#battinson one shot
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𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒔 ₊˚⊹♡
⋆˙⟡♡ SYNOPSIS ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑎𝑡𝑠 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑓, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑤𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙 𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑡𝑦. ℎ𝑒 𝑢𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑠 ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑑𝑖𝑑𝑛’𝑡 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑖𝑛… 𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑙 ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 ℎ𝑒 𝑘𝑛𝑒𝑤 ℎ𝑒 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑𝑛’𝑡. 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒. ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆
╰✦･ﾟ✵ 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒖𝒆: how he acted 𓂃⊹ the beginning of how it started. a part detailing how Batman initially treated you and handled the relationship.
╰✦･ﾟ✵ 𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏: how it happened 𓂃⊹ how Batman fell in love with you and all the things that happened leading up to it. all the signs and actions that made him love you.
╰✦･ﾟ✵ 𝒄𝒍𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒙: how it was 𓂃⊹ how Batman handled the reality of being in love with you and all the things he did to try and hide from it. better yet, his confession.
╰✦･ﾟ✵ 𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈: how it all fell together 𓂃⊹ yours and Bruce’s relationship and how he was with you. some relationship headcanons for fun.
⋆˙⟡♡ PAIRING ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ battinson x fem!reader
⋆˙⟡♡ CONTENT INCLUDES ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ mentions of sex, mentions of fighting and threatening, rough kissing, mentions of sad!Bruce / undertones of depression, mentions of alcohol & insomnia, bad words, sweet kisses, tears, hair pulling, love confessions, not really a whole lot of sexiness just headcanons mostly
⋆˙⟡♡ WARNINGS ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ mature content, emotionally tortured Bruce Wayne, maybe not my best story telling :(, mentions of blood and fighting cuz this is Batman, alcoholism
⋆˙⟡♡ AUTHORS NOTE ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ thanks to @diavolosbaby for requesting this!! Hope you enjoy and it lives up to your standards 🩷
OTHER LINKS ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ 𝒃𝒂𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒎𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 | 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕
𝓫𝓪𝓽𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓼𝓸𝓷 ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ He told you what this was before he even started it. Told you this was strictly business, no feelings involved; you knew who he was during a chance encounter and you were the only one he could really come to after that. It was simple, straight forward; you needed his dick and he needed your pussy.
╰✦･ﾟ✵ 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒖𝒆: how he acted 𓂃⊹
⋆˙⟡♡ Bruce came to you a lot, which was a little odd compared to how you perceived him to be. You thought he was a very busy man, always fighting crime or hiding away in his mansion, always too busy to bother with someone as unimportant as you. But no, you couldn’t have been more wrong. He was there at least three times a week, standing by your window in that black suit of his with his cape blowing with the wind, waiting for you.
⋆˙⟡♡ He was always quiet, head filled with whatever torturous pain lingered in the shadows of his mind, brimming with the secrets he never told you and you never asked for. He never spoke, unless it was a command spoken in a gentle gruffness. He never smiled, tried not to grunt or make too much noise, but some nights he couldn’t contain himself and the sounds just escaped him. Those were the nights he was particularly frustrated.
⋆˙⟡♡ He never let you take off his mask at first, he’d leave it on and you were left grasping at leather and air. He didn’t like affection, having you touch his scars and his body, it was too vulnerable, too intimate, for his liking. So, naturally, he didn’t stay to cuddle afterwards. The business was over, your job was done, he’d slip out the window as you’d bask in the aftershocks.
⋆˙⟡♡ His heart was cold but his body was warm, always warm. He was like a furnace when he’d be flat against you, fucking into you with his head in your neck and his hands gripping your jaw, your waist, your thighs. You’d always get so hot, craving his warmth like a bug to a bonfire.
⋆˙⟡♡ He never bothered to ask you anything about yourself, but you had a suspicion he had to have done some research on you during those long lonely days in the darkness of his home. He was too cautious not to, too curious. And he did. He found out everything about you but didn’t share a single detail about himself. He was Bruce Wayne, rich son whose parents died by day, and then Batman, vengeance personified by night. That’s all you needed to know.
⋆˙⟡♡ Batman only came to you in the middle of the night, sometimes bloody and beaten, your fingers running over tender bruises that would make him grimace. A part of him liked the pain, figured he deserved it. Sometimes you worried for him on the nights he was particularly beaten up, but he didn’t give you time to ask questions before he was shoving you against your dresser and pressing himself against you.
⋆˙⟡♡ He didn’t like being in the light, being too seen. He liked it with all the lights off, your room glowing with the dim light of the moon and the streetlights, your face pressed into his neck or shoved into a pillow so you couldn’t look at him.
⋆˙⟡♡ In the beginning, he liked it when you just submitted to him; he mostly cared about his own pleasure at first as he told you what this was, why he was doing this. That didn’t stop him from making sure you came at least once though. He couldn’t help it, didn’t want you to feel completely used.
⋆˙⟡♡ You noticed he always had this way about him when he touched you, almost like he yearned to hold you closer but knew he shouldn’t. His hands were rough, long fingers and hot palms, lingering on your skin before he’d move them away, never touching one place too long before he’d move on. It was almost a tease.
⋆˙⟡♡ He spied on you, a lot actually, would watch you from his spot on a roof top, stare at you through your big office window. He didn’t know why, just bored and curious, he always told himself. He’d see you stress yourself out, fill out paper after paper while your boss did nothing but throw more at you. You took it anyway and Bruce was confused by why. But he never asked, didn’t want to make a connection with you and risk losing you.
⋆˙⟡♡ He remembered sneaking into your house, waiting for you, but you were late coming home from work and he wasn’t sure if he should leave or not. He felt wrong about it, but he looked through your photos and your notebooks, saw a glimpse into your real life outside of him and work and he quickly put everything back the way it was and left. He didn’t want to see, he didn’t want to see you as anything different than what he already did.
⋆˙⟡♡ He would lie to Alfred about where he was going at night, why he would be so late coming home. But Alfred knew he was lying, he wasn’t sure about what exactly, but Alfred knew Bruce would come to him in time.
⋆˙⟡♡ Bruce tried hard to keep his and yours personal lives outside of your mutual situation, he really did. He didn’t want to know you, hear you talk about your problems and your dreams and fears and learn what made you you, from your own words. He was alone and knew he was meant to be alone, planned on being alone forever. Being with him would only put you in danger, a bigger target on his back he didn’t need. It was for your own protection, for the sake of both your lives and both your hearts.
⋆˙⟡♡ He vowed to himself to keep it that way, strictly professional, a hobby almost. He really didn’t plan to fall in love, he really really didn’t…
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ Your living room was dark when you came home from work, later than usual because of your infuriating boss; he was lazy, relied on his employees to do his work while he sat in his office and ate his donuts. You hated him, loathed him, absolutely couldn’t stand him, but you understood he was just another obstacle, a milestone you needed to get through before you reached where you needed to be. So, you didn’t make a fuss, you didn’t complain, didn’t speak up. You did what you were supposed to as you were supposed to do it, just another hamster circling the wheel of business over and over until you finally got the balls to break the cycle.
Unfortunately, your ambition was almost too much for you sometimes, tonight was evidence enough.
You set your keys in the ceramic bowl by the door with a tired sigh, soft rain pattering on your windows, furniture lit up with a dim orange glow from the street lamps outside. All twisting shadows and rain drops. Your nose tickled with the scent of vanilla bean and raspberry, remembering the candle you had forgotten to blow out before you left. Oops.
Your hair was damp, gray suit littered in dark spots from the rain outside. Your limbs were sore and heavy, eyes burning and fluttering for a semblance of rest. Your heels were sore from the heels you’ve been prancing around in all day, your whole body exhausted in general. This was normal for you though, you always came home lagged and tired. You regretted being such a hard worker, but knew it would ultimately pay off in the future.
You walked to your bedroom, your heels clacking on the floor unevenly, dragging on the wooden boards as you navigated your way through the darkness. You held your purse loosely in your left hand, a shiver crawling up your spine as an unexpected gust of coolness swept up your legs and down your neck.
Your foot stuttered, lingering by the doorway in your bedroom as the rain seemed louder, less dull, wind whistling your black bed sheets. You furrowed your eyebrows at that, knowing you left your window closed before you left. Your eyes strained to see anything in the darkness as panic blared in your chest like a fire alarm, trying to make out any figure in the shadows of your room. You slowly crept forward, preparing for the worst, your exhaustion melting into hot fear that made your bones go stiff.
You swallowed, eyes immediately going to the open window to see the empty street below, the sound of a car alarm in the distance overpowering the rain that seemed to just pound harder. Your window was wide open, sheer purple curtains flapping from the breeze like a set of violet wings. Your eyes narrowed at that, hearing nothing but buzzing silence ringing in your ears. Then, it just hit you.
You couldn’t describe it exactly, but you felt a sensation of calmness wash over you as you let out a hefty breath, fear gradually melting away as your body relaxed and hands unclenched. It was like your body knew it wasn’t in any real danger, that there was nothing lurking in the shadows besides what was supposed to be. This was all too familiar to you; a setting you’ve come home to many times before. The open window, the darkness, the buzzing calm.
You felt excitement spark through you in recognition as you felt your neck tingle, a barely there whisper of a breath wash over your neck and tickle your hair.
You felt a smile quirk on your lips, turning around slowly, sucking in a sharp breath when you were met with the large bulking figure of the man in black standing just an inch away from you, a shadow hiding in shadow as he stared down at you with those black soulless eyes. He was big, a thing you liked about him, dirt encrusted on his suit and so out of place in the cozy warmth of your home. He was big and bulky, comically large for your small bedroom.
You looked back up at him, your purse dropping to the floor as instinctual arousal flooded your belly at just the mere sight of him. You couldn’t help it, your body knew what he was capable of and yearned for it. Your throat became dry, you swallowed once more as his eyes, those dark blue gems of his, looked over your face with a certain pained look in them, calculating and tortured, covered in black face paint that hid the beauty of his raw skin.
His pink lips were set in a firm frown, a faint scratch on his chin, breaths slow and even, calm. That damned mask of his covered his face, the fluffiness of his brown hair you seldom ever felt run through your finger tips. He always wore this expression, always so serious and somber like he was going through a dreadful ordeal every second he continued to live. You were always curious as to why, but knew he’d never answer, nor appreciate your nosiness.
You let your thoughts drift off, looking back up at him with a false confidence.
“I didn’t know you were coming tonight…” You mumbled quietly, losing any conviction in your voice as he took a small step forward, closer to you, his heavy boot thudding on your floor. You took a small step back, crumbling under him way too easily, as always. He always loved to completely invade your space, but never let you do the same to him.
You looked up at him, he looked down at you, breaths mingling together as a dark look washed over his oceanic eyes, his strong jaw clenching as he ran his eyes over your face like this was the first time he’d ever seen you. You felt your thighs tighten at the look in them, at the way he looked at you.
You were being honest though, you didn’t expect him tonight. You had seen him two nights ago, expecting not to see him for another few weeks at least.
“Shhh…” He shushed you gently, voice gravelly but gentle, tired but awake, undertones of desire.
He leaned down towards you and you found yourself holding your own arms back from wrapping around him and taking him already, just as he always took you. His gloved hands reached for the edge of the dresser behind you, trapping you between his strong arms and chest, completely invading your senses as your eyes looked into his, almost begging. His cape flowed down his shoulders and shrouded around you both until all you could see was black, the heady smell of smoke and rain tickling your nose, captivating.
He pressed himself against you, a brick wall, the mahogany’s edge digging into your lower back as your breath stuttered. You found yourself looking at his lips, his nose, his eyes, his closeness overwhelming you as you couldn’t figure out where to look, your skin feeling hot and stuffy, the confidence you had previously now a pile on the floor as your stomach twisted.
You could see the rain on his black suit, dripping down all his gear and heavy armor he wore and down to his waist, some falling to the floor in soft drips. You licked your lips, minding the mess, feeling lightheaded and fluttery as you looked back up at him with sparkling eyes.
He cocked his head at you, dark eyes running over your lips before looking back into your own, “Take your hair down.”
He always used such a gentle, tired voice, like he didn’t want to scare you and he could never find enough sleep, but the demand was obvious in his tone, eyes dark and predatory as they stared down at you intently. He didn’t need anymore command, knowing you’d do as he said just like you always did.
You didn’t dare disobey, sensing his need sizzling in the air just as strong as your shared want. You managed eye contact as you brought a hand up to the back of your head, taking out the black hair clip holding your hair together, the rain pattering on your roof almost too loud in your ears. He stared as your hair fell down your shoulders, cascading down your back in silky waves and framing your face. You swallowed, feeling the need to clear your throat as you put a hand through your hair and brushed it over your shoulder.
You saw his eyes run over your hair, the way it fell around your cheeks, his jaw clenching once more. He brought a hand up, big and heavy, running your locks through his fingers, imagining the softness of it as the sweet smell of apricot and citrus filled his nose, the signature flavor of your favorite shampoo.
You sighed at the pleasurable sensation on your scalp, head titling back as your eyes drooped, your hair clip falling to the ground noisily as you brought your hands up and grabbed his forearms. You might’ve been a little dramatic at just a few touches, but you were so needy, needy for this dangerous man you knew absolutely nothing about besides the obvious. He was a stranger in a suit, a stranger to you, but he somehow knew how to touch you better than any man you’ve ever been with.
He took note of your reaction, his own body twitching to touch you as he noticed the look in your eyes. He felt an intense need spark through him, his hand grabbing a handful of your hair and pulling your head back. He remained calm looking, but his eyes gave it all away.
Your head was yanked back, a pleasurable gasp leaving your lips as you squeezed his arms, looking up at him with your lips parted and breaths heavy. Your head stung, hair being pulled on in just the right way that had a familiar wetness pooling between your thighs, your body buzzing alive with feeling.
Bruce looked down at you, pressing the broadness of himself against you even harder, your breasts smushed against his suit, completely at his mercy. He looked down at you with an unraveled look in his eyes as he tilted your head up towards him.
He kissed you then, rough and hot, groaning into your mouth as his tongue played with yours, teeth clashing and breaths hot against each other. You couldn’t help but moan against him as he finally granted you what you’ve been wanting for so long now, scalp burning from his hold on your hair as your hands flew up and gripped at the leather of his mask, arms wrapped around his neck.
He was forceful and rough, his other hand crawling around your waist and lifting you off the ground with such ease it almost caught you off guard. You gasped into his mouth, his hand tightening on the hold in your hair as you grimaced at the pain.
You didn’t break the kiss, stuck on him as your heels fell off your feet and hit the floor. In two big strides you were suddenly lied flat on your bouncy mattress with Batman himself between your thighs, still holding your waist and head against him as he kissed you fervently.
Your skirt slid down around your thighs as you wrapped your legs around him, pressing him harder into you as all you wanted was him, him everywhere and him all over you. You moaned against him, helpless and desperate, as the ridges in his suit dug into your stomach, his lips movingly hotly against yours as he grunted against you. His cape flowed around you, thick and smooth, trapping you underneath until all you could see was blackness, unable to discern the space between his body and yours.
You knew this was going to be quick; he was too rough, too impatient and needy. It must’ve been a bad night for him, but you didn’t pry no matter how much you wanted to, no matter how much the questions bubbled in your throat and ached in your chest you knew you were in no place to ask. A part of you liked it that way, liked that this was strictly this. You liked that you didn’t have to answer to him, that you weren’t bound to him and he wasn’t to you. It was just simple, secrecy for a night of shameless lust-filled sex in return.
You both got what you wanted and that was enough. You appreciated that he didn’t go beyond that just as you didn’t. Outside of this room he was Batman, a dangerous vigilante some trusted and some hated, he was Bruce Wayne, an orphan child with more money and pain than he needed. But in the shadow of your bedroom, under the covers with you, there was no identity, no obligation, just two strangers seeking each other out in search of the one thing they both wanted, blessed with none of the other drama that followed a relationship.
With Bruce on top of you in this very moment, his hands gripping your body for no reason other than pleasure, you knew he would be gone before the night was over, and you’d be alone in your bed with bite marks and handprints on your skin to serve as a reminder of the man who gave them to you. You knew he would silently leave, slip away when he thought you were sleeping, you knew he wouldn’t talk or tell you any of his problems. He’d give you what you wanted and then slip into the shadows… you had to admit, It was the most perfect arrangement.
╰✦･ﾟ✵ 𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏: how it happened 𓂃⊹
⋆˙⟡♡ Batman didn’t plan on ever falling in love with you, but when he did, it had happened after a couple of months of doing what he did with you. But before he did, things had been going so well. You never intervened in his life and he never intervened in yours. Just as he expected, just as he preferred. It had been perfect, but somewhere along the way he had gotten too involved, started to trust you without even realizing it.
⋆˙⟡♡ At first, it started with him staying in your bed longer than he used to. You didn’t argue, comfortable with the heat his body gave you in the coldness of the night. He found himself dozing off after you would, your fluffy blanket soft on his skin and the mattress like a cloud for his broken body. He’d always be gone before you woke up though. You didn’t want to say anything about his little sleepovers, scared you’ll frighten him and he’ll stop. So you let him do as he pleased, enjoying his company albeit his silence.
⋆˙⟡♡ He never cuddled with you though, ever (don’t worry, he lets that slip too). Always stiff like a board on his side of the bed, expression crumbled with pain and peace. Sometimes he’d flinch, nightmares you never questioned him about but always noticed. Still, he’d wake up after about an hour, slip out your window, but not before giving you one last look, seeing how the moon shined down on your soft skin…
⋆˙⟡♡ Then, it was following you home after work, making sure you got home safe on those dark nights where it seemed like every shadow was following you. He’d be on the rooftops, claiming he was just curious and bored, cape flapping in the wind, when in reality he just needed to make sure you got home safely.
⋆˙⟡♡ You didn’t know, but he was watching you much more than you’d ever suspect. He watched your home on the nights Gotham was quiet, his body knowing you were so close but oh so far. He thought about you when he wasn’t thinking about you, thought about the routine he had found in you, the unfamiliar closeness, the comfort he had found between your body and your bed sheets.
⋆˙⟡♡ He started kissing you more, flinching less when your fingers would graze his back. He let you look at him, look deep into his eyes when he was inside you, have your hands touching his face and his back without the security of his suit to hide him. You loved when he did that, feeling him under your hands, skin to skin as it should be.
⋆˙⟡♡ He let you see his scars in the light, didn’t care when he took off his suit and your bathroom light was on, shining down on his body and the sculpted muscle of it. He had learned you wouldn’t judge him, but he was still hesitant, suffering inside when he looked down at the floor as you gazed at him in awe… you thought he was so beautiful.
⋆˙⟡♡ He would watch you when you worked, watch as your boss would storm in and demand more from you. Bruce didn’t like that, would clench his fist and grind his teeth when you’d get scolded like a child, told to work harder when all you did was work. He’d have to control himself when your boss would walk past him on his way home every night.
⋆˙⟡♡ He started conversing with you more, holding you against his chest when you two were done. He’d ask you profound questions as you two stared up at the ceiling, you’d tell him your answer. He didn’t talk a lot, just liked to listen. It would be intimate, almost romantic. He’d listen to what you’d have to say and he’d learn, learn more about who you were, where you came from, and he’d find himself not wanting to leave, a dull ache in his chest every time you’d fall asleep and he’d have to slip out your fire escape.
⋆˙⟡♡ He never admitted it to himself, but he started to look forward to seeing you, found comfort in your small bedroom and the absence of life’s problems that came with it. He started to enjoy the smell of vanilla bean and raspberry from those candles you always forgot to blow out before work. He started to pick up on your little quirks.
⋆˙⟡♡ While gradually falling in love with you, Bruce would deny, deny, deny. He acknowledged that he was starting to feel things he didn’t want to, and he’d be incredibly disturbed and moody, more than usual. Alfred would even be a little peeved with him.
⋆˙⟡♡ Bruce would find himself asking you how work was. He would be concerned about the bags under your eyes and the wrinkles in your clothes, not outright concerned but he couldn’t stop himself from asking. He wanted to hear your voice.
⋆˙⟡♡ He would be very hesitant around you, scared he was doing too much when he’d touch you now. It wasn’t like before, when he would just grab and control. Now he was really touching you, trying to feel you, every dip and curve of your skin under his fingertips.
⋆˙⟡♡ He had gotten way too comfortable with you now, even he knew that. He relied on you and the comfort you gave, a feeling he’d been without for so long. He was like a cold soul lost in the woods, searching for something, anything, hollow, a warm body to bring him back. He found that with you, and he didn’t even realize it until he started to feel pain when he wasn’t around you, a pain in his chest like a knife was stabbing into his heart. He missed you but he didn’t want to…
⋆˙⟡♡ He stared at your face a lot, too intensely for your liking, thoughts behind those dark eyes of his he’d never tell you about if you confronted him about it. He just liked to look at you, watch you giggle and smile. He’d do it without realizing how intimidated it made you feel, how you’d have to blush and look away, pretend you didn’t notice. He just liked to look at you, soak in your expressions before he’d leave again.
⋆˙⟡♡ The signs were all there when you thought about it. The lingering touches, the admiring stares, the countless nights he’d watch over you. He felt like a creep, following you around so much, but he couldn’t help it. You were a pleasant distraction and he was a fool, easily succumbing to those feelings he had for you without even knowing it. They had been growing inside of him like a blooming vine… they started out small but grew into so much more, and he ignored it, until he just couldn’t take it anymore…
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ It was a quiet night in September, it had been raining for days and the coolness of autumn had just started to blow into the city. The trees danced with orange and red leaves, strewn all over the road and sidewalks, getting stuck under peoples rain boots and car tires. Your window was cracked, letting a cool breeze into your room that made you shiver, the savory smell of someone’s cooking wafting into your noses from the apartments across the way. You looked at your tv, black screen shut off but reflecting the blurred forms of your mingled bodies on your bed, arm outstretched on Bruce’s stomach, head lying on his chest. You could hear his heart, slow and calm just as he always was, pumping in your ear and lulling you to sleep.
You wanted to stay awake though, listening to the sounds of cars driving in rain puddles and horns honking, the occasional laughter of a passerby. A candle was lit on your dresser across the room, with the faint scent of vanilla bean and raspberry in the air just as Bruce liked. Your legs were a little sore, thighs tender from where Bruce had gripped them so hard, lips puffy from where Bruce had kissed them so much. You felt satisfied, pleasant even, comforted by his presence, the knowledge of his identity absent in your mind as you didn’t register him as a millionaire, or as a crime fighting vigilante, you never really did.
He was neither of those things to you. He was… he was Bruce, just Bruce, your Bruce. Not Bruce Wayne or Batman, and that was enough for you. You took him as he is not as he was, never questioned him about his parents or how Batman was even created. He appreciated that, didn’t like answering questions about himself he wasn’t comfortable with. He was comfortable with silence, but he didn’t mind hearing you.
He was awake too, didn’t want to fall asleep before you, something in his mind telling him he should leave already, not sink into the mattress any further and let himself relish in your warmth. He had responsibilities, duties, people he needed to save and crime he needed to stop. It was Gotham, something was always wrong and someone always needed help. But he couldn’t think about any of that stuff around you, his thoughts always either empty or crowded with your smile.
His suit was a mess on the floor, scrambled just like his mind, bat mask clear as day in his vision, lit up in a red glimmer from the light outside. It stared at him with its blank eyes, watching, the buzzing of a neon light loud in his ears. It’s like it was mocking him, patronizing him. He frowned at it, turning his head slightly away from it, like it was a reminder of what his true purpose was, where he should really be this late other than here in your arms. He knew he should go, felt his arm twitch like he was about to get up and unwind from you.
“Don’t you have somewhere you should be? Or are you gonna stay?” You mumbled sleepily, voice so quiet and sweet he almost didn’t hear it.
His eyes drifted to you, rubbing his fingertips on your rib cage and savoring the feeling of your smooth skin underneath him, against him. You were so unblemished, unlike him. A few scratches and scars here and there that held stories and memories, none like his. His were ridged and pale, covered his skin, they held memories but none of them good. Memories that served as reminders of why this was so wrong, of who he really was and who he needed to get back to once he left these four walls.
He thought about it for a minute, frowning at the ceiling fan.
Did he have somewhere to be? Yes, yes he did. He always had somewhere to be, that was the problem. He couldn’t be everywhere at once, he could be somewhere else, but he was here instead. He was here with you, here with you. He had somewhere to be, could be anywhere else, but he was here. Everyone always expected him to be where they were, expected him to save everyone. But he couldn’t, he couldn’t save everyone and he couldn’t be everywhere they wanted him to be. He was with you but he shouldn’t be. Guilt settled in his gut as he swallowed, hands itching like it was wrong to touch you.
His eyes, dark and somber like storm clouds, especially just as captivating, looked over your frazzled hair like he could see your face, knowing how exhausted you must’ve been from work and sex, how it was so late already and how you’d have to leave so early. Your breathing was slow and even, warm breath brushing over his chest from your parted pink lips, all cues of how you’ve already fallen asleep. He thought about your question, yes, yes he had somewhere he needed to be, he always did.
He didn’t bother speaking, just turned his head back and looked at the ceiling as his arm held you just a little tighter against him, hearing the splash of a car racing through water from somewhere outside.
He’ll stay for a little while.
╰✦･ﾟ✵ 𝒄𝒍𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒙: how it was 𓂃⊹
⋆˙⟡♡ When he realized he was in love with you he left, he left for a long time. He refused to let those feelings blossom into anything more, grow into something more… dangerous. Love was dangerous, he was dangerous. He isolated himself from you, in a worse mood than usual. Alfred had picked up on it, knowing there was more going on than Bruce wanted to say. You couldn’t help the disappointment as the days turned into weeks, weeks of hope being crushed on with every night he wasn’t there.
⋆˙⟡♡ He told himself it was for the best, heartbreak was something you could heal from, death was something you’d never come back from. With his life, you would die. He couldn’t lose anyone else, he couldn’t. He couldn’t subject you to that same fate his parents had.
⋆˙⟡♡ Still, he couldn’t stop himself from watching you when you’d walk home, still sitting outside your job, your home, watching you from a distance to make sure you’d be alright. He couldn’t sleep if he didn’t.
⋆˙⟡♡ He couldn’t sleep anyway. Eyes a dark purple and the ache in his chest getting so much worse. It was because of you he couldn’t sleep, bed empty and cold without you, mattress hard and firm unlike yours. His nightmares consisted of your death and his inability to save you. He was better off seeing nothing with his eyes open than your blood with his eyes closed.
⋆˙⟡♡ Alfred was concerned. Confronted his Master Bruce during breakfast when Bruce was silent and gloomy. Yes, Alfred knew he would confess eventually, just needed a little shove. “I can’t stop thinking about her, Alfred.”
⋆˙⟡♡ You couldn’t stop thinking about him either… work was slow and long, your thoughts muddled together as you couldn’t stop racking your brain for a reason, any reason, as to why, why he left. Did you do something wrong?
⋆˙⟡♡ You didn’t want to say you missed him, you didn’t want to admit that to yourself. You felt almost stupid, like he had used you and discarded you, but wasn’t that the whole point? You were a mess, confused and feeling a different kind of lonely only a sad heart could bring you. You felt abandoned.
⋆˙⟡♡ Bruce would hide up in his room and think, read books but not pay attention to the words. Alfred would bring him his tea and advice whenever he could, but it seemed nothing could cheer him up. Bruce felt a different kind of loneliness now than he had his whole life. When his parents died they were taken away from him, he didn’t choose to give them up like he did you. He felt like he had lost yet another person.
⋆˙⟡♡ He really thought about moving on from you, a part of him arguing thats what was best for you. But the thought of fully giving you up to anybody else angered him. You weren’t his but you’d always been in some way, his. He yearned to be near you again, an itch in the back of his mind only you could scratch.
⋆˙⟡♡ He drunk, a lot. Spent his free time as Bruce Wayne drowning in whiskey and scotch, heavy liquor bottles empty and discarded on the floor. He almost felt like crying, but he’d just pass out on his bed, too drunk to crawl under the covers. Sometimes he’d pass out in the common room, leg hanging off the couch and hair unraveled, Alfred cleaning up the mess and putting a blanket over him.
⋆˙⟡♡ He drowned himself in his work to distract from you. He was frustrated, angry, weeks having gone by without you having set him on edge. He was beating petty criminals to a bloody pulp, sending them to Gordon barely conscious. He needed to take his anger out on something, anything. Alfred would just sigh when a bloody Bruce would storm past him, ensuring his suit was cleaned before the next day.
⋆˙⟡♡ It was a late Friday night when Bruce let his anger take control of him. It was some petty thief thinking he’d run off with the bags of cash he’d stolen. Bruce didn’t let him speak, anger taking over him like thick ropes of lava in his blood, anger that had festered in his black heart for weeks, simmering under his skin waiting for the moment it could boil over.
⋆˙⟡♡ He was bloody and dirty when he came to you in a blur of anger and love, adrenaline running through him with a determination boiling in his bones.
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ It was a dark cloudy night when you saw Bruce standing outside your window; you lay in bed, cozy and under the covers, bathed in the dim golden light of your lamp. You were pretending to read a book you’ve meant to finish with a frown on your face, mind full of memories and the fruitless desire to have it all back. It was a melancholic pain that throbbed under your skin, sharp and persistent like a plant rash, the memory of forgotten things plaguing your mind and wishing it could just all go back to the way it was.
You almost didn’t see him if it wasn’t for the thud on your fire escape; you jumped and the book flew to the floor with a thud. Your eyes widened and you felt a wave of excitement and relief flourish through your veins as you scrambled off your bed. You couldn’t believe it, heart pounding as you rushed over to your window and swung it open like an eager baker opening an oven door. It was a big window, one with a giant view of the street below and the park across the ways, big enough to fit a grown man in a heavy suit.
Your hands were almost frantic, eyes wide in disbelief to just see him standing there in all his glory, back to you like he used to be all those weeks ago before he left, left you, left you behind. The memory of his loss and betrayal flashed back like a pull to reality, all those sad feelings you pushed away coming full frontal in your head like a tidal wave in your fragile brain.
Bruce’s heavy stare burned through you and it was like you could feel it on your skin, like a million microscopic bugs crawling all over you, your body buzzing with electricity and your hands almost shaking. You felt a flurry of difficult emotions coursing through you that all muddled together in one big mess in your head; anger and happiness, relief and irritation. You couldn’t pinpoint on one, feeling everything all at once when you opened your window and Batman was stood on the other side of you in all his threatening grandness.
You hated that he looked so good despite the grime.
You were left stunned as all you could do was stare at him. This was a moment you’ve only dreamt about, wished for for days and countless weeks, fantasized about for hours on end. How you would react, what you would say, how it would all go… and especially how he’d apologize on hand and knee for you, atone for his sins and plead for your pardon. It was all meticulously planned and carefully thought out, and now here it was, the moment you’ve been waiting for for so long; it was finally here, staring at you in the face. And it was so funny how all those ideas and all that confidence you had just seemed to vanish now that it was time to confront them; you were frozen as you stared back at him, unsure of what to do next and too tongue tied to formulate a thought. All that planning, pointless in the face of its precipitant.
Bruce stared back at you longingly and painfully, breaths hard and heavy and knuckles bruised and sore. His eyes were smeared in that black paint he always used, thick with an unspoken emotional torture, like he was being tormented in his own mind at the mere sight of you. He was in a way; you were his reminder of why he left, the catalyst of his destruction but at the same time his anecdote. It was all very confusing and contradictory; all he could understand was that it pained him to look at you, but he couldn’t find it in himself to look away.
Blood was splattered over his cheeks and suit, his heart pumping in his ears as he looked you over, putting all the pieces of you back in his mind; from your face, to your pink pajamas, to the black socks on your feet, then back to your cautious eyes. You were all right, you were okay and he was so relieved. He felt a weight drop from his chest, knowing you were in no certain danger but he always worried for you if he couldn’t see you, a consequence of everyone he cared for always getting hurt some way or another. Bruce felt what he could only describe as happiness, a feeling he only got with you, hit him full on like a train, smacking into his heart as his throat closed up.
He had missed you.
He had missed you a lot, more than he ever wanted to admit, but he would gladly do so for you. He had missed your pretty eyes and sweet voice, soft hands and smooth skin, and your voice, calming and rich like honeyed pastries. You were beautiful to him, so beautiful, and he couldn’t believe he had shown up here once more, that he would risk ever putting it in danger. But he had to come, he couldn’t take it anymore… and if his love for you was that perilous then his soul be damned.
He noticed the subtle way your face crumbled as your initial excitement died down, settled into pain and sadness and concern; your eyes running over the blood on him, wondering if it was his, really looking at him and realizing that he was really here, back on your fire escape. He couldn’t believe it himself, but here he was and he didn’t plan on leaving, not unless you ordered him to. You were nervous, eager to touch him, feel the suit under your palms like you used to, but you were also too stubborn to welcome him back into your home so easily, hurt once and not wanting to be hurt again. He understood that notion all too well.
Bruce felt an unfamiliar form of courage jolting through him, a type of courage so different from the one he used to fight criminals every night. This was a type of boldness that made him just want to grab your face and kiss you, hard, make up for all the lost time between you and spill all his confessions in the space between his lips and yours, make you taste the apology on his tongue. All he wanted was to be here again, here in your room; his nose was already filling up with the smell of vanilla bean and raspberry, his muscles relaxing instinctively at the sweet smell of it, knowing he was safe here. He wanted so badly to be here again, but now that he was he didn’t know what to do.
Bruce admitted that he was a little disappointed at your reaction to him, that you didn’t welcome him back in with open arms and gleeful smiles, kiss him and hug him and show him how much you missed him. But he knew that was too optimistic. He knew your antipathy was to be expected; he could only imagine the amount of hurt he’d put you through if it was anything compared to his own. He could only imagine how many nights you came home hoping he was there, waiting for you like he always did, how many days you kept looking at the clock, wishing it would hurry up and you could just go home already, how many days you hoped it would be different from the one before, how much hope he must’ve killed.
He felt horrible, regret and guilt spinning in his stomach as his muscles twitched, itching to touch you again; you were a drug coursing through his veins, and after two months of withdrawal he could say he was positively hooked once more. But, he knew he couldn’t just grab whatever part of you he liked like a greedy child in a toy store. He needed patience, he needed to wait for you to warm up to him on your own terms, no matter how long that took.
So, Bruce just stood on your fire escape with his hands holding the frame of the wall, blood and vanilla heavy on his nose as he stared at you, breathing hard but calm, waiting for you to make a move, any move or semblance of invitation.
Your eyes ran over the blood on him, the awkward silence deafening with all the unspoken words and yearning you both wanted so badly to address. Your eyes narrowed at the red spots and stripes on his suit and face, dripping off his gloves, worry shooting through your buzzing veins. You took a step back away from him in discontent, curious as to why he has suddenly appeared after so long away, eyes looking him over like the situation has really dawned on you. It had been weeks, two months even, since you’ve seen him, seen his black eyes and pointed ears, seen the vague Batman symbol on the chest piece of his suit.
Memories were coming back wave after wave at the sight of him, ones that wanted you to embrace him, ones that were gradually persuading you to give up this act and just be thankful he was here again, back to you. But you knew better than that, knew better than to just simply overlook a mistake as monumental as the one he made. You needed to have some damn pride.
Despite that…
Were you happy to see him? Yes, yes you really really were. You wanted him to just take off his mask and kiss you already, hell, you didn’t care if he left it on because you just wanted him to kiss you again. You wanted to feel his big arms around you once more and feel his warm palms on the dip in your back. Have him lift you up and smile into his kiss and say those magical words you yearned to hear. You could try to act tough all you wanted but at the end of the day you were still just a girl, a sad girl who wanted to be held by the man she missed so much… but your anger was still so present, lingering cold in your veins and greatly overpowering any positive emotions you had.
You wanted a damn good reason for why he did what he did.
“What are you doing here, Bruce? I thought you had moved on.” You licked your dry lips, crossing your arms and glaring at him with distaste and a false sense of confidence, a faux act of strength and apathy to cover up the real pain you felt. Your tone was anything but friendly, standoffish and disinterested, conveying the anger you felt almost perfectly; if it wasn’t for the waver in your voice and the glimmer in your eye you would even believe yourself.
You frowned at him, a cruel part of you hoping he was feeling any kind of hurt, any kind of hurt like the hurt you’ve felt. But at the same time, you just wanted so badly to hear that he came back for one reason and one reason alone. You. You wanted to hear him say that he missed you dearly, that he was so sorry for what he did and that he’d never do it again. If you heard that, then maybe, just maybe, you’d forgive him. No, you definitely would.
Bruce almost flinched at your tone, but knew it was well deserved. He looked at you with guilty eyes, like he’d committed the most heinous crime (which in his mind, he did), frown deep on his lips where a cut was on his skin, swallowing down the nerves in his throat at the look in your eyes.
A string of fear curled in his chest and made him nervous, made Batman nervous, a fear of being rejected, of him telling you how he really felt and you not reciprocating it. He couldn’t bear it, the uncertainty. But he was also afraid of hurting you any more than he already has, arguing with himself that he shouldn’t have come. But he was already here and he couldn’t leave now, couldn’t disappoint you any more than he already has. He looked up at you, his chest fluttering when he looked into your eyes.
“‘Could never move on from you…” Bruce grumbled in that deep voice of his, sounding pained and earnest and genuine, pulling at your heart like a trained harpist and making your eyes burn with brimming tears. He meant it, meant it more than you knew, staring at you with so much emotion in his eyes it almost scared you to see it; it was so unlike him to be so emotional, a part of you grateful that he trusted you enough to show it.
You felt a tingle on your skin when you looked back at him, a spark of joy peeking through the dark clouds around you. I could never move on from you…
Bruce’s dark eyes flickered between yours, gauging your reactions, intense and brooding as they always were. They bore into you like he was laying your soul bare in front of him, seeing deeper inside of you than you thought was possible. It made you feel flustered and agitated at being examined so fiercely. His voice, my god his voice, so soft but so gravelly, made you flustered, especially hearing it again after so many weeks of going without it. It washed over your skin like a warm blanket and made goosebumps pop up on your arms, a chill going through your spine that made your heart spike. You were trying so hard to fight it, fight that feeling inside of you that wanted him so badly.
You almost scoffed at his proclamation, looking at him offended, almost too theatrically, too rehearsed.
“Well it seems like you did, so.” You shrugged stubbornly, not knowing what else to say, really, not wanting to speak too much or else you’re afraid he’d hear the longing stutter in your voice. You shook your head incredulously and looked at the wall besides the window, where he stood outside in the cold air still. Secretly, you wanted to bring him inside already, bring him between your arms and hold him against your chest until he was one with you, unable to leave and bound to you forever, souls entwined and breaths shared. That may be a tad dramatic, but that’s what you felt; you knew he needed to cross that barrier on his own… you also knew that the moment he stepped back into your sacred space, the moment his heavy black boot stepped onto your wooden floor, you wouldn’t be able to keep your composure anymore, and you’d collapse in his arms like a dying bride.
Obviously, that couldn’t happen. You needed resistance, strength, a reason.
You couldn’t look at him, didn’t want him to see the tears welling in your eyes and the vulnerability staining your face. It was too embarrassing and too real; you didn’t want Bruce to see how easily you got worked up because of him. You didn’t want him to see all of you just yet, wanted him to feel guilty for what he did to you. He hadn’t even said much, just a single sentence, and you were already a desperate mess hiding under a false security. It was always so easy for him to get to you and you wished you were stronger for it.
Bruce knit his eyebrows at that, subtly shaking his head with a frown as his eyes still searched for yours. He wanted you to look at him, to see the honesty in his words and the sincerity in his blue eyes. He wanted you to see that he was hurting too, just as much as you.
“I didn’t… I just needed some time away… I needed to think.” He confessed vaguely, his voice gentle like he didn’t want to spook you, quiet but just loud enough for you to hear. Bruce always treated you like you were so fragile, a slippery glass vase between his clumsy hands. He never wanted to drop you, hurt you and watch you crumble into a million pieces… but he already did, and now he was trying to glue them all back together, put you back together, but only if you’d let him.
That was something you had come to appreciate about him; his gentleness, so opposite of the image he represented, what everyone believed him to be. He wasn’t just Batman, vengeful and harsh and dangerous. He wasn’t just bloody fists and sharp edges. He was incredibly genuine and tender, complex and multilayered; he was more than the bat, the symbol, the orphan, the millionaire. He was intricately sewn together with all different threads, and over the course of the year you and Bruce shared together you’ve managed to pluck and pull them all, see the warm center inside his cold shell.
Those were sides of him only you got to see, only you got to witness, only you got the privilege to marvel at and cherish. It might have been foolish to think, and you certainly think so now, but you had thought that made you special, that you were the only one he trusted enough, cared for enough, to show that side to… that there was more affection sizzling between you than you both wanted to say… but that just made it hurt so much more when he left, it just convinced you that you were too gullible for love, too naive to tell the difference between love and infatuation. When he left, he made you feel stupid.
You furrowed your eyebrows at his response, your face twisting into an anger Bruce didn’t want to see. Your eyes flashed to him immediately, burning and piercing and blazing, his words bouncing around in your head like a twisted game of racquetball. To think? He left, for months, because he needed to think? It sounded so phony, a simple excuse to disguise the truth, a simple excuse that only angered your unspoken pain.
“To think? To think about what? You’ve been gone for weeks, Bruce! You just left, didn’t tell me anything, didn’t tell me why, but now you’re telling me it’s because you had to think? That sounds ridiculous. I think I deserve a better explanation than, you had to think.” You mocked him, scoffing in his face. You were frustrated and lonely, wanting, deserving, a better reason to justify the pain you went through when he left. You couldn’t believe he couldn’t at least grant you that, a credible reason why.
Bruce grimaced, eyes closing like the sting of your words had just stung him. He slouched, frustrated that he couldn’t seem to get the words out that he wanted to. They were stuck in his throat, itching his tongue and wanting so badly to get out, but he was mute, could only try to explain himself. Besides, there were no words to express just how sorry he was, but he knew how right you were. You were always right. You did deserve more than that, you deserved a better explanation.
Bruce swallowed down his dry throat, clenching his jaw as he looked back up at you, aching to step through the threshold of the window and grab your face between his broken hands and kiss your tears away. He felt hot coils of guilt and regret wrap around his heart and squeeze, his chest collapsing in on itself.
“I-I know how it sounds, but it’s the truth. I needed to think… and to do that I had to leave. I just needed to understand why.” He spoke raspy, voice gritted with anguish and sincerity, looking at you with such desperation it made your foot itch to step towards him, made your heart yearn to comfort him. He was downright pitiful, fingers holding onto the brick so hard it could crumble under his strength. He was slouched down, looking up at you with sunken eyes, begging and pleading without an ounce of shame.
You stared back at him, clenching your jaw so hard your teeth hurt. God, you really did just want to hold him again, kiss him again… the need was too much, burning inside you and crawling under your skin. You had your hands crossed over your chest like you were physically trying to hold yourself back, like you were trying to protect yourself against his woeful whims of persuasion.
You frowned at his statement, the rational part of your brain that was still logical and loyal to you making you want to question him more, learn more, find out more. Your shoulders slumped as you looked back at him confused, lips pulled in a frown.
“Why what? Think about what? Can you stop being so vague!” You said exasperated, wishing he would just say what he meant and stop being so damn secretive all the time. Especially now, especially here. He was the one who showed up here after all this time and now he was trying to just sneak by with it. You refused to let him, forced him to confront his own dilemma. You couldn’t see it any other way, blinded by your own rose colored rage that needed an explanation.
Bruce grit his teeth, working up the nerve to answer you as he looked down at your feet, looking physically pained. He wanted to tell you why, he wanted to tell you why so badly, but just as soon as he wanted to say it he was found at a loss for words, struck with that same fear again that made his words stutter. That same fear of being rejected, ridiculed, that fear of putting his heart on his sleeve and having you pierce it with a silver dagger. He was Batman, the shadow of shadows who dealt with worse pain than you could ever imagine. He’s been shot, stabbed, cut up, pushed out of a window, and any other horror you could ever imagine but somehow… none of that hurt would ever compare to the pain caused by your rejection.
You had the power to destroy him and you didn’t even know it. You didn’t know how much of him you carried with you, how easily you could make him fall. Against Gotham he was the Dark Knight, relentless, strong and menacing, capable of things you didn’t want to think about. Against you… he was nothing, powerless, a twig in your hand you could crush without a thought. He was weak against your beauteous thrall and he just wished he could’ve admitted that to himself so much sooner.
Bruce felt his heart constrict, his palms suddenly clammy and his throat suddenly dry; he swallowed roughly. His own heart pounded in his ears, beating under his hot skin, the reality of what he was about to say hitting him full force and he felt like he could pass out, right here on your fire escape, light headed and heavy chested.
He let out a big breath through his nose, gripping the wall between his bloody gloved hands, mustering up the confidence he needed and pushing his fear down, down and deep so it couldn’t be acknowledged anymore. He smothered his insecurities and doubts like a candle wick, clenched his jaw and cleared the smoke from his mind. Bruce looked up at you, eyes glimmering like fire light as they looked over your form once more. He looked up from your socks and your feet, up to your smooth legs and pink nightgown, up to your face, where he focused intently on your lips and nose and eyes.
You looked back at him, where he was staring at you with a type of ferocity and intensity it had your breath stuck in your throat, chills going down your spine.
“…Why I was in love with you.”
You swore your heart stopped.
╰✦･ﾟ✵ 𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈: how it all fell together 𓂃⊹
⋆˙⟡♡ Of course, you loved him back, and Bruce couldn’t have been happier about it. But, during the actual relationship he was very much still the same, but you could see that he was trying to be closer to you, it was just hard for him. You helped him, made him feel not so scared.
⋆˙⟡♡ You were patient with him, never judged or pushed him to do things you knew he had a hard time doing. He always wanted to talk to you about his parents but he would stop himself before he went in depth about it. That was something he needed time with, and you understood it.
⋆˙⟡♡ He was always doing small things for you that you probably wouldn’t have noticed if you weren’t so focused on him. He would always smooth out your pillows for you, make you breakfast and be shy that he made something you didn’t like, he would even blow out your candle for you if you ever left it lit. He would give you small gifts, sometimes expensive, a bracelet or a necklace, a set of earrings his mother adored. You loved them all.
⋆˙⟡♡ You had to buy him those vanilla bean and raspberry candles you had. He set them up around his home because the smell reminded him of you and your house, his safe space.
⋆˙⟡♡ He still didn’t like to talk, but he loved to listen. He’d ask questions that were deeply intimate and personal because he wanted to know everything about you. He’d apologize for prodding but he really had no shame about it. He wanted to know you more, learn everything.
⋆˙⟡♡ He loved holding you in his sleep, you made his nightmares go away and made him feel less lonely. He would still flinch sometimes, keep his hands at appropriate distances away from your precious parts. He was a gentleman, that was for sure.
⋆˙⟡♡ He didn’t sleep a lot still, so he’d always stare at you when you slept, brush his hand on your cheek when he’d leave in his Batman suit for the night. He hated leaving you, but knew he had responsibilities to his city he couldn’t abandon.
⋆˙⟡♡ He introduced you to Alfred, rather, Alfred went to clean up Bruce’s room early in the morning and found you two in a rather compromising position. He just chuckled and walked out while Bruce awkwardly scrambled to compose himself. You were mortified.
⋆˙⟡♡ Bruce liked to draw you a lot, most of the time from memory when he was bored on a late night, sitting on a rooftop with charcoal scratching on ripped paper. He didn’t show them to you, but you found them anyway.
⋆˙⟡♡ Bruce was soft, gentle with you, but sex was a different story, just depended on his day. Most of the time he was sweet, making up for leaving you and hurting you. He always carried so much guilt about it, even when you told him you were over it and understood why he did it.
⋆˙⟡♡ He didn’t come out with you as a couple to the press, as Bruce Wayne. He didn’t want them to badger you and question you, make you feel uncomfortable. He came to you a lot, his house was always under constant scrutiny from the public.
⋆˙⟡♡ He threatened your boss when you refused to quit your job. It was late, he was Batman, and your boss just so happened to walk past him. Bruce threw him against the wall with promises of pain if he didn’t treat you right. You had a sneaky suspicion your boyfriend had something to do with your now positive work atmosphere and sudden raise, but decided not to question him.
⋆˙⟡♡ He was always touching you, or kissing you, hesitant to show outright affection so he was subtle when he did it. A hand on your lower back, hovering over your jacket or gently pressing into it. A hand on your arm, a peck on your forehead, a kiss to your cheek when you’d fall asleep.
⋆˙⟡♡ He told you he loved you every night, rarely ever during the day. It was in his bed or yours, when it was silent and cozy, he’d whisper it in your hair or against your skin, and you’d smile and tell him the same.
⋆˙⟡♡ You never expected anything from him besides his love, but he always felt like he owed you something, grateful that you gave him this chance to be with you despite what he did.
⋆˙⟡♡ He was constantly worried about you, on edge when you would be out by yourself or come home later than usual on the nights he couldn’t see you. He would always think the worst, think you were dead and he was too late, someone found him out and was using you to blackmail him. All the worst scenarios to prepare himself for the worst outcomes.
⋆˙⟡♡ Bruce is constantly having negative intrusive thoughts. You’ll leave him, he doesn’t deserve you, he should’ve stayed gone. He’ll go quiet and try to isolate himself when that happens, so you always try and support him and reassure him in any way you can.
⋆˙⟡♡ He still has such a hard time being vulnerable and talking about his past, but he tries with you. He’ll get tongue tied sometimes or a sentence will drift off before he can finish it, but he’ll try.
⋆˙⟡♡ Bruce is always so busy he forgets to eat. You’ll constantly remind him food is good for you. So, some days he’ll go eating nothing at all, despite you and Alfred’s insistence. But when he does, it’s a big feast Alfred prepares for him.
⋆˙⟡♡ He is very sweet, a complete gentleman. He has the best manners. He always says his pleases and his thank yous. He’ll follow a question with, when you have a chance, if you can. With Alfred though he’ll be so distracted he’ll just walk away. He doesn’t mean to, just makes sure he’s extra gentle with you.
⋆˙⟡♡ He likes black and white films to play in the background when he’s not doing anything. Or slow, almost gothic music to really set the tone. He’s emo like that and I just know it.
⋆˙⟡♡ He goes to Alfred a lot for relationship advice, scared he’ll mess up and you’ll leave him. He wants to avoid making mistakes with you, so he’ll ask for help or reassurance on what to do.
⋆˙⟡♡ Bruce has a tendency to ignore any problem until it goes away, especially to avoid a fight with you. He’s confrontational when it comes to you, so he’ll let you have your way a lot of the time. He doesn’t like to fight with you.
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ Bruce was sweet and shy, always making sure you were comfortable and had everything you needed. He never judged you when you’d tell him your stories or your past, he never accused you of things, and he never raised his voice at you when things would get frustrating. He loved you too much, appreciated you too much. You had no idea how happy you made him even if his face didn’t show it.
He was still wary, scared you’ll leave him, scared one of his enemies will find you out and take you away from him. But he was always there, watching and protecting, hiding in the shadows, being the shadow, on the nights you didn’t know. He may have been Gotham’s protector, but he was also yours.
He loved you and was grateful for you, so grateful he met you when he did and that you trusted him enough to let him see every lovely part of you. He vowed to protect you, to cherish you, and he made good on that promise. Even going as far as to blow out your candle every day before you’d leave for work. Couldn’t have you burning your house down, now could he?
Honestly, I could go on and on about this man so I think I have to end this here. But thank you for reading and hope you enjoyed, especially @diavolosbaby who requested this. I really hope you like it, and if you’re not satisfied or I didn’t answer your ask correctly then don’t be afraid to tell me 💕💕 constructive criticism isn’t bad mmkay ☺️💕
#𓍯꒷ 𝐌𝐀𝐔𝐕𝐄 ﾉ ◝ ̨⊹#batman#batman fanfic#the batman#batman x reader#catwoman x batman#batman oneshot#batman imagine#Batman fanfiction#batman fic#robert pattinson x reader#Robert Pattinson#battinson#battinson x reader#battinson one shot#battinson fanfiction#battinson fanfic#battinson fic#battinson Imagine#Batman smut#battinson smut#bale batman#Christian bale batman
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Soft!Dom Battinson x Fem!Reader HC
Pairing: Battinson x Fem!Reader
Warnings: A little overprotective Bruce, tiny bit nsfw
Type: HC
Request: N/A
Word Count: N/A
Prompt: Bruce as a soft!dom kind of? I will probably revisit this.
Notes: Shut up
-Ok so like we saw in the movie, Bruce is definitely protective of you, kind of to a dangerous extent. Whether or not you want anything to do with him, he’s absolutely feral when anyone seems to bother you, even in the slightest.
-He always has to keep an eye on you, truly because he cares and doesn’t want anything to happen to you. He’d track you down in seven different ways, two of which you were unaware of.
-Of course, he’s Batman, but you’re his weakness, so your saving comes first, always. He’d absolutely appear when you least expect it to save you. So much so that you kind of start to get a little cocky with it, knowing he wouldn’t let anything happen to you, even if you were mad at each other.
-Because he kind of lives in a constant state of fearing that something will happen to you, he will do anything to keep you home. In fact when you first established your relationship, he opted for sleepovers constantly.
-He went as far as buying you a whole wardrobe and toiletries to keep over at his manor in hopes to drain your excuses to leave.
-Speaking of which, there’s times when he promises to come home at a certain time, or take you out somewhere before sunrise and finds you half asleep on the couch waiting for him. Nothing feels worse than that to him.
-He picks you up and carries you back to the bedroom, no matter how tired and weak he feels. Bruce would help you get undressed, tucking you into bed in hopes you’d still be asleep by the time he finished getting home and climbing into bed next to you.
-There’s times when he knows he has to be out as Bruce in meetings, but opts to do it over zoom, only to have you lay your head on his lap as he overhears faintly the rest of the men speak of the enterprise.
-He makes it a habit to rub your head as you lay on his lap, waiting for the call to be over along with him.
-Once it is, he lets you straddle him and thanks you between kisses.
-Bruce loves to see the difference in your sizes, not by much, but enough to see his hand almost be the size of your face. He has a habit of grabbing you by the jaw to kiss him when he’s overwhelmed with how much he loves you.
-You’ll catch him staring a lot. No matter where you’re at or what you’re doing.
-He cherishes the time spent with you, making the most of it. He knows it’s hard to be with him sometimes, seeing all the bruises, cuts and broken bones he comes home with wasn’t easy for you to see. He promises you it doesn’t hurt and that he’s been through worse, but his heart absolutely shatters when he sees you tear up.
-Sometimes he contemplates quitting the mask when he sees your fingertips trickle over his wounds.
-You’d absolutely be his weakness. It’s so obvious.
-Absolutely would get you a little station in his batcave, you could color while he practically lives there, investigating whatever needs his priority at the moment.
-”Baby.” or “princess” becomes your new name.
-He’s absolutely intoxicated by the way you feel, once his hands start to travel your body, he’s hooked.
-Neck kisses, jaw kisses, forehead kisses, shoulder kisses, hand kisses. His mouth is just everywhere.
-At the times he is home, he would help you get dressed, only because he wants to show you he loves you and maybe this would be an excellent excuse to touch you.
-Lots of leg and thigh kisses when he’s helping you dress your bottom half.
-Would stop what he’s doing to tie your shoe, even if you have to place your foot on his expensive suit pant, he just dusts it off. The last thing Bruce wants is to have you trip over.
-Lots of hair pulling when he’s in you. His favorite thing is to pull your hair back into a ponytail to see your face.
-Always worried if he was too rough with you, even if you reassure him.
-Honestly just wants to make you his trophy wife. He doesn’t want you to lift a finger, only keep him company and love him in return.
-Spoiling you with materialistic things are a given, purses, jewelry dresses, skirts, shoes you name it. Not cars though, because he would insist on driving you or having someone assigned to be your driver.
-Yes you can cuddle on his lap while he’s on his chair in the cave deciphering.
-His heart melts upon seeing you in his clothes, half asleep and looking for him after he wandered off.
-Literally unravels when his hand is around your neck and all you can whimper is his name. He just wants to leave hickies all over you to compliment the new necklace he got you.
-Will make you his rope bunny if you asked and wouldn’t mind keeping a few pictures of you for memories.
-Sticks his thumb into your mouth to suck on when you’re being too loud for his liking. “Shh princess, those noises are mine” Leaving you no time to catch your breath as he’s chasing his high.
-Maybe I should go on.
#Battinson#Battinson x reader#Bruce Wayne x Reader#Bruce Wayne imagine#Battinson Imagine#Battinson One shot
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Hii <3 Can you make a Bruce x Surgeon reader?. Love your work btw.
❝right place, right time❞
parts: next
plot: you took the hippocratic oath. you swore to help those in need. you didn’t sign up for a man crawling through your apartment window bleeding to death, but you’ve unfortunately seen worse.
pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader.
cw: surgeon!reader, secret identities, slow burn, meet ugly but it’s kind of cute, vigilantes breaking into medical professionals’ houses but it’s not because they don’t heave health insurance, bruce wayne is a masochist, mentions of blood, bullet wounds, and surgical stitching.
words: 4k.
edited: 2/28/24.
a/n: I struggled a bit with this idea, but I ended up really liking the outcome! hope you enjoy.
Contrary to what your mother believed, you had started looking for a new apartment. You’d stare at newspaper clippings stuck to your fridge and imagine yourself living in those nicer buildings and say “I’ll call them on my lunch break” but never did.
But it wasn’t your fault, you just got busy. And busier. And you liked this place. Since you’d enrolled in medical school, it hadn’t done you wrong. You might as well have had lamb’s blood over your door the way the angel of death never came knocking.
And technically that was still true. He had to have been there before you slipped in, the stove clock reading 11:15 in neon green just a minute before you noticed his sinister silhouette outlined by your window. It had been a long shift, but you definitely weren’t just seeing things.
A chilly breeze shuffles his cape. He shifts and you realize the window he was blocking had been pried open. It’d stopped opening for you years ago. His body shifts (sways) again, saying nothing.
“What are you doing in my house?” He hears you. There’s no way he can’t hear you, the distance between the front door and the window mere feet in between. He shifts one more time, hulking forward with the ears of his cowl resembling bull horns, and you grab the doorknob in fear that he’s about to charge forward and trample you... but he hits the floor.
Slowly, you open your front door again, hallway light illuminating the body on your living room floor. Completely still. You stand there for perhaps a few beats too long just looking at him. Then, extra slow, you let your door shut and flip on the overhead light. In the time it’d taken for you to collect your thoughts, a small pool of blood had begun to stain the carpet underneath him.
Your shift had been long, and this definitely wasn’t the first time today you’d seen that much blood, but you’d been prepared then.
“Shit, shit, shit,” tossing your things to the side, you all but throw yourself onto the ground next to the Batman’s body. You note with increasing concern that he doesn’t react at all, “do not die on my carpet!”
He doesn’t react to that either.
It takes your eyes a moment to adjust in your flurry of thoughts, relieved to see that his back was still rising and falling with life, but the blood soaking the floor and eating up your security deposit didn’t leave you feeling very confident. Tucking his cape out of the way does nothing to help show you his injury, and you realize that you’d need to move him and remove the layer of armor in your way if you wanted to stop the bleeding.
Even splayed on the floor, it’s clear he’s a mountain of a man. There was no way you could flip him all on your own. “Hey,” you call, “what happened to you?”
There are slits in the cowl where his eyes should be and black paint spread around his eyelashes that do not flutter when you speak. Careful, you take your thumb and peel one eyelid back to reveal a brilliant blue eye staring back at you—or rather, your direction—unresponsive.
There’s a neat protocol for this. You’re a professional with over a decade of training under your belt and over a hundred different emergencies that hadn’t made you flinch or falter. You know what to do and how to do it right, but you really haven’t got the time.
Winding your hand back with just enough force, you bring the palm of it down onto his exposed cheek, startling him awake instantly.
The victory is short-lived when he suddenly arrests your hand in an iron-clad grip, stunning you with the sheer strength he puts behind it. That was a good sign, at least. He wasn’t quite seeing the light at the end of the tunnel yet. You’re quick to get your words out before he can fling you across the room in a rage, “I need you to roll over so I can get your suit off.”
You kinda feel bad for the guy. His eyes are slow to follow your hand’s movement, brain even slower to process what it is you’re asking. He can barely lift his head off the ground to assess his surroundings. You watch the way he struggles to focus on you, frantic as you are, and his nose twitches at the idea, “No.”
“No?”
The labored breathing isn’t a very good sign, “I can’t.”
“I need to get to your wound. I can’t do that with an inch of Kevlar in the way.”
He musters some of the strength he used to take you captive to push himself up and over onto his back. Still, he refuses to move any further, “I got the bullet out. Just stop the bleeding.”
Sure enough, the material around his wound had shattered open from the impact of a bullet, no doubt holding up for as long as it could under a barrage. His entire suit had taken a beating. You cringe at the blood still free-flowing and remove your cardigan, bunching it to press against the wound. “You’re an idiot,” you hiss, forgetting yourself and who you’re talking to, “you probably agitated the wound doing that. You need stitches. You know that, right?”
“Just... stop the bleeding.”
You’d handled legions of mafia goons, clowns, and freaks, but Batman was shaping up to be your most annoying patient. “I can’t if you don’t let me stitch you up. I can’t stitch you up with this armor in the way.” He even has the audacity to doze off a little while you talk, coming back to only when you give his cheek a few more taps, “You’re not dying in my house. If you want to bleed to death, get out. Otherwise, let me help you... please.”
If you were in the operating room, maybe you could’ve cut the thing off him by now, but you’re in your mediocre apartment with tools only a little more helpful than the average first aid kit. What stands between you and the grim reaper is an exposed identity. You were a little alarmed that he was still deliberating on which was worse.
His eyes stare down at you, eyelids drooping by the second. You hope that’s not another bad sign, “I’ll blindfold myself.”
“Tell me how bleeding out is worse again.” At least he had a sense of humor about it.
You laugh because it’s all you can really do with that, “I’m a pretty good surgeon from what I hear.” His eyes flicker to your scrubs as if he had just noticed what you were wearing, “It’s just this upper part, right? You have to take your cowl off to remove it. So I’ll blindfold myself. Then you can put the cowl back on and I can work. I promise.”
Batman watches you with those haunting eyes, rimmed with blackness that makes the blue look like it goes on forever. Then, his hand slips down to the place where his breastplate meets his belt. His fingers make quick work of loosening the latter. That’s all you need to get moving.
You retrieve your first aid kit and meager surgical tools from the bathroom, and there’s a scarf from last night’s shift on the arm of your couch that you quickly tie around your eyes, listening for movement as you kneel by Batman’s side. You hear grunts of pain and the shifting of fabric, a breathless whine and sigh. You feel him shift in front of you, cringing when you realize he’s sitting up now. Reaching your hands out to help him, he grits through his teeth to dissuade you, “It’s fine.”
“You’re gonna tire yourself out.” Your voice is much gentler this time, a reward for his compliance, and you let your hands feel for where his own are hooked under his armor. You think you hear him suck air through his teeth at the touch. “Let me.”
He doesn’t use his words to reply. His hands engulf your own and it’s your turn to gasp now as he moves them into position, hooking your fingers between the Kevlar and the fabric underneath. You feel his body flex with the effort as you heave the top off him, your fingers brushing over wisps of hair as your hands pass over his head. It thuds somewhere off to the side.
The sound of him falling back against the floor is none too comforting, though his voice confirms that you can look again.
The fabric of his under suit is easy to cut open with scissors, and once you’ve got a good vantage point, you begin wiping around the wound to prepare. “There’s no anesthesia here, sorry. You’re gonna have to tough this one out.”
The Batman keeps his gaze on your ceiling with his jaw clenched. With your needle prepared, you steady your hand against the warmth of his skin and begin stitching.
He’s good for a few minutes and you watch his face for any signs that you should stop, but every time he meets your eyes, you force yourself back to work. You’re just in the homestretch when he stutters out a pained breath, grasping at your bloodied cardigan for something to distract himself from the pain. You spread the hand that isn’t stitching him up against his torso and begin brushing your idle pinky back and forth, attempting to comfort him, “You’re doing great. I’m almost done.”
Your touch makes him stiffen and you wait for him to tell you to stop, wait for him to pry your fingers from his skin, but he does nothing of the sort. “You said you’re a surgeon.”
You make another loop, pleased that he’s more alert now, “I’d say you must be pretty lucky for breaking into my place, but you’re also the one that got shot.” His shoulders relax the minute you tie off your thread and snip off the excess. The gauze and tape is the easy part.
His eyes shift from you to the window he’d crawled in through, blood dried on the white wood. You think he’s cold and are about to get up and shut it when he speaks again, a little gentler, “Why here? You could live anywhere.”
“Be careful. You sound like my mother,” you joke, “I just haven’t gotten around to it. 16 hour shifts take precedence.”
To your surprise, his eyes flash with remorse. “I was looking for somewhere to hide. I wasn’t going to stay.”
“But you did.”
“I’m usually more bulletproof.”
That gets a laugh out of you. You think Batman even quirks a smile, however faint. “I’d hope so. I’d like you to stick around a little longer.” Batman’s confusion is obvious this close up. You continue, “Long shifts, you know. Get a lot of casualties. It’s really... gruesome stuff. They don’t sugarcoat it in residency, but when you’re really out there, seeing it every night... anyway, it’s been different since you came along. People sleep a bit easier. Me included.”
You don’t tell him that he’s part of the reason you hadn’t up and moved to a better city yet. It feels implied.
The clock now reads 12:32, a warning of how late the night had gone on, “Well, are you sleeping on the couch or the floor? I prefer the couch but you seem like the masochistic type.”
Batman brushes off your dig a little too easily, “Neither.”
“I’m not letting you leave after all that, if that’s what you’re thinking. You narrowly avoided death.”
“I’ll be fine. Thanks to you.”
Oh, oh this man. Was your heartfelt confession not enough? “You won’t be fine if you get up and leave.”
“I can’t stay here.”
“You will if you want to live.”
“I’ve been through worse.”
“I will tie you to a goddamn chair before I let you ruin all my hard work. I’ll keep you here all night.”
He sits up again, more confident now that his wound is handled, and you’re quickly reminded that even unconscious, he’d been too strong to manhandle. With him looming over you with purpose, you wouldn’t stand a chance.
Your eyes discreetly rake over the heavy, sturdy planes of his body. You weren’t much in the way of him. Your last-ditch effort is a little pitiful, “Please. You obviously do this vigilante thing for a reason. You don’t have to stay the whole night. At least rest for a few hours. There are a lot of people who need you here tomorrow... again, me included.”
Your puppy dog eyes are a little rusty, you know. The sincerity works for you. Even when the Batman feigns undecided, you can tell his choice by some of the tension leaving his body.
You just wish he wasn’t so stubborn.
You scramble to hold him when he starts pushing himself to stand, your arm linking around his almost naked waist. The fabric clings closely to the dips and curves of his hip, and you press closer to tuck under his arm. He must be more tired than he lets on because he barely resists you.
You’re thankful that he can shoulder most of his weight on the slow, stiff walk to the couch, and your worry overpowers your smugness when he drops to the cushions the second you get close enough. You’re gentle checking the gauze for any red that might seep through, but the stitches remain intact. “If you eat something, you’ll heal a bit faster.”
“I’m-” He catches himself before he adds on a “fine”, “water would be... good.”
The bottle you retrieve remains unopened until you put it in his hands, “A few hours, okay? At least two.” Batman frowns at you, jaw pulling taut at the thought of staying still for that long. His mulishness would be endearing if he wasn’t playing with life or death. “I’m gonna be in that room at the end of the hall. I’ll keep my door cracked in case you need me.”
“You shouldn’t do that.” Batman warns, a strange edge of concern to his voice, “With strangers in your house.”
You laugh, “What? You mean you?”
His hand takes your wrist but gentler this time, “Three hours. And you’ll run next time someone breaks in.”
You’re kind of stunned. Not because you didn’t think he’d care, but because, in all this commotion, you hadn’t really paused to think about what would have happened if it hadn’t been him at your window. You’d been lucky for this to be the first time anyone had ever broken in, but what if tonight had gone differently? It’s a simple, reasonable request. “Yeah,” His eyelids flutter closed a little at your agreement, “Three hours.”
You’d worked shifts longer than a day and they’d never exhausted you this badly.
You know you should be putting on a better face for the day, especially with who you’d be meeting in less than an hour, but you’d barely slept a wink with your guest only feet away from your bedroom door, no monotonous heart monitor to fall asleep to. What little sleep you did get only came after he’d left—true to his word, he’d stayed for three hours—and then worries of whether he’d made it home safely had consumed you.
That was the thing with masked vigilantes, you supposed. This was your first after all.
“You look rough. Long night?” You recognize the voice as one of the pediatricians, Emily, who had been handpicked alongside you for the day’s special event. She looked far more alive in comparison.
“You’ve no idea.”
Emily sidles up beside you, radiating excitement, “I could barely sleep either. I’ve never met a celebrity before!”
You muster up enough energy to laugh, humorless as it was, “CEOs don’t count as celebrities, Em.”
“Yeah, they do. Elon Musk hosted SNL. Only celebrities do that.”
And thank God that wasn’t who you were meeting today. You weren’t that good of an actor.
It had been between you and one other general surgeon in your department for the day, and though you’d remained adamant that it should be literally anyone else but you representing your department, your boss had nominated you.
That’s why you were standing here on only an hour and a half of sleep, second coffee in hand, waiting by the front doors of Gotham General for the fanfare to start. They’d be here any minute.
For every second you weren’t agonizing over what you’d have to say (”Thank you for your generous donation, we really need it in a city that implodes on itself once every afternoon”) or buzzing from the caffeine, you were checking local news for any sightings of the Batman. It had gone from curious to obsessive in about a few hours, and now you were doing everything in your power not to sneak your phone out and check again.
Just as your fingers begin to itch over the mouth of your pocket, a sleek Rolls Royce pulls up beneath the porte-cochère. It’s obvious who it belongs to. No one who owned a car like that would make Gotham General their first choice for healthcare.
Your boss materializes out of thin air, running outside to greet the greying man who steps out of the passenger seat first. You’re confused, wondering if they’d sent a representative instead, only for that same man to open the backseat door a moment later, and out steps the man of the hour: Bruce Wayne.
You’d never seen him in person before. “Have you ever seen him in person before?” Emily asks, bouncing up and down beside you. “He’s more handsome up close.”
She... wasn’t wrong.
Bruce Wayne looks a lot like his pictures, but there are subtle differences. His height, for one, cannot be overstated. He hovers over the man who’d come with him and your boss easily. Though you’re separated by glass doors, you’re able to make out the sharp point of his nose and squaring of his jaw. He looks every bit like his father.
It’s only when the three of them make their way into the lobby—where you are—that you notice his eyes.
You weren’t like Em. The Wayne tragedy had been just that: a tragedy. Summers weren’t for the arrival of Bruce Wayne back from boarding school, every tabloid and teenager with nothing better to do scrambling to get a picture of the sole heir. You couldn’t even say if his hair was black or brown. You’d never cared past the statue in the courtyard dedicated to his father. So you had no idea just how blue those eyes were. So... familiarly blue. You hadn’t seen eyes that blue for the last eight hours.
It doesn’t help that as soon as Bruce spots you, he stumbles in his walk behind your boss. You swore he looked like he knew you.
“...and this is Dr. Emily Madison, one of our pediatricians here. These two are extraordinary and a big part of why Gotham General is the trusted facility it is today,” your boss is all smiles and glamour, cutting his eyes to you, “why don’t you say a few words to Mr. Wayne and Mr. Pennyworth?”
Right. Your script. The one you’d written more like a joke because you couldn’t focus on anything other than- “Thank you so much for your generous donation, Mr. Wayne,” you step forward to shake both hands in order, “the Wayne Foundation will help so many of us in the field working tirelessly to serve Gotham, as I know your father was very passionate about.”
“Yes,” Bruce sounds a little breathless, “he’d be very proud of the work your team has done so far.”
Your mouth dries up a little. You had to be exhausted. Your mind was running away from you at the timbre of his voice. You’d heard it before too.
Emily’s voice is petering off into white noise as she shares her own gratitude, Bruce focusing on her instead, and suddenly you’re looking at every detail, fitting your thumb in the space between his eyelid and brow in your mind and wondering if that had been the same eye you’d peered into last night.
You haven’t slept at all, you remind yourself, thoughts forming faster than your logic could bat them down, you’re not thinking straight. It’s just that... you swear that...
Suddenly the group is moving, your boss at the forefront. His voice trickles back into your ears as you come back down to earth, “Well, shall we take a look at the new wing? It’s still under construction, but we’d love to show you what we have so far.”
You follow far behind as you approach the grand staircase in the middle of the foyer, eyes following the silhouette of Bruce. You’re comparing shadows, legs, shoulders, cheekbones, finding more similarities than differences. If he feels your eyes burning into him, he isn’t acknowledging you.
He’s barely taken five steps up the staircase when you notice the awkward tilt in his walk. The few glimpses you get of his face as the group begins to ascend looks strained, every step looks painful. Before you can stop yourself, you reach out a hand to grasp his elbow and stop him in his tracks, “Are you hurt?”
You’re just as shocked as he is. The instinct to grab him had been faster than your logic.
He’s got this wide-eyed, almost hysterically doe look as he flits his attention from your hand on his sleeve to your eyes. Seconds later, a more weathered hand pries you two apart. “Apologies, but I’ll have to ask you to refrain from touching Mr. Wayne without-”
“No, Alfred, it’s fine.” “Alfred” releases you at the behest of his employer who hasn’t taken his eyes off you, “I should be the one to apologize... I overexerted myself these last few days at work and believed I might be able to tough it out. If anyone were to notice something wrong, it would be a skilled professional such as yourself.”
His response is corporate and clean, and just as quickly as his shock had appeared, his face returns to professional distance once more.
Emily looks sympathetic over the PR statement. Your boss is quick to scramble back down the stairs, only a little hurt when Bruce waves away his arm to help him back down, “Mr. Wayne, you should have said something! We can take the elevators instead. The last thing we’d want to do is make you uncomfortable. Please, this way.”
You find your way to the back of the group again, now thoroughly embarrassed at your behavior, and begin plotting excuses to step away in the middle of the tour. Emergency surgery, maybe? You had friends in the ICU who could ping you for a false alarm. Maybe then you could sneak in a well-needed nap back at your office-
“I should thank you.”
Bruce had materialized beside you at some point on the trek to the elevators, not as keen on hiding the stiffness in his walk after being exposed. Once his words catch up with you, you stumble out a response, “Wh- oh no, that’s not-”
“Alfred often has to remind me to take care of myself, but it’d be unlike me to not give him a hard time.” Bruce offers a smile, genuine enough that you’re kind of pleased he’s not playing up the friendliness for business. You hate that his smile is the only thing that sets him and Batman apart in your exhausted mind.
You return the smile as you all wait for the doors to open, “He seems very protective of you. And he’s right, you should take better care of yourself. There are worse places to get hurt.”
You’re about to look away, about to follow Emily and your boss and Mr. Pennyworth into the elevator, but you’re a second too late and catch a glint in his eye as soon as you finish your sentence. It’s gone before you know it. “Maybe.” Is his only reply. His smile remains genuine.
taglist: @yikes-buddy @alexxavicry
#bruce wayne x reader#bruce wayne scenarios#bruce wayne imagine#bruce wayne one shot#bruce wayne#batman x reader#batman scenarios#batman imagine#the batman#battinson x reader#battinson#mjwrites
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christmas!battinson?! kissing under the mistletoe? snow fights in the garden? baking cookies? PLEASE
wayne manor christmas
I LOVE THIS IDEA SO MUCH THANK YOU ANON THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU! happy early holidays everyone! i hope you all enjoy, although my writing skills aren’t at 100% currently.
pairing: pattinson! bruce wayne/ reader
warnings: none :)
you woke up this morning with a start. bruce however was not ready to get up, moaning tiredly as you roll over on top of his sleeping figure.
“bruce! come on let’s get up!” you whisper shout as you card your fingers through his black hair. he opens one eye to peer down at you.
“what’s the occasion?” he asks sarcastically, his voice was low and hoarse from sleep. you roll your eyes and sit up, tugging him by his arm until he unwillingly stands up. once he was on his feet and you smothered him with kisses, he began to perk up and even show you one of his rare smiles. what made this morning better was the snow that was steadily falling outside. it was christmas morning and you were too eager to head downstairs and exchange presents with bruce.
“here’s yours my good sir” you hand the present to him gracefully and watch eagerly as he rips off the wrapping. his eyes visibly light up as he observes your gift to him. it was an expensive watch that he had been eyeing for MONTHS but never got around to buying.
“my watch! i love it, thank you honey” bruce kisses your lips gently and you could feel him smile against you. “here, open yours”
you open the present quickly, too excited to see what lies inside. once pulling the box open, you were met with the most beautiful necklace you’d ever seen. he knew your taste perfectly. you were too afraid to ask how much it cost.
“bruce! it’s beautiful, thank you!” you nearly knock him backwards as you throw your arms around him and kiss him all over for the second time that day. the two of you spent another hour, talking and opening your smaller gifts for each other. before deciding to bake cookies for the christmas party you were hosting tonight.
“do we really have to host the party?” bruce asks, to which alfred gives a glare.
“yes, master wayne. it would be good for you to connect with some old friends, don’t you think?”
“plus we can show off our christmas decorations” you give an encouraging smile and pull out the christmas cookie ingredients.
baking took a lot longer than it should have. you were either throwing flour at each other, or shielding the raw dough from bruce who would have eaten it all if you let him. but alas, you eventually got the cookies baking in the oven.
“mission accomplished!” you high five bruce, which creates a cloud of flour. bruce had white handprints all over his clothes, and on his nose and cheeks.
“you got a little something” you point at your own nose, and bruce gives you a scowl.
“really? i didn’t notice” he throws sarcasm at you, and sticks his hand into the pile of flour on the counter. before you could react, he had rubbed it all down your face and shirt.
“oh my god!” you smack his hands away and gasp with shock, although a smile was tugging at your lips.
the two of you ended up showering while the cookies baked, and by the time you were finished getting ready, people were arriving for the party. you and bruce were in ugly christmas sweaters that you insisted would be cute to wear as you greeted guests that arrived. you enjoyed catching up with old friends, and even though bruce wasn’t enthusiastic, you could tell he enjoyed the socializing at least a little bit.
you both had an overwhelming feeling of normalcy, not having to worry about crime in the city as much, it seemed batman’s presence had really made it die down. it felt good to be able to breathe, and have something as normal as a party.
an hour in, the two of you were socially drained. you stood off under a wide doorframe, lost in a conversation that you didn’t have to force out like around guests. suddenly, bruce looks up. furrowing your brows, you follow his gaze and notice a mistletoe hanging above the two of you. you look back at him, giving him that ‘really?’ stare, along with a playful smile.
“did you plan this?” you cock your head to the side, bruce copies your head tilt and steps closer to you.
“i don’t know what you’re talking about” he shrugs and places a hand on your waist. his other hand gracefully balanced a wine glass. you on the other hand, nearly spilled your drink down his back as you wrapped your arms around his neck. you connected your lips with his, the kiss was passionate, a kiss reserved for when it’s just you and him (how convenient that the mistletoe is just out of the party’s eye?). no matter how long you’ve known bruce, every kiss felt like the first with him. the sparks never fade, but only grow stronger. hell, you felt like a highschooler.
the party flew by quickly with the help of being tipsy, and when you gave your farewells to all the guests you noticed the snow outside. the light from the moon bounced off of the powdery substance and you guessed there was maybe 2-3 feet of snow now. you gave bruce the look, and he immediately shook his head no.
“please!!” you clasp your hands together and show puppy eyes in a silent beg, and bruce quickly gives in.
in an instant you were in your winter clothes and out into the night, trudging through the snow filled garden with a childlike wonder in your eyes. you turned to bruce to speak to him, but were instantly met with a snowball to the shoulder. you gasp in fake shock, and you suddenly felt like you were in a gunslinger stand off. the two of you made eye contact, waiting to see who would make the first move. quickly, you run behind a bush and begin to create snowballs that you hurled at bruce. you managed to dodge (most of) them, but when you popped up from your bush again, you noticed he was gone. carefully, you creep through the garden, armed with two snowballs.
“bruuuuuuceeeee” you sing out teasingly, tossing the snowball up and down in your gloved hand. before you could even react, bruce pops out from behind a tree and charges at you. you manage to throw one snowball before he gets to you, and sends the two of you crashing to the ground. you let out a scream, followed by laughter from the both of you. you take a breath to calm down, but fall into a fit again at the sight of bruce’s face absolutely covered in snow.
“oh that’s funny?” he teases, grabbing your face and shaking the snow off of him onto you.
“hey, hey!!!” you grab his own face to stop him, the two of you were now dripping with melted snow. you kiss one of the snowflakes off of his cheek near the corner of his mouth, and when you pull back he catches you in another kiss on the lips. you smile against him and kiss back eagerly.
“can we go back inside now?” bruce’s voice was shaking slightly as he smiled at you, and it made you aware of how cold you were yourself.
“good idea”
#bruce wayne x reader#battinson#batman x reader#bruce wayne imagine#bruce wayne one shot#batman imagine#batman one shot#the batman#bruce wayne#batman#pattinson!bruce wayne#robert pattinson x y/n#robert pattinson x reader#robert pattinson one shot#robert pattinson#fanfiction
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𝒊𝒕’𝒔 𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆
✓𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗽𝗹𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗱
・❥・ Pairing: Bruce Wayne/Batman x Female!Reader
・❥・ Series Summary: It happened a while ago: the day you stumbled into the batman. And ever since, he seemed to pop up exactly when you needed him. You thought it was stupid to try and be his friend. He thought it was dangerous to let you in. Both of you did it anyway.
・❥・ Rating: Explicit — eventual smut, violence, blood, eventual romance, slow burn, friends to lovers
・❥・ Word Count: 22,921
chapters Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch 7 | Ch 8 | Ch 9 | Ch 10 | Ch 11
「 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐛𝐨𝐚𝐫𝐝 」
*•.¸♡main masterlist *•.¸♡ao3 *•.¸♡twt
֗ ִ ۫ ˑ ֗ ִ ᳝ ࣪ ִ ۫ ˑ ֗ ִ ۫ ˑ ֗ ִ ᳝ ࣪ ִ ۫ ˑ
#the batman#the batman 2022#its raining vengeance masterlist#batman x reader#bruce wayne#bruce wayne x y/n#bruce wayne imagine#bruce wayne fanfic#bruce Wayne insert#bruce wayne one shot#batman one shot#batman imagine#battinson#robert pattinson#its raining vengeance#bruce wayne headcanon#dc#dc fanfic#bruce wayne x reader#smut#bruce wayne smut#batman smut#the batman imagine#the batman fanfic#the batman one shot
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I’d die without you
Summary: Being in a relationship is hard and takes time, but being the Batman and being in a relationship is 10 times harder. Batman tries to push the reader away due to insecurity and worries about the readers' safety.
(I don’t remember who made the artwork but all credits go to them!)
Wc: 800+
Warnings: Angsty Bruce, POV lowkey switches throughout (if you squint), and the reader is slightly self-centered. Proofread once!
I can see it in his weary blue eyes, the weight of Gotham is collapsing on him now more than ever. Call this next feeling self-centered, but it feels like it’s my fault.
We’ve been dating for 5 months and he’s confided in me that making Gotham safer has been more critical than ever now that I am in his life. This news is comforting but also makes me concerned for his safety.
“I don’t care what happens to me”, is something he has repeatedly confessed to me, after telling me that I refuse to go to sleep until he is returned back to me in one piece. For a while now I have been assigned to reside at the Wayne Manor per Bruce’s request, and honestly, I don’t mind staying here. This place has a haunting feeling to it, it’s beautiful, and it’s also Bruce’s safe Haven.
He likes to know I'm somewhere that is safe and he knows Alfred is here if anything bad happens, I use to think this was very possessive behavior but after seeing the raw look of fear in his eyes. I understand now, I trust him.
Just like he trusted me with his secret identity, I didn’t think he’d give up that side of him so soon, I met Batman before I met Bruce, though Batman is almost all of Bruce Wayne. I love both sides.
I love him.
.
.
.
“The Riddler, he’s planning something, something big. I’m not sure what it is yet” he groans out fighting through the pain of recovery after having his arm popped out of its socket. I had to force him to put something on it after he swore he didn’t need anything.
“Lemme take a look” you offer, “Maybe some fresh eyes could help”, I reach for the straw-colored folders based on the recent killing manic the Riddler. He’s been terrorizing Gotham for a week by torturing Government officials gruesomely in public.
He grabs my wrist fast but gently, “No” he softly mumbles. He barely makes eye contact with me as he says this. This action forces me to drop the folders back onto his desk, “It’s too dangerous”.
Is it too dangerous to look at the evidence?
“Bruce, I’m not a child, and how the hell is looking at the evidence dangerous?” I begin to slightly raise my voice getting tired of the sheltering I have been getting for months. I get his obsessive control for my safety but, this is getting tiring. He stands up after my response, he straightens his posture towering over me but I don’t back down.
I don’t like this tense energy I just created, I hate arguing with him. I try to soften the mood, by gently placing my hand on his face, pushing past his emotional wall, and embracing him in a hug, “God I love you Bruce” I sigh out in his damp hair, and he returns this hug letting his arms rest above my butt. “I don’t want you involved in this at all”.
“Bruce listen-” I try to get out but he abruptly cuts me off, “I know y/n, I know I've been sheltering you and in a way, keeping you hostage. But-” he pauses, taking a shaky deep breath before continuing. I can tell that being this vulnerable is hard for him, it’s no secret that Bruce is not the most…emotionally expressive person. “But, If anything would happen to you, I'd die”
Oh my god.
“Emotionally I’d be dead, the weight of Gotham would have finally broken me if anything, and I mean anything wore to happen to you. Then Gotham would really get dark” the tone of his voice shakes me to my core, the hair on my arms stands up and a cool shiver sends shock waves up and down my spine. He speaks in a cold and cryptic tone, his words become thick and throaty as he thinks about the possibility of something happening to me as he continues spewing out his feelings.
Bruces Vision:
The image makes him sick, him not being able to reach you in time and seeing your duead body behind yellow police tape with your corpse being covered by a thin white sheet. The sound of the reporter's camera shutters begins to slow down, as does everything in this vision: the voices of those reporters asking to get more information on what just happened begins to slow down, the heavy beating rain around him slows down, and his blood pumping heart slows down.
End of Bruce’s Vision:
Everything in this sick vision that replays in Bruce’s head begins to slow down.
“Bruce” You put your hand on his shoulder when you realize his mind is no longer present, “Hmm” he hums as his eyes begin to focus back on reality.
A reality where you're still alive, and warm, and still the love of his life.
#batman#batman fanfiction#battinson fic#battinson x reader#brucewayne#fem!reader#batman smut#rxtrovillans masterlist#angst#batman angst#bruce wayne angst#the batman x you#dc#fanfic#thebatman#brucewayne masterlist#bruce wayne imagine#one shot#bruce wayne oneshot#robert pattinson#robert pattinson batman#bruce wayne drabble#heavy angst
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𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 {𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏𝟎}
Words: 5.2k+
Summary: Bruce accepts the challenge.
Warnings: No Spoilers! Rich people being their privileged selves. Fem!Reader [no descriptions of race or body type]. Romanticizing of stalking. Chasing. Mentions of scars (+ slight insecurity). SMUT (oral [fem receiving], piv sex).
Parts: Prologue, One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven [Series Masterlist]
By clicking to read more you are agreeing that you are over the age of 18 and mature enough to read mature scenes :)
You let out the biggest sigh of the day as soon as you walk out of the elevator and into your home. You are quick to lean over the wall to take off your heels and let your bag fall from your shoulder to your hand. As well as turn on the lights as you move along the cold tiles of your apartment floor and leave your bag by the kitchen counter as you get close enough to it. Your body is on autopilot, at this point.
To say today was stressful at work is a real understatement. Everyone seemed to be in a bad mood over something, and you had to endure it all while on the phone with them. Your workers were doing their best in the middle of the chaos - that is a partner overreacting over a missing file in his drive.
In his defense, your partner is quite an older man and very much useless with technology. He has not been the easiest to work with through screens.
Your mother also decided to come by the office, which was very much unwanted on your part. As one can imagine, you were busy. Your desk was full of documents to sign, and you had a partner and his team on the line. They were ready to arrange a new affair that has to do with your business. While that happened, your assistant was in front of you trying to help you look for a certain document.
It was all a mess, and your mom got in the room, sat down, and watched you do all of it. To say you were quite aggravated is an understatement, again.
After everything was settled, you had more people coming into your office, and your mom still wanted to talk to you about something. She waited while distracted by her phone, and you caught yourself glaring at her.
All of it was just to talk about a restaurant for this week's dinner. You were ready to scream at that point.
The last few hours in the office were much better. You still had a lot to do, but it was still not as chaotic as the whole rest of your day.
It also has been a week since your night at the Tower. No one suspected or knew of a thing, and your driver didn’t even find it weird that you did not need a ride. All of it was covered with a little white lie of how you were tipsy and couldn’t find the car at the end of the night, so you caught a cab. It was much easier than you thought.
You walk over to your bathroom and start the shower. You already had started taking off your clothes on the way down the hall, so it was just a few more pieces of clothing, and you were under the water.
After a relaxing shower, you step out and walk out to your bedroom. You grab a white tank top and some underwear. And, after taking some time to dry yourself, you put on your clothes. Right as you’re about to reach for the products for your hair, you hear a faint sound coming from the other side of the apartment.
It was like something falling or being harshly put down. You’re not sure what it was but you don’t see yourself being exactly capable of defending yourself (or even having enough courage to check on what it was).
You stay still for a few seconds, trying to hear if there is any other sound. It could always be your bag that fell from the counter or something similar to that. You tell yourself that many times before even starting to open the products and grab your hairbrush.
Taking care of your wet hair takes a bit of time, and, thankfully, you don’t hear any other noises coming from the other side of the apartment. You found yourself many times checking if you have your phone with you, in case of an emergency… but then you remembered that you left it in your bag.
You turn off the lights in the bathroom and check your bedroom. Empty, just as you would assume. You begin to relax as you walk out of the bedroom and make your way down the hallway. Everything is just as you left it, and the alarm of the apartment’s fire escape door seems to still be active.
You walk over to the kitchen and flick the lights on once more. You walk over to the fridge and open it, trying to see what you could even do for dinner. You feel absolutely starving, but you’re not even sure anything you have looks any good.
You close the fridge to go over to grab your phone, planning to get some delivery instead, but you stop dead in your tracks. Your purse is right where you left it, but your phone is out of the bag. Laying right on top of the counter, screen up.
Your heart begins to speed up and you walk towards it. You grab it quickly and check the time and for any notifications. Maybe you were the one that didn’t put your phone back in your bag when you came in. Could that be possible? You were texting a coworker when you got into the elevator, so… it isn't as insane as you’re making it out to be.
You decide to check your purse while you’re at it. You check if there’s anything missing but you find everything in place. Your wallet is untouched and everything else is in their right little pockets inside. It is its usual organized mess. Maybe you really didn’t put your phone inside… Right?
Leaning back on the counter, you open your preferred app for food delivery and ignore the way your heart is speeding.
It is nothing. Nothing's going on. You’re just overreacting. You’ve been watching too many documentaries lately. You’re fine.
As you wait for the app to load nearby restaurants, you lift your gaze to look around the kitchen. Your overthinking mind makes you look even into the living room, which is still in darkness. You decide to turn on all of your lights, and you find nothing. Or, at least, no one.
There’s nothing for you to be afraid of.
You walk back to the place next to your bag and start looking through the list of restaurants. You bite your lip while trying to focus on all of the options and feel your mind still forcing you to look around the apartment once more.
Gosh, you are not letting this one go, are you?
You put down your phone and walk out of the kitchen. You check the living room again, and then back in the bedroom and the bathroom. You even check the locked rooms such as extra bedrooms and bathrooms. You even check behind curtains, under the beds, and on the other side of doors. And all of them are empty.
You sigh in utmost frustration and walk back to the kitchen. You walk back in and go over to where you were just standing. The weight in your chest now is much lighter, and your worry definitely isn't making your brain fry anymore than it already has for the day.
But your phone is nowhere to be seen.
Now, this time, you feel yourself beginning to panic. You hear the sound of a notification go off almost at the same time you notice the phone missing, and the notification sounds as if it’s coming from the entrance of the apartment. You look over your shoulder and hesitate in going any further.
This is absolutely someone having their fun at terrifying you, and they are doing a great job at it. Gotham is filled with crime, why would this ever come as a surprise to you?
You don’t walk over to the entrance and decide to stay in the kitchen. But…
How the fuck are you supposed to get help if anything goes to shit? If the phone is in the entrance, you have to get it to ask for help. Or, you can go downstairs and get help… but the emergency doors and the elevator are both at the entrance.
You hate how much of a choice you don’t have in all of this.
You move over to the entrance of the apartment and you peek in first. It is absolutely empty, but the light in it has always been soft and not quite strong in any way, so the corners are not so well lit. The lack of complete and bright illumination makes chills run down your spine.
Your phone is right on top of the center table, and you move to get it. There’s only one notification. A text from Bruce. You open the text with your shaking fingers, and your heart sinks.
You have to improve your survival skills.
At the same time, you’re done reading, you lift your gaze and begin to hear footsteps coming from the kitchen. They’re heavy and most possibly from boots. You put down your phone and stare at the doorway, awaiting the familiar figure to appear.
Bruce, just as you expect him, appears in the doorway. He only has a black hoodie on and his dark jeans and leather boots, a hood over his head.
“You have got to be kidding me.” You tell him.
You’re not sure if you feel pissed or you want to laugh. Bruce moves his arm slowly and points over his shoulder to the kitchen before speaking.
“Brought you dinner.” He simply says.
You continue to stare at him and notice how a smile is beginning to form on his lips. He must be feeling insanely proud to have done this to you. And, especially, for winning the challenge you two had made a week ago.
You had absolutely forgotten about the challenge. You two talked in that bedroom for probably an entire hour. You talked about everything and a little more. You were the one that grew tired quicker, and Bruce laid beside you while you fell asleep.
Even in the morning, before going home, he was there and you two talked for… too long - because you were really in the need to pee when you finished.
You haven’t been able to see each other much with all of your busy nights. So, it’s natural that you absolutely wiped the challenge from your mind. In a way, you can’t believe he actually did it.
“How did you get in here?” You ask him.
“Elevator.” He tells you naturally.
Fucking elevator?! How in the hell did they let him get in the elevator?
“They didn’t see me come up.” He explains, seeing your shock.
“But you need a key to use the elevator.” You ask, confused.
“Got one from behind the front desk.”
You stare at him in disbelief. Is it really this easy?
Bruce moves forward, walking towards you, and you wait until he gets too close to take a step back. You’re definitely not going to make it easy for him now. You two look at each other, eye to eye, and every time Bruce takes a step towards you, you take a step back.
Humor grows over Bruce’s face, and you try your best to hide your smile.
“What was it that you said, again?” He asks you while continuously stepping toward you. “About your security.”
You break into a smile as you are able to make your way around the center table, and he continues to follow you, showing absolutely no struggle to keep up with your movements.
“I said that they’re good security.” You tell him, still confident.
“They opened the door for me when I came in.”
Your urge to laugh has never been this high. It’s embarrassing how bad your security is, but you still have to give them the benefit of the doubt. For all you know, Bruce could have acted as a friend of one of your neighbors, and came in with them.
That sounds reasonable enough.
You check over your shoulder before turning towards the kitchen, where you also have an escape route to the living room. You two come into the more well-lit room, and you notice the bag of food that has been put down at the center of your kitchen counter.
“Did I get close to catching you?” You ask playfully. “When I was walking around the apartment.”
“I was behind you the whole time.”
You frown in question. Now, that has to be a lie. Yet, at the same time, Bruce doesn’t exactly seem like he’s lying. Even though he still looks like he’s having just as much fun as you, he sounds serious about what he’s saying.
“How?” You ask him, wanting to keep the conversation.
As Bruce opens his mouth to answer your question, you try to move over to the door that leads to the living room, but, with just one step, he ends your possibility right there. You exhale through your nose in frustration as you still try to get away from him, for nothing but fun, and try to continue your circle around the counter.
“I didn’t get into the rooms with you, but I was in the hallway the whole time.” He explains, “I’m just silent.”
“With those boots?” You don’t believe him.
He finds your objection funny and breaks into a smile. You try again to move over to the living room, but, this time, he outstretches his arm. So not fair.
You huff in defeat again and try the other way around, all while thinking about something that could be a topic of conversation, which could work as a distraction. The hood of his hoodie has fallen from his head, and the dark-clothed man watches as you continue to think of a way out.
“I just took a shower, you’re lucky I got time to put clothes on.” You tell him, try to get some humor back into the topic.
“Lucky?” He plays along.
You smile at the somewhat sexual remark and act as if you're continuing your circle on the counter.
“You are nasty, Wayne.” You comment.
Right as you say that, you’re able to make your way through the door over to the living room. Bruce sighs in defeat as you’re able to get past him, and your smile stretches into a bigger one. This time, a proud one.
You take a look over your shoulder to check if you’ll be colliding with anything if you keep moving back. You’re able to make your way around the couch, all while being extremely careful with corners because the man always gets close when you do them.
“Why am I chasing you again?”
“You criticized my survival instincts.” You answer him, “I don’t have bad survival instincts.”
“Yes, you do.”
“How so?”
“Unless you’re trying to tire me out as we walk around the house, at this point, you’ve passed at least 9 different possible weapons that you could use against me.”
Damn, he had time to count your kitchen knives?
“I’m not going to try and stab you, Bruce.” You tell him.
“You didn’t know it was me until 2 minutes ago.” He says to you.
You open your mouth to defend yourself but you found yourself having absolutely no good arguments that could fight his comment. You really don’t have any survival instincts. You went into the entrance of the house with absolutely nothing to protect yourself.
Maybe you are watching too many movies because you are seriously becoming as dumb as the protagonists.
You look to turn over to the doorway that leads back to the entrance but before you could even try it, Bruce ends your possibilities right there with a step.
“Why do I feel like you aren’t even trying?” You ask sincerely.
He doesn’t answer you. Gosh, he’s not even trying.
“Do you want me to try?” He asks instead.
You speed up your steps back as an answer, and Bruce is quick to get back to the distance that you two shared previously. Again, making it look absolutely effortless.
It doesn't even take more than a minute for you to practically be stuck doing circles around the couch or to be staring at each other from one of the sides of that same couch - with Bruce trying to predict the side you’re planning to move next.
And also, for you to get out of breath. Bruce was right, you can’t even get to tire him with this technique. You’re honestly using your weapon against yourself.
You still don’t give up. There are close calls, where you even felt the wind of his hand trying to grab you - which only made you scoot over and fall into a pit of panicked giggles. A very bad reaction to such a thing. Some people fight, some people fly, and you giggle. Great.
You eye him as you two stop again at either side of the couch. Every time you try to take a step to the left, Bruce tries to mimic you, and the same to the right. You try to go either direction at least 4 different times.
With a breathless sigh, you hold your hands by your hips and stare at him annoyingly. You’re not about to lose this, for fuck’s sake.
“Want to stop?” He asks when noticing how tired you already look.
“You wish.”
Bruce chuckles at you, and the lack of uneven breathing in his figure almost makes you want to hit him. How can he be this good at this?
You let your arms fall by your sides, acting as if in defeat, and do a fake step to the right, pretending to be heading to the center of the room once again. And he falls for it! You walk over to your left and pull the door of the living room open, heading back to the entrance. A room with much more space and possibilities of escape. As well as a possibility to get back to the kitchen and act as if you get a gun.
You are not even 3 steps out of the living room, and an arm wraps around your torso. You let out a panicked scream, which seemed more like a squeal than anything. You try to fight Bruce off, and the man has the complete audacity to laugh as you try to shake yourself off of his hold.
It is absolutely useless. He holds you flush against him, and no matter how many times you turn in his arms to face him and pull at his chest, or try and grab his arm and pull it back to free yourself. It is absolutely useless.
And you can only guess that your laughter while you did all of that fighting wasn���t the greatest of ideas. You are breathless and actually tired.
“Are you done?” Bruce asks as soon as you stop moving.
Oh, that only makes you try again.
You push at his chest again and pull at his arm, and, no matter how useless it seems to be, you still do it. You try to duck and move around the arm, also nothing. You try to turn around and reach for something for you to grab, but you're too far.
It’s ridiculous how bad you are at this.
Bruce laughs practically the whole time, letting you try your best as he continues to have his iron grip around your body. Not even struggling for more than just a few seconds.
When you turn back to him to do the push-at-the-chest technique again (because it has worked so well, for the time being), Bruce moves down, releases his hold on your torso, and wraps his arm around the back of your thighs, throwing you right over his shoulder.
“This is just humiliating at this point.” You comment while dangling from his shoulder.
Bruce laughs and starts to make his way to your bedroom. You watch the floor pattern as he walks. It’s not like you can try anything else from up there, because if you fall off, you can hit your head and that is not that cool to do.
You enter your bedroom and, not even 2 seconds in, Bruce throws you to the center of the bed and makes you laugh as you bounce on the mattress.
“You’re already taking me to bed?” You ask playfully.
“I did buy you dinner, you just took too long to find it.” He answers back.
While you chuckle at his words, Bruce hovers over you, and you come up, holding yourself up by your elbows. He smiles down at you and closes the space between the two of you. Your soft lips touch his, and Bruce’s hands lay by each side of your body, holding himself up.
You bring your hands to his head after pulling him down to lay on the bed with you while, simultaneously, running your fingers through his hair. His body stays in between your legs, and one of his hands lay on your side, making you feel the warmth of his skin through the thin fabric of your shirt.
Bruce grips the fabric of the shirt and pulls at it slightly. His hands move underneath it and you moan against his lips at the familiar touch. He continues to pull at the fabric slowly and, without even detaching your lips, he moves it over your chest.
Bruce pulls away from the kiss and begins to kiss down your neck. As he gets down to your chest, he pulls back and helps you take out your shirt. One that soon flew off his hands over to someplace on your wooden floors. He lays kisses on your chest, littering your skin with kisses as he moves along.
His hands grab onto the waistband of your underwear and begin to pull them down. He pulls back to get rid of them, and you help him by moving each of your legs. Your eyes stay on him, noticing how he doesn’t ever move to start to strip himself, and how his strands of dark hair fall to his face and get in the way of his sight.
Once your lips reconnect, your fingers move to brush back his hair, and his calloused hands move over every inch of your soft skin. His lips rebegin to come down your neck, chest, stomach, and, with your hand still over his hair, you feel the warmth that fills your body as he continues to move.
At the specific feeling of his tongue in between your folds, your grip on his hair tightens and a moan leaves your lips. One of your legs is thrown over his clothed shoulder, and his hands grip the flesh of your thighs.
“Shit, Bruce.” You whisper breathlessly.
His lips close around your clit, and your moans reappear to fill the silence in the room. The pleasure is unspeakingly good, but, even as you feel it grow inside of you, you can’t fight back the annoyance that also rests at the back of your head. And that comes from the feeling of the fabric of Bruce’s clothes underneath your leg.
You pull his head back through your grip on his hair, and Bruce’s eyes find yours right at that second. Some sort of worry builds at the middle of his chest, but it lessens as you pull him upwards again, reconnecting your lips. He abides by your wishes, moving his mouth against yours as your tongues touch, and you let out a short moan.
Your hands get back to work, and you grip onto the shirt's fabric. You pull it up, and your hands find his skin not too long after. At the feeling of your touch, Bruce roughens the kiss, getting an audible reaction from you against his lips. Your acrylic nails softly and teasingly run down the skin of his back, matching his roughness in the kiss.
“Take your hoodie off.” You tell him when you’re able to pull back from the kiss for just a bit.
Bruce looks you in the eyes as you ask for it and he does as told. He pulls back from your body and grabs onto the hoodie from behind his head, pulling it over his head and then throwing it down to the ground on the floor.
As he comes to rebegin your kiss, you meet him halfway, and your hands work through the scarred skin that you’ve easily grown familiar with. One of your hands comes to rest by his cheek, cupping it softly even when your kiss continues to feel hungry and rough. One of Bruce’s hands holds onto your side while the other one works up to your chest. You moan against his lips as his finger touches your nipple and lightly pinches it.
As your pleasure grows, you hold onto his shoulder harder, and Bruce doesn’t seem to even begin to care about that.
An idea sparks in your head, and you almost smile into the kiss. You pull away from the kiss, making Bruce look at you, and you smile at him. Lips slightly swollen and just appearing to be even more kissable than ever.
You push him back with your hands over his shoulders, and he’s quick to notice what you want as you make him to move to the side.
Bruce sits on the bed this time as you’d like, and, not even a second later, you take a seat over his lap. Bruce’s hands hold onto your naked hips, and you brush his hair back before kissing him once more, feeding into your addiction to having your lips against his. Your hands, impatient, find his pants, and you begin to undo them.
Bruce does obviously help out at one point, by pulling his clothes down, even when you’re still on top of him, but, really doesn’t help that you are, indeed, on top of him. Your hands find his dick and Bruce almost forgets what he’s doing for a second. Your hands are so soft, and the way he finds you looking down at your own hands, it almost feels like a part of his dirtiest dreams.
Your thumb moves over the head of his cock, precum coating the pad of your finger as you move it teasingly. Pleasure in the bottom of your stomach burns your insides as you spend each second near this man. You let go of him and look up to find him already staring at you. Without hesitation, you bring your thumb to your lips and lick your finger clean.
Bruce almost appears emotionless when you do it, but he knows he must have let some expression out because your expression breaks into one of your perfect smiles. His grip on your hips and thighs, and you stand on your knees, not wasting any more time now. You line up the head of his cock with your entrance and slowly move down to sit on his lap.
Your mouth hovers Bruce’s as the two of you react to the pleasure simultaneously. One of your hands grips his shoulder, and you let out a short moan. You move slowly, trying to grow accustomed to the size at first, and Bruce lets you do your thing.
You begin to move up and down and, even though you don’t take all of him just yet, you already feel pleasure beginning to grow inside you. As you begin to relax as well, Bruce begins to take control back. His hands right on your hips measure your movements from time to time, and you begin to stop having control over the sounds that leave your mouth.
He pulls your hips down with each movement, making you take more of him with each one. You glue your lips to his again, wanting to mask your own pleasure, but you moan even louder when Bruce pulls on your hips to sit entirely on his lap. You feel full and pleasure courses through you to a point that even the slight discomfort feels good.
You try to move upwards again, but Bruce doesn’t let you. You whine against his lips, and he remains his hands over your hips, fingers on your soft flesh while measuring your every movement. You squeeze him, and Bruce groans onto your kiss as well.
“Please.” You whisper at him in between the kisses.
He lets you move a bit, but you feel him make sure that you always go entirely down each time.
With each thrust, you feel lightheaded, lost in the pleasure, and completely melted into his hold, but you don’t ever stop.
Everything feels so good and as his touch continues to roughen with what seems each night that you spend together, your bliss only grows.
The room’s silence fills with the sound of your moans, Bruce’s groans, and the slapping of the skin. Your hearing begins to muffle, and Bruce pulls away from your kiss to attach his lips to the skin of your neck. His lips move over to your chest, and one of his hands lifts from your hip, his thumb now over your clit. You moan louder, and his lips wrap around one of your nipples.
You fasten the movements of your hips, and so do Bruce’s over your clit. The pleasure, at one point, almost feels like too much, and you feel like you can’t take it anymore.
You cling onto Bruce as you keep going, and you feel him pinch your clit ever so slightly. You cry out at the feeling and throw your head back, feeling yourself getting closer and closer to the edge.
Bruce’s lips come back to your neck and he feels you squeeze him entirely. Your sounds, either the ones from your voice or from the wet skin slapping each time, and now the way your walls squeeze him perfectly gets him closer too, but he focuses on you instead, each and every time.
His fingers begin to work over your clit with more pressure and a bit of a faster pace and he notices as you mimic his pace as well. You moan in response. You feel yourself getting closer and closer and so does he.
He continues to also make sure you go down enough and with a simple thrust, you finally bring yourself to your peak. Pleasure explodes throughout your body, making you experience an orgasm like never before. Bruce makes sure that he rides out your orgasm, making it last and making you feel each and every second of it.
You lean your head over his shoulder as it begins to calm down, and Bruce slows down. You bring your head up and look him in the eyes before kissing him. His rough hands work through your sides as you continue seated with him inside you, hard. Your fingers lay over his skin and when you pull back, you let out a whisper, almost as if just remembering it.
“You didn’t come.” You tell him, a weak whisper against his lips.
Bruce leans closer and your foreheads touch, lips still hovering one another.
“I’m not done with you yet.”
Hope you liked this!! <3
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#Bruce Wayne#bruce wayne fic#bruce wayne x fem!reader#bruce wayne one shot#bruce wayne x y/n#bruce wayne x reader#bruce wayne x you#bruce wayne imagines#bruce wayne imagine#bruce wayne fanfiction#battinson#battinson x reader#battinson x you#the Batman#the batman x reader#robert pattinson
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Hmm...
What about an au?
Main masterlist
Bruce Wayne masterlist
#battinson x female reader#bruce wayne x reader#battinson x reader#battinson x y/n#bruce wayne x desi! reader#bruce wayne x fem!reader#the batman#batman moodboard#bruce wayne#battinson#steve rogers moodboard#steve rogers x desi reader#steve rogers x reader#steve rodgers imagine#steve rogers x female reader#steve rogers x f!reader#look at me#thinking about a series while not being able to finish a one shot#i will once I stop procrastinating#ok bye
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What We Once Were
Summary: How could you possibly be strangers to each other in a shared home?
A/N: So this is actually my first (published) written work in over 3ish years? I’m so nervous
Warnings: Slight angst, swearing, a bit of a makeout session but nothing too serious.
Word count: 2187
Nights like these didn’t come around often.
Between Bruce’s dedication to keeping crime down in Gotham and your much needed assistance at the orphanage, the only time you two really had together was spent parading around galas neither of you wanted to attend (but attend you did when it came to appeasing Alfred).
It was just past one in the morning when you finally entered Wayne Manor. From the entryway you could see a flicker of light which either meant that Alfred was still up waiting for you or you were about to witness Bruce take off into the night yet again without so much as a kiss goodbye. You heaved a sigh at the thought, heart sinking and shoulders slumping at the fact that it was probably the latter of the two options.
You didn’t bother making your way to the light source. You knew full well the most you’d get out of Bruce while he was wearing the batsuit was a fleeting hug and if you were lucky, a kiss on the cheek.
You slipped off your coat and shoes at the door before going any further, knowing that Alfred would scold you if a speck of mud was found anywhere but the mat stationed at the door. You could hear heavy footsteps from the kitchen as you got closer, brows scrunching as you checked the time on your watch. Alfred doesn't make that much noise at this hour (or at any hour, really) which could only mean one thing.
Bruce.
Honestly, you considered sneaking to the bedroom. The very thought of dealing with Bruce's absence tonight has your head reeling, you don't think you can handle seeing him off.
You turn on your heel quickly, a silent thanks to the quiet padding your socks provided falling from your lips as you half shuffled, half ran to the hall that would lead to your shared room. You were just about to slowly push the door open when you heard Bruce's voice call out to you.
"Fuck."
He said your name again. Once, twice. You heaved a sigh and started the trek back to the kitchen.
"I'm in here!" Bruce shouted, poking his head out.
But before you could say "I know" he disappeared back into the kitchen, sounds of water running and dishes clanging drowning out any hope that he'd hear you from back here. "I'm coming, I'm coming," you grumbled. "Isn't it nearly time for you to go? I'll take care of the dishes in the morning or something just—"
You stopped dead in your tracks.
There was Bruce hunched over the sink, his arms almost elbow deep in a pan of soapy water. The suds were everywhere; in his hair, the floor, on the cabinet, and somehow on the ceiling. You suppressed a giggle at the sight before you in hopes of making tonight so much easier on yourself, that way you wouldn't dwell on the moments when it was just you alone in your shared bed. "What are you doing?"
"Dishes," he stated.
You deadpanned. "Bruce."
"Yes?" He questioned, finally turning around to look at you. The action only caused more suds to land on the floor as he spun and he winced at the wet plop it made. "Sorry."
"Did you call me in here because you need help?"
“What?” He looked almost offended that you even suggested that. “No. No, you make me sound awful.”
You gave a sheepish “sorry” and stepped closer, allowing your eyes to roam over the mess again. You didn’t know what to say and by the looks of it Bruce wasn’t too keen on speaking up either. He almost looked boyish standing there with his eyes cast down, no doubt trying to figure out a way to explain himself. Luckily you didn’t have to wait for long. He opened his mouth and closed it quickly afterwards, a faint blush spreading over his cheeks as he used the damp dish rag to wipe off his hands that were steadily dripping water onto the floor.
“I uh—” he started, gesturing to the sink with the hand that wasn’t holding the rag. “I’m not going out tonight. I don’t think they need me.”
You nodded wordlessly, wondering why he decided to spend his one night at home doing the dishes.
“But you,” he continued, meeting your eyes for what felt like the first time tonight. “I think you need me. I think we need each other, you know? I mean apart from the galas we don’t get to see each other as much. Not like we used to. I just,” he began to trail off, his blushing cheeks growing darker. “I miss you, y/n.”
You nearly rolled your eyes. He missed you? He fucking missed you? You’re met with half-hearted hugs and broken sentences when you come home from work most nights but he missed you? You had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from saying something you would regret in a few hours. “I’m sure you did Bruce.”
You were sure the look you threw at him was the reason he didn’t press further. Instead he opted for tossing the rag back into the dish water, the sloshing sound of the water being disturbed was the only thing that could be heard within the kitchen. You wanted to give in, wanted to tell him how much you missed him too but you knew that tomorrow you’d fall back into the old routine of mumbling your goodbyes on deaf ears as he fled into the night to protect Gotham. The thought made your stomach churn, your shoulders slumping impossibly further as you thought about the past few months.
“I made dinner,” he mumbled, his hands falling limp at his sides. “I tried to, at least.”
You raised an eyebrow, glancing toward the open oven. “Where is it?”
Somehow his cheeks flushed scarlet. “I burned it. All of it. I’m surprised the bottom didn’t fall out of the pan. I’ve been scrubbing for the past hour and it’s still caked on.”
You couldn’t help it, you had to laugh. Before tonight and the occasional piece of overdone toast you don’t think Bruce has ever even attempted to busy himself in the kitchen, less known cook an entire meal. “And where was Alfred in all of this?” you questioned, still giggling. “Surely he had a thing or two to say about all of the smoke.”
“He did, yeah,” Bruce commented, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips as he regarded you. “I almost got chased out of the kitchen until I told him what it was for.”
“What’s it for Bruce?” The question was followed by a slight tilt of your head, your eyes searching his face for something that’d at least give you a clue to where this conversation was going. Sure, you looked composed enough on the outside but your mind was reeling with possibilities.
He took a step forward and you found yourself fighting every instinct that told you to close the distance between the two of you. You could tell that Bruce was holding himself back, too. His hands fidgeted at his sides, no doubt wanting to reach out and hold at least some part of you. Your face was only mere inches away from his. You could smell the lingering hint of his favorite gum as he exhaled, the air from his lips ghosting over your cheek. “I wanted to apologize, wanted to make it meaningful this time. You deserve more than the usual ‘I’m sorry’ shit,” he confessed, gingerly taking one of your hands in his own. “Even though I am sorry.”
“Bruce—“
“No, no, I know. We’ve been through this a million times. You’ve heard it all before, I know. I’m an ass for taking this long to realize just how badly I messed up. I owe you more than I’ve given you in the past few months, you deserve more. I’ll never be able to make up the months lost but I’d like to make sure we don’t lose any more going forward.” Bruce was cradling your cheek with his free hand, his eyes glossing over with the beginnings of tears.
You leaned into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed as you savored the feeling of his skin against yours for the first time in what felt like forever. One of your hands came to wrap around his wrist, making sure to keep your touch as gentle as his. “It won’t happen overnight, Bruce. It never does.”
“I’m not expecting it to.” He pauses and you take the time to give him a small hum of acknowledgment, your head turning just enough to allow you to press a kiss to the inside of Bruce’s wrist. “You need me more than this city and up until now I’ve failed to consider that. Gotham can hold its own for now, I’d just like to hold you.”
You opened your eyes just in time to see a tear roll down his cheek, the initial shock stopping you from brushing the tear away with your thumb. You couldn’t remember the last time Bruce cried in front of you. You pulled him into a hug without another word, your own sobs mixing in with his quiet sniffles as he tugged you closer.
You don’t know how long you stayed like that, wrapped in his embrace, his hands rubbing soothing circles on your back while you both swayed. By the time you pulled away your tears were drying on the collar of his shirt and his hair was a mess from where you’d been running your fingers through. “I’d like to hold you too,” you grinned, no doubt blinking up at him through lashes webbed with tears. “I missed this. Missed you.”
“I’m gonna do everything that I can to get back to where we used to be.” He said it like a promise and the kiss pressed to the back of your hand only confirmed your thoughts. Bruce leaned his forehead against yours, his piercing eyes disappearing behind their lids. “I became a stranger to you in our own home.”
You hummed again, slowly becoming all too aware of how close you stood. Bruce’s hands felt warm on your hips even through the fabric of your pants and you twirled a strand of his hair around your finger in thought. “Kiss me.”
You spoke quietly but you knew that he’d heard you. His hands twitched against your skin as soon as the word ‘kiss’ left your mouth.
And yet, he found himself questioning what you said. “What?” he asked, pulling his forehead away from yours to look into your eyes.
However, you didn’t falter. “Kiss me,” you repeated, your hand sliding from his hair. Your fingers trailed along the backside of his neck as you waited in anticipation. “Please.”
This was enough for Bruce to lift one hand and place it under your chin in order to tilt your face up to meet his lips. You melted into him all too easily, your mouth slotting against his like the final piece of a puzzle as you both allowed your bodies to move in harmony. He gripped you like his life depended on it, fingertips digging into the soft flesh of your waist while you gasped into his mouth. You were almost certain that there’d be bruises staining your skin tomorrow but you didn’t care.
You found yourself wishing you didn’t need air to survive once he pulled away, his chest heaving as he smiled down at you. Bruce’s cheeks were once again tinted a soft pink and it looked as if his lips were beginning to swell from how intense the kiss was. You allowed him a few moments to steady his breathing before pulling him in again, your lips seeking out his in a much gentler kiss. Instead of a pool of heat in your stomach and labored breaths this one left you with butterflies and a chest bubbling with soft laughter once you pulled away, a blush undoubtedly staining your cheeks.
“I love you,” you whispered, almost afraid of losing this moment.
“And I love you,” said Bruce. “So much.”
He gave your hand a squeeze and pulled you in for another hug before kissing the top of your head. “ It’s late. Why don’t you go run a bath and we’ll talk cuddle afterwards? I’ll take care of all this.”
You let another giggle escape once you regarded all of the water and suds, your hand squeezing Bruce’s in return. “Just hurry, okay? I miss you already.”
He nodded and spun you around but not before kissing your cheek, the smile from earlier growing wider as he playfully shooed you away. “I’ll be quick, I promise.” Bruce watched you make your way to your room with the softest expression he’s ever made, his feet carrying him back over to the sink with a small, content sigh, and as he glanced down at the mess he made he could only find himself thinking of how elated you made him feel.
#the batman#robert pattinson#bruce wayne x reader#bruce wayne#batman#bruce wayne imagine#bruce wayne fluff#fluff#imagines#multifandom#battinson#oneshot#batman imagines#bruce wayne one shot#angst#happy ending
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𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒃𝒐𝒏𝒚 𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒓 .𖥔 ݁ ˖
𝒃𝒂𝒍𝒆!𝒃𝒂𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒙 𝒘𝒊𝒇𝒆!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 ₊˚⊹ ᰔ 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘶𝘴𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱, 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘳𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮. ₊ ⊹ ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐗𝐔𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 ✧˚ ༘
— 𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖐𝖘 ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ 𝘥𝘤 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 | 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵
˚☽˚｡⋆ 𝑩𝒓𝒖𝒄𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅𝒏’𝒕 𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒑. The silence was too loud and his room was too cold — his arms and torso were left bare to freeze thanks to you (he was too much of a gentleman to snatch the blanket off you anyway). The heavy rain smacked into his windows pointedly and purposefully; with every loud drop it made his lip twitch in annoyance.
The air was sharp and frosted, it burned his nose when he breathed in too deeply and it made him wonder if Alfred forgot to turn the heat on — better yet if you turned it off, knowing you hated to fall asleep too warm and Alfred was too meticulous and thorough to forget to turn it off at all.
It was dingy and dismal, dark and dreary just as Bruce preferred it to be, so little going on for him to be so awake and agitated but yet… maybe that was just it. The silence, the boredom, the macabre sense of monotony on an unfamiliarly quiet Saturday night — so little going on it was driving him mad.
Bruce stared up at the ceiling with his arms laid out on his shirtless stomach, restless but tired. His limbs were sore and heavy, his body bruised and battered, yet his dark eyes couldn’t help but flicker over to his window ever so often when he thought about what was on the other side of it — the source of his calamity.
He’d stare through the droplets of water at the blurred kaleidoscope of lights as they shone onto his floor, not eagerly per say just habitually; Bruce seldom ever saw a peaceful night in, so unaccustomed with the sweet domesticity of crawling under the covers at 10:30 pm and kissing your lover goodnight — he was usually so busy, for Gotham never slept and crime never seemed to stop.
No, Bruce couldn’t sleep; his thoughts a morbid mess of batman-esque obligation that made it impossible to close his eyes.
You were a different matter entirely as Bruce turned his head to look at you; snuggled up on your side of the large bed with his thick, black comforter surrounding you, breathing gently on the muscle of his shoulder and sleeping soundly, beautifully.
His pretty little wife.
His eyes looked over the sharp shadows of your sleeping beauty. From your wispy eyelashes, to your cute little nose, to your softly parted lips, a soft smile adorning the corner of his mouth as he did — he couldn’t help it.
Your hair was frizzy and tangled messily around your head, your soft breaths ever so often stuttered with an adorable snore but Bruce couldn’t help but think how beautiful you looked anyway as he raked his eyes over your face fondly.
As he did he realized how grateful he was that you didn’t need to worry yourself with the things that he did; you were too innocent for the cruelty of Gotham City, too pure and divine; an angel wrapped in wicked tapestry.
Even now, in your pale white pajamas on black silken sheets you looked too fragile for them, like they could wrap their shadowy arms around you and swallow you whole — just as the city could so easily do if he wasn’t there to protect you.
If Batman wasn’t there to save you.
I don’t care, Bruce. I love you anyway.
That’s what you’d always say when Bruce would settle down in bed beside you with a heavy sigh and whisper why do you stay?, on those long nights when he’d come home brutally battered and fatigued. After a night of being heavily reminded to the real dangers waiting just outside his door like a pack of feral dogs and how easily they could ensnare you in their jaws.
I don’t care. I love you.
He loved you too, he really very did.
With that final thought, Bruce was still caught staring at you with a soft look of love on his face when you gently fluttered your eyes open, your body sensing his awareness before your mind could.
He watched patiently as you groggily looked around before eventually meeting his gaze, his eyes getting even softer at the adorable look of confusion on your face.
Your eyes tiredly looked back up at him despite the darkness surrounding you two, able to see his frowned lips and dark eyes clearly, “Bruce? Why are you still awake?”
Your voice was raspy and tired, a small yawn following your statement that made pity tear at his heart for waking you up.
Bruce ran his hazel eyes over your face some more before he responded, unable to stop cherishing you.
“Couldn’t sleep.” He simply responded, voice low and intimate, words spoken in the bare space between his lips and yours.
You settled into your silken pillow with a small huff, eyes focused more on Bruce’s face now as the grogginess gradually melted away and your vision became clearer — the silence and rain thrumming calmly around you. It wasn’t a normal night in Gotham City without the rain.
“Well, did you try?” You teased just as quietly as he, smiling a little at the chuckle he gave you in response.
“Yes, of course I tried. It clearly didn’t go as planned.” Bruce mumbled back with a faint snicker, speaking just loud enough so you can hear him over the rain pattering on the windows, a small smile now quirked on his sharp lips.
You hummed in acknowledgment, eyes looking between his, knowing Bruce well enough to know when he was lying.
“I don’t really believe you. What’s keeping you awake?” You sighed with furrowed brows, resting your head right next to his bare shoulder to look up at him better — maybe if you pouted in that cute way he liked he’d tell you honestly.
Bruce faltered at that, looking down at you with a heavy heart; he couldn’t possibly tell you that he felt guilty laying in bed with you when he should’ve been out there, out there protecting those who needed him. But the fact of the matter, one he couldn’t argue with, was that you needed him as well.
He couldn’t possibly tell you how conflicted he really was but probably shouldn’t have been; two parts of him sharing the same mind and body but each with entirely different obligations — the irreconcilable duality that was he.
One part of him was Bruce Wayne; millionaire, orphan, husband, you needed that side of him, you deserved to have him for at least one night. But he was also Batman, and Gotham always needed him.
He was haunted with a classic case of Jekyll and Hyde but instead of one side lusting for murderous intent his alter ego longed for rightful justice in the grandest city of injustice. Batman was the only one who could live harmoniously in the dark, the only one capable of doing the things he did. It was an enervative dichotomous life of matrimonial duties and moral obligation.
There were two men sharing the same halves of the same soul and Bruce couldn’t decide which heart to listen to without making the other one feel guilty.
“Just work stuff, honey. It’s nothing you need to worry about, trust me.” Bruce dismissed after a short moment, shaking his head gently with a reassuring smile on his thin lips — like that could convince you of anything.
You narrowed your eyes at him slightly, registering the slight blue bags under his eyes and the crippled fault in his smile, all small clues of his devious, well-intentioned deception.
“Which work stuff?” You prodded carefully, raising a brow at him as suspicions already began to brew in the back of your mind as to what he was really referring.
Bruce chuckled again at that, loving your caring and inquisitive nature any day but wishing you’d just drop it already. He really couldn’t bear weighing any of the pressure he carried on your delicate shoulders, fearing you’d crumble under the weight of it.
“Really, it’s…” Bruce looked back up at the ceiling in indecision, searching for the right words, “it’s nothing I can’t handle, okay?” He looked back down at you with confidence, his voice firmer than before but still softly spoken to get his point across.
You narrowed your eyes at him with that, knowing it was a response you fully expected but were still annoyed to hear.
You were aware that he was lying to you but also aware that he wouldn’t tell you no matter how much you begged him; he never liked to tell you anything about his Batman related problems and it greatly frustrated you for some reason.
As his wife didn’t you deserve to know at least something? You were fully aware of what you were getting yourself into when you agreed to his long awaited proposal. After all, you didn’t just marry Bruce Wayne but you married Batman as well… you could handle the truth even if he didn’t seem to think so.
You sighed anyway, unable to mask your irritation towards him for keeping you in the dark. Your lack of sleep didn’t help the influx of annoyance either.
You took your head off his warm shoulder and went to turn around away from him, your fatigue easily irritating you more than usual.
Bruce licked his lips and sighed, having already disappointed you in an attempt to protect you; a small price to pay if it meant your pretty little head wasn’t clogged with constant, pained disquietude like his was.
“Fine, don’t tell me.” You muttered more to yourself than anything, fussing with the blanket you had wrapped yourself in during your slumber and now seemed to be stuck in.
Before you could fully turn around though Bruce laid a warm, consoling hand on your forearm that made you pause, “Hey, hey, wait.”
You lingered a moment at the feel of it before turning back around to face him, expression a little more sour than before — tired and impatient.
Bruce felt guilt swirl in his stomach at the look on your face, knowing he was disappointing you but also knowing it was for the best.
He kept the hand on your arm, leaning up and wrapping it around your back to bring you into his chest, his other arm going behind your neck and tucking you into his side like you were his most precious doll — you were of course.
You didn’t fight him even if you wanted to, enjoying the warmth he provided and the safety you subconsciously sought out snuck tight in between his arms.
“Bruce.” You grumbled anyway as you settled against him, his arm releasing you for a moment to pick the blanket up and over his waist so there was nothing separating you two from each other.
You felt hard plains of muscle underneath you when he did, a flustered pinkness appearing on your cheeks, then slowly crept in hot embarrassment at the fact that your husband’s carefully structured body that you’ve seen many many times still managed to make you shy.
You melted into his side, albeit a bit stiffly as you were still annoyed with him and wanted to blatantly show it, your arms stubbornly slotted against your chest to separate yourself from laying completely on his.
When Bruce was done adjusting the blanket, the bed moving as he did, he settled still and looked down at you with those kind eyes of his you loved so much, the ones that always flustered you when you stared back into them for too long.
The arm behind your neck pushed you closer to him while he took his right hand and wrapped it around your chin, his palm so warm and big against your jaw that you couldn’t help but sigh in submission.
Bruce gently forced you to look up at him, his eyes staring down at you softly but earnestly.
“Alright, hey, don’t be like that with me. If there was something I thought you really needed to know I’d tell you. Otherwise, it’s best I keep that side of myself as private from you as possible. I hate the thought of you being in danger because of me, because I exposed you to that side of myself you didn’t need to see.” Bruce whispered genuinely, minty breath fanning over your nose as you stared up at him, seemingly calm now and even just a little regretful for being so upset with him in the first place.
“Just give it a rest honey, alright? I promise you, it’s nothing you need to worry about. Do I ever go back on my promises, hmm?” He said sweetly, looking down at you with insistent but loving eyes in the expectation of you responding.
You paused for a moment as you registered his words, still curious to know what he was really thinking about because you just couldn’t help it. You worried for him, wished he’d be more open with you so you could help him in whatever way you could. However, you also didn’t want to stress him out any more than he already was either, your mind picturing all the purple bruises littering his beautiful body pitifully.
So, you just shook your head like a scolded child, “No… you don’t.” You’d have to bite your tongue for now, pouting up at him cutely — Bruce was just too sweet to argue with sometimes and he knew it.
Bruce gave you a charming smile, gray shadow washed over the angles of his straight nose and narrow cheeks. His brown hair was more unkempt than usual, wavy tendrils of it fallen around his face. He looked so handsome, more tranquil this way, as he leaned down and gave you a peck on the forehead, a sweet hum sounding in the back of his throat.
“That’s my girl.”
You sighed happily, giving in to him completely now and wrapping an arm around his chest so you could burrow against him; he wrapped his arm around you tighter instinctually, enjoying the feel of you against him as he looked up at the ceiling in content.
Nothing was better than being with you, so much so that Batman himself felt satiated from his lonely perch in the back of Bruce’s mind.
You stared out the large, arched window on his wall for a few quiet moments, watching as the rain quickly fell down the glass one by one as Bruce softly traced his textured fingertips along the spine of your back.
“It always rains, you ever notice that?” You murmured tiredly against his skin, in a daze from the tingling sensation on your skin as he caressed your back in gentle, loving touches.
Bruce looked away from you a moment when you spoke to spare the window a disinterested glance, “What? You don’t like the rain, Mrs. Wayne?” He teased you, his spirits higher than before as he looked back down at you even if you couldn’t see, his nose filled with the sweet smelling shampoo you used — coconut and vanilla.
You smiled a little — you loved when he called you that.
“Well of course you do. You’re Batman, you’re supposed to like depressing things.” You spoke with a smile, only teasing him as your eyes drifted shut from the comfort of his body against yours, muscles melting against the black sheets nestled between his own.
Bruce chucked at that, his hand ceasing its calming motion, “oh, is that right?”
You hummed with an amused smile on your lips, nodding your head, “mmhmm, yes sir.”
Bruce scoffed playfully at that, looking down at you with a fond playfulness in his eyes before gently taking his muscled arm out from underneath your head.
You lifted your head up curiously to look at him, wishing for the moment to not be disturbed, only to be gently rolled over so that Bruce was laid on top of you and you were now sunken into the inky black abyss of cushions beneath him. Your lips parted in a slight gasp, staring up at him with those beautiful eyes he loved so much in surprise.
“Now now, Mrs. Wayne, don’t go calling me that unless you plan on doing something about it, it’s in bad taste.”
You giggled at that, a joyous and twinkling sound that made Bruce tense up, his eyes darting towards your lips and his heart quickening in his chest. You always had such an effect on him even if you didn’t know it.
“How ‘bout you do something about it then?” You whispered up to him sensually, voice low and playful. You could feel the air surrounding the little bubble you two found yourselves in change heavily as you ran your hands softly over his midsection, his light skin cold and soft, muscles hard and firm as you traced your fingers delicately over each individual ab until Bruce was twitching at the feeling.
He glanced down at your hands hotly, already worked up from your minuscule touches alone, his skin tingling from the sensation as a familiar heat started to twirl in his lower tummy.
He looked back down at you, eyes more hooded now but just as eagerly as rain pounded on the windows somewhere in the background — you couldn’t focus on anything but the sound of his warm breaths and the gradual throbbing between your own legs.
“Yeah? Would you like if I did something about it, Mrs. Wayne?” Your husband mumbled huskily, a teasing smirk on his lips as he lowered down closer until his face was just above yours, his big arms pressed into the pillow on each side of your head so you were surrounded by him.
He could see the way you inhaled at the name, felt the way your nails dug into his skin for a subtle, fleeting moment. He always knew all the right ways to turn you on, knew all the right words to say to make you melt in his hands like warm syrup — you were certainly just as sweet.
You stared up at your husband with heavy breaths, mouth watering for a taste of him, eyes blown black with love and unabashed want as he sat in the reflection of your irises. Your skin felt hot and your thighs tightened around his waist, arms aimlessly tracing the ridges of muscle that coated Bruce’s front; it was in an innocently naive way now, so unaware of how badly it was affecting Bruce himself as your initial confidence dwindled down to need.
You impatiently waited for him to make a move, give into the desire you both so clearly felt as your eyes ran over his shirtless body and perfect face in the mean time. With every exhale of breath out of his mouth you found yourself inhaling it back in, breathing his air and smelling of Bruce’s aftershave, Bruce’s shampoo, it was all just Bruce, Bruce, Bruce.
He had completely overwhelmed your senses with his smell, his presence, his very existence and it was making it hard to think clearly — only he plagued your thoughts so much it made your fingertips buzz to feel more of him.
It was in moments like these where the sheer size of Bruce was brought to your attention; he was much more muscular than you, all sharp edges and ridges of pure muscle and destruction that could destroy anything he put his hands on.
It was ironic to you, how those same hands that broke bones were the same hands that caressed your skin in the softest of touches, in the softest of ways, irrevocably incapable of breaking you.
Bruce believed he was all carnal ruination — hands made to break and fists made to destroy. He believed he had a dark side in him he couldn’t control, that Batman was the outlet for all the frustration he felt towards the injustices of the city and how easily it corrupted the lightest of souls. He believed he was made to hurt, to cause ruin — a reason why he never took a single human soul no matter how rotten it was.
But you believed he didn’t give himself enough credit, which is exactly why moments like these were so important to remind him.
You swallowed nervously now as you looked back into his eyes, your fingers faltering in their movement as they stilled on the angles of his hips, right outside the tight band of his black sweatpants.
“Yes, Mr. Wayne, that’s exactly what I want.” You whispered back up to him in a velvety soft tone, eyes looking at his pink lips and then flickering back up between his hazel irises lustfully; the look in them was too intense for you to handle but you sufficed, your heart thrumming passionately under your skin at the attention.
Bruce almost melted at the name, just as affected by the title as you were, lowering his face down until his nose was touching yours, his lips hovering right above your own.
“That’s my girl…” Bruce breathed thickly against your lips, his eyes flickering to your mouth as yours did the same to his, your mouth salivating for a taste of him.
A silent beat passed as you both just stayed in that position, locked into each other’s loving gazes and gentle touches, his lips just a whisper away from yours screaming to have you, to taste you. It was intimate and warm, quiet, your body feeling fuzzy and alight with something similar to deep admiration and not so far from a deep, shared love for each other.
There was no playfulness about it now.
It was then, when the tension had sizzled into flame did Bruce finally lean down and kiss you, his lips soft and cold, so contrasting from the warmth he sought in yours as the rain pattered on the windows and your angelic essence drowned him further into the depths of you.
You moaned softly, feeling relief flood through you as your hands gripped his hips for some sort of anchor off the clouds you seemed to be floating on. Bruce kissed you lovingly, a characteristic act of tenderness as he found his own needy noises hum in the back of his throat.
It was sweet and slow, lips careful and gentle against each other between delicate sighs and hums. He tasted of peppermint and the faint drawl of bourbon, his tongue damping your lips and your shared saliva wet on your mouths.
He seperated from you just for a short moment, your lips feeling the loss but not for too long before he was on you once more with a fervor, tongue molding between your lips forcefully and sucking yours into the warmth of his mouth.
You whined at the sudden confidence within him, lips barely moving against his as he took control of your movements and gave you no other option but to take what he gave you — his lips and his tongue tangling with yours messily as sensual rumbles sounded deep from within in his chest.
He brought a hand down from the pillow and intertwined it in your hair, tangling his thick fingers into your roots and pulling hard enough to arouse you further. It made your back arch and lips part in a salacious gasp.
Bruce found himself unable to part from your delectable taste for long, taking that moment to reconnect his damp lips to the skin between your chin and shoulder. He forced your head back as he kissed your neck, the cold air hitting every damp spot in a pleasurable tingling sensation that had your nails digging into his abs.
“Bruce…” You sighed oh so sweetly in a distracted state of mind, just wanting to say his name and have him hear how good he was making you feel with his simple kisses alone — a feat he always accomplished anytime he did.
The praise didn’t fall on deaf ears but he was too preoccupied with the sound of your heavy breaths and whines to really pay attention, too love drunk on the smoothness of your skin falling over his tongue as he licked his way down to your collarbone. He released his grip on your hair and his hands made idle work in caressing their way down your body to the hem of your white pajama top.
His hands were eager, so familiar on the curves of your body as they slid back up to your chest, hands big and desperate as they tightly gripped your bosom for a fleeting moment that had you moaning at the sting — he was handsy, unable to get enough of you and the way your body perfectly slotted between the strength and ridges of his hands.
His cock was already hard in his slacks, poking against your thigh absentmindedly as his hands dug into the center of your top and adamantly ripped it right down the middle. The buttons flew over the bed and your tits spilled out of the ripped material in a gorgeous ripple of flesh that had Bruce groaning at the sight.
“So beautiful, so gorgeous, just fucking perfect…” He mumbled in a lustful daze, more to himself as a factual observation, his hands now gripping your waist, eager mouth leaning down and making quick work to lap at your chest in the way he knew you liked.
You giggled dreamily at that, feeling fluttery and lightheaded at the praise, body warm and melting like a cube of butter on top of his silk bed sheets. He was always capable of making you melt with just a few loving words and caresses, another one of his talents.
Your hands had found their way into his thick hair, massaging at the loose strands when you decided it was impossible to stay still from the buzzing running through your pores.
Your pussy throbbed in your pajama shorts, painfully so, stomach in tight knots at the sparks shooting down to your core from his ministrations.
He found himself enthralled by the feeling of your tit in his mouth, fervently sucking on the skin there as his hands gripped into your waist so tight in a subconsciously possessive hold so you could never leave. Maybe it was the semblance of Batman himself leaking out from under tight fingertips, a degree of fierce protection in the way he held you underneath him, unable to be taken or destroyed by the same evil he fought almost every night.
You were here with him, with him and all of his burdens for the rest of your lives.
“So gorgeous…”
Bruce was lost in the pleasure you helplessly moaned in his ears, feeling his own mutual desire swirling in his tummy and thrumming through his skin that made every touch feel like fire, every kiss an ember from the flame until you and him were intertwined ash lost in the black smoke.
He loved you, his pretty wife, always so supportive and forgiving in the moments he definitely didn’t deserve it.
He picked his head up, panting and lips wet, your chest littered in pink marks and damp with his spit as Bruce licked his lips, hungry for more already.
You looked at him in all his glory, admiringly, just as enamored with him as he was with you as your warm hands slid down to his cheeks. Your own were flushed pink and feverish, breath warm and heavy as you lovingly ran your palm over his sharp cheekbone. His skin was soft, smooth and tepid under your dainty fingertips.
You gently caressed the faint purple of a bruise with your thumb, right in the hollow of his eye.
Bruce leaned into the tender action for a spared moment of comfort, his eyes hooded and twinkling in the dark as he breathed heavily against your lips. He kept finding himself absent in the presence of your beauty, staring at your face and your lips and being so thankful he had you at all.
“So beautiful…” He breathed gingerly, eyes looking over your face like he was seeing you for the first time — no, he was selfish in his blatant admiration of your magnificence, his heart throbbing almost painfully in his love for you as he watched the soft corners of your mouth twist into a shy smile at your devotees idolatrous attention.
He leaned down after a fond moment of your thumb tracing his cheekbone, after he was satisfied with his generous intake of your prettiness. He pecked an affectionate kiss on your smiling lips before dipping his head down and laying several kisses to your neck once more.
You bit your lip at the sensitive feeling, closing your eyes, lost in the feel of him, as he pampered you with doting kisses all the way down to your ribcage, his hands now playing with the hem of your shorts but not too boldly as to take them off quite yet.
“You’re everything, you know that? I could never imagine my life without you… you’re perfect, so perfect.” He rubbed your stomach adoringly, “Your body is perfect, so beautiful, I can’t believe you ever married me…” He mumbled in that rough voice of his, vulnerable in the night, in the moment when you couldn’t see him all the way clearly but he could see all of you just fine.
You could feel another smile playing on your lips — not that it had even left — the heavy sensation of happy tears casting a light sheen over your eyes. He was the perfect one, he was the gorgeous and beautiful counterpart of you that didn’t seem to realize his own value. You only wished you had the poetic spark in yourself that he had, then you’d be able to voice it properly. Still, his praise made your heart swell as he took your left hand and kissed the diamond ring on your finger amorously.
“Oh, Bruce…” You spoke in a hushed manner, voice wobbling from the overwhelming infatuation you had for the man, so thankful and grateful for such a man as wonderful as he. In your eyes the sudden romance had come out of nowhere, but it was still greatly appreciated as it caused your voice to thicken with the downpour of love it had spiked.
He looked into your eyes as he warmly kissed your palm, lips quirked slightly, eliciting another tender hearted smile from you. He then let you settle your hands back on his shoulders as he slotted himself between your hips, the affectionate moment lingering in the air as you pet his wide shoulders.
You were laid on your back, smooth thighs spread to accommodate his size between them, pajama top ripped down the middle in fragmented material hanging off your shoulders, your tits pooled on your chest and wet with his kisses. Your hair was tangled, fanned around your head, lips pink and plushy from all his salacious kisses, your eyes glittering erotically bright.
Despite that, you were not uncomfortable to be so exposed to him, exposed in a way you’d only ever be with him. You knew he would never judge you nor your body, that he loved you and all your freckles and scars and all the blemishes you considered imperfections — he loved them all. The only part of you not seen were covered by the shorts Bruce was already eager to take off.
You were beautiful to him, ethereal even, just as he said you were an angel, something divine and pure, a holy deity completely out of this world that transcended the mortal plane he was bound to, letting his lowly lips and hands cherish your merciful soul and body. Just oh so perfect.
“I love you…” You whispered, pathetically cute, down to him, a whisper wafting into his ears soft and fragile as if you were scared he wouldn’t say it back — he’d say it everyday for a thousand years if he had the blessing of living that long with you. Your nails dug into his shoulders, pulsing with need, as you smiled down at him sweetly.
“I love you more, Mrs. Wayne… I love you more…” He breathed hotly against your stomach, already leaning down and peppering sugarcoated kisses along your pelvis, so much closer to where you really needed him that the throbbing had become unbearably intense, wetness soaking your inner thighs and cream colored shorts. You felt your body shiver at the title once more.
You swallowed shakily as Bruce moved down, his daft fingers hooking into the band of your shorts and gently shoving them down to your knees as his longing lips reached the band of your lavender laced panties.
Your thighs tightened around his head as cool air hit your wet center, your body sensitive and pulsing heavy notes of desire straight into your pussy that made it hard to keep your head up and eyes open.
You just needed him, needed him and his expert mouth to bring you some sort of relief. Your toes were curled already, pussy clenching around nothing and spewing out clear juices that only damped your underwear further. You tangled your fingers into his hair heatedly, resisting the urge to shove his head down where you really wanted him.
Bruce swallowed hungrily, staring at your panty-clad pussy with dark eyes. He could smell your sweetness on his nose, the rain pattering on the windows still and the room still dark as sin but he could see his heaven clear as day, hypnotized by the patch of wetness in your panties, molded to the shape of your pussy lips and begging to be ripped apart.
His eyes flickered up to you, feeling your grabby fingers tangled in his hair as your thighs tensed back and forth around his neck.
Your head was barely held up, eyes hooded and sparkling with a form of lustful desperation as you stared down at him. Your chest bobbing up and down heavily and your skin radiant and smooth, the city lights from his window blurredly reflected in the fat of your cheeks. You already looked destroyed, like he had just fucked your brains out yet he really hadn’t done a thing.
“Bruce, come on…” You whined in a delicate plea when he made no movement further, hands barely pulling his hair but it was hard enough for his skin to prickle in pleasure, a hiss leaving his lips, just hard enough to get your message across.
He snickered at that, lips shiny and jaw chiseled, his face so sharp yet soft at the same time. His beauty greatly perplexed you for how could a mere mortal be so fucking handsome? He was though, he was strong and big and riddled with scars and imperfections yet the accumulation of all those little faults are what made him flawless.
Bruce himself felt the throbs of impatience nestled in his stomach, burrowed in his heart, buzzing at his fingertips, as he looked down at your pussy once more just inches from his mouth, both wet and watering for the other.
“Be patient, honey. I just wanna look at ‘cha first. You’re so pretty, dripping wet for me…” He had the audacity to murmur in that cocky voice of his, yet simultaneously genuine and stunned at the observation as his hands rubbed your thighs, being sure to heartily press into the tissue in that way he knew you liked.
You couldn’t help but pull his hair some more, bursting at the seams for some sort of pleasure you feared it would boil over and you’d explode. You felt frustration settle through your veins once more like molten lava, your skin tensing and thighs aching from their tight grip around his neck.
“Bruce, no more teasing, please? Just please…” You moaned and whined like a stubborn girl, voice thick with need and painful yearning that made his cock twitch in his pants. You almost sounded broken, voice fragmented with a certain torment only his mouth and fingers could appease.
He licked his lips, feeling desire swell in his lower tummy at the state of you — already so incapable of any thought but the memory of his cock inside you, the feeling of his fingers drilling into your tight hole as he spat and licked on your sensitive clit. It was all you could think about, all you could picture in your mind as your head laid back on the pillows and you scooted down the bed until your pussy was right in his face.
The blanket had long since been forgotten, bunched around his hips and aiding as a nice cushion for his abdomen hunched over the end of the bed.
Bruce felt himself chuckle huskily at your shameless neediness, his big hands stopping on your plush inner thighs as he settled down between your legs on the soft mattress, getting himself comfortable for you.
You breathed heavily, eyes closed as you laid back on the silken pillow with your face crumbled so cutely. He was such a tease even when he was meant to be sweet, even when he was insistent on being a good husband who doted on his wife whenever he could — you guessed growing up rich gave him that arrogant edge.
Your stomach was knotted so tight, your skin hot and shivering for some sort of touch as your fingers dug themselves into the roots of his damp, brown hair. You needed him so bad, but your pussy needed him worse.
You felt your thighs tickle as Bruce lightly traced the pads of his fingers down, down, down until he was at the crook of your inner thigh, his right hand digging into the flesh of your leg like he himself couldn’t hold back from you anymore.
Bruce didn’t bother voicing any teasing quips or dirty statements, knowing you were so out of it you wouldn’t listen to him anyway. Every fiber of your being was hooked on his touches, hyper aware of the spots his fingers trickled across, eager for some degree of pleasure that would make this painful waiting period worth it.
He swallowed down the salvia pooling in his throat, so hungry for a taste of you, starved almost. His index finger hooked into your panties and delicately pushed them out of the way until they were bunched in the crook of your thigh. His eyes were met with your soaking wet slit in all its glory.
White, creamy arousal stuck to your panties and dripped down your pulsing hole into the crack of your ass, sheer white beads of cum dribbled down your needy hole that would escape his tongue before he even got a proper taste of you yet.
The cool air made you whine behind closed lips, your voice high pitched and desperate now, your fingers tighter in his hair as your hips subtly bucked forward. The beautiful noises you were making made Bruce’s jaw clench.
You were glistening, shiny with arousal and the strings of impenitent want, evidence of your desire and love for him as he found himself inhaling the scent of you once more.
You smelt so good. He found himself groaning at the musky sweetness, his finger still hooked around the crotch of your panties as his other hand tightly gripped your thigh — you moaned softly at the pressure, sure that there would be the faint yellow bruises of his adoring fingerprints pressed into your skin tomorrow. A charming reminder of the evening when they blossomed.
You felt your core clench once more, thighs tensing up as wetness shone in his greedy irises.
Bruce was unable to wait any longer, his mouth salivating and his eyes blown black as he pressed his tongue into your wet hole and licked a bold stripe all the way up to your buzzing clit, the taste of your arousal pooled on his tongue and already dripping down the sharp corners of his mouth.
You couldn’t stop the loud moan from echoing in the room, euphoric sounding as sweet sparks went off all over your skin at the long awaited contact. Your fingers tightly anchored themselves in Bruce’s hair as his tongue went up and down your folds, gathering as much of your wetness in his mouth as he could.
His hands swiftly dug themselves into your hips to hold you down once you started writhing in his hold. His tongue forcefully circled your clit in sharp wet strokes, deep rumbled moans escaping his chest that vibrated the sensitivity of it and only made more wetness gush out of you and soak his chin.
You tasted so good, so fucking good; he wanted nothing more than to be drowned in your essence, choking on everything you gave him until his belly was full and even then he wouldn’t be satisfied, he’d never be satisfied. He was like a monster, chasing every little drop of cum that pebbled out of your clenching hole with a forked tongue, greedy and carnivorous like you were the only nectar he ever wanted to taste again.
His tongue lapped your pussy once more as you gasped, back arched and toes clenched as he thrusted his tongue into you over and over, wet and messily as your juices shimmered on his cheeks and lips.
No, he decided, the beast within him would never be tamed.
You bucked away from his mouth in a pathetic attempt to free yourself from the overwhelming pleasure, but Bruce held you down with his strong arms, staring up at you with furrowed brows of concentration as his lips molded over your puffy clit once more, swollen from need and his relentless licking.
He was nothing if not devoted, devoted to your elegance, to your holy figure and endless love as he lapped at you desperately, his tongue swirling your clit as the fabric of your panties tickled his nose. He couldn’t get enough, pushing deeper and harder until your wetness was messily smeared on his mouth and face, eating more and tasting more until his entire being was smothered with your cum inside and out.
“Bruce, o-oh my god!” You squealed wantonly, one hand now gripping the black sheets between tight fingers as your other hand remained in his hair, following the movements of his head as he went up and down, side to side until not an inch of you wasn’t covered in his salvia.
He breathed hotly against you, his eyes closed as he savored the feel of you in his mouth and trickling down his throat. He couldn’t think of anything else, couldn’t listen to reason as all he could focus on was you and your cum, tasting you, licking you, having you in every sense of the word. No one could tear him away from you, not now, not when he was so close to having you cum in his mouth and reaching his final purpose.
You were so close, you could feel it in your tummy. Your hole clenching around his tongue as he went back and forth from your clit and your soaked hole, wanting to pleasure you but simultaneously wanting to taste you for his own pleasure.
Your toes curled, stomach tightened, hands gripping the sheets as your mouth flew open in sporadic moans and gasps, tears prickling the corners of your eyes as your thighs squeezed around Bruce so tight you’d fear he’d never surface from between your legs again.
He wouldn���t have a problem with that.
Bruce picked his head up only high enough to talk, lips dripping and almost incoherent as he mumbled deeply into the wet folds of your pussy like he couldn’t bear to part, “You gonna cum for me, baby? Come on, Mrs. Wayne, make me proud, cum in my mouth.” As he voiced this his one hand crept down and slyly inserted themselves into the tight confine of your warmth, his index and middle fingers pushing inside you, so long and so big it made you cry out.
It was wet and warm, your juices slapping against his knuckles as he circled his fingers inside you, pushing on the spot he knew he was supposed to as his mouth eagerly returned to your clit. He looked up at you, eyes dark and heavy as he stared at your tits jiggling with every thrash of your hips, every arch of your back and every gasp out of your pretty, dampened lips.
He groaned into you at the sight, feeling his cock achingly hard in his pants as he sucked your clit into the warmth of his mouth and refused to let go, tongue prodding the area skillfully and harshly. He wasn’t going to stop this time, not until you were creaming around his fingers and leaking down his neck.
The air was so thick and stuffy that you couldn’t help but pant fervently, your body prickled with pleasure and overwhelming sensations that made it hard to focus on anything but his fingers inside you, long and lithe, slipping in and out as the sounds of your wetness clouded your ears and muffled your moans.
Bruce himself was lost in you, tongue and lips a glistening mess as they lapped and circled and sucked every part of your pussy exposed to him, it felt so good it stung — he was groaning into you softly, pleasure building in his tummy and rumbling through his mouth to your already so sensitive clit.
It was then, just a few short moments after his fingers wormed their way inside your tight walls, just a few short moments after he sucked your clit into his mouth did you feel your stomach relax, thighs squeeze around his head so hard he felt himself go dizzy.
“Ahh, O-oh my god, Bruce!” You moaned so blissfully, so sweetly, as your juices squirted onto his chin and his fingers squelched inside you.
Bruce moaned at the feeling, fingers gently sliding out of your clenching hole so his tongue could catch all the cum pouring out. You whimpered at the feeling of his mouth still on you, lapping at your hole like a dehydrated villager kneeling at a prosperous fountain, your skin pasty and so so hot.
He lapped at your pussy a few more times, up and down, ensuring he got his fill for the evening as faint tremors wracked your body in the aftershocks of his giving nature. You were flat on the bed now, belly sore from the tightness it held for so long, legs limp and body spent as you panted gently, heart throbbing in your ears.
You managed to lazily caress his sweaty hair though as Bruce surfaced from between your legs, face glistening and lips sore and pink. He looked manic, hair pulled and tangled and messily scattered on his face yet he seemed to be glowing at the same time, like he had never felt so alive and it made you want to giggle.
He sniffled, looking up at you with an impish grin, the taste of you lingering in his mouth and staining his nose. His hands fondly massaged your shaking thighs, noting your wrecked appearance and tired eyes, your sweaty skin flushed and warm.
He couldn’t help it as he glanced down at the mess he made, your slippery wet folds and the large patch of wetness staining his sheets.
“Mrs. Wayne, pardon my brashness of course,” He said almost sarcastically, breathless and rugged, an amused smile quirked on his lips as he leaned forward and embraced your hand with his, “but you taste utterly divine.”
⋆˚࿔ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ @little-miss-chaoss — I hope it’s okay I tagged you, you said you wanted to be tagged in everything 😭🙌🏻
#𓍯꒷ 𝐌𝐀𝐔𝐕𝐄 ﾉ ◝ ̨⊹#dc fandom#dcverse#dc#dc comics#bale batman fic#bale batman x reader#christian bale batman x reader#christian bale x reader#bale batman#christian bale#batman oneshot#batman imagine#batman smut#batman fic#batman fanfic#batman fanfiction#batman#batman x reader#battinson one shot#battinson fanfic#the dark knight#the dark knight trilogy#catwoman x batman#joker x fem!reader
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Comfort - Bruce Wayne x Fem!reader
Pairing: Battinson x Fem!Reader
Warnings: Slight angst, not really, sad reader.
Type: Blurb
Request: N/A
Word Count: N/A
Prompt: Bruce kind of comforting reader after having a mood drop lol
Notes: I can’t really sleep, I’ve been having the same mood drops I thought I was over, so I just wrote this to cheer me up. If you struggle with the same thing, I hear you, here’s a little battison to hug you.
For years it seemed like it wasn’t going to get better. To say you didn’t know how to navigate through your feelings was an understatement. You weren’t really sure what was happening, or what made you feel the way you did.
Even on the best days, sometimes these mood drops were unpredictable. Suddenly the world starts to slow down and you felt like you’re just there.
It felt like it wasn’t a big deal, it was something you always experienced and you tended to deal with it by isolating yourself until you felt good enough to go back out. The last thing you wanted was to plague anyone with some kind of silly feelings that would go just as they came.
Though you felt crazy to assimilate your relationship this way, it seemed like that’s why you and Bruce got along so well. It wasn’t far fetched to wonder if he felt the same way. As your relationship developed with him, spending the night became religious. You were almost a stranger to your own apartment, finding warmth and safety in his bruised arms.
Tonight, you had the same feeling crawling into you. A bitter sting tainted your veins, spreading quickly throughout your body. It seemed like over the years your body would just succumb to the sentiment. The unease caused you to shoot up from the familiar black sheets.
Bruce was hardly a heavy sleeper, but you didn’t blame him for being a stone after the day of living a double life today. Some days it really did catch up to him, board meetings by day, beating bad guys by night.
You had the luxury of choosing the room you wanted to hide in tonight, usually it was the study. It was warm and comforting, the hug you needed tonight.
The room was dimly lit, scattered papers and book decorated the shelves and the fair sized desk. You crawled into the massive chair that hid behind the computer, bringing your legs up to your chest, layering a blanket over your body.
For one reason or another, this always seemed to be a habit of yours. If you couldn’t run away from your feelings or confront them, your mind tricked you into just going to another room. Almost as if that would solve the issue, but deep down you knew it didn’t, however it seemed like your mind didn’t know any better, did it?
Bitter thoughts galloped through you, the same feeling of defeat in hand with your despair. You loved Bruce, more than anything, but because of this you told yourself you could handle this on your own.
You hated hiding from him, hiding anything from him. All it took was his eyes meeting yours, he could get anything out of you. Looking away from him was always a dead giveaway. Your hands rubbed your arms, crossing themselves in hopes of tricking yourself that you were being hugged by anyone other than yourself. Sometimes, the feeling would just push your chest downward, almost like you were completely giving up.
A thick hand appeared on your knee, your eyes followed it back to Bruce, then looking down in shame. “I can’t sleep.” You half admitted as if he was determined to get a response as to why you disappeared from him.
Again, it was useless to try to hide anything from him, it was his literal job to put clues together. However, there was a silence that felt easy, maybe it was the way he looked at you. Without any fine lines across his brows, instead almost a pout of worry. His hand never gripping you, instead offering itself to you as a sincere gesture. After spending so much time with him, it was only a matter of time to learn a few skills from him, to study him.
You lightly rubbed your bottom lip between your teeth, pursing you lip in hopes of alleviating any lingering discomfort. Your eyes couldn’t find where to look anymore, until you felt Bruces’ arms reach down to cradle your figure.
Still unwilling to look him in the eye, you looked down to your thighs as the blanket draped itself down to the carpet floor. Feeling the softest kiss on the side of your head, you closed your eyes.
“It’s not your fault this happens sweetheart.”
He murmured into your face. His voice still sleepy yet so full of patience and warmth. Did he know? Of course he knew.
Your eyes turned to anywhere but him as he walked you back over to his inviting bed, with a messy comforter as evidence of a safe and warm place to rest. He didn’t say anything else, he didn’t need to.
His fingertips rubbed against your skin in an assuring manner. You didn’t know if you wanted to cry or just go back to bed, your eyebrows knit together in frustration with yourself.
“You mean the world to me Y/N. And it pains me to see you run and hide from me.”
There was a long pause, still being held in front of the bed, you looked down to your hands, feeling the droplets coat your cheeks. Trying not to make a sound, you tucked your lips into yourself, your eyes squeezing shut in the process as the whimpering slowly approached.
“If you need time to yourself, that’s fine, but please don’t run away.” Bruce almost begged as he slowly placed you down on the edge of the bed. Your head dropped down in defeat.
“Baby.”
You flickered your lids before looking up to him, you’ve never seen him with such concern and compassion in his eyes, all across his face. He looked like he would do anything for you right then and there. Nodding, you rubbed the back of your hand across your cheeks quickly.
“I love you, okay? Let that be clear. No matter what you’re feeling or what you’re dealing with.” Bruce’s’ hand cradled the back of your head, he slowly pulled it towards him, pressing his lips against your forehead. He stood there for a moment, closing his eyes in a silly attempt to take the sadness away.
“I love you too.” You whispered just enough for him to hear. His fingertips rubbing against your locks felt like the best way to be comforted. You couldn’t imagine a safer, most loving manner to be told you were loved and cared for.
#battinson one shot#battison x reader#battinson imagine#bruce wayne x reader#Bruce Wayne imagine#Bruce Wayne one shot
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Don’t know if you are taking requests but maybe battinson and reader doing their mbti test, and reader getting a villain personality.
lmfao
pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader.
cw: implied sexual content but no body parts mentioned.
words: 894.
a/n: gratuitous amount of italics here. not sorry. implied sub!bruce but that's not what this is about. also, anon, guess who ELSE has a villain personality type according to google :)
who's gonna tell him
You probably know he’s not really listening. With the wrench between his teeth, fingers straining to reach into the void of his engine and find where the Batmobile had gone unresponsive, he’s only half present. Maybe a third at best. Still, he enunciates through the metal, already forgetting what you'd called him, “INT...C? What does that mean?”
“I-N-T-J. You’re the architect. It means you’re introverted, intuitive, thinking, and judging. You’re good at problem solving and detective work, of course. But you struggle emotionally and are prone to being… ‘socially clueless’.” From your spot in the driver’s seat, Bruce makes a show of leaning around the propped up hood just to be clear on how much he disapproves. He even removes the wrench with his oil-slick hand so he can frown properly. “I didn’t write this, babe. Don’t look at me.”
“You’re reading it to me.”
“I just wanted to know if we’d be compatible!”
He huffs, having found what ever kink in the machine he was looking for and focusing on that instead. He disappears behind the hood but his voice carries through the terminus loud and clear, “Well, are we?”
You decide to do some research.
Somewhere between Bruce triumphing over the engine and coming around to the window to gloat, he catches you staring incredulously at your phone.
“What's the verdict? Are we sworn enemies?” Your eyes dart up to Bruce’s and the longer you stare at him, picking him apart in silence, the more his smile begins to fade. For a second, he starts to think you actually might be sworn enemies. For a millisecond, he starts to care.
"I took the test." You declare, voice freakishly even. Bruce isn't smiling anymore.
"And?"
"I got ENTJ."
"And?"
"We're compatible, sure, whatever," Bruce squints, confused, because you'd been more excited to know the answer to that than he was, "but then I fell down this rabbit hole—I wanted to see who we shared personalities with—and then I found this article. Guess what we are?"
You turn your phone to him. You've pulled up a web result for “Which MBTI personality types are villains?”. In the blurb at the very top, he reads INTJ. Then he looks over at you, your eyes wide and suspicious, and he’d ask you to stop giving him that look if it wasn’t for the way your mouth starts to curl up.
You’re not suspicious. You’re impish. “We’re both villains.”
Sure enough, the other most common villain personality type is ENTJ.
Bruce thinks it’s silly, a little less silly than when you’d done his natal chart (but he’d sat and asked questions all the same, a little too invested in the bits about his childhood karma) because the quiz at least knew something about him, but silly nonetheless.
But you’re also enjoying it enough that he leans into it, feels his own lips curling up too. He folds his arms on the door and leans inside the car, casting a dark shadow over you, "I have enough bad press as it is."
You giggle. You place a hand on his forearm and squeeze, "I don't know. I think you'd be pretty sexy as a villain."
Bruce watches you through hooded eyelids and considers, for a moment, that maybe you're a little too into this. He treads the waters, wondering whether you'll show your hand. He digs through his memory for what you'd called him, the other thing that had actually stuck, “The architect and…”
“The commander.” You finish, jutting your chin up with pride.
“Sounds about right.”
“I'll be the one in control, and you'll be my pretty little mastermind making everything happen.”
“Sounds sort of right.”
“What do you mean, ‘sort of’? You’re a slave to my every whim.”
“Oh, I'm your slave now?" Bruce drops an octave with intention, delighting in your fingernails biting into his muscles. "Since when?"
Your eyes fucking twinkle. You look so excited that he fleetingly wonders if he should keep an eye on you. And he imagines you’d enjoy having him bested, kneeling at your feet as you unmask him and lean in and grin and declare, victorious- “Haven’t you always been?”
Your breath on his lips hasn’t even cooled before he’s leaning into the car and craning your mouth up to meet his, a hand at your jaw and the other keeping him propped through the window.
He imagines too, just for fun, leaning into a getaway car to celebrate a job well done, before coming around the side to jet off into the sunset. A real Bonnie and Clyde.
He feels you tugging on his shoulders and leaning back into the driver’s seat, compelling him to follow. You almost drag him fully through the window (a feat that’s only possible because he’s basically putty in your hands right now), and he grips the center console to steady himself before he falls in and crushes you, “The car’s been fixed all of two minutes and you wanna defile it already?” Bruce accuses, not actually caring in the slightest.
You’re awful. Your eyes still twinkle beneath the innocent flutter of your eyelashes, clearly still on villains and evil plans and whatever images you’d conjured up in your brain after calling him your slave. What ever happened to not mixing business with pleasure? “Come on, Batman. Don't be such a prude."
taglist: @yikes-buddy @alexxavicry @theclassicvinyldragon @angxlictexrs @moonlightreader649 @geekyfer @thescarletfang @navs-bhat
#bruce wayne x reader#bruce wayne one shot#bruce wayne scenarios#bruce wayne fluff#bruce wayne fic#bruce wayne#batman x reader#batman one shot#batman scenarios#the batman scenarios#the batman x reader#batman fluff#batman fic#the batman#battinson x reader#battinson#mjwrites
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more bruce wayne fics please <3 maybe some comfort and soft kissing after bruce comes home from a night out as the batman? i love ur writing sm
snowy nights
thank you so much for this request anon!! i’d do anything for this man <3
pairing: pattinson!bruce wayne/ reader
warnings: cursing, i think that’s it lol
i really hope this isn’t too bad, i haven’t been feeling the best unfortunately :( i also struggle writing bruce sometimes considering he dosent show the widest range of emotions in the movie, but i’m trying my best! i hope you all enjoy!
whenever bruce went out as batman, you wouldn’t sleep till he got back. it was just how it was, no matter how much he begged you not to, you cared too much and wanted to make sure he was okay.
tonight was like any other, you paced the manor silently, filled with anxiety as you wondered what he was up to. the sound of his motorcycle snapped you from your thoughts, and your feet hurriedly carried you down to the batcave.
you could tell he was in pain the moment you laid eyes on him. he already had his cowl off and you could see him visibly relax at the sight of you.
“hey” your voice was soft as you help him pull his armor off. “where are you hurt?” you ask, though your question was pretty quickly answered upon removing his shirt. there was a large bruise that ran across his side.
“i need to shower” he moans quietly in pain, making his way with you upstairs and to the master bathroom of wayne manor. he stops in the doorway, turning to look at you. you look back, and there’s a few beats of silence. “yeah?”
“arent you coming?” he questions, gesturing to the shower. you smile a little, making your way over to him and stripping most of your clothes on the way. the water felt great on the both of you, washing your aches and worries down the drain. you grab bruce’s shampoo, pouring way too much of it on his head when he wasn’t paying attention. he turns to look at you, his lips were pressed together to form a line as he tried to keep on his serious facade, you give an innocent smile. quickly, he snatches his shampoo and pours an ungodly amount onto you.
“BRUCE! i did NOT pour that much!” you giggle and attempt to wrestle the bottle out of his hands. wrestling in the shower while covered in soap was NOT the best idea, as the two of you pretty quickly wiped out and ended up on the tile floor.
“fuck, are you alright?” you instantly turn to bruce who was holding his side, but laughing. he was laughing. a smile was now plastered on your face as you watch him laugh until he couldn’t breathe, laying flat on his back and covered in soap.
“come onnn come onnn let’s get up” you manage to get out through your own laughter, but upon taking his hand he grabs you and pulls you down on top of him. “bruce!” you sigh with exaggeration, looking down at your still giggling lover. finally, he calms down, looking up at you to the best of his ability with the water that continued to pour over you two. there were love hearts in the both of your eyes as you lean down to connect your lips with his.
“we should probably get out and make sure your ribs aren’t fucking broken now” you mutter against his lips. although neither of you wanted to get up and finish showering, you did.
-
upon being dressed and looking out the window, you noticed the snow falling outside. it must have been falling for a while because you couldn’t see the grass anymore.
“you didn’t tell me it was snowing, we should go out for a little!” you don’t give bruce a moment to answer as you dash off to grab your coat and boots, along with bruce’s.
“isn’t it a little late for playing in the snow?” bruce gives you a lopsided smile as he watches you get dressed.
“it’s never too late to play in the snow. plus, you know how it is here, by the time we get up tomorrow half of it will be melted. now come on!” you smile, basically running to the front door and stepping out into the chilly night. you knew bruce wasn’t in best shape, so the both of you took it easy, simply enjoying the beauty and the silence that came with the snow. the two of you were stood in the garden, lost in some random conversation. when you finished your sentence, you realized bruce was just gazing at you. his head was tilted to the side in awe, and a soft smile graced his lips.
“what?” you smile, looking away at his sudden intense gaze.
“nothin, just, you’re beautiful” his voice was quiet, as usual, but something in his tone was so very real. he takes your gloved hands in his, carefully pulling you into him enough so he could connect his lips with yours. they were soft, along with his touches as he settles his hands on the small of your back. the two of you stay like this for a while, absorbing each other’s presence as the snow falls silently around you.
#fanfiction#dc universe#one shot#batman#batman x reader#bruce wayne#bruce wayne imagine#bruce wayne one shot#bruce wayne x reader#dc oneshots#robert pattinson x y/n#robert pattinson x reader#robert pattinson one shot#robert pattinson#battinson
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It's Raining Vengeance - Ch. 6
Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5
Pairing: Bruce Wayne/Batman x Female!Reader
Series Summary: (Based on The Batman 2022) It happened a while ago: the day you stumbled into the batman. And ever since, he seemed to pop up exactly when you needed him. You thought it was stupid to try and be his friend. He thought it was dangerous to let you in. Both of you did it anyway.
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 1.5k+
Note: this chapter is… ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) #smut
series masterlist | main masterlist | AO3
Bruce tossed and turned all night, barely getting any sleep. This was a regular occurrence, he never had a refreshing night's sleep. And with his thoughts tied up with you and the fundraiser, he struggled more than usual.
At around 4:30 am he figured he wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep again so he decided to get up. It was early, the sun wasn’t even out yet; he was up before Alfred, even.
He hadn’t cleaned up like Alfred told him to last night, instead, he crashed into his bed still sweaty and with his face covered in makeup.
If Bruce Wayne was to make a rare appearance today, he’d have to shower.
He sulked to his bathroom, all the window blinds shut tight as he walked in the dark.
He had really messed up this time. His fists clenched together as he replayed the night with you back in his head.
What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he act fucking normal?
He pictured that moment where your lips almost touched his. He had wanted to crash his to yours so badly, but even being socially deranged, he knew kissing someone who didn’t feel that way about you was wrong. And he didn’t want to completely ruin his chances of winning your friendship back.
He slid off his clothes, eyeing the scars along his chest in the mirror, and sighed. He stepped into the hot shower and soaked his body.
His mind fell back to when you had your arms tightly wrapped around him as he sped through the city. He had never wanted someone so close to him before. It was strange, but he almost felt at peace when you clung to him.
When he had carried you back to your apartment the night you had stumbled into a group of mobsters, his arms slid under your thigh and waist like he was always meant to hold you like that. He remembered how his hands were burning through his gloves, his mind racing on how he was cradling you, pulling your body against his.
He felt himself begin to grow aroused in the shower.
Then he remembered how you had begun to strip out of your wet clothes, forgetting he was there. It was understandable, the way he crept silently through the shadows made it hard for anyone to know when he was near. He had watched the curve of your body and you pushed your pants off, giving him just a slight glimpse of your black underwear.
Ashamed, he reached down and gripped his growing erection.
You laid back on your couch, your damp hair sprawled against your shoulders, your shirt hiking up to reveal your thighs. He had watched as you tenderly glided your fingers down your calf to feel the bruises that were forming.
Bruce wondered what it would feel like to run his hands up your leg. To let his hands linger on your thighs, squeezing them.
He hadn’t even realized he began to stroke himself until he felt himself grunting in his throat.
He remembered how you had tried to hit him, and the way he effortlessly caught your wrist. What would it be like to trap your wrists above your head, placing kisses on your neck, feeling you squirm beneath him?
His hand leaned out against the shower wall, his eyes pressing shut.
He pictured you in that skimpy outfit, the way your legs looked in those heels. He heard your laugh play in his head.
His hand began to move faster.
All the times you had been caught in his gaze as he stood in silence while you waited for his reply. How he almost felt like he couldn’t speak as he watched you.
He thought about the time when you first met and the way he towered over you. You hadn’t run. You weren’t afraid.
He remembered how he felt when he first studied your shadowed face on that roof, the wind rushing through your hair, leaving a sweet scent of lavender in his nose. The way your pink lips were slightly parted in shock at his appearance. He imagined how they might look after roughly kissing you, plump and swollen.
A moan fell out of Bruce’s mouth, his breathing heavy and unsteady.
He wondered what it would feel like to lay on top of you with your hardened nipples pressed against him. How you might moan beneath him.
What it would feel like to be inside you.
“Y/N”, Bruce breathed out. He climaxed, grunting loudly as he kept stroking himself to extend the high. His mouth hung open as he groaned, imagining you moaning along with him as he made you orgasm.
His breathing was loud as he came down. His head hung low, the water pounding against his neck and back.
This wasn’t what friends were supposed to do. You weren’t supposed to think of your friends like that. You weren’t supposed to picture them while you jerk off.
And yet he just did. Just as he’s done many nights before this.
Bruce opened his eyes, the pictures of you flooding out of his mind.
–
You laid in your dark bedroom, eyes staring at the ceiling. You knew you’d forgive Bruce—I mean, you already had. You were fighting against what you knew was wrong and right. You knew you should feel violated by him watching you, so why didn’t you? Why did it make you start to heat up when he had told you? The way his voice was dark and low as he questioned you about the strange man. Was he jealous?
You felt your hand glide down to your panties in a sinful act.
Friends don’t stalk friends to check upon them. No, they come to knock on their door or shoot them a text.
It scared you, the way you began to think about Batman. You hadn’t even seen his full-face or his body under the armor, but you couldn’t stop thinking about him.
You closed your eyes.
He was a bit odd in the way he interacted with you. When he was fighting crime, he was strong and confident. But when it came to having a conversation, he faltered. It made you blush to think about how he might actually be a shy person out of the suit.
You picture his lips from earlier, the way they were slightly parted and so close to yours. You could feel his warm breath against your face. You wanted to kiss him. Wished he had closed the gap. But you knew he couldn’t feel the same. You were just some journalist who kept getting in his way. And he was The Batman!
You imagined yourself reaching out to touch his jaw, feeling his stubble against your fingertips.
You began rubbing circles over your underwear.
How he might grunt like he always does at your touch. You imagined running your hand down his bodied suit, wanting to feel the goosebumps against his skin. And how he’d watch you so intently as you did, his glare sending shivers down your spine.
You snaked your hand underneath your underwear now, sliding your finger between your folds.
And if he kissed you, you don’t think you’d be able to hold back your moan. The way he’d overpower you so easily, pushing you hard against that brick wall.
You wondered what it might be like to torture him, to have that kind of power over him, just the sight of your exposed skin making him go feral.
Oh, how a muscular brute like him must be in bed.
You slid a finger inside of yourself, your heat already dripping wet.
You wanted him. Wanted him on top of you. Inside of you. Wanted him to fuck you so hard that you lost your breath.
You pumped your fingers in and out, rocking your hips forward as you did.
You imagined his lips around your swollen nipple, gently sucking and biting. His other hand sliding up to grab your breast, his throat audibly groaning as he did.
You moaned into your silent room, your hand sliding up to squeeze your breast over your t-shirt.
What if he was a gentle lover, making you look up at him as he pleasured you.
But then you imagined what it would be like if he flipped you over without warning, making you take him as he slammed you into your mattress. You wanted to know what his voice sounded like as he told you how much he had been wanting this. You’d beg and plead for him to let you come. His hand sliding to your clit to help you reach your high.
Your fingers moved faster, imagining they were his, and he’d curl them inside you, your juices soaking his hand.
You came as your hips rocked up against your hand, your breath getting lost in your throat. Your free hand gripped your sheets, your head flying back in pleasure.
Your eyes fluttered open, the harsh reality of his absence hitting you.
He’d never feel that way about you.
Not with the way he looked; tall, muscular, intimidating. He probably had tons of girls clawing at him. So why would he bother with you?
Ch. 7
#the batman#the batman 2022#batman x reader#bruce wayne#bruce wayne x y/n#bruce wayne imagine#bruce wayne fanfic#bruce Wayne insert#bruce wayne one shot#batman one shot#batman imagine#battinson#robert pattinson#its raining vengeance#bruce wayne headcanon#dc#dc fanfic#bruce wayne x reader#smut#bruce wayne smut#batman smut#the batman imagine#the batman fanfic#the batman one shot
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bruce the batman wayne is something that can be so personal
#i just love him so much#i fucking love stories about hope man#and while idk like. ANY stories about batman outside of the movies (gotta somehow get into the comics!!!)#bruce wayne as a character he's all about hope bro#he acts broody and emo and angsty and grumpy and grumbly and i work alone and all that#but the real reason he does what he does is because hes fighting for his city that he loves he's fighting to give the people of gotham#hope. that their city is worth saving that they are worth saving. that though times are dark there is fucking HOPE and HES#CREATING IT FOR THEM BY BEING BATMAN#there is hope for all of them!!!!!!#i wanna find some story about batman saving some villain who at first glance seemed horribly evil but is actually just#a really broken person who needed some yoh guessed it HOPE in their lives#im sure there is one out there i just need to find it#anyways. that shot from the batman 2022 where battinson leads the people out of gotham square garden with his flare of red light#GOD.#🦇#there should be a batman emoji smh#bluebird.txt#batman
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no more running | dark!bruce wayne x reader
Summary: Y/N was tired of being trapped in the Wayne Manor, Bruce says its for her safety. Was he protecting her or just keeping her to himself?
Warning: Mention of murder, harmful doing, possessiveness, obsession, Evil Bruce Wayne, and Melatonin pills.
A/N: Okay, basically im an DC and Marvel fan also! Ive been reading Batman/Bruce Wayne fics for the past 2 days now and decided to make one. I watched The Batman movie last night and I LITERALLY BECAME MORE IN LOVE. I know Batman is more so like a natural hero so hes like A hero but does villain like things. So i thought what if he was just like Dark all around MORE than usually? This is my first one so thoughts from you guys will be highly needed. Its a one shot so its gonna be a little short! Enjoy!
“Y/N!” Bruce yelled following her through the Wayne Manor. “Look at me when im talking to you!”
“No! Because im sick and tired of you acting like you control me Bruce Wayne, when you in fact do not. What exactly are protecting me of when you are the most Dangerous man in the room right now!” She walked into their shared bedroom or so.
They’ve been bumping heads recently, a lot to to be honest.
He hasn’t been the nicest and to be honest he doesn’t regret it.
The crime rate in Gotham had gotten higher and even the day light was dangerous to be out in.
But last week, something changed in Bruce. Maybe it was the intruders he killed with his bare hands and had Alfred dispose of the bodies.
It was for her protection, they deserved the beating.
“You killed those intruders Bruce... You promised me you’d never kill, ever. To me being out in the city is safer than being in a shared room with someone who’s not even a hero but the same as those people out there.”
Bruce knew his temper, and oh was it rising as the more she badmouths him and compared him to those people.
“I was protecting you. You are fragile and can get hurt. I'm not letting you get hurt because of who I am or what I've done outside the manor. Yes, I've killed two men that dared step into our home. How was I supposed to know that they were just after me? They could’ve spotted you and harmed you.” He stepped closer to Y/N grabbing the so called 'bag' she was trying to pack.
“I told you if something were the happen outside you aren’t allowed to leave the manor. I meant that with every inch of light I have left. “
“You can’t keep me in here Bruce-“
“No I can. And I will. Its not safe out there. Hate me. Dislike me. Want me dead. Do whatever you please but you aren’t leaving this home.”
Y/N huffed and walked out the room.
“Ill get out one way or another.” She thought in her head.
5 hours later
It was about 9pm. Bruce- I'm sorry The Bat was out around this time and for sure wouldn’t be back till 4 am.
“Ms. Y/N are you sure we should be breaking Bruce’s orders like this? What such a hassle to just get outside.” said one of the maids.
Since the morning after the argument ,Y/N has been plotting in her head a few escape routes.
Of course the main ones or either locked or emergency usable only.
She huffed and grabbed the backpack. “Yeah well, I really have other business to attend to outside of this Manor. If Bruce comes back tell him, I'm in bed. He usually won't bother if I'm sleeping. I should be back at 3 am. Call me if he calls Alfred saying Hes on his way back. I'll use the front door to get in. See Ya” Y/N said and ran to the bat cave using the only exit she knew would be open.
She was leaving because her mother called her and said that it was urgent. Her father had been mugged and wasn’t doing the best and she needed to see him if the time was to come if he was laid to rest.
Dealing with Bruce was enough in her plate, but shed do anything to see her family for the last time.
She took his bike and speed off…
At Y/Ns parents house
“Oh my! Y/N dear i thought you said Bruce had the place on lock down?” Her mother said raising her eyebrows.
“He does but I told one of the maids to call me if he gets home before I do. Im willing to risk anything to see my family ma.” Y/N half smiled and looked around.
“Where’s dad?”
“Back here honey!” She heard her dad shout.
“Turns out he just had some bruises and sprained his ankle. Hes fine but because of his old age, it was worst than that.” Mother said.
“Gosh ive been away so long I forgot you are a doctor.” She chuckled and walked to the room.
“Papa!” Y/N said and ran to him.
“Wow you’ve grown my girl. I can’t believe you are even here right now. This city is a mess and I know Bruce would never let you out with the way the crime rate has sprung up.” He chuckled then looked at her.
“He doesn’t know im here… I promise I’ll be back-“
“You need to get going my girl! You know the city shuts down at 12 am now! There is no reason for him to be out so late.”
“WHAT?!-“
As if it was a que Y/Ns phone rung in pocket.
She picked it up with no hesitation. “yes?”
“Y/N! Mr. Wayne is 20 minutes away! Please hurry back!”
At the Wayne Manor
…
“She’s not home yet!”
“OH MY GOSH”
“We need to make it look like she was here for hours!”
“What if he notices that she wasn’t here?”
“Cave has been opened..”
After are the commotion it settled down when that alert went off.
Was it Y/N?
Was it Bruce?
They were scared shitless. Scared that all hell would break when he gets up here and there is no y/n.
The handle turned and the door opened.
They all released a sigh of relief.
“I made it back in time!” Y/N smiled a little out of breathe.
“Oh gosh Ms. Y/N you had us all covered in fear. Hurry along now he should he arriving shortly.”
She nodded and ran up the stairs to their shared room.
She sighed happily as she sat on the bed. Being out was funny for the little time she could be out.
Seeing her dad being healthy and her mother also doing the same made her so happy.
“Maybe I should start sneaking out more often.” She said out loud since she thought she was alone.
“No. Because I could’ve sworn I made clear instructions that you stay in the Manor.” Bruce said from the chair in the darkness that filled the room.
She jumped up and turned on the lamp looking at him. “W-When did you get home?”
“Y/N I never left. Because I knew you would try to leave so i planned to stay in tonight and watch over you. Alfred told me what you had said to the maids.” He stood up going to sit on the bed.
“Bruce i just wanted to see my mom and dad-“
“Does it matter?! You could’ve gotten hurt!” He yelled looking at her with pure darkness in his eyes.
She jumped back from his booming voice, slightly cowering away but stood her ground.
“But I wasn’t! I told you you dont own me! If I want to leave I should damn well be able to leave!”
He slightly chuckled and that smile soon went away with it. He stood up and just walked out not saying anything.
She signed and fell to her knees surprised she even said everything without once stuttering.
“I need a bath officially” she said and went I the bathroom and closed the door.
In the kitchen
(Warning ⚠️: this part is were the Melatonin will be used. It will be taken with tea for a better nights sleep. You may continue reading at you’re own risk:).)
“You are being to harsh on her Bruce.” Alfred said.
Bruce sighed. “Im not. She got hurt once while being out and I never forgave myself for it.”
“That was 2 years go, Sir. She’s more matured. You trained her to fight and protect herself, yet you have her locked away like she’s Rapunzel.”
“That doesnt matter! She needs to be in the manor Alfred. I rather she be locked up here in safety then locked up some where I CANT find.”
Alfred sighed. “Whatever you say. Here’s the madams tea and melatonin as usually.”
“Thanks.”
Bruce grabbed the tea and pill and walked up stairs to their shared bed room. Usually around this time shed Be in the bathroom getting ready for bed so he went with his gut and opened the bathroom door.
She was relaxing in the tub and sat on the side of it watching her not saying a word.
Gosh, how he just wanted to protect her. So what if he was being protective or possessive I mean he wanted the best for her.
Staying in the house was only for now when the curfew on the city was just on.
“Im telling Alfred to put the manor on lockdown. The maids will be going home tonight.” He said still looking at her no emotion in his eyes.
She looked up at him. “You-You can’t do that!”
He put the tea on the counter with the pills.
“You are not to leave the manor until the curfew on the city is lifted. You will stay in the manor every day and every night. You got hurt once because of me. And that was my fault. I love you to much to see you get hurt again because of my lack of protection. This is most I can do to protect you and Alfred. You two are my World and im not loosing either of you. I will never allow it.” He stood up and walked out.
Maybe one day, She will see that his protection is all he can bring. He loves her and will never let her get hurt EVER AGAIN.
Bruce went down the his cave and just started writing away about a few things for the city but it soon turned Into
Never let her out Never let her out Never let her out
Never let her out Never let her out Never let her out
Never let her out Never let her out Never let her out
Never let her out Never let her out
Never
Let
Her
Out
Has he perhaps gone mad?
#the batman#the batman x y/n#the dark knight#robert pattinson x y/n#bruce wayne#bruce wayne one shot#battinson#robert pattinson#the batman 2022#Robert Pattinson oneshot#the vigilante#burce wayne x reader
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