i’ll be right here
Pairing: Bruce Wayne (The Batman) x F!Reader
Words: 3.3K
Warnings: 18+ Explicit: Masturbation (f receiving), Edging (blink & you'll miss it), Slight Angst, Soft!Bruce, Fluff, Mentions his scars/bruising, Spoilers!!! (but not plot spoilers), Reader has no physical description, No use of Y/N, any mistakes SORRY! A/N at the end, Lmk of anything else!
Summary: You stayed up all night waiting for Bruce to come back home, but he starts to think you're better off without him.
song inspo: im your man - leonard cohen
The monitors had been turned off for hours, from the lack of usage. You could see the faint whiteness surrounding your eyes reflecting back at you as you tried to sleep on his desk chair.
It didn’t matter how many times you moved the mouse or pressed a random key to turn the screen back on and monitor his last location.
Bruce wasn’t coming back home anytime soon.
Your eyes were reddened, puffy around the edges from the lack of sleep, and truth be told, from the quiet tears you’d be shedding.
Much to your dislike, you started to understand why Bruce found peace inside the cave. He thrived in the darkness of it. That’s something we all have inside of us, a small growing urge to be dark. Though, he wore sunglasses at home most of the time because the brightness was straining his eyes. He spent too much time in here. Even Alfred took notice and started bringing his dinner here because he forgets to eat.
The silence around you was oddly comforting, like it helped you connect with his quiet demeanor, somehow, which was what you loved about him. Moments shared in each other’s company without ever needing to say a word. It was his ease and calm nature—that was your comfort. Although the solitude of this cave, it was isolating and addictive.
There was 24 hours in a day, but from those hours, you’d spend a little less than half of it with Bruce. It was hard to get him away from his work. It would go on for days, weeks, and now months…
The cave was a reminder of all the hours it took him away from you. Making it feel there was an extra, unwanted, being in your relationship that you never wanted.
So, yeah, you hated the cave.
You pulled his blanket around your shoulders tighter and curled your legs into a semi-comfortable position, and waited for him. That’s all you could do, really.
Before coming down to sleep in his lame excuse for an “office” chair. You had dreaded heading down the stairs because just the thought of getting out of bed, his bed—that was rich in his woodsy scent—was heartbreaking. It smelled like Bruce, not Batman, but Bruce.
The comforters had the lingering sharp musk of his cologne that smelled addictively divine. Whenever he was home, he sought after your warm embrace so much that he craved it. He’d wrap his arms around your torso till they go numb under the weight of your body. His favorite spot was resting his cheek between your breasts, clothed or not, and your fingers combing his long dark brown hair. His lips would find a way to graze your soft skin, leaving faint kisses while he dozed to sleep. That was the Bruce that you loved, the one that loved to cuddle on you and feel your hands massaging his body.
Your heart broke thinking about his back because how badly it’s become riddled with bruises and scars from people that only ever want him dead. They were mingled with your loving marks which made you hate the people who hurt him. Those lacerations that you had to sew by hand because he trusted no one, but you and Alfred. Your heart was lodged into your throat thinking about what medical remedies you’d need to perform today.
It must’ve been hours since his last check in, you had already lost track of time due to your drowsy state. You sighed deeply looking around the dark and eerie cave. It was empty without him.
If you weren’t so exhausted, you’d be fuming with rage at him. He needs to be home. You need to know if he’s okay. Every now and then you dozed off and woke abruptly, as if your body was telling you, “not just yet” - “wait up for him” - “i’m almost home.”
You tirelessly squinted over at his desk to try to stay awake. With your warm hand, you shivered at the cold air and lazily moved around some of his paper work, cyphers that the Riddler left for him, and the scribbled riddles in his edged handwriting, which you admired. There small things that reminded you of him that never changed and that was one of them.
Feeling a chill run down your arms, you retreated back into your warm cocoon.
You didn’t know whether you hated or loved the way you could distinguish the lines between his double life. At first, during his early years, there was a striking difference between Bruce Wayne and the Batman. He tried to suppress his public fame and let the Bat take over the newspapers front pages.
At some point, after the hundreds of punches and knock outs, those lines began to blur. His double life became one and you were stuck fighting a mask that was consuming the love of your life.
At the left side of his keyboard, before going to sleep in his chair, you complied a stack of clues to let you know, if the time ever came, where exactly would Bruce be located. If too much time passed since his last contact—you would go out and look for him.
You dreaded the thought, though it wasnt a burden to you, you love him too much to ever let anything take him away from the living. Though, you guessed it wouldn’t be real love without some worry, an extreme twisted one that is.
Every god damn night he went out, you had to mentally prepare yourself that one day, he could be very well possibly laying dead and cold in some alleyway. With no one arriving on time to help him. Not even you.
So, you took it upon yourself to learn how to ride his bike when he’d leave it behind. He’d be gone for hours so it was more than enough time. You learned how to drive his car, with Alfred’s help. All for precaution, if the time ever came, and he needed you.
Gotham wasn’t going to save him. They’d destroy him. You had to do what was necessary and in your capabilities. You’d be ready.
Others would run from this life. Though, you loved him too greatly to just walk away and abandon him just as he was starting out. Enough people have left him behind and you weren’t going to be another on that list.
Already passed the promised time to check in, which was at 10:30 PM—5 hours ago, you dozed off completely without realizing.
Bruce immediately turned off the roaring engine upon arriving inside the cave. His mind raced with what he’d just learned from Jim Gordon, Gotham’s commissioner, yet it didn’t compared to the surge of energy to see you. He carefully stepped out of the car, taking off his mask and gripped it from the pain that was skyrocketing along his spine and to his neck. He grimaced at every small step he took, his back was tender and begging for your hands. It’s most likely some new bruised muscles and a fractured rib from the fall he took that was hurting too much.
Tonight, for the first time in a long time, Bruce was terrified.
He couldn’t say it out loud. He had jumped off the top of the Gotham PD building with his flight suit on, hoping to land safely on his feet, but guiding the suit was harder in practice. In theory it was plausible. What he didn’t take into account were landmarks. The parachute had gotten snagged on a rail from a moving train and he hit his face and back several times. One hit to his chest on the bottom of the railing, another on the bus passing under the railroad tracks, and three times when he hit the ground for impact.
He felt the taste of death traveling through his blood.
The first thought that came to mind after his adrenaline slowed down was you. You’d kill him if he died, you would probably grab his cowl by the ears and hit him after you examined his body. You were there when he was sewing the flight suit onto his cape.
“If you break your neck, Bruce. I’ll kill you.” Those words replayed over in his mind when he hit the ground. There was nothing scarier on this planet than getting you mad.
Bruce was never afraid of dying, before he met you there was never any hesitation. He’d lost enough to know that his time would be welcomed. Yet now, what he feared, more than anything, was the thought of leaving you behind in this dangerous world.
Coming around the desk, he used the edge of the table to guide him and stumbled a bit noticing your small shape curled so uncomfortably in his chair. You always sat there in his blanket.
He parted his lips to speak to you and nothing came out. All that could be heard was his ragged breathing.
You had a frown, creasing right between your brows, he wanted to kiss the spot, so he stepped closer, but stopped. The sound of leather creaked—his suit.
It was heavy and reeked of dirt, and the last thing he wanted you to see him in after he failed to keep his word to check in. He knows how much you despised the suit, no matter how attractive you said he looked in it, he knows you hated it.
Quietly as possible, Bruce stepped past you to the mirror and removed all of his armor leaving him in his boxer briefs. Dropping everything on the floor, he leaned his hands against the wall trying to take deep breaths. It was agonizing to feel his lungs expand for such little bit of air. He couldn’t breathe right and his back was killing him.
He rolled his shoulders trying to find some ease for the pain, though, all he felt was the weight of worry he must’ve caused for you to sleep here in the cave.
He looked at you, still sleeping, through the reflection of the mirror, and balled his fists with an attempt to curse out his frustration. “Fuck.”
You once had said, trying to play it off as a joke: “The more you store away in that cave of yours, the more I lose my man.” You were right.
He doesn’t know how long this will last. How long the city would need him and use him. So many people become victims of tragedies in crimes that could’ve been avoided. He could be that for them. A guardian. A watchful protector for this city and you.
He dropped his head, unable to look at what he’s putting you through. You’d be better off without him. Free from all this constant worrying. But that’s not what he wants.
You belong with him.
Just as he was about to push off the wall to come around and wake you, Bruce audibly groaned through his gritted teeth.
You woke up to apply a heating cream.
“That’s cold.”
Acting coy, you snapped. “Is it? I didn’t notice.”
His skin twitched from the ointment you were applying on his back. His sweet freckled and lightly tanned colored skin was now splotches of purple, green and red bruises. You heart dropped looking at the mess, it was gruesome. It looked like someone kept hitting his back with a baseball bat. His stomach tightened as he struggled to take a breath while you smoothed the cream over healed scars.
Bruce could feel the rage radiating from your hands. Even though your small hands were moving in circular motions, adding just the right amount of pressure along the sides of his ribs which made it feel so good, he felt the wave of shame wash over him.
Holding back his moans, he failed miserably just as you asked. “What was it this time?”
Your voice was sleepy and hoarse—unamused by it all. Being around you as you massaged his back made him ache too hard that he turned his head to bite his bicep.
Bruce didn’t want to answer that. He knew he had to, but he really didn’t wanna tell you that he jumped off a skyscraper and hit a bus by accident.
You noticed his silence. It was unusually odd. Bruce had this knack of choosing when and which questions he wants to answer. He knew you too well to know which ones would freak you out.
You carefully squeezed his trapezius muscles and slid your thumbs spreading the cream along the sides of his neck. He groaned wanting more of that. He’ll give in, you know how to get him to talk.
Pressing your body closer to his back, so that he felt the pillowy sensation of your breasts. You asked with a hushed voice.
“I said, what was it this time?” You repeated, firmly near his ear so he can hear you.
He cleared his throat, raised his head and looked back at you through the mirror. Your eyes locked with his.
The remannets of his black eye makeup was smudged all around his blue eyes. The black color, much like his other life, was devouring the things that made him Bruce. That lightness was dimming.
He furrowed his thick brows and pressed his lips thinly together before answering. “I jumped off the Gotham PD building.”
Your eyes grew wide in horror and you, unintentionally, hit his muscles making him hiss and step away from you.
He hissed in pain. “Fuck!”
The building was a fucking skyscraper, it touched clouds for fucks sake. With your hands balling into fists, your voice trembled trying to regain control. “Do you realize how high that is?”
He simply nodded seeing your concern.
Wiping your hands on your shirt he gave you, your lips quivered picturing him hit the ground. Looking away from him to try to preserve some control, you didn’t want him to see you sad. Reaching for the chair, you sat down and looked around the room and noticed his cowl.
“I’m sorry.” He said.
Shaking your head, you bit your lip and felt the sting in your eyes. “You could’ve broken your spine! Or cracked your skull and I wouldn’t of had known!”
“My skull’s too thick to break, remember?” He weakly joked.
You sighed, rubbing your eyes. “Bruce.”
He clenched his jaw when he saw the intense shimmer in your hands as you brushed them away. His heart shattered seeing you cry, dropping to his knees in front of you, he swallowed the pain in his back and took your hands into his.
He repeated, again with true sincerity. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t of had said that.”
He brought your hands to his lips and kissed your knuckles leaving minty smell lingering in his nose.
You sniffled curling your fingers around his. “You could have died.”
“But I didn’t. That’ll never happened as long as you’re alive with me.”
Your thumbs grazed his sharp jawline, he closed his eyes loving your touch on his skin. There was nothing like it. Nothing on Earth that could match his intense love for you. He feels like a piece of shit for putting you through all of this. You don't deserve it, feeling your soft touch on his jaw makes him think about all the bullshit you’d had to deal with.
You leaned down to kiss the crown of his dark brown hair. “I’m holding you to that.”
He opened his eyes to see you seem a bit more relaxed. He bumped his nose with yours and admired the sweet color of your eyes. They were hurting and it was because of him.
He hesitates to speak. Only squeezes your hands before letting you go.
"If you ever wanted out, of all of this. I won't blame you. I don't want to force you to stay in something that has only ever caused you pain. It isn't fair to you."
Your heart raced in panic hearing his words that your words failed to formulate in your brain. It hasn’t only caused you pain, it’s given you a reason to live.
He stands up reaching for your chin with two fingers, gently urging you. "Look at me."
Your gaze traveled up, taking in his towering presence. The soft blue hue in his eyes was darkening as he furrowed his brows.
"I need you to stay with me. I know I have no right to ask you of this. I shouldn't be.”
"You have every right-" You hurriedly interjected.
“I don't."
"But you do! Do you wish for me to be with another man? Is that what you want? For someone else to kiss me and fuck me the way you?”
Your chest heaved looking up at him, his fingers dropped from your chin and he ticked his jaw at what you said. His expression dropped.
“They couldn’t even if they tried. That's the last thing I want, you know this. But I'm holding you back, I see it."
He continued, looking down. "I can't live without you. If you were to ever love someone else, I'd want to hurt them. I love you. I can't let you go, but…if you want me—to let you go, I understand. I
“I would still love you.”
You shook your head and launched up on your feet to embrace him. His arms tightened around your waist holding on to you as if you were his lifeline.
Knowing he understands, you kissed his neck right on his pulse. “I’m not going anywhere.”
"Don't give up on me...at least just yet." He quietly murmured.
"I would never, Bruce."
How could he ever say such a thing? You'd never leave him. No matter the countless trials and tribulations you both have to inevitably endure, you'd never leave his side. Not when you both need each other the most. True, unconditional love, doesn't happen very often. Only the lucky ones have had the pleasure to know of its beauty. And everything that is love with Bruce is beautiful. It isn't perfect, but not everything has to be. His worries are yours. Those scars he bears are yours to care. Your love is his.
Pulling a bit back, your looked to his face and whispered, vowing. "I could never give up on you. The same way you haven’t given up on me. Bruce, I love you. I'm staying. Whether you like it or not."
Bruce hid his smile of relief by kissing your temple. "I do like it, very much."
"That's what I like to hear. I'd hate for you to start punching random guys just for little oh me.”
He softly chuckled. “It’d be fun.”
His hands roamed smoothing your back and followed the deep curve of your spine, down to the mounds of your ass and squeezed them digging his fingers to knead your flesh. "If anyone ever threatened to hurt you, I wouldn't stop myself."
The possibility of losing you would've been enough for him to completely lose himself. You were the only thing keeping him grounded. His reminder that, after all the bad things he's done, he was still worthy of receiving love.
"I know. It won’t happen, trust me.”
You broke away, smiling and smoothing his sharp angled jaw, loving the scratch of his stubble against your finger pads. "Let's head upstairs. You stink of vegenance, vengeance."
He smirked following your lead. “Right behind you."
Holding his hand you lead him out of the cave while grabbing the cream on the way and headed up to his bedroom.
After his shower, he crawled into bed lifting up the covers and kissing the most sensitive parts of your legs. From the sensitive parts of your inner thighs, he dragged his lips until he reached the thin material of your underwear. You were still dressed in his oversized black shirt, though it didn't stop you from squirming under his weight when he pressed to your mound drinking in your musk.
"Bruce.." You moaned raising your hips.
“Let me do this for you.” His voice was rough and hot under the covers. You bit your lip feeling his nose drag on your slit. It felt too good, him taking his time.
“Babe—”
He answered inquisitively by cupping your cunt with his mouth. "Mm?"
You gasped at the vibration of his deep voice traveling throughout your cunt, it made you tremble, wanting more.
Bruce wanted to show you how much he loved you with his tongue. As he laid it flat, he relished how his tastebuds absorbed your salty taste that seeped through the material. His tongue felt hot and so good that you began to grind down. He always enjoyed the way you got off using him.
Bruce’s voice was muffled under the blankets, but you could feel the vibrations of his voice, he was moaning. Sliding your panties to the side, he sucked on your folds, giving each one enough attention. It tingled, edging you closer to your peak. The sensation was amazing that your hands reached under the covers to comb his hair before gripping it.
His tongue lapped up your arousal in two to three languid movements. It was intense and desperate, he's never tasted something so good. He had to drink in all of it.
"Oh, god!" You squeezed your eyes shut, you were close.
He broke away making you groan rather loudly while he pulled back the covers. His chin was shining with your juices and you, painfully, clenched at the sight of it and nothing was inside of you.
The color of his eyes were glazed with a dark lust, he spoke deeply and ordered you. "Watch me eat you."
You nodded and swallowed thickly as you rested on your elbows, obeying him, and doing your best to watch as he parted your folds. His hot breath was brisk against your exposed skin. He darted his tongue, looking directly up at your eyes, and slowly dragged it up for you to see. You felt yourself part the wider his tongue became. He loved seeing the ways your brows bunched together. He did it again, same slow pace until you broke.
"Please, please, Bruce."
He hummed and kissed your inner thighs, smirking. "Love hearing you beg for me.”
With his tongue he flicked the sensitive nub making you jolt from pleasure.
Bruce could feel you clenching without having to be inside of you. “I got you, baby. Relax.”
He kissed your cunt, before attaching his lips to your clit, he sucked hard making your head drop back. His jaw moved in the most determined manner that made you grind with him. The sounds he was making was loud and obscene. You couldn't hold back your moans any longer, you prayed no wonder was walking down the halls to hear. He sucked harder and harder enjoying the way you trembled around him. He had to place his arm, flat across your abdomen, to hold you down.
"Shit. Shit. Shi-"
His fingers. "Bruce!"
He expertly slipped his finger inside, pumping, in and out. The soaked glide of his finger made you dig your fingers into the mattress. The sensation was heightening as he added another that curled right on the spot, the wet suctioning sounds was intense. You tightened your muscles around him and he groaned at the strength you had. God, you were powerful.
Reaching for his arm that’s on your abdomen, you dug your nails into his skin as you came undone into his mouth. "B-oh fuck!" You cried out.
Your breath gave out and so did your arms. Falling back onto the pillows, Bruce let go of your cunt, though not before doing small kitten licks to clean your arousal. His fingers slipped out with ease making you whine.
"That's my girl." He praised as he sucked his fingers dry and crawled closer to you to place a kiss on your lips. Instead of laying on his back, after taking care of you, he laid on top.
You pouted wanting to flip him on his back and taste him and feel the heaviness of his cock in your mouth, but he was heavier than you. He was hard after what he did, but right now he just wanted to rest hearing your heartbeat. He only added more weight as resisted to push him off.
"Babe." You sleepily said, combing through his damp hair.
He sleepily hummed, laying, as he did every night, right between your breasts and shook his head to protest. His hand rested underneath your back with the other snaked inside your shirt drawing small circles around your breast.
Shaking his head, he breathed in and closed his eyes. "I know you want it. But, can you massage my back first? It's killing me. I can’t move."
You melted hearing his words. "I'd love to."
Reaching to the nightstand, you sat up a bit and worked the cream into your hands and then on his back. He moaned loudly on your chest making you laugh at how vocal he is whenever you do this. It never fails. Your chest grows use to the sound echoing inside the chambers of your heart. Tending to him and being needed by him was your favorite part of his crusades.
He wished he could stay in your arms forever, like that image of those dinosaurs that stayed fossilized together in a little hole—a small cave. It’s silly to think of about, yet you always showed him that he can be normal. Plus, the only reason he knows that is because of you. He keeps that memory to himself.
Blissfully happy, he sighs, enjoying how your heart beat slowed his down and brought him closer to a deep sleep. He decides right in this moment that tomorrow he's going to take a day off to spend time with you. He owes you that much.
"What do you wanna do tomorrow? I'll take a day off."
You suppressed your urge to jump out of the bed. "Really?"
"Yes. But no harsh sunlight, please."
Giggling to his distaste to broad daylight, you didn't care where you both went or did. You just wanted him all to yourself, Gotham could wait. You’d done it plenty of times.
You noted, playfully as you squeezed broad shoulders. "Please? Mmm. I like that.”
“Like what?”
“I like hearing you beg, Mister Wayne.”
His head turns to look up at you with dreamy eyes and slight mischief.
With a slight push off your chest, he crawled up to tower over you, already feeling blood rushing to his cock as you looked up with an innocent doe-eyed expression.
Licking his lips, he holds your gaze while his hand reaches down for yours and brings it to his bulge. “That can be arranged. I’d do anything you want.”
Testing his limit, you squeezed his length and loved how quickly his mouth dropped open. He groaned, so easily at the slightest touch that it gave you an idea of what to do tomorrow on his day off.
A/N: I'll most likely write more for him because im whipped. I was thinking of doing a part two of this called “Bruce’s Day Off” so yeah! And I've updated my taglist on my masterlist, so it now includes Robert’s Batman & any questions lmk! If you wanna request something…go for it, ya know 😏 and the song btw is from that Dior Homme commercial of Robert acting like a fucking babe!!!!! jfc. Anyways, thank you reading babe! 💜
Pattussy Tag: @jadore-andor ♥️
