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holycryptid · 1 year

Text

Nightcrawler

Bruce Wayne/Batman x AFAB!reader (no pronouns/gendered language).

Explicit content (18+)

Word count: 6.3k

Tags/warnings: descriptions of blood/injury, angst, allusions to sex, groping/touching, descriptions of medical treatment (suturing), fingering/pussy play, explicit language, unrequited feelings (let me know if anything was missed!).

Summary: Bruce confronts his feelings after you put him back together. Again.

Notes: wrote this all the way back in 2020 right after the first trailer came out…found it sitting in my computer files and figured i shouldn’t let it go to waste! since it was written before the movie came out, please excuse/forgive any inaccuracies regarding the batsuit, terminology, setting, and characterization (and the painfully amateur writing) 😣

The cave is always a little too frigid for your liking.

Especially when it’s already well into the late hours of the night—a time you definitely shouldn’t be awake. The long fluorescents buzz and highlight the metallic sheen of everything, while still piercing through any inch of unguarded darkness in the gloomy room.

A light breeze swirls around your huddled figure every so often, and the rhythmic sound of water continuously dripping onto floor somewhere echoes throughout the quiet, isolated space. There’s still some changes and additions that need to be made to the current set-up he has, but it does the job for now. You don’t bother taking note of what needs to get done—you’ll probably forget it all an hour from now anyway.

You let your head roll back onto the chairs headrest, and your eyes skim over the time at the bottom of one of the monitors screens.

3:43am. It’s been almost four hours—you always wait.

You wait even though he tells you not to, and even though you know you maybe shouldn’t sometimes. But you can’t help it. It’s habit at this point. You’re down here at 10pm on the dot. Daily.

You don’t need to be, but you are; it’s tradition for you to be part of his prep and routine before the nightly endeavour out into Gotham, even if you just sit and watch as he slowly works his way into the suit piece-by-piece, fiddling with various tech accessories that you don’t even know the names of yet.

You try to pass the time by organizing and sorting his skewed files, papers, and small pieces of armour that have been damaged beyond repair—meticulously placing them in their rightful spots on the seemingly never-ending line of desktops, shelves, and hidden drawers.

But mindlessly arranging anything and everything only lasts for so long before there’s nothing left to do but sit. And think. And then sit some more.

Not knowing how long you’ll be rolling around in one of the padded office chairs for is one of the prices you have to pay for caring too much, and he reprimands you for it, even as you furiously dump an entire bottle of rubbing alcohol onto his body, and he never shows that it affects him in the least.

He’s stubborn. He’s stupid.

Your eyes wander along the blank stone walls as you slouch further into the chair, stopping when you see the time again: 3:47am.

You let out a heavy breath through your nose as you repeatedly click the tip of a pen in and out. You push yourself around in slow circles with the toe of your foot, letting the spinning room distract you for just a few moments just to pass another minute at least.

This isn’t necessarily part of your job. He knows that, and you definitely know that. A lot of things have changed with your workplace duties, clearly, as you notice some earlier pieces of his armour piled in one corner of the room.

Unsurprisingly, things have…happened here and there. It’s becoming a more common occurrence, but it feels circumstantial and…convenient. Maybe it’s all meant to happen at this point. You think about it often enough—too often. Enough to make things awkward for yourself sometimes.

Another anxious glance at the leering clock: 3:51am. “This is fucking ridiculous,” you reason with yourself, getting up from the chair and tossing the pen on the desk.

You resort to pacing around the grand floor space, now closely watching the entrance and exit as you circle by. All you can do is wait—

And just as you turn your back to the computer displays and monitors, the clocks turn to 3:59am.

You cut back sharply to begin another circle, and there he is. Four hours later. Alive.

The broad shadow makes your heart stop for a split second, but the only physical reaction you have is your knees locking, keeping you in place and giving you no choice but to stare at the familiar, broad outline of him.

“You’re a fucking idiot, Bruce.” It slips out, a little rushed and aggressive, but you mean it. He knows you well enough to not take any literal offence from it.

Your harsh acknowledgement prompts him to walk in further.

“Yeah, you said that last time,” he points out casually, sauntering into the blinding lights with calm steps, coming around to the front of the desks.

You observe his gait with a hard stare—you take notice of how he hesitantly bends and twists at the hip when he leans back to rest against the edge of the metal desk, rolling his head back until his neck pops with a relieved grunt.

He’s already got the cowl, cape, and gloves off, so whatever the problem is, it must be worse than what he’s playing off, as usual.

And then you see the issue. “Do you need help with that?” You point at his stomach and drop back into the chair, deflating with concern.

Your alert eyes study the suit, looking at the damage.

“With what?” he counters, seeming unaware—avoiding; yet his dark eyes confidently meet yours as he rests back on his hands, trying to find some comfort and seem unbothered by whatever desperately needs your attention underneath the sturdy armour.

A very thin layer of blood has seeped through a small displacement in the suits plating, soaking into the tri-weave fibers that cover the titanium. You roll your eyes and scoot back to a shelf where a med-kit sits, one that you put together specifically for nights like these, which is every night.

Positioning yourself back in front of him, the chair brings you to the perfect height to get a good look at the impairment. You can already tell it’s a knife wound just by the location. It’s at the perfect height. It cut perfectly in-between the overlapped layers of plating, perhaps the biggest flaw the suit has. You’re sure he’s aware of that now.

You inspect it briefly, tugging up on the bent piece slightly to see the amount of blood beneath. He takes a deep breath as the dense pressure is relieved from the tender area.

“Shit—” he breathes in relief. You’ve only heard that clipped tone slip out of his mouth on very few occasions, one of which was barely a week ago, yet you still tense at the vivid memory that you never really want to let go of.

He’s not one for reminiscing, but unfortunately, you are.

“It’ll only be a few stitches,” you say gently, letting the plate mold back into place softly. You tap the hard armour pointedly. “Take it off.”

You flick your eyes up to his—the black paint has smeared around just a bit more compared to when he smudged it on with no real technique earlier.

You’ll help him get it off later.

He brings a quick hand through his damp hair and starts unclipping the few clasps hidden on his shoulders and chest. One by one, the durable pieces are detached, and you carefully place them off to your right as he hands them over.

“Can you get the one in the back?” He motions over his shoulder. You nod and mumble a thoughtful ‘mhm’ as you both push yourself onto your feet again.

He turns his back to you, leaning forward on his palms and presenting the last clasp that sits in the middle of his spine. You know he can reach it, you’ve seen him do it before. You flick the clip, carefully pulling away the last plate. He physically relaxes his already tense muscles as soon as the extra weight is removed.

“I don’t know why you do this every night. It’s not worth it,” you confess while rummaging through the med-kit for a needle, surgical thread, topical antiseptic, a gauze pad, and a self-adherent bandage wrap to hopefully hold it all together.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment as you carefully lay out the supplies next to him on the desk.

“I have to…” he whispers, trailing off, but you catch it, shaking your head as you thread and ready the needle with severe concentration.

“Turn around, please.” He shifts back to where he originally was without a word, leaning back against the cool steel with hesitation once again.

You grab the bottle of antiseptic and apply a generous amount onto the pad, delicately holding it as you take a seat in front of him once again.

“Are you sure you wanna stand for this?” you grimace. The hot sting of a sterile compress isn’t the most enjoyable sensation to experience, especially while bearing weight.

He looks down at you, looking rather uninvolved with the priority. Dazed and distracted; something that could be mistaken for the potential amount blood loss, but the gash isn’t big enough for that possibility.

This is something you’ve seen more often than you’d like to.

“Just get it done,” he starts, “You know I can handle it.” He dismisses the option, letting his head roll back with a deep inhale as he waits for you to start.

You say nothing in return. Carefully balancing the compress in one hand, your other cautiously pinches the soft, spandex material of his base-layer shirt. It fits comfortably, hugging tightly around the curvature and muscle of his body, improving his movement in the suit.

The shirt is slowly pulled away from his stomach. The thick blood sticks around the tear in the fabric, making it peel away instead. You drag it halfway over the rest of his lower abdomen, pulling and letting it bunch up tightly, staying isolated from the torn skin below.

You stare at the ugly cut for barely a second before you quickly dab the antiseptic around, patting it into the irritated, puffy flesh and watching it fizzle with each pull back.

Sometimes, you feel like he likes the pain. Like he purposefully seeks out the discomfort of an incapacitating injury in hopes of suppressing the turmoil of concern…worry…love…

It gives him something else to focus on instead of the sorrowful emotions that avoiding you doesn’t seem to fix. It’s only been making it worse, and things are beyond saving now.

Your free hand gently rests against the burning skin of his waist, and his head drops forward at the surprising contact.

“Calm down. It keeps me steady,” you chuckle, shaking your head lightly.

He hums thoughtlessly in response, unconvinced with your excuse, maybe.

There’s that sudden anxious tension in the room from nothing but a fleeting graze of fingertips. The uncertainty of who’s going to make the first move this time.

You do one more press and then pull the soaked pad away, examining your progress before discarding the bloody material.

“It might only be four sutures or so,” you determine while gently squeezing the inflamed edges closer together to try and gauge the amount of work needed.

He inhales sharply, tightly gripping the rim of the desktop. “Well, the faster you stitch it, the faster I’ll be able to—”

“Don’t even finish that sentence.” You cut him off with a harsh but accidental hard squeeze of the torn flesh, making his words die in his throat with a groan.

That wasn’t something you really needed to hear right now, let alone think about as if he wasn’t just bleeding out in front of you only minutes ago.

You know how that sentence ends; you’ve heard him say it more times than you’d like to admit, but you can’t let him have his way tonight.

You glare at each other for a moment. Your eyes hold a tired frustration behind them, but his hold a different kind…something that is able to get you to do whatever he says, something that makes you giddy with anticipation, and something that makes you feel just a little more alienated afterwards.

“You can’t lie to yourself anymore,” he says instead.

You laugh coldly. “Well, neither can you. I’ve stopped doing that a long time ago. You should try it sometime,” you counter, snatching the threaded needle with anger while maintaining your unimpressed gaze.

He sighs, messing with his drying hair again as you begin suturing quickly—not so you can get to what he was alluding to, but the opposite.

For once, you don’t want that, and you don’t want the burden of sadness that comes with it.

But it’s so…tempting.

He gave himself away. You haven’t. And of course he’s leaning against the very spot you were pinned down against a week ago, feeling the contrast to the emotions you’re feeling now: excitement, passion, comfort, love—

It puts you into a conscious daydream for a moment. But you’re awoken from it when you feel his body jolt suddenly. You see the needle poking into the tough muscle of his side instead of the spongey cut.

“Shit— sorry,” you mumble, shifting your focus back to the final suture and looping it through itself securely in a rush.

Seven stitches in total, you notice. You were close.

You grab the bandage wrap and press it firmly over the closed wound before snaking it around his back. You’re able to get two layers from it; the pressure should stop any possible bleeding, but he always manages to tear it open anyway. Sometimes you think he does it on purpose just so he has a good excuse to see you.

“Done,” you sigh, packing up the med-kit and rolling back to its shelf.

You stand from the chair and go to make your way to the exit without another word, not interested in any other interaction tonight. Well, that’s what you hope for, but you’ve learned that he will never let you go peacefully.

You go to pass by him mindlessly as he’s carefully pulling his shirt back down, but he manages to grab ahold of your sleeve quickly when he sees your destination. The effortless pull makes you skid to a stop, twisting back towards him with your inverted momentum, almost smashing your face in his chest, but you stop yourself with your forearm.

He holds onto you tightly, with a purpose, as you share a moment of mutual hurt and resentment. His dark eyes, the opaque paint making them look just as black in the hazy lighting, search your conflicted ones desperately.

“If I asked you to stay, would you?” he asks quietly. There’s no demand behind it, seemingly afraid it’ll scare you away.

His face softens, perhaps relief from asking. He’s never had to before.

You furrow your brows together in shock, dumbfounded at his apparent stupidity in this continuous situation. You scoff lightly at his rather domestic request. “Why? So we can just dance around the truth like always?” Your voice never raises in volume, but your tone gets harsher as you continue.

“So I can hope that maybe you’ll come to your senses and fucking realize that I lo—”

The hand he had wrapped around your arm moves to the back of your neck before you can even say the word or finish your passionate rant. He promptly pulls you right to him, his deft lips quickly doing the much-needed apologizing in that moment.

It’s feverish and assertive, seeming out of place in the cloud of desolation and melancholia…yet you don’t stop him. You don’t want to.

He knows you’ve needed this. Not the rushed, messy, convoluted kisses that come from your desperate fucking after a hard night or a close call, the ones that seem to happen almost by accident, by pure circumstance. There’s just always something missing…

Fervour. That’s what you feel now—that’s what you’ve wanted from him every single time he took control of you with ease for the night. You’re never able to make it back up to the manor either.

You shudder slightly when his hand moves to your jaw, gripping it firmly as he slides his mouth against yours consumingly, sucking your lips gently and teasing your tongue with his cautiously. You moan when he deepens the kiss further, letting his tongue fully overlap yours with a practiced versatility. It subdues you, inviting him to give and take as he pleases.

Several whimpers fall against his lips as you stretch onto your toes to meet his height as best as you can, trying to get more even though he’s already giving you plenty. It’s pensive. Each movement thought out and executed with a purpose, something that you can feel has a very clear destination in his mind.

You let him maintain authority, let him kiss you with a force that could bruise if he didn’t soothe the pressure with his soft tongue occasionally, dipping it back into your mouth quickly after. Your taste seems insatiable to his starved soul.

It all draws you in further, and your hands find themselves grasping at his shoulders instinctually when a forceful hand snakes through your hair to gain better control of you.

Your mouth feels a little numb and swollen from the welcome force, and he pulls away hesitantly when he feels your soft touch finally rest at his collar delicately. He barely lets more than an inch get between your lips, and you can feel the reluctancy in his movements as he pulls back.

You open your eyes slowly and see his sombre expression—more sombre than usual. The sorrow in his eyes and the agony on his brow is enough to force you to speak up first.

“I wish you told me months ago,” you whisper, lightly resting your forehead against his own as you wrap your arms around his neck, confident that he won’t pull away like he has before.

He looks longingly into your forgiving eyes, taking his hands and sliding them down to your hips in solace; an abrupt switch from from their dominant spot around your face. You understand the conflicts he has to live with. Most of them are caused by his vigilant habits in the night, yet you expected everything outside of that to still be easy for him.

Unfortunately, trauma picks and chooses its victims at random.

You find yourself looking for words. Maybe for the moment you realized he was different, when he changed.

“I wish it wasn’t so hard for you, Bruce.” You try to comfort him, provide some ease for his always anxious mind.

He squeezes your hip, silently reassuring you that it’ll be fine, that it won’t kill him.

“I wish it wasn’t so hard for you,” he retorts in an indignant tone, irritated with himself.

He regrets all of it. Most of all, he regrets making you feel unloved. The nights where he used you as a release, when he would act like nothing happened, when he would unconsciously ignore you, and when he ultimately closed himself off in the end.

“It wasn’t fair. It was…selfish,” he finishes forcefully, taking a quick breath to regain some composure.

“I just don’t want you to be part of that life,” he admits tentatively.

You can see he’s telling the truth. The way he doesn’t meet your gaze again. He does it to avoid the confrontation that comes with honesty.

You pause to take in his confession, closing your eyes for a moment with relief, but his tone is like a bullet to the heart. The dejected feeling of you possibly not wanting to be here with him in this moment.

“‘That life’?…You mean your life?” you reason, sounding surprised with his absurd claim.

You’d think that having done this religiously with him for a year would make him think otherwise, regardless of your acts together. You always showed up no matter the circumstances or emotions.

He pushes against your hips lightly, making some space between your bodies, and you shuffle back without hesitation. You let your arms fall away from his shoulders, and he does the same as you distance yourself.

“My life is your life,” he explains. “What happens to me affects you, why can’t you see that?” His face falls slightly. The realization of you not knowing you’re significant enough to be considered part of his life is…heartbreaking.

There’s so much you could say to that.

You let the silence linger briefly. “Maybe I’d be able to see that if you weren’t afraid to be in the same room as me,” you say, voice quiet as you test your reasoning.

You don’t want to start a fight. You just want to understand. You want to know why.

You notice how he hesitates when around you, and not in a flattering or complimentary way. It’s avoidant, scared, and even worried. Worry of confrontation.

He takes a deep breath and wraps his arms around his stomach in comfort, carefully avoiding the fresh bandage.

“I…I’m not…scared. I’m—” Batman doesn’t get scared from feelings, but maybe Bruce Wayne does.

“You’re unsure,” you finish for him. His eyes meet yours with a sense of hope that you’re understanding.

“I just…don’t know how to go about…all of this,” he motions between you with a flick of his hand.

All of this…meaning—

“Love?” you try, making it more of a rhetorical question.

He presses his lips together in surprise before offering a firm nod. He doesn’t trust himself to say it. It’s hard to wrap your head around. It couldn’t just be that, it had to be something more problematic? Complicated?

But yet, it all makes sense because he’s him—he doesn’t necessarily do romance; there’s no time. You know that. You’ve seen how he is, nothing but a fleeting moment in the night to most, even to you.

It all clicks, and you rub your face in relief and exasperation. You can’t blame him for it all. You can for some, of course, but a relationship needs communication from both. It can’t be a one-person effort, but that’s what it ended up being.

He was just trying to protect you. That’s all someone can really ask for, but the execution wasn’t right. He abandoned you emotionally to protect you physically, and that’s not the right balance.

“Why didn’t you just tell me the truth at the beginning? So I wouldn’t spend all this time thinking I was doing something wrong,” you pleaded, stepping closer to him again to pull an answer from his huddled form.

The closer you get, the higher you have to tilt your head to hold his gaze.

He looks right back, overwhelmed. “I didn’t know how to say it…I didn’t know if you felt that way. When I realized you did, I thought it was just…too late,” he admits, stuttering briefly at the end.

It was clearly hard for him, too. But was it not apparent that you were waiting? For him. For anything.

You look down, nodding your head in understanding. “I don’t think I could’ve made it any more obvious, but lust can be confused for love, so I understand.” You were serious, but some sarcasm slipped through at the end.

Lust is deadly; it will bait you, hook you, and then drag you under it’s pleasurable and irresistible cloud of euphoria, disguised as the domineering man in front of you.

“At least you know now,” he says, matching your tone.

He straightens his posture and locks his cold stare onto yours momentarily, searching for something he still can’t seem to find.

Giving up, he turns to collect each piece of armour you set aside, and he busy’s himself with meticulously putting it back in its rightful spot for tomorrow.

You watch him with surprise, but there’s no anger at his dismissal. You feel relieved. Relieved that you know. You don’t expect things to be normal right away, not with him.

You know he’ll come around, but you can’t help but ask a prying question just to entertain your already validated thoughts. And to keep him talking. There’s still so much you want to know.

“So…” you start lightly. “You said you weren’t sure if I was interested at the beginning,” you say carefully.

He stops moving the instant he hears the curiosity in your tone. He turns back to you slowly, an amused expression on his face. Shit—

You hesitate when you catch his look, but continue cooly. “So, if you didn’t know…then why did you keep, uh…” You lose your words, too afraid to be so blunt and direct about your past endeavours.

It seems taboo to discuss it while not in the moment itself. Sometimes you wonder if it’s just a dream. Too good to be true.

He raises his brows knowingly as you trail off, entertained with your hesitation and embarrassment.

“Why did you— why did we continue…”

“Fucking?” he finishes for you bluntly, a small smile playing on his lips, yet it’s devoid of genuine humour. It screams danger.

He chuckles when you nod your head wordlessly. “Like you said, lust is confusing. You can never seem to get enough, and I don’t think I wanted to.” He pulls the sleeves of his tight-fitting shirt over his forearms, watching you carefully as you consider his words.

His tone was suddenly light, confident. He could feel that you were walking the fine line of giving in or leaving without another word.

“I’m not trying to persuade you into doing anything, if that’s what you’re thinking about,” he clarifies softly when he sees your eyes dance across the floor rapidly.

You laugh lightly, glancing at him reluctantly. “I’m not, but you wouldn’t have to, anyway,”

That makes him narrow his gaze in question.

You raise a brow in response. “What?”

He glances over his shoulder at a monitor, very obviously reading the time: 4:29am.

And you realize exactly what he’s doing. Why would time matter unless you were to suddenly become busy. Tonight was on the shorter end of time spent putting him back together, and you never fall asleep quickly or peacefully anyway…that’s if you were to attempt it or even make it that far.

You watch him speculatively, still mindful that he’s injured, and probably very, very sleep deprived at this point, even though you can never say for sure.

He doesn’t sleep much. You seem to be his biggest distraction.

He twists a dry strand of hair between his fingers as it’s brushed back from his face, black eyes full of self-assurance as he turns to you for what will be the last time tonight.

“You think we can make it back to the manor?” His relaxed yet serious tone startles you, making you consider the options quickly.

Hard and cold floor, small and cold desktop, small rolling chair—none are ideal, but you’ve made all work before…when he didn’t offer another option, mind you. It was never momentous enough to have taken place outside of the cave. But the manor is…farther. There’s a buffer you don’t think will be beneficial.

Who fucking cares—

“Here seems to work just fine,” you quip nervously. You haven’t taken notice of how your legs have gotten…shaky.

There’s a burning heat between your thighs, an ache that blazes bright from anticipation and just him. Just knowing what’s to come. It feels like you’ve done everything imaginable at this point, but that doesn’t lessen your excitement.

He gives a small smirk that fades just as fast. “Figured you’d say that,” he finalizes.

Stepping back to you with graceful movements, you’re chest-to-chest again in an instant. He glides a delicate finger up your neck, hooking it under your chin and tilting your gaze to his intimidating one.

“Tell me what you want.”

You desperately want to say ‘anything’, but you know he won’t settle for that.

You get lost in your thoughts, thinking of the possibilities you can choose from, and he waits for your answer patiently.

“A week ago…when you came back with a torn rotator cuff in y-your shoulder—” you stumble through the sentence but never break from his studious eyes.

“You, uh, didn’t pay any mind to it even though you definitely should’ve, and you had me down against the desk,” your voice turns to a whisper as you recount the events—as vague as possible to save you the embarrassment of being too vulgar in, perhaps, an irreplaceable moment.

As soon as you finish, you swear you see a flame flicker in his eyes. The same one you feel grow stronger in your cunt at the same time. Your knees almost buckle from anticipation, and he can only make it worse from here.

“That’s…a good choice, even though it was kind of impersonal,” he ponders, clearly running through the events of that night.

He’s not wrong. He kept your chest pinned tightly to the surface of the frigid desk, taking you from behind. No hand-holding, no kissing, no eye-contact, no nothing.

You went on to figure that it was better—easier for him that way. You never seemed to mind anyway.

“That’s nothing I can’t fix,” he mutters, finishing the thought; already set on an alternative for both of you.

Your brows pinch together, curious of what he means exactly. But you don’t have much time to think about it.

His hands quickly curve around your jaw, keeping you still as he swiftly interlocks your deprived lips again. It’s zealous and luring, pulling you even further under the crashing wave of temptation and craving.

The soft joining of your mouths makes your stomach jump with exhilaration and eagerness, clawing your hands into his hair with a gasp of bliss as he grabs your waist just as hard in response. You let out a soft sigh of relief, feeling brave enough to gently bite at his bottom lip as his warm, encompassing hands slide under your shirt.

He barely lets you break for air, delving back into your mouth just as fast as he left it to reposition. The intensity of the heavenly moment builds its tempo, and you find yourself pushing against his chest. Not to pull away, but to try and push him towards the cold, awaiting desk behind his wide shoulders.

You manage to get a single word out in between the consuming and now sloppy kisses he offers. “Bruce—”

He hums contently as he swallows your thoughts, connecting your tingling lips forcibly. He’s too fixated on the passion. He wants it to last forever, but there are more demanding impulses that will be tended to first.

“Bruce,” you gasp when you break apart again reluctantly. He notices the calm assertion in your voice, and only slows the onslaught of kisses enough to reply.

“I know,” he soothes your neediness, now delicately pressing his greedy lips to yours repeatedly in understanding. The heartfelt action controlled by nothing but spirited lust.

His hands glide back up to your jaw, cradling your face in comfort as you twirl the long strands of hair at his neck between your fingers. Heavy breaths cloud your already tangled thoughts, leaving him to take the lead again.

He gives you one last intense taste of him, stroking his tongue teasingly over yours, firmly capturing your lips together in the process with a pleased moan. You’re almost chest-to-chest, a minute sliver of space keeping your bodies just distanced enough to not completely lose what little control both of you have left.

He’s taken note of how tight your thighs have been pressed together, and how your breaths are becoming shaky with each passing second he uses to dominate your mouth.

You’ve taken note of how his tactical pants, in fact, can’t hide his very prominent arousal for you, and how you can feel the warmth finally releasing from his exerted and thoroughly worked muscles. The heat seeps through his shirt and goes directly to your body, making you shudder when you feel the change in temperature.

You draw in a breath when he finally pulls away. His obsidian eyes wild with excitement and dominion. You’ve seen this look a lot, and you’re ready to hop on the desk without another word.

He floats his eyes down your body observationally, but you don’t notice. All of this is a lot slower than you’re used to. Well-paced. If it were any other night, you’d be on round two by now at least. You’d be whining with pleasure, shaking from release and overstimulation, dripping around his cock as he buries himself as deep as your cunt will allow, over and over until he simply feels better.

He was always generous with what he gave you.

You press a hand against his chest again, and he moves this time. Taking a long stride back, he tries to conceal an amused smile as you push him toward the desk. Your eyes light up when you see the knowing and teasing look on his face.

A quiet laugh rumbles against your hand. “This isn’t how it usually goes…” He smiles lightly.

You smile with him. “I never said it’s gonna stay this way,” you challenge, your eyes twinkling with mischief.

You never take charge. You never dominate. He’s more well-versed with it, and you won’t dare to try to match his competence.

The backs of his thighs bump the rounded edge of the desk, and your stomach jumps with elation when his index finger instantly hooks into the waistband of your pants, pulling you just a little closer.

But he leaves it there. He slides it side-to-side along the hem, gently caressing the sensitive skin of your lower stomach playfully. You look into his eyes as he casually continues the slow motions.

Your eyes flick down to his hand instinctually, out of pure reflex, and you watch his finger disappear further as he smoothly twists his wrist, palm resting against your lower stomach momentarily before his shoulder shifts too…angling his hand to travel down.

His fingers graze lower, creeping to a spot that so easily welcomes him.

One of your hands grabs onto his shoulder, simultaneously steadying yourself with a gasp as you bring your faces closer again. He gives a fleeting, comforting kiss, not leaving much behind.

His towering height makes it easier for his hand to reach its destination all too quickly. And when a careful and precise finger slips in-between your folds, your eyes close in anticipation and with the thought of relief.

Your minor reaction makes him smirk. Thankfully, for him, you don’t see it.

It’s sad just how wet you already are, but it spurs him on. He let’s his fingers explore, alternating between rubbing you and slipping a single digit inside, only doing so to gather your arousal to rub across your clit smoothly.

A quiet moan gets caught in your throat as he repeats that process a few times, building you up and teasing you onto the edge continuously.

“Mm— please, f-fuck—” you whimper, fisting the shirt in your grip on his shoulder.

You don’t need to finish that sentence for him to know exactly what you mean. He needs it, too. His tactical pants have become increasingly uncomfortable.

Your plea makes him apply more pressure to the slow strokes he gives your throbbing cunt. You all but drip onto the two fingers that glide over your aching clit and back to your slick entrance, occasionally giving you what you want.

He pulls them slowly in and out of you, making sure you feel them nice and deep before he drags them against something that makes you pant with desperation. Your eyes remain shut, brows pulled together tightly as you focus on the sensation of his intent touches, but he watches your face appreciatively, analyzing your pleasure with each movement he makes.

A particularly harder jolt of his fingers up into you makes you choke, caught between a gasp and a whiny moan. That makes his eyes drop to where his hand disappears.

He hums in satisfaction. “Is that the spot?” he questions with a mocking tone, knowing full well what the answer would be. “I think it is…”

You nod your head quickly, eyes reopening ever so slowly to meet his.

His eyes are full with devilish aspirations, and your knees almost give out when he roughly thrusts his fingers back in again for a final time. You let out a small cry of bliss and dissatisfaction when he slips them out of you, wiping them off on his pants carelessly.

You were decently wet before, and you are definitely abundantly wet now.

“I think you need to lie down.” He sounds concerned, but you know it’s just for show to make your heart pound harder.

He takes your hand from his shoulder, holding it securely as he shuffles your bodies around, putting you in his place and himself in yours. Now your thighs rest against the desk, and he crowds you against it.

“Lift your arms,” he says cooly, observing your dazed expression with care.

You raise them, and he pinches the hem of your shirt, delicately dragging it up your torso and over your head with caution. He tosses it on the chair off to the side.

Your eyes catch the mangled slash at the bottom of his shirt again, and you quickly reach for the thin material.

He doesn’t question your intentions, letting you maneuver the thin fabric over the bandage, his chest, and extend onto your toes to pull it over his shoulders. He peels it from his arms, and your hands can’t help but wander across the firm muscles that stretch around his entire body.

The power he holds within him—the Batman—is unparalleled to anything you’ve ever seen. It was terrifying. It was unbelievable, the things you’ve seen his body do. And he would continue to push his limits.

#batman x reader #the batman x reader #battinson x reader #battinson x you #batman x you #batman imagines #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne imagines #robert pattinson x reader #the batman (2022)#bruce wayne #the batman #bruce wayne imagine #batman imagine #battinson imagines #long post #long fic

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banghwa · 1 month

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average gothamite google search results

bruce wayne in the batman (2022) template: x, x | insp: x, x

#the batman #the batman 2022 #robert pattinson #bruce wayne #dcu #batman #dcfilmblr #battinson #dcugifs #filmgifs #dcfilms #**this format has been overdone to death atp but IDCCCC i like to imagine gotham internet culture. their twtsphere must be crazyyyyy #**idc if the colouring is kinda inconsistent idc if this is a bad time to post gifs this was fun im having funnnn #*creations #*gifs

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stargirlfics · 1 year

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IRON

got a request awhile back for Battinson + pussy eating and l couldn’t resist!

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, size/strength kink, slight exhibitionism, reader is a bit of a brat! smut: oral (reader receiving), manual restraints, praise kink, body worship, mask kink

Word Count: 2.5k

One could hardly say it was your fault.

Bruce had left you here, in the Tower, all by your lonesome. You couldn’t be to blame, it was simple as that.

Though you didn’t protest his departure (you knew how important his work for the city was, how he’d answer that beacon shining high in Gotham’s stormy skies whenever it appeared) you also couldn’t help but sulk and pout about missing him.

He could be out there all night and as selfish and indulgent as it was, you had plans, ones that involved as minimal amount of clothing as possible and his lips on yours, these desires being something you had started to tell him when it became clear he was needed in the city tonight instead.

You could only hope the slight pinching grip of his hands on your waist as he left you with a tender kiss to your cheek meant he wouldn’t forget about your needs.

It was raining now, just a little under a steady downpour and time seemed to move entirely too slow, barely an hour having passed with your next glance at the large grandfather clock in the foyer.

Huffing a sigh, you wandered over to the bookshelves lining the alcoves in Wayne Tower’s main room, browsing amongst a few of your favorite novels that had found a new home here before you were pulling one off the shelf and snagging an old throw blanket, heading downstairs to Bruce’s hidden workspace to curl up in your usual spot and wait for his return.

Funny, how casual this felt, like it was any other weekend night but most people in Gotham weren’t waiting up for the vigilante they called a lover to come home were they? And yet it was exactly where you wanted to be.

For better or worse you were tied to Bruce and therefore tied to The Batman, swiftly coming to fall for both, to want both and all of who Bruce is, even when he made you worry.

He promised both you and Alfred that he’d be careful and did every time he went out but he knew you would worry anyways, neither of you asking the other to change, loving each other too much to ask of it.

Somehow you fashioned another fitting piece to the ever shifting puzzle that was Bruce Wayne and you weren’t going to trade it for the world.

The descent below ground brought a change in temperature, cool chilly air sweeping across your skin once you stepped onto the expanse of the abandoned terminus.

But the familiarity of it and the blanket draped over your shoulders was doing a fine job at keeping you warm, and the sleeping bats hanging above you were a fond presence with how much time you spent down here now.

You were right at home.

Curled up on the sofa tucked into one of the spare corners in the workspace you chewed at the nail of your thumb, finding that the novel you’d chosen wasn’t helping your antsy, increasingly needy mood.

The novel bordered on erotic and it made you squirm, heat creeping up from your chest to settle in your cheeks, your thighs pressing together without thought.

Mind wandering, dreaming of a steamy kiss, of being scooped up by him and made to feel good, the ache in your core finally being sated.

You kept reading into the midnight hour, eventually unable to stop thinking of the details, his towering form, large, strong, and sure hands that gripped and held you so sweetly, so tightly, and how good it felt to be taken apart by him too.

Bruce was unassuming like that, shy and reserved, awkward even, until he wasn’t, making it a point to discover all the ways he could fluster you, make you whine, and beg for him again and again.

He was good at it too, had gotten especially skilled with that smart and stubborn mouth of his, and tonight, that’s what you wanted most.

Wanted to grind yourself against his lips, his tongue, your clit bumping against his nose until your brain went quiet and all you could feel was the pulsing of the pleasure he loved giving you.

Distracted by your fantasies you almost missed the soft whirring of the terminus gate opening, the book dropping closed in your lap when you realized he was back.

It was late in the night now, it had been hours but you never felt more energized, letting the blanket pool around your middle as you watched the sleek black muscle car roll in, streaked with rain, the rumble from its engine reverberating against your chest in thrilling comfort.

You stood up then, stretching out your limbs, a sly smirk threatening to stay on your lips as you watched Bruce step out of the car, his inky black cape draped around him, cowl shiny with moisture, and oh those eyes, shrouded in painted on shadows, his gaze finding yours immediately.

“Thought you might be in bed by now,” his voice gruff but gentle as he spoke to you, a tone reserved especially for you.

“I considered it but thought waiting up for you here would be a lot better,” an innocent sigh left your lips while you busied yourself with folding the blanket, turning your back towards him, putting a nice little tilt and bend to your hips when you leaned over.

The heavy footfall of his boots coming closer sent another thrill running up your spine, “Indeed it is, missed me that much, hm?”

Bruce was indulging your antics, always one to entertain your moods, your fantasies, wired on the adrenaline of his late night work in the streets, it made for such a potent mixture and you were delighted.

“Mhm, cause someone’s skills were needed elsewhere, I had to make due all by myself,” you feigned a pout, trying to hide your smile when you spotted the briefest widening of his eyes at your words.

He took another step towards you but you skirted away, dodging his hulking figure, the plated armor of his Bat suit still a little intimidating to you, your core clenching around nothing at the thought of being handled by those hands clad in Batman’s gloves, to feel his strength, the brute force in his biceps and forearms, pinning you down to do what he pleased with you.

It’s all you could think about.

Maybe it was the heightened level of your desire that made you feel a little bolder tonight, more eager to tease, to get under his ever-so-stoic skin, because you were making your way over to the car now, your hand trailing over its frame, walking, swaying almost till you were standing at the hood of the car, facing Bruce again who’s eyes were fixated on you.

No words needed to be said as you smiled sweetly, your hands falling to your sides, tracing the edges of the satin slip dress hugging your body, fingers slipping under the hem, dragging it up your thighs a little.

Chest tightening at his steady, measured steps toward you, one of your hands coming down to swipe over your inner thighs, touching yourself before he could reach you all the way, a giggle slipping out when you heard him grumble in frustration.

It wasn’t often that you leaned into your brattier tendencies, but tonight, you were in that kind of mood, something sparking low in your tummy seeing him in the cowl, the suit making him appear bigger, taller, and underneath that you knew he had the strength to carry all that gear, to move and fight in it and it made you feel so much smaller in comparison, finding a thrill in pushing buttons.

“Move your hand, baby.” his command came gently, a warning in itself of sorts, telling you he was going easy on you, giving you a chance to behave.

Any other night you would have yielded, knowing just how good he could give it to you when you listened to him, but tonight you wanted the less inhibited side of him so instead, you kept your hand between your thighs, fingers finding slick skin with ease.

“You have to wait your turn, sir,” you flicked your eyes up towards his playfully, heart jumping into your throat at his expression, the tick of his jaw.

Bruce was pressed against you now, hands moving up to cage you against his chest, your breaths heavier, already losing the battle.

It was so easy for him to break your tough girl act, knowing full well you were just as desperate as he was, knowing your weak spots and using them to his advantage.

Like now, for instance, using your distracted state to catch you off guard, his hands finding your waist and lifting, placing you up onto the warm, wet hood of his car, a delighted squeak filling the air as he lay you back.

You were dough in his hands, shaped by the roll and press of his fingers, the weight of them making you whine as he pushed your legs apart, all but growling at your lack of underwear.

The sight of him settling between your thighs, his body over yours filling your entire field of vision unlocked something for you, your heart beating wildly at the feeling of the suit again your skin, cool droplets of water landing on from the ears of his cowl as he lowered his head to your ribs.

His lips were warm as they kissed down your torso, his hands keeping your thighs spread out for him, open so his mouth had a clear path to travel down, your breath hitching the lower his mouth went.

A needy whine slipped out when he stalled, just hovering over where you wanted him most, his huff of laughter making you squirm from sensitivity.

“Look who can’t wait their turn now…you’re lucky I’m in a generous mood.” Bruce chuckled lowly, catching you by surprise and making you ache for more.

“Please-oh!” you weren’t too proud to beg, his mouth finally touching down on puffy folds.

The move turned your plea into a moan, hands jerking, slipping on the rain droplets now soaking your dress, grasping anything for purchase as your hips rocked with his movements.

Curses and half stifled moans filled the air as he buried his face into your heat, his tongue lapping and swirling around your clit, moving further down to taste you properly.

Your muscles ache from the strain of flexing against him, your body chasing the sensations he was giving you, the building pressure in your abdomen, the way he groans against your pussy, drinking you down, it all made your brain hazy in the best way.

“Taste so fucking good…fuck.” the words left his lips with ease, finding them easier to come by when he was under the suit, when he was most himself.

Trembling hands of yours creep down to grasp at his own hands still keeping your thighs held apart wide, and then move down, timidly tugging his head closer, crying out at the change in pressure, all your nerves tingling.

Something about only being able to catch glimpses of his eyes, the sharp edge of his jawline as he ate you out, and the rest covered by the mask made you open up for him further, your desires reaching no end.

Your hands pushed at his arms until he caught your wrists, holding them back with one hand, pinning them to your tummy, leaving you panting, unable to help but grind yourself against the patterned flick and swirl of his tongue.

The added thrill of being so exposed, though this was a private space, how open it seemed, made you feel on display, another wave of heat flooding your body.

Goosebumps travel down your arms as the cool brush of his free hand caresses your frame, grabbing dewy flesh, feeling your breasts, your waist underneath his grip, loving how you molded to his touch, how perfect you were in his arms.

He could spend all night like this, making you feel good, pulling those high pitched whines and gasps from your throat, making your thighs tremble like they were doing now. It’s all he could think of, all he could do.

“Please, please, keep going, yes!” more whimpers fall prettily, your body turning soft and pliant under the sweet pressure of his lips, the way his tongue sweetly nudges inside you, licking your essence, building you up higher and higher.

Every now and then he’ll slow it down, teasing you just a little for his own self indulgent reasons before heeding your heady whimpers for more, building you back up again, enjoying the way you seemed to drip from his tongue, how he could make such a mess of you.

He knows you’re close, can tell by the way you flutter around his tongue, can feel the frenzied aching in your limbs as it begins to happen.

“Come on, let go. Now. Let me feel you,” the assertion in his tone left no room to argue, the gruff, grit out encouragement giving you the final push you needed.

Your orgasm reaches you quickly as his tongue returns to your clit, dragging out the sensations, making you shake even more, almost exhausted by the force of it.

What a sight this must be, being spread out so sinfully and all for him, something Bruce intended to savor, the fact that you were all his, that rough exterior shedding a little more easily now that he knew he’d given you what you needed.

His lips were still leaving kisses on your throbbing clit and sensitive inner thighs, staying close, bright eyes peering into yours, wanting the close contact to go on a little longer.

That was just fine by you, he could have whatever he wanted with the way he just made you feel, and still, amusement twinkling for just a moment in his eyes at seeing you struggle to catch your breath.

Pushed up onto your elbows now you peer down, cheeks burning again at seeing just how messy you’d become, rain and your arousal damp on your inner thighs, shining around Bruce’s lips and chin.

“God…that was so good, thank you, baby,” your praise and gratitude were soft spoken, holding all the usual affection you had for him, none of your earlier antics remaining.

You watched him smirk at your content sighs, pulling the cowl off with ease, a practiced move that was second nature now.

It wasn’t fair that he could look so handsome, rain soaked and hair disheveled, black paint still smudged around his eyes too but it was a look that fit him well and had much too strong an effect on you, feeling the muscles of your thighs jump once more.

“Anytime. I’m always ready to straighten out that attitude for you, beautiful. Just say the word.”

Maybe it was the unmistakable glint in his eye or the way he spoke to you then that had you laying back against the car again, trying to hold back whimpers and giggles when he followed close after you, wanting, no needing another taste, needing to see you fall apart again.

“Think you can be a good girl and keep those legs open for me?”

“Mhm, just don’t want you to stop, please.”

“Never…have to make up for all those hours I was gone, right.”

You shared his sly little smile and lay back for him once more, the searing kisses unleashed upon your still tingling skin dragging you back under, right where you wanted to be, under the skillful fangs of The Bat himself.

————

A/N: Well it had to be done! Cause I can’t be told otherwise, Rob’s Batman eats it like a starved man and I will stand by that! Period! Lol thank you for reading this fun little fic, lemme know what you think! Any and all thirsty comments welcome! 🖤

some tags, no pressure! @flamingdisputes @littlekidsteve @eupheme @saradika @allaboardthereadingrailroad @yelenas-lova @tarrenterror25 @moreofem @squidlywiddly87

#amalia writes #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne smut #the batman smut #battinson x reader #battinson smut #batman x reader #batman smut #battinson x you #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne imagine #batman fanfiction #the batman 2022

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bia-wayne-west · 3 months

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Milk with cookies and bedtime stories [Batmom x Damian Wayne]

Synopsis: It was just a few months ago that Damian was included in the Wayne family. He still didn’t like you, but you tried so hard to make him appreciate you. During a patrol, Damian got hurt and after Alfred took care of the little boy’s wounds, you surprised him with a plate of cookies and a glass of milk.

Characters: Damian Wayne and Reader [YOU]

A/N: I wrote this quickly. Hope you like. In this imagine, Batmom has been married to Bruce since he adopted Dick.

I want to apologize if there are any writing errors. I'm a Brazilian girl and I don't speak fluent English, so I may make some writing mistakes. Feel free to correct me.

I hope you read, like and feel how cute Damian is.

Requests are open

MASTERLIST

You were sitting on the kitchen stool, reading a fashion magazine while you waited for your husband to return from patrol.

Bruce forbade you to stay in the Batcave, as he was afraid that someone would break in and find you, alone and unprotected.

As soon as you felt the ground shake, it meant that the Batcave had opened and that Batman had arrived with his Robin, Red Robin, Red Hood and Nightwing.

You ran to the clock that gave access to the secret entrance to Batcave. The elevator quickly took you to where your children and husband were.

“Hey, my love. You got back before 5am!” You said, running up to Bruce Wayne. He still wore black clothes and was without a mask. Your husband didn’t respond. He was serious and had a worried expression on his face.

“A man dropped Damian from a three-story building .” Bruce said looking at the boy who was sitting next to Alfred.

You finally noticed Damian, whose face was bruised and his leg was bandaged. You walked over to the boy and knelt in front of him.

“I’m fine, Y/N. I fell on top of a car and didn’t break any bones.”

“Damian, darling, are you hurt?” You asked, looking into Bruce’s son’s green eyes.

You smiled, in a motherly way. Damian didn’t consider you a mother, unlike the other three boys who called you ‘mother’ and ‘mommy’ all the time. Your husband’s son only considered you as a stepmother, but that didn’t stop you from taking care of him as if he were your son.

“I’m going to run you a hot bubble bath. After Alfred takes care of you, I think you’ll want to relax in the warm water.”

“Thank you, Y/N, but I’m not your baby.” He said rolling his eyes and turning his face to look at Alfred.

“Damian!” Bruce warned his son. But you smiled at your husband, showing that everything was okay. You left the Batcave, heading back to the mansion to prepare Dami’s bath.

(…)

Damian was already in his room. You were heading to the boy's room, with a tray in your hand.

The clock said 2:32 am, but you were sure the boy hadn't slept yet. The Waynes used to sleep only when the sun came up.

Yout left hand knocked lightly on the wooden door with the boy's initials engraved on it. Ypur ears picked up a “you can come in”, authorizing you to enter Damian’s room.

“I came to see if you were okay, Dami.” You said, entering and closing the door behind your body. Your arms came off the tray on the bed, seeing that the boy was sitting on the mattress. “I brought milk and cookies, this will definitely make you feel better.”

“Why do you do these things, Y/N?” He asked, with a questioning look.

“I didn't understand. Don't you like what I do for you?”

“At first I thought you had a plan to win me over and then you would hate me for being Bruce's biological son.” He said, seeing you take a cookie and offer it to him.

“I would never do that. I love you, Dami, even if you don't like me. These things I do for you are normal motherly actions.”

“My mother didn’t do any of that. She only got cookies when she did something good.” He said, his eyes shining like he was going to cry.

“Oh baby. I know you don't consider me your mother and I don't want to force you into anything, but I want you to know that these things I do are because I love you.” You explained, smiling widely at him and drinking some milk. “Do you know what my mother did for me when I was hurt?”

“No.” He said, while devouring several cookies. “She also gave you cookies and milk?”

“Yes, and she also told me a bedtime story.” You argued, running your hand through the boy's hair. “I'll tell you a story.”

“I’m not four years old, Y/N” He murmured.

“Damian, you’re not old enough to hear a good story before bed.”

“OK. Just don't tell stories about princesses or ponies.”

“Clear. I'm going to tell the story of a boy called Dami. He was so brave and beautiful, he was a strong and fearless boy.” His lips formed a smile as he said the words. Damian's eyes were bright and sweet. “One day, he went to the forest to play with the birds and found a portal to a magical world.”

“Like Narnia?: He asked, completely interested in your story.

“Yes, but without the closet. The magical portal led to a kingdom full of witches, fairies, vampires and any magical creature you can imagine.”

“Even elves?” He questioned you again. Now Damian was lying in bed and you covered him with the blanket.

“Of course, elves can't be missed.” You said. Your heart filled with love and you almost cried when you saw the image of the boy who hated you six months ago totally interested in a bedtime story. “In that kingdom there was a crystal that served as oxygen for all beings there, but a terrible villain broke this crystal and stole its essence, leaving the world without magic.” Damian still had complete fun with your narration. “Then, the queen called Martha went and asked the brave Dami to hunt down the villain and recover the essence of the crystal.”

“And he did this?”

“Yes! Dami took a sword and shield and went out to the magical kingdom in search of the villain. He went to an ancient village in the kingdom called Gothym and met three knights named Grayson, Todd and Drake. They sent Dami to the mountains where he would find the villain.”

“And he found it?”

“He found it, but it was difficult. The villain was hiding in a ruined castle north of Gothym. Dami fought bravely with the villain and defeated him. Dami recovered the essentials of the crystal and in exchange, Queen Martha gave him a personal portal to return to the kingdom as often as he wanted. Dami was a brave hero and defeated the evil villain.” You told the story while running your hand affectionately through the boy's hair. “Did you like the story?”

“Yes, it was the best story anyone told me.”

“I'm glad you liked it, my love. If you want, I can tell you a story every night.”

“Todd would make fun of me if he knew.” He said, looking at you so intently that you knew he was embarrassed for having liked the story.

“I'm gonna tell you a secret. I told Dick, Jason and Tim stories for three years, but they didn't want to.”

“Did you tell Todd bedtime stories?” He asked loudly, as if it were some blasphemy.

“Of course, and he loved them all.”

“So I want to hear stories before bed.”

“I'll love telling you, along with a glass of milk and cookies. Good evening, Dami.” You said getting up from the bed. Your lips found the boy's forehead.

“Good night, mom.” He said, making you look surprised at him. “I can call you mom? Since Dick, Jason, and Tim call you Mom, I thought you might as well.”

“Of course, my dear. You can call me mother and I will call you my son.” Your arms wrapped around the body of the boy, your son. Love seemed to explode in your heart. “Good evening, my dear son.”

“Good nigh, mom.”

You gave Damian one last kiss on his forehead, before picking up the tray and taking it to the kitchen. After washing the dishes, you went to the master suite, the room shared between you and Bruce.

Your husband was lying on the king size bed, waiting for you. After showering and putting on your pajama, you laid down on the bed.

“Damian called me mom.” You said to Bruce, earning a smile from him.

“With bedtime stories, milk and cookies.”

“How did this happen?” He asked, setting aside the iPad he was using to hug you.

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bruisedboys · 5 months

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how do u think battinson shows affection ?? 🤔 since he's literally a sopping wet cat of a man and not the best as socializing, one would think physical affection but is he too awkward for that even ? what do u think ??

battinson!bruce wayne x fem!reader

okay okay!! so I think for bruce wayne, acts of service is a big one in terms of showing affection!! mostly because he can just do them quietly, if you know what I mean? he doesn’t have to make a big show out of it, doesn’t even have to tell you he’s gonna do them. he’ll just iron your clothes for you without you having to ask, buy your favourite shampoo when he notices you’re running out, tie your shoes before you leave the house together, take your heels off for you after a date. just so many quiet, sweet acts of service that he doesn’t even really think about, he just does them because he loves you and he cares. he gets shy when you confront him about it, though. like, you’ll find he’s restocked all your skincare and hair products and you’ll hunt him down and be like, “bruce, honey, you didn’t have to,” pushing up on to your toes to kiss him. he gets all red around the ears and pretends he doesn’t know what you’re talking about <3

as for physical affection, I think yes he enjoys giving it and receiving it but it’s gotta be at the right time! given how protective he is, he’ll hold your hand in public or almost always have one of his big hands on your hip or the small of your back to guide you, but nothing much more than that. when you’re alone he likes it a lot more, especially if you’re the one giving it. he’s not often the one to initiate hugs or cuddles, it’s almost always you. but you don’t mind, because he never rejects you what you want. he’s a bit awkward about it, especially in the beginning, never knowing what to do with his hands (should he rub your back or stroke your hair or just keep them still??) but once he’s more used to it he’s a really good hugger. his broadness helps too <3

still, his favourite thing is when you initiate the cuddling because it makes him feel really loved and wanted! and then he’ll cuddle back. when you climb in his lap and tuck your chin over his shoulder, he’ll rub your back and you all but melt on top of him. you’ll be lying half on top of him in bed, stroking his cheek lovingly, and he’ll take your hand in his and press his mouth to your fingertips. when you’re massaging his shoulders after a long night, or pushing his hair from his forehead when it’s in his eyes, he’ll give your hip a squeeze as a thank you. it’s almost like, your affection makes him brave enough to reciprocate it. and it honestly means a lot, coming from him. your awkward grumpy touch-starved boy <3

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ky-landfill · 1 year

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Would love to see your Bruce trying to cope with simultaneous Robin's!! 💛💛

#fic rec #the other wayne kid by envysparkler #jason todd #dick grayson #bruce wayne #batdad #batbros #jason pissing dick off #prompt response #nga mihi anon took some liberties with this req as you said bruce not batman!#art not directly for fic but like to imagine it in the same universe #talon dick #battinson #help him #baby jason

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eedaeth · 7 months

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💌🦇🌆

Hey Look LOOK *jingle jingle* It's more old art- HEY pay attention *jingle jingle* ye like art don't u?- YEAH guess WHAT its the guy its your favourite emo look at him GO

I haven't had time to draw recently so its backlog time baby

#MY BACKLOG OF ART I HAVENT POSTED STRETCHES FURTHER BACK THAN YOU COULD EVER IMAGINE #the batman 2022 #the batman #batman #dc comics #bruce wayne #battinson #eedaeths scribbles #reevesverse #text

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puppetmaster13u · 6 months

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Prompt 60

Danny would like everyone to know that this was not his fault. It’s not his fault that another amulet got lost in the human realm (thank you Aragon, he hates you for this) nor is it his fault it’s been broken! He was just going to take it from the museum and was both invisible and intangible! It’s not his fault another thief got there first alongside a vigilante and they panicked when seeing the amulet started floating. It is so not his fault that there is now an entire city of dragon… dragon shifters… whatever! And it’s not his fault he’s stuck as a baby dragon right where the the amulet shattered, which leads to misunderstandings. How was he supposed to know this wasn’t his world and the english isn’t the same?!

#Dragon Gotham Au #dcxdp #dpxdc #batman whose just adopted Dick & now has to deal with being a giant wyvern:#Also Batman seeing itty baby eastern dragon wriggling around in the remnants of the gem: omg was it an egg #Selina who is also confused AF but taking the opportunity to flee:#Literally every Gothamite awake or waking up to being *fucking dragons*:#Gothamites are now dragons #Very Liminal too #Very liminal dragons #prompts #danny fenton #batman #bruce being closest makes him the largest of dragons #I hope you know i am imagining battinson #shaky wet chihuahua vibes in human form while also being a giant fuck you dragon #Lil 9 year old Dick is going to be so gleeful to try out Wings #Dragon Curse Au

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 6 months

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say yes

kinktober, day twenty-one

a/n: ...i personally wouldn't mind becoming mrs. wayne.......

warnings: bruce wayne (pattinson) x fiancé!reader, smut, established relationship, possessiveness, oral, cock worship, dirty talk

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist | kinktober 2023

With the newly ring adorned hand softly wrapped around your fiancé’s girth, tender gaze locked on his, you littered his throbbing length with sweet, sloppy kisses.

Pecks fluttering down towards the base, you dipped further down and drooled over his heavy sack. Mouth gently agape as he watched you in awe, one of his hands then drifted it way down to yours, dreamily brushing his fingertip over the jewel.

“Say it again,” he breathed as your lips teased their way back up to the dewy head, “say yes,” staring at you as if you were a deity at his feet, “tell me that you’re all mine.”

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angelltheninth · 1 year

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Friends with Benefits with Bruce Wayne

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, one-night stand, hickies, creampie, slight angst, friends with benefits, stress release, mutual pining

A/N: I'm writing a Jason fic yesterday and I was struck with Battinson inspiration. Take it.

Just one night of sex, that was all it was supposed to be with Bruce. He was stressed and you could see it was eating him up, making him sloppy, you wanted to help him release some of that stress. Just one time. Turned into two, then three, and... who knows what time this was.

"H-Hey, Bruce! Ah! Slow down!" He wasn't, Bruce just grunted, getting closer to you as he locked his arms around you as best he could from behind. Another warm spurt of cum flooded your insides, making your body shake and give up on you, going limp in his arms. "Too... too much." You mumbled into the pillow you were gripping with your remaining strength.

"Was it?" His smugness was evident in his voice, and his smile as he nuzzled against the marked skin of your back. A kiss here, a lick there, a little bite on your neck, an imprint of his hands on your hips and thighs, and neck.

You exhaled a shaky breath when he pulled out a bit, not all the way just yet, it felt too good having his cock inside you and he knew it, "Bruce, this is the tenth night you visited me. I need to rest." Part of you didn't want to have rest, part of you wanted to keep him here longer, but another part of you thought it was selfish. Bruce didn't belong to you, Batman didn't belong to you, his heart didn't belong to you, it all belonged to Gotham. The only thing that did belong to you was his cock for a couple of hours a night, when he felt high from adrenaline and stress.

Your pussy clenched around his tip, getting a few more drops of cum from his balls. His limp cock rubbed against your thighs, smearing them with his release and yours, "Thank you." You knew that meant. It meant he wasn't staying tonight. If he was he wouldn't say a word to you, he'd just pull you against him and fall asleep. Those were better nights. "Do you want me to..." His fingers passed through your pussy folds, circling your opening.

Despite your twitch you knew that keeping him here would only hurt more, "You have a city to go back to Bruce. I'll be here when you need me." There was a hint of dejectedness seeping into your voice that you desperately tried to avoid.

Without another word he nodded and started putting his suit back on, slowly, like he was waiting for something that never happened.

"I'll see you tomorrow. Same time." He was already one leg out the window when he paused to look back at you, "Or, I could take you out for drinks first, if you prefer." Not even giving you a chance to reply he blended back into the night, the only evidence he was here being the mess between your legs and on your bed.

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bruciemilf · 1 year

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Y'all don't understand how much I want Harley to take Bruce on his first gay club experience. He's sheepish, unsure, playing with the strings of this corset she shoved him Into.

"So, bi or rainbow eyeshadow? Trans? Pan? Ace? Lesbian? Just trying to get the right thing here."

" Pink."

A snap of fingers, pleased, " Never thought I'd say this, but impeccable taste."

" You had a green mohawk and purple shorts last month."

" I was in a dark place. Now chop chop. We have a loooot of free drinks waiting for us."

Now just picture Bruce, sipping on a strawberry vodka cocktail, dressed in a nirvana crop top, matching shorts with fishnets beneath, all pretty on his stool.

He's info dumping about Gray Ghost lore to a bunch of leather daddies.

Harley's having a great night.

#I LOOOVE HIM SJSJS wheres my younger bruce meeting dilf clark at the gay bar aus????#bruce wayne #dc #battinson #harley quinn #dc comics #dc imagine #dcu #text #text post

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brightjimini · 7 months

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Caught making out

Bruce Wayne x reader

Blurb

A/N: omg yes you are seeing this right. I WROTE AGAIN. Literally almost a year ago but. I slowly want to write again. After seeing Blue beetle and my battinson obsession coming back. I felt inspired. Hope my writing has gotten better. Enjoy.

The uncomfortable feeling of the side of the table against your thighs was easily ignored. Warm big hands ran over your back. Lips pressed against yours. His light stubble scratching your face slightly.

“Bruce” You tried to mumble against his lips. Tried.

Because the moment you went down to his cave after you had woken up to a cold bed, you had gone downstairs to see what he was doing. Clearly, he was trying to make that up in some type of way. Seeing him shirtless, tinkering with some new gadget for his suit, warmed your heart when you came down to the basement. And before you knew it he had you on the table kissing you like it was his last day on earth. You had wanted to warn him. You knew Alfred was always up when Bruce was awake. But the fear of getting caught by Alfred disappeared from your mind the moment one of his hands went under your shirt.

Shivering, you pulled lightly at his soft hair that was between your fingers. He groaned and pressed his body even closer against yours. The kisses became more passionate. You could hear something, but it did not register fully.

A loud cough broke the spell between you and Bruce. You both pulled away with a gasp. Eyes widening like a deer caught in headlights. Cheeks heating up. His hand disappeared from underneath your shirt. Bruce's broad shoulders blocked Alfred's figure, but you did not need to see him to hear the humor in his voice, but also reminding you of a father that caught his son.

“Breakfast is ready, Master Bruce.” You did not know how you were going to face him again.

More to come

#bruce x reader #bruce imagine #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne imagine #batman imagine #the batman imagine #batman x reader #the batman #battinson x reader #batman #the batman 2022 #dc #dc x reader #dcmultiverse #dc imagine

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stargirlfics · 1 year

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BRUCE WAYNE BLURBS

18+ WARNING! a mix of smut, fluff and comfort

read from my battinson fanfics here

Sugar Daddy!Bruce Wayne

Sugar Daddy!Bruce taking care of you and catching feelings

Shy!Battinson dealing with his feelings for you

Bruce gets jealous

Asking him to stay because you can’t sleep

Thoughts about his shoulders

Bruce losing control when he finally gets to fuck you

Bruce fucking you desperately

Bruce coming home to find you naked and waiting for him

Needy making out and smut

Drifter!Bruce + voyeurism

Meeting Drifter!Bruce for the first time

Drifter Voyeur!Bruce catching you touching yourself

You and Bruce w the “having to cuddle to stay warm” trope

Bruce slipping into his Batman voice in bed

#amalia writes #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne smut #batman x reader #batman smut #bruce wayne imagine #the batman #bruce wayne headcanons #the batman headcanons #battinson x reader #battinson smut #battinson fanfiction

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bia-wayne-west · 3 months

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Mom has a tattoo [Tim Drake x Batmom]

Synopsis: Tim Drake discovers that his mother, Batmom, got a tattoo without anyone knowing.

Characters: Tim Drake, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Damian Wayne, Bruce Wayne and Reader[You]

A/N: I wrote this in a few minutes, I hope it’s good. I made this imagine inspired by the fantastic imagine of @ellana-ravenwood. I hope that you who are reading have fun and enjoy what I wrote. Apologies for bad grammar

Requests are open

MASTERLIST

It was a surprise for your baby Tim. When he saw the birds drawn on his skin, Tim was by tour side when he noticed.

It all happened when you decided to watch a new TV show on Netflix. First, you made sure all your children, your husband, and Alfred were busy somewhere. Whenever you sit on the big sofa in the living room, one of your babies runs to sit next to you, demanding all your love and attention.

But this time you got confused and forgot to check if Timothy had his eyes on the video game. You were wearing a sleeveless t’shirt and old leggings. Your feet were covered in socks you stole from Bruce's closet.

You were watching the TV show's protagonist lie to her boyfriend. You felt like you were being watched and noticed your third child standing at the entrance to the room with a box of chocolates in his hand. You smiled at Timothy and patted the couch next to him. The boy ran with the candy in his hands, throwing himself next to you with a huge smile on his face.

“I was going down to the Batcave when I noticed you were watching Netflix alone. I came to keep you company, mom.”

“Oh my baby. Thank you for staying here with me.”

When you leaned over to pick up a bag of jelly beans, your hair fell to the side and tour shoulder was exposed. Timothy let out an exclamation of surprise when he saw that you had four birds tattooed on your shoulder. When you returned to your normal position, you noticed your baby looking at you with surprised eyes.

“DO YOU HAVE A TATTOO?” He shouted, pursing his lips.

You laughed and rolled down your shirt sleeve so the boy could see your tattoo in full.

“I did this a month ago. It has a meaning. I have four chicks and I made four birds to have my beautiful chicks with me until the end.”

“ Ah, it’s a beautiful meaning. But I would never have imagined that my mother would get a tattoo. Tattooing is something for young people.”

“Oh my god, Timothy, this really offended me.” You said, placing your hand on your chest while laughing. “ I want to have you with me even when I'm in a coffin and now I have you marked on my skin.”

“We will always be with you, mom. I love you and my brothers too.”

He hugged you tightly, smiling. You smiled back, thinking about the fact that Timothy rarely called Dick, Jason, and Damian brothers. It was unique to see that he really cared about his family.

“I love you, my little bird.”

Your lips kissed Tim's warm forehead. His head touched your shoulder and the two of you continued watching the TV show.

“Mom, when I'm sixteen, can you convince Dick and Jason to get a family tattoo? Like birds or a bat?”

“Of course, my dear. We can also include Bruce and Alfred and of course Damian when he's older."

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waynewifey · 8 months

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Well, can you write a batman x fem!reader where the reader is a super hero (like catwomans superhero version or smth) and they just keep meeting at crime scenes and always flirt and stuff and end up dating?

obsessed much? — b.w blurb

summary: request above!

pairing: bruce wayne x superhero!reader

warnings: murder; hero wears acape

word count: 360

A/N: hii tysm for this request! i haven’t been writing much lately since my ‘aftermath’ fic, so this isn’t as big as you probably wanted, it just really made me want to write it as a blurb. maybe i’ll write a full fic about it later. also, i know a lot of people hate cape-wearing heroes but i absolutely love the goofy cliche, so i had to add that in. let me know what you guys think!

he’s kneeling near the body with the putrid smell of blood flowing into his nostrils. the puzzle pieces are coming together, but there’s still a big one missing. the shadows devours him into the room. what isn’t he seeing? slowly, the sound of heels hitting the ground approach his back.

“i thought heroes didn’t do investigations.” the first reply is a scoff, then the cape rustling.

“i don’t,” she says, “but this one hits home.” bruce turns around to stare the deep round eyes, one of the few things he could see underneath her mask. her suit fits perfectly in her curves, the stretchy and non-flammable fabric accommodating her fight needs. perfect for running around town. it wasn’t bulletproof, though, because the stone-hard skin was all the protection she needed. the cape was just for fun. “i saved this dude from a train wreck last week. thought it was a malfunction, it sure as hell doesn’t seem that way anymore.”

“you think someone is targeting you.” she hums in response, a chill running down her spine. all she wanted to do was to use her gifts for the good of the city. somehow, that ended up with the total of four murders so far.

“they want to get my attention, i just don’t know why.” a pout appears in her puffy lips. he wonders what they feel like. he takes the plastic gloves off, staying with the leather ones, and lays them on the floor.

“who wouldn’t?” as he gets up, a snarky grin lightens her face up. they’ve always been this good in making the other forget the bodies in the room. literally.

“obsessed much?” one step in his direction leaves them inches apart. he still thinks it’s way too far. the height difference has her looking up, batting her eyelashes. “maybe you’re the killer, batboy.”

“it’s batman.” his voice is baritone and raspy, and she can feel his warm breath on her cheeks. one move and his hands would be on her. her heart beats shamelessly on her chest, like drums inside her body. his gaze is so penetrating she has to look away before answering.

“right. cute.”

#battinson #battinson x you #battinson x reader #the batman x reader #batman x reader #batman x you #the batman #batman #robert pattinson x you #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne smut #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne insert #bruce wayne #dc universe

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dreamtinblackandwhite · 2 months

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"I think this is the first time I've hear you moan... it was like a fucking melody." Prompt.

Can you please do battinson x female reader smut. After he takes her virginity the night before, they wake up in his bed & have sweet morning sex. Y/n is still sore from Bruce’s big 🍆 so he goes down on her first and then has sex.

sing for me

battinson x female!reader note: thank you for the request :) I was all blushy writing this one, oops warnings: smut, NSFW, praise, unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), brief mention of cock warming word count: 1868

“Good morning, beautiful,” Bruce whispers into your ear as he presses a soft kiss against the nap of your neck. His hands gently glide across your unclothed skin; searching their way down your shoulder and across your torso before resting at your hip bone and gripping softly.

You’d barely just started to stir, mumbling an incoherent greeting as your boyfriend continues to press soft, loving kisses along the skin of your neck. “Last night was amazing, love; you are amazing…” he whispered again, gently nipping at your earlobe at the end of his sentence. You let out a small whine as a shiver runs down your spine. “Are you feeling okay? No… regrets?”

You rolled over to face Bruce, gently setting your hand on his cheek with a loving smile. “I’m okay,” you promised, kissing his nose gently. “No regrets. I guess, maybe I thought I’d feel different losing my virginity but I don’t… I just feel—” you paused to bite your lip as you tried to put words to what you were trying to say. “I love you.”

Bruce’s smile grew wider at your words. “I love you,” he whispered before pressing his lips against yours deeply. You spent a few minutes like this, your lips moving together passionately but soft and lovingly. You felt the butterflies in your stomach multiple as Bruce arched his hips towards you, pushing his erect cock against your stomach.

Images of the night before fluttered through your mind at the feeling: his kisses along your thighs, the way you came around his fingers first as he helped to stretch you out, the way he was so slow and kind as he pushed into you, the fullness you felt… God, the absolute fullness. “B-Bruce,” you giggled softly as you pulled away with a bright blush on your face. He had traced his hands down your thighs and was tracing soft circles against the sensitive skin just below your core.

“I think last night was the first time I’ve ever heard you moan, Y/N,” he whispered, looking into your eyes with his lust filled orbs. He voice was shaking and you could hear him swallow his own moan before you spoke again. “It was like a fucking melody. My own, personal, full band orchestra…” He groaned softly, dipping his chin down to kiss your neck more hungrily now.

You squeezed your eyes shut, chest heaving as his sloppy kisses ignited the fire between your thighs. “I would do anything to hear it again, Y/N; whatever you want, it’s yours; I just need to hear your moans from these perfect lips.” He gently reached a hand up to squeeze your chin ever so softly before pressing a hungry kiss into your lips.

You tried to stifle your moans still; it almost embarrassed you even though Bruce was here begging you for it. You and Bruce had only ever made out until last night, so the sounds and movements that accompanied the new pleasures that Bruce sent through your body still felt foreign. “Bruce,” you whispered, pushing against his chest slightly. “I-I want you…”

His eyes darkened slightly at your words and the hand that was tracing your thigh made quick work towards your folds. “W-Wait!” You quickly said, stopping his fingers at your pubic bone, just above your clit.

“What is it, baby?” Bruce whispered, gently brushing his hand through your hair. “I won’t hurt you.”

“I know you won’t, and you didn’t last night, either,” you reassure as a blush crept over your cheeks again. “It’s just that, I’m sore…”

Bruce couldn’t stop the prideful smirk that crossed his face. He moved his fingers slower now, gently pushing the tip of his middle finger through your glistening folds to find your clit first. “I can help with that, love,” he whispered, starting to reposition your bodies carefully. You gulped as you laid fully on your back now and Bruce hovered himself down your body, tossing the covers onto the floor.

He lined a trail of sloppy kisses from your neck, across your breasts, over your stomach before stopping just before your folds. He gulped as he stared at your pussy that was aching for (and because of) him, licking his lips as he looked up at you through his eyelashes and placed a soft kiss over your plump lips.

Your lips parted as a soft gasp escaped and the smallest moan echoed from your throat. Bruce squeezed his eyes shut at the sound as he slowly pushed his tongue to part your folds. “So beautiful,” he whispered, using one hand to kept your lips parted while the other gently raises your thighs over his thighs. He keeps his eyes on you as he laps his tongue against you harder and more direct now, just barely grazing over your entrance as his nose tickles against your clit.

He gently uses one finger to rub circles around your clit while slowly pushing his tongue into you, feeling your gummy walls clench around his intrusion. “Woah,” you moan, raising your hips to the feeling; he smirked against you as he gently fucked his tongue into you.

He worked slowly, switching between gently sucking on your clit and tongue fucking you. He watched you slowly let go, as your chest heaved harder and more moans escaped from your mouth. “I’m going to finger you now, baby,” he mumbled against your clit. “Is that okay?”

You reached your hands down to tangle your fingers in his hair. “Y-yu—” a strangled moan left your lips as he flicked his tongue against your clit. “Y-Yes!” He chuckled softly as he gathered your juices on his middle finger before gently pushing the digit into you.

“Your so tight, my love,” he whispered as he craned his neck slightly to see your face as he started to pump his middle finger in and out of you. “Such a beautiful sight…” he moaned, watching your eyes flutter shut. He reached his free hand up to grope your breast lightly, teasing your nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

After earning another soft moan from you, he gently slipped a second finger into you and continued to pump at the same speed. “You’re doing so good, baby,” he whispered as he took your hand and set it on your breast to replace his. He watched happily as your instinctively started to grope yourself and play with your nipple, moaning at the feeling of your own hands. He moaned softly, pushing his lips against your clit again as slipped a third finger in.

“Want you, Bru—” you cut yourself off with a breathy moan as his three fingers curled inside you. He moaned against your clit, lapping happily as you tightened around him.

“Are you going to cum, beautiful?” He mumbled against you, speeding his fingers up. You felt the coil in your stomach stretch at his words, barely noticing that was what that feeling meant. You nodded your head eagerly, your back arching slightly as it started to wash through you.

“F-Faster, please,” you cried out. Bruce quickly complied, pumping his fingers faster as your tightening walls tried to push him out; he latched his lips around your clit, adding another layer of pleasure as your coil snapped and your legs shook against his shoulders.

Bruce lapped at the extra juices from your orgasm, pulling his fingers out and using the slick to gently pump his very erect and uncomfortable cock a few times. “Think you can take me again?” He whispered as he crawled upwards so his face was hovering over yours.

“Please,” you whispered, still breathing heavily from your orgasm. “I want you inside of me.” He groaned softly at your words and stared into your eyes as he ran his tip through your folds, nudging it against your clit. “B-Bruce,” you voiced somewhere between a whimper and a moan.

He smiled at you as he gently pushed his tip into your entrance, slowly allowing another centimeter in with each of your heavy breaths. “You are – fuck – you are doing so good, love,” he praised, watching you blink rapidly as you attempted to stay relaxed and not clamp down on him. “That’s it, baby,” he reassured, grunting slightly as your walls squeeze around him, already milking his cock. “Hard parts almost over.”

Both of you let out nearly pornographic moans as he bottoms out inside of you, his face buried into your neck as you cling to his shoulders. “I feel like a fucking king inside of you,” he whispers into your ear, kissing your shoulder softly as he rolls his hips against you softly, helping you adjust to his size.

The moan he earns from the action could have sent him into madness, but he remained controlled as he started to gently rock his hips against you. He moved to watch your face as the moans escaped your lips, his dick hitting spots inside of you that re-defined everything you learned durin sex-ed in school. “That’s right, ma, sing for me,” Bruce moaned as he pulled nearly all the way out and slowly rocked back in.

He didn’t need to move fast or get any extra friction to get that feeling of his own high approaching already; the way your walls clamped around him and the heavenly sounds you were making underneath him were enough for that.

“B-Bruce!” You cried out as that familiar coil returned fast and hard. He reached his hand down between your bodies and started to feverishly rub your clit while his hips remained slow and controlled, thrusting deep and hard enough that you were nearly overwhelmed. “I-I think I’m cumming,” you moaned loudly, ignoring your immediate embarrassment from the lewd sounds that left your lips as you felt that pleasure wash across your entire body, making your toes curl.

“Fuck,” Bruce groaned, his hips stuttering. He had fully intended to get at least 3 more orgasms out of you like this but hearing you moan his name was hard to ignore.

“You feel so good stretching me out like this,” you moaned into his ear, not thinking about the consequences your actions would have on Bruce’s composure. He moaned loudly as he buried his face back into your neck and released his warm seed inside you, keeping his hips pressed against yours as he twitched against your walls.

“Holy shit,” he mumbled into your skin. “You are fucking amazing.” You giggled softly, whining as he pulled out of you. “Shh, my love,” he whispered as he rolled onto his side and pulled your back against his chest. He reached down and grunted as he pushed himself back into your cunt. “Feels so good, just want to stay here for a bit…” He reassures as you moan softly at the feeling of fullness again.

“I love you,” you whisper before yawning and nuzzling yourself backwards against him, earning a groan into your ear.

“I love you, so much,” he replies with a lazy kiss to your temple. You both fall back into a peaceful slumber thinking of how many mornings you’ll get to spend with his thick cock buried to the hilt inside of you.

#battinson #robert pattinson #robert pattinson x reader #battinson x reader #bruce wayne #robert pattinson au #robert pattinson x yn #battinson fanfiction #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne smut #battinson smut #battinson imagine #the batman #the batman 2022 #writing prompt #ask

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