to you and it took everything within you not to back out of the elevator. He moved until he was only a breath away from you. When you were this close to him, your breath hitched in your throat. You gazed into his eyes, seeing them without the fake color from the eye lenses. They were beautiful but murky behind all the darkness of his mask and black paint. They seemed so familiar, yet so distant. If colors could speak, then his could speak a thousand phrases of sadness, confusion and pain. It could be easy to focus on the murkiness of the color but when you focused hard enough, you could see something else. It was lighter. It was small, but it was there. You almost couldn’t figure out what it was until you felt the hand on your wrist start to shyly trace one of its fingers up and down your bare skin. It was a subtle move, but you could feel a hidden meaning behind it. It was almost as if he…

Your breathing quickened at the thought, your eyes shifting to his lips. You watched as they slightly opened and closed, as if there were words desperate to be formed yet they are unable to. He acted so dazed, so entranced by your presence to the point where it was enough to go out of your comfort zone and look at him once more to unveil some of your growing desire for him. You stayed like this for what seemed like a lifetime, both of you unable to look away until he used one of his hands to reach behind you to press the button to go up. The ding of the elevator ripped you away from your chance and made you look down immediately, letting out the sigh you never noticed you had been holding in. Unlike his usual piercing stare, his eyes were in a daze, fluttering around to gain a sense of control over his growing emotions. Whatever the two of you shared just now had to be put aside. He couldn’t deal with emotions. Not now.

You blinked a few times and stepped away from him, yet he kept his hand wrapped around your wrist. It seemed he didn’t want to let go. You didn’t want to risk looking up at him again, so you used your other hand to gently clasp his hand. Bruce tensed up again and looked down at where you two were connected. All he could hear was his pounding heartbeat when you managed to pry his hand away from your wrist and slowly intertwine you fingers with his own. Your touch felt electric to him and he didn’t know why. All of these confusing emotions seemed to suddenly change everything for him. One second he didn’t seem to care for your presence and now he was aching for your touch. It felt wrong for him to feel this way, but he didn’t want to care. He wanted more of you and god, was he grateful when you decided to slowly intertwine your fingers with his. He didn’t have time to process the electric shocks of your gentle touch when the elevator opened up to the main floor. He closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath to calm himself as much as possible before he led you to the kitchen. The silence between you two was tense, only now for a different reason. There was no denying that something happened between you two that was more that it was supposed to be. Though you might’ve not pieced together everything you felt about him just yet, Bruce knew and he was scared. He was scared about the idea of you making your way into his heart. He needed a distraction now. It may be fruitless now, but perhaps a nice snack will be able to distract him for a while. He turned on the light in the kitchen and let you look around. He didn’t even process what he was doing. He wouldn’t let you look around for a snack without him holding your hand. At one point in his dazed state you tapped his hand with your finger. For the first time in a while, you spoke.

“Can you get the granola bar from there?” You asked shyly, pointing to the box of granola bars on the top shelf. It seemed you were too short to get it. The thought made him smile to himself as he leaned forward. He reached up to grab it and started to hand it to you when his eyes mistakenly met yours again. His breath hitched once more, now seeing how your face looked like when illuminated in the moonlight from the window behind you. Your eyes shined brighter than he’s seen them before and he could clearly see now the affection you held for him. This was bad news for him. Batman wasn’t supposed to fall in love with the people he’s supposed to protect. Bruce Wayne isn’t supposed to let anyone into his heart. But he was falling, falling into your deep longing so very clear in your beautiful eyes. It was driving him crazy, crazy enough to do things he had never done before.

His eyes tore away from yours briefly in order to grab one of the granola bars inside the box and hand it to you. Even when both of your hands touched, it filled him with uncontrollable desire. Your fingertips were elegant in his eyes as he watched you unwrap the granola bar from its casing. Unable to help yourself, you took one of his hands and carefully wrapped it around your hand holding the granola bar. Slowly, you let him guide the bar to your mouth. His intense gaze focused on the way your lips wrapped around the bar, the way your chin felt against his finger when you chewed. The act should have been weird, awkward at best, but the longing gazes you held for each other only made the act more intimate than it should be. His breath was shaky and you could see how flustered he was in that moment. After finishing one bite, you let out a sharp breath and looked away from him, embarrassment clear all over your features. It was clear to him now that you were just as flustered as he was. But your mind sobered up to your thoughts before. Wasn’t he with Selina? She called him ‘baby’ in the tapes. You didn’t want to accidentally become a home-wrecker. Reluctantly, you stepped away from him. “W-We can’t. What about Selina…?” you stuttered out guiltily, despite your hand still intertwined with his.

He ignored your statement and watched your every movement, mesmerized by the way your chest moved up and down from your flustered breathing. You were so beautiful. How could he have been so blind? Unable to help himself, he pushed his body flush against yours, your hands now pressed against his sturdy chest. He let out a soft sigh, leaning in closer to your face. He shyly pressed his nose against your cheek, smelling light traces of vanilla. It was intoxicating to feel you so close to him, to be inches away from what he wants from you. He could only wonder how electrifying it will feel once he finally gets to feel his lips against your skin.

“I don’t like Selina, if that’s what you’re asking,” he whispered against your ear. He then leaned down slightly to let out a sensual sigh down your jawline. You couldn’t help but let out a soft sigh of your own, your heart racing at the attention he was giving you. A thought came to your mind that made you almost laugh. It was ridiculous to think that when you said you wanted to use this snack run as a way to bond with him, you did not expect this bond to be more on the lines of being romantic. The tension between you two rendered you completely helpless and it was useless now to try to resist the obvious desire you both have for each other. Though it was strange how Batman could ever like you or take an interest in you, it was heartwarming nonetheless.

“(Y/n),” he whispered once more, needing to get your attention. You hummed shakily in response. His free hand reached up to touch your chin and lift it up. “Look at me.” Following his command, you look up at him slowly, your gaze hiding shyly behind your lashes. Your free hand boldly slid up his chest, feeling the bumpy exterior of his suit. You could practically feel his heart racing in his chest from your touch. When it felt like you couldn’t handle the tension any longer, he finally spoke again. “I want you,” he confessed timidly, causing you to gasp under your breath in shock. It was hard to find affection and desire as strong as this in a world as unforgiving as Gotham, yet here you two were, lost in each other’s arms despite your better judgment. You smiled at his confession and reached up to cup his cheek. Feeling his head lean into your palm, he closed his eyes. “You confuse me. I don’t know why I feel this way towards you, but I do,” he sighed out and looked at you gently. “It’s like I’ve wanted you this entire time, but I never realized it.” Saying all of this out loud was hard for him and he knew he told himself earlier that he didn’t want to deal with his emotions tonight, but the way you looked at him made all his defenses he meticulously built up as Batman come crumbling down. And god, did it scare him.

Seeing him panic in your arms, you hesitantly started to rub your thumb across his cheek. “I’ve liked you ever since we started working with each other, but you don’t have to feel pressured to figure it all out now. Hell, I’m still trying to figure out how you could want me,” you chuckled quietly to yourself. “You know, it’s pretty strange to have a crush on a guy who I haven’t even seen his whole face yet. I don’t even know your name,” you joked, trying to lessen the overwhelming tension between the two of you. You succeeded when you saw a tiny smile from the man in front of you. Now that he thought about it, you didn’t even know who he was, yet you still liked him. You really were a strange person, indeed. It gave him an idea. He looked up at you with a mischievous smile. “Do you wanna know?” He asked, his voice unconsciously lowering from his teasing which made you shiver. The emotions you were feeling right now in reaction to that are too shameful to admit out loud, but he knew. His eyes seemed to light up in satisfaction from your flustered state. You cleared your throat and nodded, trying to forget about the inappropriate thoughts quickly forming inside your head. When you finally calmed down, he let go of you and moved to remove his cowl slowly. You were the first outsider to know about his identity, so he was incredibly nervous about your reaction. When he finally showed his face behind the cowl, your eyes widened in shock. It took a moment for you to process what you were seeing in front of you before you started to giggle to yourself. He was slightly confused at your reaction but you were quick to explain.

“Bruce Wayne. That totally makes sense now,” you said in amusement. He was surprised that you didn’t freak out, but if that were the case, it made him want you more than before. You accepted him, truly accepted him. That was certainly rare. He allowed himself to chuckle with you before he took your hand into his. He pressed tender kisses all over it while you spoke. “Don’t think that just because you’re some billionaire, I’ll treat you any different than any other citizen here in Gotham,” you chastised lightheartedly. Bruce was truly grateful for that. So many people wanted Bruce Wayne just because he was rich. He was happy that fate decided to bring you to him through his dark alter ego instead. But thoughts aside, he had one more thing to do.

You stopped laughing all of a sudden when you felt his arm suddenly wrap around your waist and pull you flush against his chest once more. You let out a small squeak, your breath hitching in your throat as you waited in anticipation for his next move. More confident than before, he tucked his finger under your chin. His eyes became half-lidded in desire, once again getting lost in your eyes. He felt the tense passion he held for you once more when he leaned in until your lips were barely brushing against his. “Bruce,” you called out to him, your sigh edging into a breathless moan. “I want you to say what you feel for me,” he murmured against your lips. You didn’t hesitate to obey him. “I want you too, Bruce. I want to be with you.” With one swoop, he pulled you into a passionate kiss rivaling the ones you’ve seen in your tv shows. How odd these circumstances were that had lead you to a man you’ve always dreamed about being with. It wasn’t forgotten in your mind that his alter ego could present problems in your relationship in the future, but one thing was for certain: without Batman, he wouldn’t have met you. And without Batman, there would be no one who could keep the city safe. To keep you safe.

All Bruce thought about now and forever was the promise he made to you that night under the light of the moon and within your embrace: He will do everything in his power to make sure that no person—Riddler or otherwise—would ever hurt you again.

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