Be Quiet and Drive (Far Away)
—thinking about meeting the big bad arkham knight for the first time…consume at your own discretion.
current warnings: 18+ SMUT MDNI, dark themes, fem!reader, dubcon, p in v, angst, some biting (literally just one lol), jason being a little meanie, ooc bc it's hard for me to write him being overly mean, no aftercare, blindfolding, depictions of violence, orgasm delay & denial.
please heed the warnings before reading!
When the Dark Knight himself called on your help, you never imagined it would involve sitting on the edge of an abandoned shopping mall on Founder's Island, of all places, to keep an eye on a new vigilante whose name you didn't even know.
You had been sitting quietly on your perch for what felt like an eternity, your muscles ached slightly from remaining so still, but you knew that patience was key.
You glanced down at your watch waiting for the slightest signal from Babs—heart racing with anticipation, hoping for the moment she would finally give you the signal to proceed.
"You find out anything else about him, Babs? You speak through the intercom in your mask to Barbara, unable to deal with the dead silence any longer.
"Negative," she mechanically says.
"Does anyone know anything about this guy?" You question, eyes glazing over some military militia fililing in and out of the mall.
"His background is fairly limited, which is why you're there—to gather more intel," she says, tapping away at her computer. "Sources can't seem to agree on much more than his name," she briefly pauses, "The Arkham Knight."
"The Arkham Knight? Who calls themselves that? Must be a fuckin' lunatic," you remark, narrowing your eyes to get a better look at the figures.
"If only that were the case," Babs sighs. "He's shrewd and sharp. More importantly, he appears to have a vendetta, which makes him particularly dangerous. He seems to understand Bruce thoroughly—he's done his homework."
"Could it be an well-adversed escapee who made it into the city? Maybe Bruce left a bad taste in his mouth after being thrown in the asylum, so now he holds a grudge against him?" You prob, the uncertainty hanging in the air.
"Highly unlikely. No one within the asylum would have the capability to organize, let alone lead, such a massive assault," Babs states firmly, her conviction unwavering.
"Well, one things for sure, this 'Arkham Knight' may think he knows the ole' bat, but nobody really knows him," you say, making a conscious effort to ease some tension.
"His militia is heading to the north side," Babs states decisively. "Approach from the south side to avoid detection."
"Gotcha," you aver, using a grappel gun to maneuver yourself off the side of the building, and into the gritty dirt beneath you.
"Be careful. He's—he's dangerous. Stay alert," Babs warns, her voice wobbiling ever so slightly.
"I will. Over and out," you affirm, with a nod.
You make your way to the south side entrance, staying low and quiet to avoid the militia thugs patrolling the area.
As you approach the stairs leading to the generator that Babs disabled earlier, you climb up and squeeze into the vent, positioning yourself just under the entrance of the department store.
Peering through the grates, you spot several armed thugs escorting someone into the building.
Gripping the voice synthesizer strapped to your thigh, you bring it to your mouth and quietly issue a command.
"Got another three out by the front gate. Three more by the other. Need backup out here," you say, your voice altered to sound like a guard's.
"Affirmative," one of the men responds, signaling to his comrades where they need to go.
They acknowledge him and shuffle out.
"It's almost too easy," you think to yourself before dropping through the grates and sneaking down the maintenance corridor leading to the upper floors.
Bruce had already done the bulk of fixing the broken elevator.
All you need to do is press the panel behind the elevator door to reveal the large shaft below, where the fans, thanks to Bruce, are now stationary.
You ease your way down the elevator shaft silently with your grapple gun. You find your way down with ease, feeling a little overly cocky.
Turning to your side, you see two thugs that are sprinting over to you, weapons in hand.
"Shit," you curse, propelling yourself up to kick one of their weapons out of their hands, before swinging your foot across his face with much force, sending him to the ground.
The other is more stubborn.
He shoots at you, but he misses.
You kick the weapon from his hand, but he swings at your face, sending you back before he slams your body into the ground.
You use what strength you have to rock yourself up, slamming your head against his, catching him off guard, and sending him back off of you.
You haphazardly stand as he sprints back towards you. You swipe your leg across, tripping him and making him fall to the ground.
You hit him in the head with your grapple gun, so he'll pass out. You exhale deeply, catching your breath, eyes catching sight of a hazy figure to your side.
"Ah. Look what we have here. A stray bat," a modulated voice spoke.
You turn to face the person wearing a militaristic version of a bat suit. "Who the hell are you?" You gruff, spitting some blood out.
"Who the hell am I?" He retorts, sounding amused, before his voice turns cold and distorted. "No. Who the hell are you?"
"A fuckin' fairy," you dryly say, spitting more blood out.
He lets out a gravelly, mirthless chuckle. "Got jokes. Huh?"
You narrow your eyes at him. "I'm not a bat."
He hums, inching closer, his heavy boots making a metallic thud with each step. "It's in your best interest to not lie to me," he leers.
"I'm not," you hiss. "I'm just helping him."
He hums, low and ominous. "Didn't think the big bat needed help," he sneers. "Guess I was mistaken."
Before you could speak, a low voice echoed around the room. "Commander," a militia thug says, addressing the man you were speaking to, not sparing you a glance.
"What do you want?" The modulated voice grits, clearly agitated by his intrusion.
"Someone's hacked our communication system. Impersonated a guard," the militia thug says in a reverent tone.
The Knight lets out an irritated sigh, eyes darting to the militia thug. "Little late on the heads up," his tone cold and calculated as he gestures to you.
The military thug draws his gun up to point at your head.
The Knight holds his hand up. "Don't bother. I'll take care of her," he exasperates. "If anyone else slips in these walls under your watch, I'll kill you."
The militia thug nods, dropping his gun to a resting position.
"Get out of my face," the Knight spits, striding the thug out of the room.
"You're him," you state with complete certainty. "The Arkham Knight."
"The one and only," his tone is smug and oozing confidence.
Bruce said he never comes to lower floors, especially with so little protection around him.
"What? Cat got your tongue," the Knight jests in a sarcastic, mocking tone, boots clunking as he inches closer.
"No. I'm—I'm just in awe of how ridiculous that suit looks," you sputter without realizing what you're saying, anxiety clawing up your spine as he steps in front of you.
He lets out a condescending laugh. "Was gonna go for black, but I didn't want Bruce to get all jealous," he drags out his words lazily, sarcasm apparent in his tone, before grabbing you by the arm.
You knew better than to try and fight him.
He had a whole militia on his side and you, a mere grapple gun.
He moved you through several corridors, passing several militia men strapped with weapons.
He had converted the once cheerful, bright mall into a military base with sandbags, barricades, and checkpoints around the area.
"Must have cost a fortune," you murmur under his tight grip as he leads you through another dark corridor.
"The cost is irrelevant. What matters is the results," his tone is dismissive and arrogant. "And soon Gotham will see the true value of my investment."
You nod weakly, turning to look forward as he leads you into a room heavily guarded by more militia members. Your eyes glaze around the room he pushed you into.
It had a bed to the side, maps, strategic plans scattered across the walls, and various gadgets.
If you had to guess, it was a bedroom.
Though it was devoid of any personal touches.
Seemingly serving only as a place of respite.
"What is this room?" You ask curiously, staying stationary as he closes the door behind him.
"Rest room," his voice is dry.
"Why so sterile?" You ask, feeling a surge of confidence.
He hesitates a moment, deciding how much to reveal. "This room...serves its purpose. It's a place to rest and recharge. Nothing more," he says in a guarded tone.
"Why'd you bring me here?" You question with caution.
"You're a liability," he rasped. "I should eliminate you for the sake of my mission."
As he spoke, he closed the distance between you, his face inches from yours.
"What?" Your eyes lock with his, bile rising up your throat. "You're just...going to kill me?"
"I might," he answers, cold and dark. "If you prove to be resourceful to me...perhaps I'll let you live."
You let out a shallow breath. "How do you mean?"
"How do I mean?" He dryly chuckles as he retorts your question. "How do you think I mean?" He questions, already slightly irritated.
He bends down next to you to pick up a loose piece of fabric. "Put the blindfold on," he says hastily, ripping off your mask.
You jerk your face to the side as he does so.
"Why?" You timidly question as he presses the fabric to your chest.
"Stop asking so many God-damn questions," his words were icy and clipped. "You want to leave?"
"This is the price of your freedom," he asserted.
You hesitate for a moment before taking the piece of fabric and placing it over your eyes, tying it tightly in the back. Then you stand there, fingertips playing the hem of your shirt to try and suppress your uneasiness.
All you hear is a faint hiss from what you assume is his mask as he pulls it off his face, revealing a simple black mask that covers the majority of his face except his eyes and mouth.
You can hear your heartbeat in your ears, inhaling a deep breath.
"What's wrong? Nervous?" He taunts, his voice unmodulated, gloved fingers coming up to trace down your jawline.
You pull away slightly, not expecting it.
"Ease up," he says, his hand coming back up to brush up on your skin.
You don't move under his touch this time, letting his hand explore your body.
"Never touched a woman before?" You sarcastically question, as his hands skim to the bottom of the shirt, easing it up a little.
"What business is that of yours?" He asks, his voice a little defensive.
"Need to know what I'm working with," you jokingly say.
He jerks you towards him by your hand. You squeal at his harsh touch. "Make no mistake. I am in control. I can kill you or have you killed with the snap of my fingers," he snarls.
"Do not test my patience."
You release a shaky breath at his sudden change.
"Nod, so I know you hear me," he adopted his signature authoritative tone.
You nodded fervently to not piss him off again.
"Good girl," he praises, fingers gripping the hem of your shirt again, pulling it over your head and throwing it on the ground.
The tension was palpable as you stood before him in your simple bra and pants.
The thought didn't scare you as much as it should have. Instead, you found a strange thrill in the unexpected, a pleasure in the unknown.
He steps closer, the metallic clank of his boots giving away his position. You can feel his warm breath on your skin. The feeling made your chest tighten and palms clammy with disquiet.
You jumped a little as you felt his lips press into yours with a blazing kiss, though your lips moved with much haste against his, moving a mile a minute.
What the hell were you doing?
Your mind was a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts, but your body seemed to have a mind of its own.
This was a recon mission, and yet here you were, kissing the very same guy you were supposed to help take down.
The internal conflict was tearing you apart.
This was you bartering for your freedom, you try to rationalize.
But then, why were you so hot and bothered?
You couldn't help the knot that twisted in your stomach at the fiery exchange and the pool of wetness you're sure had gathered in your panties.
"Take your pants off," the words fall off his tongue in a mumble into your lips, almost as if it was an ask.
But you knew it was an order.
Your hands move quickly to the waistband of your pants, tugging them down rather quickly. Then, you step over them to push them to the side.
He hums a sound of satisfaction. "So obedient."
You release a sigh, notably unlike your previous ones out of apprehension.
This one was all pleasure; there was no mistake about that.
His lips press back to yours briefly but powerfully before his hands tug down your panties.
"Christ. Do you like this?" His tone is incredulous and skeptical as he sees some of your glistening arousal.
You don't answer, only swallow hard.
"Answer me," he commands, firm and detached.
He huffs at your revelation, outwardly revolted though internally pleased. You feel his hands push you back until your legs hit the edge of a bed before forcing you to lay back.
You lay docile as you hear the soft hiss of seals releasing as he shed his suit. The creak of armor plating echoed around the room, followed by a rustle of fabric and wiring as the suit's inner layer was exposed.
His fingers skim your thighs, eliciting a whine from you as he maneuvers himself on top of your body. Without warning, his cock slides into your aching cunt.
He grunts at the contact as he slips himself deeper into you.
Your body jerks forward, mouth hanging wide open as he pumps himself in and out of you, gripping your thighs tightly.
He moves quickly and has no plans to slow down anytime soon, and you need to come.
So, you slowly move your fingers down to rub small circles around your clit, moaning loudly.
He scowls, leaning down to bite your shoulder in warning.
You hiss as his teeth sink into your flesh.
"Behave," he instructs, pulling your hand away from your aching clit.
He grips your leg so it lays flat against his chest, letting him hit a deeper angle that has him groaning.
"What would the Dark Knight have to say?" His tone is venomous as he continues. "Huh?" He urges. "His latest project getting fucked by me?" He grits, fingers digging deeper into the fat of your thigh.
"Should I make you ask him?"
"Ask him your fuckin' self," you grit out, trying to concentrate on the orgasm blooming in your lower stomach.
He lets out a harsh, menacing chuckle.
"Won't have time to ask when I kill him where he stands."
You lean your head back, mouth agape, feeling yourself on the cusp of relief.
"Don't come," his voice booms around the small room, clouding your ears.
"I can't—I can't hold it," you whine, squirming with desire.
"You can and you will," he spat, pumping into you faster—testing you.
You let out a strangled moan as you grip the sheets under you tight, feeling your nails dig into your palms through the fabric, attempting to think about anything other than your raging need to come.
He lets out an anguished groan.
You could tell he was painfully close—as were you.
While he comes, certainly feeling euphoric, you are left with the feeling of tightness and a looming release.
"Can I—please," you beseech.
A twisted smile you can't see overtakes his face hearing you beg.
"Go on then," he stoically says—like he's being generous.
Your fingers reach down to rub your clit with speed; it doesn't take much time until you're moaning loudly, and your arousal coats your fingers, even dripping onto the sheets beneath you.
Legs shaking, you pull your fingers away, trying to recuperate.
You aren't sure you've ever had a better orgasm in your life.
"Flip over. We aren't done here," he issued in a low tone, just as you were coming down from your high.
You paused briefly before weakly flipping your body over so your stomach lay flat on the bed.
He grips your hips upward, positioning you so your hands and knees are pressed into the mattress, making you hiss due to soreness.
Pulling you by your hips back, he positions his cock into your entrance, slipping inside you with ease again. You wail at the contact, still delicate—he doesn't care.
He pumps faster and faster with no regard to your sensitive state, fingers digging into your hips as he pushes you back onto him.
You're already starting to feel a tightness in your stomach, signaling your impending orgasm.
You won't last long with him drilling into you so rapidly, and the groans that fall from his lips have you panting and wailing.
Since he appears to like a beggar—you beg.
"Please. Can I—can I?" You plead, feeling your cunt start to tighten around his cock.
"Oh. You're not coming again," he spoke, his voice gravelly and breathy. "This one is just for me—just for me."
You let out a whine as you feel him come, cursing under his breath again as you are left with the feeling of tension and longing.
His breathing is labored as he shuffles to put his gear back on. You stay in the same position he left you in until he orders you to do otherwise.
"Get dressed," his voice is modulated again.
You slowly get off the bed, stand, and attempt to skim for your clothes with the stupid blindfold on.
He rips it off. "Leave. Now. Before you find I'm not so merciful the second time around," his tone was eerie.
You nod feebly, gripping your clothes and slipping them on impetuously, not even checking if they are inside out or facing the right way.
Turning on your heels, you head for the door you came in, looking over your shoulder when you hear his voice again.
"And remember, you owe me for not slaughtering you," his voice dripped with malice.
You turn back, forcefully pushing the door open as you walk with intention and speed toward the back exit.
He knew you wouldn't tell the Bat anything.
That the Arkham Knight fucked you so good you're going to be sore for the weeks to come.
You slip your mask on to alert Babs that you are leaving the area.
Her voice booms through the intercom in your mask.
"Find anything of interest?" She questions, none the wiser.
You continue to walk, half listening.
"You there?" She implores.
"Huh? Oh, no. Nothing worth noting," you suspire.
"Are you alright?" She asks with a concerned tone.
"Yeah. Just...tired. Talk later," you hurriedly say, cutting the line and making your way over to your vehicle a bit away from the facility.
The sex was transactional, you remind yourself.
Though, that reminder didn't stop the Arkham Knight's presence from lingering on your skin for days after the interaction, a haunting reminder of the forbidden thrill you'd shared.
Gotham's darkness had never felt so alive and so painfully tempting.
a/n: so, anyways...it's back lol
