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Medical Intern! Damian Wayne x GN! Junior Nurse! Reader
CW: This chapter contains possible Medical inaccuracies, explicit/detailed descriptions of emergency response to drowning induced cardiac arrest.
Reader's POV
The chart in your hands felt heavier with every step you took down the hallway. Maybe it was because your arms were sore from lifting patients all shift. Maybe it was because you’d been on your feet for more than 8 hours and counting. Or maybe it was just because you knew that whatever you did, someone else was going to find a way to dump another task on you before you even clocked out.
Being a junior nurse meant being at the bottom of the food chain.
“Hey, can you cover vitals for 314? I’ve got my hands full.”
Translation: they had an extra smoke break lined up.
“[L/n], could you finish charting 309? I started it but I’ve gotta run.”
Translation: they didn’t feel like finishing paperwork.
You smiled, nodded, did it. Because what else could you do? Complain? That would just double your paperwork for tomorrow.
You hugged the chart to your chest and stopped in front of room 312. The patient refused meds again. You’d heard the interns arguing about it earlier.
“…she just won’t take them.” One of the boys stood outside the door, running a hand through his hair. He was maybe in his late 20’s, eyes bleary from lack of sleep. “We explained what they were for. Twice.”
“Explaining isn’t the same as communicating,” came the sharp reply.
You didn’t have to peek around the corner to know whose voice that was.
Dr. Damian fucking Wayne.
He wasn’t like the others. Didn’t stumble or mutter. Didn’t wear exhaustion on his sleeve. You knew he probably wore makeup. How else would you explain his lack of weariness? He was practically a resident. He was younger, sharper, carried himself like he was made of glass and steel. He made everyone else feel insecure.
And the crazier thing is? Patients actually listened to him.
“You’re wasting time,” Damian continued, flipping the chart closed with a soft snap. “She doesn’t care about half-lives and dosing schedules. She’s worried about the side effects. Did you ask her about that?”
The intern faltered. “…No?”
“Then you didn’t listen. Step aside.”
Damian didn’t wait for a reply. He knocked once, brisk, and slipped into the patient’s room. You hovered by the nurses’ station across the hall, pretending to check your vitals sheet but very much not looking away.
The patient, Mrs. De Castro, had been admitted a week ago. Lovely woman. Sweet, if a little stubborn. You’d spent half an hour convincing her to let you take blood once. She just… didn’t like being told what to do.
And yet, there she was now, smiling faintly at Damian as he stood beside her bed, voice low but clear. You couldn’t hear every word, but the cadence was calm, direct, not babying her. He handed her the meds with a glass of water.
And she took them.
Just like that.
The other interns gawked from the hallway. One muttered, “How the hell—”
“He’s Damian Wayne,” another whispered back, like it explained everything. And maybe it did.
You pressed your lips together, flipping your sheet over so you wouldn’t have to see the blank spaces waiting to be filled.
Because it wasn’t fair.
He was your age. Maybe even younger, depending on the month. And look at him: confident, competent, brilliant. He walked through the ward like it bent around him, like this place was already his. Patients trusted him. Nurses deferred to him. Even the residents gave him room.
You, meanwhile, couldn’t even get your coworkers to stop calling you “the baby nurse.” And you've been working here for the past two years.
The door opened again. Damian stepped out, expression unreadable, and passed the chart back to the intern. “She’ll take them from now on,” he said simply.
The intern sputtered. “Wait, what did you—how did you—”
Damian’s eyes flicked to you then, just for a second. Green and sharp, scanning. It made your stomach jolt, but before you could look away, he turned back to the intern.
“Observe next time. Learn. We are doctors now, Harris.” And then he was gone, strides purposeful, coat swishing around his legs.
You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding and dropped your gaze back to your sheet.
Not jealous. You weren’t jealous. No, no. Why would you be?
But when you imagined yourself in his place. Commanding a room, respected without question—it twisted like envy in your chest.
You sighed, as you dragged your pen down the vitals column, gripping too hard, and told yourself it was just exhaustion.
That was all.
Just exhaustion.
Damian’s POV
He spotted you the moment you rounded the corner, clipboard clutched to your chest. The “baby nurse”, they call you.
Your shoulders were tense, steps precise and careful, like you feared bumping into anyone. Another nurse slid a chart into your hands without a word, and you accepted it with a nod so small it barely existed. Head down, eyes flicking nervously between the pages and the hall.
It was… laughable.
He suppressed a smirk. The nurse reminded him of a caged bird—well-meaning, anxious, and desperate to stay out of trouble. He couldn’t imagine ever bending to anyone’s demands that way. He certainly never let people trample over him. How pathetic.
And yet… there was a strange, faintly irritating energy about you. You moved efficiently, even while constantly deferring, constantly apologizing for existing. You didn’t complain. You didn’t argue. You just… carried the weight of everyone else’s laziness without complaints.
He arched an eyebrow. You had no business being this people-pleasing. Not in a hospital like this. Not if you wanted to last a year without burning out. Which he deduces you probably already were.
But it wasn’t your fault. It was… your instinct.
Damian’s sharp green eyes followed your silhouette as you adjusted the clipboard and scribbled something down in a frantic hand, glancing up at the clock like you’d forgotten the time existed. Your furrowed brows made you look… annoyed. Or maybe frustrated. Or maybe you thought he’d noticed you staring.
He had.
And yet, he didn’t move closer. Not yet. Not until he decided whether you were capable of something more than just… this.
If you couldn’t speak up for yourself, if you couldn’t claim a moment, a task, a patient’s attention… he couldn't imagine working with you.
Because he didn’t do people who let the world run them over.
A few hours later, when you were just about to clock out—out of nowhere, the double doors of the ER slammed open. A man burst through, soaked to the skin, carrying a limp woman, presumably his sister out cold in his arms. Her hair clung to her pale face, water pattering tentatively down onto the floor.
Code Blue.
Your heart lurched. Of course. Of course, something would happen while you were one chart away from completing before your shift ends. Your clipboard almost flew out of your hands as you rushed forward, only slightly catching yourself on the edge of the counter, rushing to respond to the scene.
“Help! Please, she drowned—she’s not breathing!”
Everything seemed to happen at once. The charge nurse yelled, “Code blue, resus bay!” You pushed the handles of the hefty crash cart as it screeched into place. Your sneakers skidded as you sprinted to the stretcher, adrenaline wiping away your fatigue.
“Here—lay her down, sir,” came a clipped, steady voice. Damian Wayne, already snapping on gloves as he walked calmly, his eyes already scanning the patient.
The man lowered his sister onto the bed, trembling. “She was in the pool—she’s—”
“We’ll take it from here,” Damian said firmly, already at the girl’s airway. “Check responsiveness.”
You froze for a split second—your very first drowning resus, and forced yourself into motion. Focus. Don't freeze now. You pressed your own knuckles against the girl’s sternum, pressing and rubbing hard against the bone.
“Ma’am, can you hear me?” No response. Damian’s fingers were already at the carotid.
“Nothing,” he confirmed, calm as ice. His green eyes flicked to you. “Start compressions. Now.”
Your knees nearly buckled, but you climbed onto the bedside kneeling, interlaced your fingers, and began pumping hard and fast on the girl’s chest.
“One, two, three, four—” You gasp underneath your breath.
“Bag-mask,” Damian ordered. Another nurse handed it over. He suctioned fluid quickly, fitted the mask, and squeezed in breaths between her compressions.
“Someone on the IV!” he snapped.
“On it,” the charge nurse said, sliding in a line with practiced ease.
Your arms ached, sweat started to slick your forehead, but you didn’t stop. The monitor came alive with a mocking flat line. Asystole.
“Focus on the CPR. Epinephrine, one mg IV, stat. Administer in the next 3 minutes if pt remains unresponsive.” Damian commanded. His voice never wavered.
Drug pushed. More compressions. More breaths. Your chest burned with the effort as you attempted to coax one back to life. What if she doesn’t come back?
The brother tried to force his way in, eyes wild. “God she’s dying, she’s dying—”
“Sir, you need to step back,” the charge nurse barked, blocking him with an arm. “We are doing everything.”
Your focus tunneled to the rhythm beneath your palms, to the rise of the drowning girl’s chest as Damian squeezed the bag. One, two, three…
“Pulse check. Stop compressions,” Damian said.
You lifted your hands, chest heaving. Damian’s fingers pressed against the girl’s neck. Stethoscope pressing above her thoracic cavity. Gaze darted to the monitor.
Still asystole.
Damian’s gaze darkened, quickly reaching for the laryngoscope. “She’s not protecting her airway. I’m intubating. Charge, notify the brother.”
You fumbled for the tube tray, hands shaking, but managed to pass it to him without dropping it.
“Permission acquired, Dr. Wayne.”
As quickly as he heard those words, Damian slid the tube in smoothly, movements precise. “Tube in. Secure it.”
While he slid the tube in, the nurse that administered the IV kept compressions going at the head of the bed. No pause, no wasted seconds. Meanwhile you scrambled with the tape, fixing it down. You took a breather as your eyes darted back to the flatline, the charge nurse signalling you at the end of her cycle. Every second mattered, and everything felt like slowing down. What meant to be minutes felt like hours. Then, finally, after a few moments, there was something.
A blip. Then another. Weak, fragile, but there.
“ROSC,” Damian said flatly, though his eyes sharpened. A sinus rhythm stared back at you. She’s alive. You slowed for a moment, the pumping fists in the patients chest faltering, your eyes lifting up as you stared at the spiking beat, still barely able to believe the monitor. You quickly snapped back to action, attempting to signal the charge nurse by the monitor to take over after this cycle.
The brother’s voice cracked. “She’s breathing?”
Damian rose, pulling off his gloves. He turned to face him, tone gentling but still clipped. “Your sister is alive, but she is critical. We’re admitting her to the ICU for monitoring. The next twenty-four hours are crucial.”
The man’s knees buckled with relief. He pressed his palms together, whispering thanks.
You stepped back from the bed as the charge nurse took your place, chest heaving, arms trembling from compressions. Your eyes flicked to the monitor again. The faint blips of the heartbeat. Proof you weren't hallucinating.
She’s alive. Your first drowning case. Your first code blue where the patient actually came back. You wanted to cry.
And Dr. Damian Wayne—steady and unshakable as he always did, was already moving on, writing orders, issuing instructions as if this was just another Tuesday night.
You swallowed hard, adrenaline still crashing through your system.
God. How does he make it look so easy?
The fluorescent lights of the lounge buzzed faintly above you as you shoved your things into your bag, eager to clock out. The smell of instant noodles lingered in the air, mixed with the faint tang of antiseptic that clung to everyone’s scrubs.
“Leaving already?”
You glanced up. Dr. Wayne was by the water dispenser, his white coat sleeves rolled up, pulling out one of the sad, flimsy paper cups stacked on top. He moved with the same carefulness he had in the ER—measured and precise, except now he was pouring steaming water into the tiny cup with a faint frown, as if the thing had personally wronged him.
You blinked. “...Uh, yeah. My shift’s done.”
He gave a short nod, tearing open a packet of what looked like tea leaves far too fancy for this place. The smell was sharp, earthy, definitely not the staff lounge’s cheap instant coffee stash. But as he lifted the paper cup to his mouth, his nose wrinkled and his brows furrowed, like he’d just tasted spoiled milk.
You froze. Was that—about you?
“I—” you started defensively, hugging your bag strap tighter. “Sorry. If you don’t like working with me, I can just—”
His eyes snapped toward you, dark and unreadable. “What?”
“You just…made that face.” You gestured vaguely at his expression, heat crawling up your neck. “Like you… I don’t know. Like I’m…uh, actually nevermi—.”
“It’s the cup,” For a beat, silence. Then Damian’s lips twitched, the barest hint of amusement breaking through his sharp features.
“It’s the cup,” He repeated, holding it up like Exhibit A. “I forgot my flask. This tastes… wrong. Like cardboard.”
Your brain short-circuited. “...the cup.”
“Yes. The cup.” His gaze lingered on you for a fraction too long before he took another sip anyway, grimacing but enduring it. “You read too much into things, Nurse...”
Your title hung at the roof of his tongue, clearly still unfamiliar with your name.
You opened your mouth, shut it again, then muttered, “…then maybe stop glaring at your tea like it owes you money, Mr. Wayne.”
That earned the faintest huff of a laugh from him, though he quickly covered it by tossing the empty paper cup into the trash. He fixed and slung his stethoscope over his shoulder and, as he passed by, added in that calm, deliberate voice.
“You did well today.”
The words stuck in your ears long after he was gone.
On the way back home, you cried—out of exhaustion, out of relief, out of everything you’d been holding back all shift, maybe even all these years.
Medical Jargons used in this chapter!
ROSC (Return of Spontaneous Circulation) - the medical way of saying the patient’s heart started beating again on its own after CPR.
IV (Intravenous Line) - used to administer fluids/medicine via the veins.
Asystole - flatline
Sinus Rhythm - normal heartbeat
Epinephrine - aka adrenaline
Intubation - (okay, actually let me pause here because this one deserves a mini rant. Feel free to skip it though since this is just my personal opinion.)
I hear so many stories of relatives and people I know refusing intubation here, and honestly it breaks my heart. Most of the time it’s because of financial issues, or fear from all the horror stories that float around. And yes, intubation is scary, and yes, there are risks. But in an emergency, that tube is literally what keeps someone alive. It doesn’t “replace” their lungs, it just keeps the airway open and connects them to a ventilator until they can breathe again.
The stigma around it, people saying it’s too risky, or that agreeing to it means you’re “giving up”can cost lives. I really wish there was more understanding that intubation isn’t the end.
Well, won't take much of your time, and that's all from me. See y'all next chapter! Remember to stay hydrated and take care everyone!!🤍🎀
love arranged marriage unfortunately. the idea of being married to a knight who's not even in the city, but away on the front lines. it's a benefit for your family, so they dont even question sending you to his home to await his return...
you meet him three months into the arrangement. He arrives after the sun has already set, his features set strong in the candlelight. His body is heavy with exhaustion and tension, his eyes dull and tired.
you've grown to hate this place, this castle gifted to him for war victories. The halls are barren, the garden yet to bloom. The maids are pleasant, but they keep their distance, as if you'll strike. Maybe your husband is the kind to hit. You wouldn't know.
When he looks at you, it's only in short bursts, his eyes suddenly low. There's a long stretch of silence between you and you consider introducing yourself, but decide against it. He knows who you are.
"The maid is drawing me a bath," he says suddenly and a sick feeling pours over you. This day was always coming, but you aren't sure you're ready to lay under a stranger.
"Am I expected to join?" you ask and his nose crinkles.
"No." He steps back and away. His departure is brisk and driven. You retire for the night by yourself and awake alone. Your husband is set to leave again in a few hours; a few soldiers have already gathered in the front garden.
"Don't you wish to give your new wife a goodbye?" one asks, unaware of your open window. "One night and you've already had your fill? Or has she been filled too much?"
"I refuse to believe she is real!" says another. "What kind of woman has worn down our brute and turned him into a family man? Should we expect a gaggle of children in the upcoming year?"
Your husband growls. "You will leave the poor lamb alone. She suffers enough."
That softens you. Just a bit. You rise from you bed and go to the window, leaning out enough to catch the men's attention.
"Until next time."
He watches you, expression caught between more emotions that you can count, then turns his gaze back to his mount. The two men share a look, wide, wide grins on their faces.
If you don't already know you have issues doing so, squat down real quick. Bend your knees all the way and touch the floor. Just make sure you can do it. Okay? For me? And then stand up all the way and make sure you can balance on one foot.
Like. You don't need to blow it into some huge thing. Just. Make sure all your bits and peices still work the way you think they do.
Can you turn your head to look behind you without twisting your shoulders? What about standing on your toes? If you sit down on the floor can you get back up without using your hands?
If there was ever a tumblr post worth sending to your mom, it's this one.
Just saying, bodies are a use it or lose it kinda thing.
okay so every time I see this post crop back up in queues and notifications I end up thinking about it. Because I made the post and even I'm still doing the thing where I read the post about maintaining range of motion in my delicate meatsuit and I nod and hmm and think yeah that's a good idea and then dont move from where I'm curled up shrimp style staring at the nightmare rectangle.
So like. Thinking real hard about moving doesn't count as moving. Major bummer. Anyways. Joints.
one of my favorite tidbits about speedrunning that comes up every time the games done quick marathons come around is how Wind Waker speedruns are about five hours long because of the giant wall in Hyrule that actually forces the runner to play the game because they’ve been throwing shit at this wall for over a decade and still can’t figure out a way past it. the wall in hyrule is entirely unglitchable and the only way past it is to play the game properly. the speedrun would be like one hour if they could get past this wall but nope, it’s five hours. fuck the wall.
and the comedy of this situation is exponentially amplified the more you know about skips and glitches in speedruns in general
as examples of how broken WW is elsewhere, you can clip through walls and go out of bounds to skip entire dungeon sequences pretty much anywhere with a ledge, use the Wind Waker to enter a state where you ignore physics and swim at 5000 miles an hour, and even fly infinitely into the sky after dying like some kind of helium zombie. do you know how many games could be broken wide open by an infinite height trick? TTYD would shave off 3 or 4 hours.
but this fucking barrier around Hyrule Castle, against all odds, is just completely insurmountable with any of this. Ganondorf is literally the most successful and powerful villain in gaming history and this Super Extendo Fuck You Shield™ is a shining testament to it
Okay but do you have any idea just how big the Super Extendo Fuck You Shield™ actually is?
Try approximately four times the height of the castle itself.
And not only that, but even if you get over the invisible wall, there’s another barrier that causes damage and knockback. So even if you managed to get over the invisible wall part of the Nintendo Containment System™, there’s still an additional, cylinder-shaped barrier that will do damage to you and knock you back out, even if you try to get in from the top or bottom.
That castle has more security measures than Fort fucking Knox and it’s all to give a middle finger to speedrunners wanting to finish the game in an hour. It’s fucking wild.
As of July 2019, the barrier has been defeated in all versions of the game, and the current World Record is 1hr 04m50s. The current method is to give yourself seventy invisible grappling hooks, which corrupts so much of the game’s memory that there’s not enough left over to load the barrier (or a lot of other things, like enemies or cutscenes. It’s amazing). You can just walk right trough where it’s supposed to be.
hey idk how to articulate this part of being mentally ill but basically i feel like my life has been stolen from me in the most literal way and i can’t explain it without sounding like im making a million pathetic excuses
includes::bruce wayne x fem!reader x talia al-ghul, married!brutalia, baby-sitter!reader, implied age gap, established marriage, power imbalance, mature content (17+), oral (f. receiving), threesome [f/m/f], PiV, multiple orgasms, licking, biting, sloppy / messy, oral fixation, titty sucking, finger-fucking, dirty talk, praise kink, grinding, begging, possessive behaviour, voyeurism, sexual tension, lowk manipulation, creampie, implied scissoring, alcohol ingestion, 8.7k words.
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extras:: reader is extra pathetic in this lol sorry if that isnt your jam i just thought 'what would i do if i was in this situation???' and well...! at least yall know id act like a pathetic loser lmfao.
--♱
loren's thots:: did i do my big one w this guys................lowk....i think i did......my dih was so hard writing this i love being bisexual wrote this listening to pushing p, tbh, n' les and wow!!!!!! 10/10 experience i recommend......... and no i dont have a good relationship with both of my parents before u ask....................
--♱
main m.list | join my taglist <3
FOR A CHILD so meticulous, bruce and talia had been nothing short of skeptical when their son had expressed interest in their latest babysitter-- you.
"please," damian had sighed diplomatically at the dinner table (the night following your trial run), "she is quite adequate for the job. she provides snacks when i am peckish, takes great interest whenever i express my fondness of animals, and most importantly-- leaves me be when i crave independence."
his mother and father had shared a brief glance across the long dining room table; bruce's navy irises meeting talia's emerald. "if she is to your liking, then i see no issue in hiring her officially," he tried cautiously, practically in disbelief that his son had actually liked one of the many babysitters the wayne al-ghuls had tried.
talia nodded, running a hand through her thick, brown tresses-- fingers fiddling idly with her fork. "i agree, beloved. it's not every day we hire someone to your standards," the woman teased to her son, only to be met by a fierce jade gaze.
"that is not true," damian had huffed. "i am just... fastidious."
standing from the table, bruce had run a strong hand through damian's dark locks-- the younger boy's hands immediately swatting his father's away. "being particular is not a bad trait to have, son," bruce said, rounding the table to press a kiss to talia's cheek, "i'll let her know she's hired tonight."
°. ⋆༺♱༻⋆. °
so you had quickly become apart of the many moving cogs that kept the wayne al-ghuls spinning-- every tuesday and thursday (and occasionally weekends), the grand doors to the manor opened wide to allow you access into a world you once had no concept of.
damian would greet you by a swift reciting of your last name and a tip of his head-- only to wander off to whatever activity he had been engaged in prior to your arrival; leaving you alone in the obscenely large house, to do whatever you pleased.
never had you really thought about abusing this power-- actively choosing to stick to the first few rooms they had shown you on your trial night; a lounging room with windows spanning the floor to ceiling, additionally sporting an impossibly large television, a library with thousands of books, and one of the three kitchens within the manor. really, there had never been any reason for you to wander about-- for damian chose these same rooms to galivant (save for his own quarters, and dedicated animal room) on nights you were around.
besides, you had learned the couches with impeccable looking leather and the softest of throw pillows and blankets was not just for decoration. curling up with your phone or a good novel, hours would pass instantly-- leaving you no time to explore the home even if you had wanted to, for bruce and talia always returned home from their formal events or work-related endeavors right when they said they would.
punctuality and routine was something both of the older individuals practically thrived on-- never relying on you for emergency based babysitting. choosing strict days of the week for your arrivals, the couple never needed to resort to you as a last contact.
except for tonight.
an unassuming friday night with the moon already miles high above gotham, your phone had rung once. then twice, before you had picked up. seeing the contact-- MRS. WAYNE-AL-GHUL-- had sent a certain shiver down your spine; one you could not place as fear nor anxiety, but perhaps something else entirely foreign.
(attraction.)
"we hate to do this to you, dear," talia had spoken sincerely into the phone, though urgency weaved its way into her words, "but something for bruce's work has come up, and alfred is off, so we're left with no choice."
with little hesitation, you had answered. "oh," you breathed, "it's really no trouble. i'll be over as quick as i can."
there was a distant chatter barely audible through the phone-- talia and bruce discussing something-- before bruce's voice became clear on the other end of the line.
"expect double your usual rate," bruce had said calmly, "we can't thank you enough."
the drive had been fast-- gotham's concrete and grey blurring into thick, forested greens as your car approached the manor; talia and bruce already standing, waiting, expecting, your arrival by a sleek, expensive looking limousine.
as you stepped out of your car, the man made an advancement in your direction; one sturdy palm placed gently on your shoulder, bruce pressed a neat (and thick) envelope into your hands.
"five hundred," he murmured easily, "thank you, again. i apologize for the lack of notice, but certainly--"
something about bruce's hold on your frame made your gut flip excitedly. you cut him off with a simple shake of your head. "please, mr. wayne," you reassured, "things happen. i get it."
a rare grin briefly dusted across bruce's face and the crow's feet at his eyes deepened. "right," he agreed, finally letting go of your shoulder. bruce swallowed, re-adjusting his suit jacket. glancing behind him, talia had caught his eyes-- her gloved fingers wrapping softly around the limousine's door, she offered you a succinct smile, before dipping into the car. "we'll be back before midnight." the man offered finally, slipping away from you and towards his awaiting car.
you nodded, running your tongue idly across your front teeth. glancing towards the manor-- the youngest master stood at the giant oak doors, looking impossibly cross.
"i told them i was in no need of your presence tonight," damian had huffed, barely stepping aside to let you into the manor, "i am taking myself right to my chambers."
"well," you had sighed, toeing off your shoes, "don't let me stop you from getting your beauty sleep."
behind you, the limousine had pulled out of the main driveway for the manor-- down the long, leading twisty road to the gates at the edge of the property. in no mood to wave goodbye to his parents-- damian slammed the two doors shut.
with a subtle roll of his shoulders, damian bid you goodnight, briskly uttering your surname and something like it's nothing personal. the boy turned and went down a long hallway, to the staircase that would lead him to his room; leaving you, once again, alone in the manor's front entrance.
grand paintings of who you identified to be bruce's family (though you could not place who the little freckled boy with thick curls was) decorated the walls, all encased in gold picture frames. a chandelier with at least one hundred candles hung high from the manor's ceiling, casting an imposing shadow down onto the marble floors.
you swallowed, suddenly terribly aware of the five hundred dollars sitting in your jacket pocket.
you could go down to your usual spot in the lounge room; throw on the television, half-heartedly pay attention to a black and white movie-- sip water from a stupidly expensive glass and patiently await talia and bruce's return.
you could.
but something about the glimmer of moonlight through a magnificent window in another room, down another hallway you had not been before practically yanked you away from the lounge before you could make the decision.
feet carrying you faster than your brain could process, guilt briefly clawed at your throat; until you conceded that it would be hours before the couple's return, and something as innocent as a walk could not possibly get you in trouble.
°. ⋆༺♱༻⋆. °
in your defense, the door had been ajar-- not open all the way, no, but not closed either. it had been terribly easy to slip into the room you had discovered to be a study-- and even easier to trace the bookshelves with your fingertip, and let your eyes dance across all of the valuables bruce wayne had laying about.
an expensive looking oak table lined with a singular, silver laptop and a glass lamp greeted you first. all, appearing pristine in condition as if never used before.
glossy leather upon the desk chair shone idly in the moonlight-- let into the room via large, dazzling windows. and the view, perhaps, was the most stunning thing the room offered. looking outward and towards the manor's front yard-- miles of perfectly manicured grass, hedges, and trees painted the landscape. leaves whispered and brushed in tandem with each other, victims of gotham's late night winds. dew coated the rest of the greenery, offering almost an ethereal shimmer to the scenic picture. if you squinted, you could see the large, black gates on the very edge of the property-- the only entrance and exit to wayne manor-- and the security station that glowed with the faintest traces of life (a hired night guard now on duty per talia and bruce's leave). you turned, finally tearing your vision away from the window; unknowingly missing the flash of a car returning to the manor. using your palm, you gently twisted the desk chair-- which creaked silently underneath the newfound stress of your hand.
your vision floated upwards, to just overhead of the chair; an extensive portrait, painted meticulously and with the utmost care flashed brilliantly underneath its display lights. a man, woman, and a little boy-- though not of the family you had grown fond of. no, this was one of the individuals you had known for a short period of time, but the other two remained distant figureheads unknown to you. the woman had a short black bob and the same blue eyes you had recognized on bruce-- though her smile was more gentle, as if it was a secret she could barely contain. the man, on the other hand, was sharper and more angular; face set almost identically to bruce's. adorned by both in different ways (bruce's father a brooch, his mother a necklace) were pearls.
something about them made your stomach sink-- so you tore your vision away from the painting, and back to the rest of the study.
there were filing cabinets hidden cleverly within the bookshelves that surrounded you, and the odd centerpiece for a coffee table caught your eye-- but after a while of snooping, you boredom overtook your mind-- pushing you towards the exit.
just past the door, the manor had gone quieter in a way you could not place. it wasn't the usual silence, somber and tranquil, broken only by the gentle snores of damian-- no, this was somehow tentative. charged.
on edge. almost as if--
the sound of the front doors opening and closing, partnered with hushed voices caused your neck to whip around.
your snooping had gone on far longer than you had anticipated; the fault of your actions becoming ever so clear and blaring as you stood, tucked away against the manor's wall, in a corridor that you certainly never should have been in in the first place. talia's serene laugh carried down the hallway, followed by a soft, almost out of character rumble from bruce.
as comforting as those sounds had once been-- they only now caused your heart-rate to spike, adrenaline coursing through your veins at speeds you had not felt since being caught red-handed by your parents as a child, doing something you were not supposed to be doing.
pressing your head into the sturdy wall of the manor-- a brief exhale through your nose passed through you, because the irony of the situation had not been lost.
in some sort of odd way, this was terribly akin to being caught by your parents. except now, the stakes were much higher-- as you could not exactly afford to lose the hefty pay-check the wayne al-ghul's offered. could not bear to lose the curious little boy you had grown so fond of, could not bear to lose the fleeting surges of attraction you felt around talia and bruce-- no matter how wrong, tasteless, and downright crude these feelings were.
caught up in your head, you had missed the sudden cease of noise from the couple-- no clicking of dress shoes or heels against the marble floors, no hushed whispers or terribly masked chuckles.
there was silence.
your chest heaved softly, the possibility of bruce and talia potentially traveling to another one of the many rooms within the manor giving you ample opportunity to dash back to the lounge an exciting thought-- before you heard the man clear his throat.
"you can come out now."
if your stomach had not already been in knots, it would have certainly been now. despite the lack of... anger, or frustration in bruce's tone (in fact, he had sounded oddly amused-- like this was a game he was playing, and like he had just won) remorse still scraped at your core.
the few steps of shame out of the corridor and into the manor's main entrance had been even more embarrassing, your shadow trailing behind you a few feet-- as if ashamed to be associated with someone like you.
one of bruce's pronounced brows quirked upwards, beguilement curling around the sharp angles of his face. "you're usually very good at following instructions," he said mildly.
heat raised in your cheeks and-- well, your hands kept folding and refolding in front of you as the husband and wife came into your view. leaning against bruce, the woman slowly peeled her evening coat off; long and black with fur stitched into its sleeves and neckline, it only accentuated her fit figure. she t'sked, though there was little heat behind her words.
"which is why this is so interesting." she mused, folding the coat within her hands. long jade nails caught the minimal light the manor's chandelier offered, as if they were akin to claws.
"i'm sorry," you apologized meekly, "i was just heading back to the lounging room."
bruce and talia shared an intimate laugh-- just under their noses, as if they were in on a joke you were oblivious to. "no need to apologize," bruce stated, "it's not often my study gets visitors anyways."
your throat dried up, shame washing over you once again. "i--"
"hush," talia murmured, effectively cutting you off, "we're not angry, dear. though next time," she took a step forward, heels clicking against the floor, "just ask. bruce and i could never tell you no."
her lips-- plump, matte within a brownish-red shade-- tilted upwards. not quite a smile, but something just as warm; just as inviting.
"we don't mind indulging you." talia added lowly, deliberately.
bruce's gaze lingered-- not improperly nor obviously-- but thoroughly. like you were mystery or puzzle to be solved. methodically.
(seductively.)
"it's friday," bruce said obviously, glancing down at his (offensively expensive) wrist-watch, "and not quite eleven yet. since this is such an... impromptu night, we were hoping you'd join us." he explained, adjusting the collar of his suit jacket.
at your hesitation, because when on earth would bruce wayne and talia al-ghul ever have wanted to spend time with you, talia broke your train of thought.
"we were just about to head to one of our lounges," she explained pointedly, "hopefully not one you've seen before."
heat crawled up your neck. "i wasn't snooping," you tried.
both individuals in front of you laughed again.
perhaps your nerves were the joke.
"we know," bruce consoled.
"it's alright," talia offered, fingers running along the fabric of her coat. "but we're just going to unwind, and we'd love for you to keep us company."
bruce ran his tongue along the roof of his mouth, jaw ticking and un-ticking. "wine, whiskey, tea," he offered, in hopes to persuade you.
talia's eyes narrowed, slim like a cat-- preying, almost. "or simply just us," she added.
"whatever you'd prefer."
certainly, you were a lot of things-- but naive enough to remain oblivious to the couple's apparent desire to get you alone? of course not. the idea brought goosebumps to your arms, racing down your entire body. before there had been only delusion feeding your lust-- your pathetic sort of puppy love that chased after the man and woman in front of you. a lingering gaze from bruce on your way out, or maybe a (not-so) innocent touch from talia once your work was done; all feeding these incessant and all-consuming ideas that made you feel like-- perhaps, they were more than just the parents you babysat for. perhaps they thought you were more than just someone who treated their son with the dignity and respect he deserved.
perhaps, they were enticed.
before nightfall had blanketed over gotham's city, it was pitiful and wistful thinking that got you through your day.
but now...
the invitation hung in the air, steady. there truly had been no reason for you to hurry home-- nor did you have plans the following morning.
something curled deliciously, guilty, within your core. you had already run past the confinements of the routine you once practiced within the manor-- why now should you stop? especially with the mr. and mrs. of the household practically begging for you to break the subconscious rules you had set in place for yourself.
the faint scent of talia's perfume and bruce's cologne wafted into your nose and you took an impossibly small step towards them. bruce matched your movements, not coming inappropriately close (yet), but closing enough of a gap to emphasize his size. how sturdy, how solid, how unhurried he truly was.
"if you're offering," you began, "i think i can stay for a drink."
a true grin broke out across talia's face, and she shoved her coat into her lover's chest-- opting to slink her strong arms around your waist, pull you into her frame.
"good," she nodded. you couldn't tell if you were imagining it-- but you could have sworn you felt talia's fingers give your waist a good squeeze. "because it is such a shame every time you're here, bruce and i are absent." she laughed underneath her breath, "it's frustrating, really."
leading you both down another hall-way you had never been before, one you hadn't thought to sneak through, bruce hummed. "such a shame," the man echoed, "but let's make up for lost time now, yeah?"
°. ⋆༺♱༻⋆. °
the first thing you had noticed in the lounge were the lights. they hadn't been bright-- no, they were dimmed to a provocative sort of yellow, tinged with reds and oranges. placed intentionally in the corners of the room to warm, to entice, to ground-- but never to intrude.
the next thing had been the couch; not as plush as your normal sitting room, nor had it been as formal and sleek as the ones in the hosting rooms-- but it still seemed just as expensive. suede-- dark, grey, longing; you hadn't expected to like it when talia urged you down by your shoulders, her fingers rubbing methodical circles into your back in the process. you hadn't anticipated melting into the fabric, into the crevasses of the chair, as bruce handed you one, and then another, glass of red wine. it was expensive, the type that goes down without so much as a hitch. the type that was dangerous.
you really had not foreseen sinking into the husband and wife-- letting talia run her finger-tips along your collarbone, tracing idle figure-eights near the nape of your neck, and allowing bruce to remain beside you, his big hands massaging and caressing the plush skin of your calves like second nature.
talia draped herself over the back of the couch like a cat-- legs crossed, hands pointed and steady against your skin. you breathed her in like oxygen, gasping and unconsciously becoming dependent on her presence. if you leaned into her close enough, the heat that radiated off her frame in waves clung to you like honey along the skin. "this is my favorite," she spoke quietly, and you assumed she had been gesturing to her wine (though her finger-tips drove deeper into your shoulders). "what do you think, bruce?"
"i think," bruce replied, one of his hands occupied by a glass of whatever expensive and hard liquor he had poured himself, "this one's to be savored, dear."
the ice in his glass clinked. a jarring noise compared to the serenity of the room.
"you and i have such divergent tastes," talia said, clicking her tongue, "but for once, beloved, i agree."
there was a shared silence that let you linger in the space; one that allowed you to cherish the looseness in your limbs, the tingle in your finger-tips. never enough to keep you in a haze of intoxication, but just enough to prove that you could be easy.
easy to hire, easy to know, easy to trust.
easy to fuck.
bruce set his glass down on a sturdy oak coffee table just near the end of the couch. with a clear of his throat, he asked; "are you okay?" his hands found your calves once again, readjusting them purposefully within his lap, his touch ghosting against your skin.
"you're quite tense," talia hummed from behind, "you're allowed to enjoy yourself-- allowed to relax."
tipping your head backwards to address the question, you felt the skin of talia's thigh-- exposed via the slit in her dress-- and shivered. "i'm quite alright," you almost laughed, "i just... didn't expect this."
"oh, sweet girl," talia grinned, "we did." her hands traced a slow, deliberate path now-- never dipping anywhere improper, teasing, but never retreating either.
your thoughts had gone slower, more lucid, more distracting-- and your lips pressed to the rim of your glass idly.
bruce's thumb brushed idly at your ankle, swiping softly. he followed the delicate dip of your bone, grounding in his touch. "you're usually so careful," he hummed, "always polite. always so good."
talia leaned in closer, her breath warm and fanning against your cheekbones. "and tonight you're letting yourself be," she exhaled, "indulgent."
heat swarmed to your cheeks, though not from your intoxication. "i don't mean to be unprofessi--"
"no," bruce interrupted gently, his hold on your leg tightening, "that's not what this is, sweetheart."
at the pet-name, something once dull and barely aflame flickered brilliantly within your gut, blazing to life.
"then what is this?" you asked suddenly, the alcohol giving you a false sense of confidence-- though very much short-lived, as impossible levels of humiliation washed over you; heat shooting up your spine.
talia laughed, a breathy sort of thing-- from the back of her throat, syrupy. at the sound, you turned to look at her, taking in her form.
it was odd (though not unwelcomed) to see mrs. al-ghul so... vivid. as if the adrenaline coursing through her veins spurred something within her to life-- something dormant forced open and breathing, it's heart beating erratically with composure. her usual stoicism, politeness-- replaced with an unabashed desire for whatever it was this happened to be.
the concentration on the grand woman now within your line of sight distracted you from the cool, almost jarring sensation of bruce's palm off of your calf.
though quickly-- it was replaced with his hand on your jaw, tilting your head upwards and insisting on your attention. cobalt irises narrowed at you, barely flickering down to your lips, before dancing upwards to your eyes again. his scent was now invading your senses-- vaguely intoxicated from his drink, though mostly enthralling; mint, warm after-shave, the smokey undertones of his cologne.
his breath fanned across your lips, and his fingers clutched almost desperately onto your jaw (like the last bits of restraint bruce wayne had were quickly succumbing to deeper desires)-- tilting you towards him, keeping the tips of your noses brushing. "you want to know what this is?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper; a rumble, perhaps even a groan.
"beloved," talia simpered, fingers running across your shoulder blades.
bruce's eyes briefly darted towards his wife's, before they skimmed back to yours. "answer me."
something unconscious, perhaps carnal within you, made you nod, unthinking. "i do," you stuttered out.
"then kiss her," he instructed, eyes remaining yearningly on the plump fat of your lips, "you want this? prove it. kiss her."
"you don't have to," talia offered, her voice startlingly close to your neck as she spoke; her own lips softly planting themselves near the junction where your throat met your shoulders.
at the tightening of bruce's grip on your jaw, your cunt throbbed. "i want to."
crow's feet appeared near bruce's eyes as he smiled slowly-- mouth tilting into something, though subtle, greedy. "yeah? you want to?"
you nodded, and echoed your words-- enthusiasm bleeding from each syllable that fell from your lips now. "please,"
bruce's fingers uncurled around your jaw momentarily, before slipping away entirely-- only to be replaced by equally as strong, but more slender and feminine digits-- talia pouncing on the opportunity to twist your head and capture your lips; locking them against her own.
she tasted like all-spice doused in cocoa powder-- even the faintest traces of black berry seeping into your senses. you vaguely remember bruce holding out the wine bottle you and talia had both shared; something about the undertones, aromas, final notes.
the stickiness of your lip-gloss clung to her lips as she softly groaned against you-- tongue darting outwards to taste your fattened flesh, before attempting to pry your mouth open.
you obliged, letting her appendage slither into your mouth and wrangle your tongue. nothing about the kiss was chaste or fleeting- talia's mouth moving against yours almost greedily, entirely messy and unbecoming.
beside you, bruce had sat backwards into his couch. one foot across his knee, the ice within his cup rumbled as it clattered against the glass, swirling gently within the expensive liqour he continued to nurse. if it wasn't for this and the subtle drum of his fingertips against his dress pants, you wouldn't have believed he was there. there was no sound to his breathing, not any indication of another individual within the room-- as if he had completely mastered the ability to blend in with the world; remain unseen and silent.
the thought of bruce watching you and talia wordlessly, as if not even there, made your cunt throb.
still tilting your jaw upwards, talia continued to kiss you heavily-- absorbing every inch of you that she could, seemingly attempting to fuse you both where you attached. her fingers coiled around your jaw and throat, squeezing-- holding you impossibly close, your breath quickening and shortening at her action. pulling apart momentarily, you felt her breath fan across your lips-- lashes fluttering softly against the silk of her skin.
"have you thought about this before?" she asked, so low-- you almost missed it.
you swallowed, chasing her lips. "yes," the vibration of her approval simmered against your flesh.
from beside you, the clink of bruce's glass emptying into his mouth carried throughout the room. he whispered, anticipation buzzing beneath his skin. "thought so."
talia grinned into your kiss, the eagerness you were exuding especially entertaining. she tore herself from you, pressing kisses-- messy, wet-- to the corner of your mouth, along your jawline and down your neck. "such a greedy girl," she mused, "go give bruce some attention now; don't you think we've left him out of the fun?"
nodding hazily, your irises remained glued to the now swollen fat of talia's lips-- only her hand guiding you to face the older man.
bruce's tie had been yanked away from his neck, his white shirt unbuttoned at the very top-- defined shoulders and collar-bone on display. his skin glistened underneath the dim lighting from the lamps, and the pale blue of his eyes looked haunting.
he was irritatingly handsome, suit coat long abandoned. your cunt throbbed again, talia's nails scratching at your neck before digging into your skin-- urging you towards her husband.
bruce unfolded his legs, a silent invitation. clambering atop the couch, you found yourself suddenly straddling him-- both of your thighs pressed tightly against his hips, grounding you to bruce's large form.
he cleared his throat, hands immediately snaking their way up your arms and towards your neck. his thumbs swiped idly at the skin beneath your ears as he cupped your jaw. "such a sweet girl," he purred, "i don't think i'm the one that should get the attention tonight."
leaning forward, your jaw went slack ever so slightly as bruce pressed his mouth to your throat-- right to your pulse-point, suckling at your skin sporadically, inhaling you.
you were gasping as his teeth drew across your skin-- biting enough to sting, but never to hurt. soothing over the dips with his tongue, bruce hummed against you.
"mr. wayne--" you tried, palms burning where they rested at his shoulders.
"it's bruce," talia answered, allowing the man to remain attached to your skin. instead of splaying across the top of the couch like before, she had rounded the furniture and planted herself neatly beside the both of you, watching. "i think we're long past formalities."
the shortest beginnings of a chuckle from bruce pulsed at your neck where he was kissing, biting, licking-- pleasure radiating off of both of you in waves.
in a sudden movement-- bruce had flipped you onto your back, your frame connecting with the couch harshly. the man, however, paid little mind to you as his lips continued to dance across your skin, trailing downwards from your jaw and throat to your shoulders and collarbone and sternum.
big palms dipped underneath your shirt, raising it enough for the man to pepper kisses along the curve of your breasts, exposing your skin and raising goosebumps along your body.
talia sucked on her teeth from beside you, before she nudged closer to your frame-- soft skin coming in contact with yours. she hummed approvingly at the sight of her husband lowering and settling himself between your legs-- his fingers now hooking into the waistband of your pants, and slowly peeling them off of your legs.
he hadn't even bothered to remove your panties-- exhaling shortly before pressing his mouth to your cunt, tongue dragging along the fabric.
"oh!" you yelped at the sensation, hips bucking immediately against bruce's face. his hands had slipped to your waist, keeping your bottom half pushed steadily into the couch.
"stay still," he tutted, words mumbled by your dampening panties and pussy.
not to be forgotten-- talia leaned forward to connect her lips to your temple, a silent request for your attention. once your eyes had made contact with her own, through thick and fluffy lashes did she speak, "such a loud girl," she breathed, "but you don't want to wake my beloved boy, do you?"
you shook your head no, legs quivering softly as your thighs clenched around bruce's frame.
"exactly," talia agreed, "so i think i'm going to put that pretty little mouth of yours to work."
manicured nails snuck underneath the strap of her dinner dress-- and slowly, she slipped out of the top half of her outfit. to your surprise, she hadn't been wearing a bra. her light brown nipples peaked underneath the newfound exposure of cold-- before she took the fleshy part of her tit in her hand, and guided it to your mouth.
suckling immediate, your eyes fluttered and shut-- the salty taste of her skin invading your senses. the woman exhaled loudly, one of her hands going to scratch at the nape of your neck. "mhmm," she sighed, contently.
the slightest of flickers from bruce, still busied entirely at your pussy, was made apparent as he reached a hand out to caress his wife's leg-- hand trailing upwards to her inner thigh, before he pulled away and placed his attention back to you.
he groaned into your cunt, dipping underneath the fabric of your now ruined underwear, pulling them aside to get himself flesh to your body. the noises coming from his tongue at your slit, drawing achingly slow circles, were nothing short of vulgar.
your tongue continued to trace talia's nipple, lapping and suckling at the skin-- her gasps and hums of pleasure sending shocks to your pussy. it clenched and sobbed at the noises she emanated, and once bruce stuck a digit past your hole-- your back arched off of the couch, hips tilting into his face.
talia's hands wrapped around the back of your head lovingly-- though she was not gentle as she forced your mouth to remain steady at her tits. "c'mon," the woman encouraged, leaning further and closer into you as if to ease your efforts.
you moaned around her skin-- dutifully switching to the other breast, a trembling hand of yours coming upwards to cup the spit soaked one. beneath you, bruce continued his ministrations, mouth latched onto your clit as he pumped two fingers now, vigorously in and out of you, curling as they bottomed out within your dripping cunt.
the married couple, too, moaned. bruce at the taste of you finally on his tongue, as if he had been waiting-- and talia as you rolled and circled her stiffened nipples within the warm confines of your mouth.
bruce's tongue flattened along the length of your pussy, dragging himself up and down and up again-- before talia's second hand curled into his hair and yanked his head away from your core. the man blinked up at his wife hazily, lower half of his face coated in your slick.
talia hummed deliciously at the sight. "bruce," she exhaled shakily, peeling you off of her breasts, "i'd like to taste her too."
he obliged wordlessly; tugging talia gently down to the ground beside him, you watched carefully, mouth slightly agape, as the two slotted against each other like puzzle pieces. talia's plump lips locked around bruce's, her tongue poking through his own lips and into the chamber within his mouth-- both groaning and gasping and moaning at the actions, taste, sight of all of it.
talia called your name, which came out muffled against her lover's mouth, "you taste brilliant," she praised. breaking the kiss, talia stuck her tongue out to lick bruce's jaw towards his mouth-- savouring the taste of your pussy on his face. "but i think i'd prefer if i got it straight from you, sweet girl."
bruce moved his body ever so slightly to allow talia to take his place-- her hands finding the flesh of your thighs, dragging your hips closer to her face. she peppered kisses along the curve of your waist, letting them trace lower and lower until they met your clit.
she pressed a kiss to the sensitive nerve, smiling slyly, before blowing cold air onto your cunt. "such a pretty girl," she mused, latching herself onto you.
you sighed, content at the feeling of somebody on your aching extremity once again-- your arousal practically leaking out of you in demeaning waves.
from behind the woman, bruce cleared his throat-- steady hands finding the fabric of talia's dress, only to rid the clothing from his wife's frame.
"beloved," he mumbled, leaning forward to paint kisses delicately along the expanse of talia's strong back-- "you'll let me warm up with you, right?"
talia nodded lazily from in between your legs, one of her hands leaving your thighs to peel her own panties-- all she was adorned in by now-- to the side; exposing her to him. "you needn't ask, bruce." she whined into your cunt, her tongue continuing to sloppily trace your clit and dip inside your hole.
gasping, you watched as bruce undid his belt-- an oddly harsh sound against the melody of your shared moans with talia-- and freed himself from both his slacks and boxers.
you hadn't known what you were expecting when you had seen the older man; but something akin to delight shot from your head to the tips of your toes, seeing bruce's exposed cock.
he was thick, heavy within his hands; curved and flushed a pretty shade of pink. pearlescent beads of pre-cum already gathered from his tip, and he sighed longingly as he gave himself a few pumps-- before aligning himself with talia. the woman hummed, pleased, at the feeling of bruce grinding himself against her cunt.
you, too, moaned as if you could feel it-- pussy clenching, yearning for the same type of treatment. desperation was clearly clawing at your senses-- as your hands had even found your own breasts, molding and caressing at the flesh and flicking at the stiffened nipples even beneath the fabric of your bra.
at your actions, you heard bruce chuckle. a deep, erotic sort of sound. "i'll get to you, sweetheart," he promised.
but before you could respond-- before he could say anything else-- bruce pushed himself inside of his wife. inch by inch, you observed as talia's cunt swallowed bruce's cock-- as she gasped against your pussy, as she arched into her husband's touch.
they both moaned in tandem as he bottomed out within her, talia's cunt clenching desperately around bruce's cock. "that's it," he groaned softly. "you take me so well, beautiful, every time."
talia's jaw had gone slack at your pussy-- and for once, you hadn't even minded. not as talia looked so impossibly ravishing as bruce began to thrust in and out of his wife, and as he looked so disgustingly infatuated with talia.
you moaned softly as the sound of skin slapping began to bounce off of the lounge's walls-- filling the space and holding tight the arousal dripping from the corners of the room and bleeding into everything it could touch. waves of heat scorching the surface of everything within the room-- your minds, your bodies, and your souls all included.
slowly but surely, talia had begun to eat you out again-- this time, with a renewed vigor. using one of her forearms to balance herself against your frame, she brought her free hand to your cunt-- using a precarious thumb to roll tight and efficient circles onto your clit. "we want you t-to feel good," she shuddered, eyes fluttering shut momentarily as bruce's cock massaged her g-spot, "can you do that for us?"
nodding dumbly, your hands snuck their way properly now underneath the fabric of your bra-- fingers easily locating and pinching your hardened nipples. you rolled and rolled and rolled-- pleasure washing over your frame like ecstasy. you were gasping, breath stolen from your lungs as talia increased the pressure of her thumb along your clit. her tongue hooked just past the entrance to your cunt-- and your eyes were rolling into the back of your head.
bruce's pace was quickening (perhaps desperately) behind talia. he drove himself in and out and in again, balls slapping against his wife's ass as he hissed and cursed quietly under his breath. and suddenly-- as if indulging, as if he was shy but could not stand it any longer-- he raised a hand to spank her. it was harsh and clipped, his palm already leaving a searing mark against the plump fat of talia's rear. she moaned whorishly into your pussy, so out of character for the woman you (thought) you knew-- and her hand only sped up its ministrations. "please," she pleaded, big brown eyes blinking up at you, glassed over with watery tears of pleasure, "need you to cum, pretty girl. i need you to finish all over my face before i let bruce have his way with you,"
her words sent your gut fluttering-- your pussy clenching and strangling talia's tongue, soaking and dripping downwards onto her jaw. "don't stop," you gasped, heat pooling delightfully within your core.
"she won't," bruce huffed, cock pulsing within his wife.
talia nodded, keeping riiight where you needed her most-- though you could have sworn the strong woman rolled her eyes at her husband's commentary, ever so slightly, even as he remained buried deep inside her cunt.
your orgasm crept up on you, barely allowing you the gift of time to register the prickling of goosebumps along your skin; the shivers coursing through your body, the twitch and thrash of your legs and hips-- until your pussy was spasming and drooling all along the older woman's face. talia remained steady in her motions-- nursing you through your orgasm as if she was still trying to bring one forth and unto you.
bruce had stilled his movements, only inside his wife now by his tip-- and he watched intently as you continued to cum aggressively. big palms ran across talia's back, as if he could soothe you through your orgasm by stroking talia.
you shook until your body had gone slack from pleasure. vaguely, you thought-- when the fuck was the last time i came that hard?
"was that good?" bruce questioned, voice low and rumbled. he was now fully out of his wife-- his cock looking almost painfully hard as it glistened with talia's slick.
"m-mhm," you croaked out, chest still heaving and legs still twitching intermittently.
talia sat back and onto her knees, delicately wiping your cum off of her face with the back of her hand. "well, i'd hope so."
bruce let his fingers dance along talia's spine, up to the nape of her neck-- before he leaned down to press a chaste kiss to his wife's lips. he savoured the taste of both of you on his mouth, faint traces of wine seeping into the edges of his senses-- before he pulled away and dedicated himself to you.
bruce wayne crawling towards you was not a sight you had ever expected to see-- but one that was most certainly not unwelcomed. he positioned himself in between your legs once again, though you watched his biceps curl underneath the fabric of his dress shirt as he pulled you flush to his hips. "good thing i get to have my turn now," he whispered against the shell of your ear, "because i want you to cum that hard again-- just on my cock instead."
you shivered. full body, electric. your cunt was practically already oozing all over bruce's lower abdomen, his v-line taut and pronounced against the softer flesh of your thighs and core. his lips secured themselves to your jaw and neck, dusting kisses across your skin in a terribly gentle form of foreplay. below, his hips rocked steadily-- for now he was grinding himself against you as he had done talia earlier.
a hiss escaped your mouth as the tip of his dick caught on your clit; bruce took this as encouragement, and reached in between your sweat slicked bodies to wrap his hand around his extremity and slap it against your pussy.
"do you think you can take him, pretty girl?" talia cooed, suddenly beside you. she had slipped back onto the couch, body heat radiating onto your frame as she slinked closer to you-- no different than before except for the fact now that she was entirely bare. her body shimmered underneath the ambient lighting of the lounge, her curves and muscles and beauty marks ever so prominent in such a rousing environment.
you opened your mouth to speak, only to be caught off as bruce pressed into you. your jaw went slack, the feeling of his cock beginning to stretch your cunt out ever consuming. the veins along his dick pushed against your insides, carving themselves into your body-- molding yourself to bruce in ways, although fleeting, purposely permanent.
talia laughed, soft and delicate. one of her hands found its way to your scalp, scratching and soothing as she murmured against your head, "i know," she crooned, "isn't he just so fucking big?"
bruce was pulsing into you slower than he had done his wife-- empathetic of the fact that this was the first time you were taking someone of his size. still, it was a slow and torturous dance with too much and not enough; the words in your brain blurring into a pathetic mesh of moans.
you tried to agree, you really did, but all you could do was exhale shakily. talia snickered again from behind you, though of course there was no malice in her amusement. your grip on what now, you realized was her wrist (along with bruce's hand that rested on your hip) was iron.
"doing so good," bruce praised, brows furrowing as he buried himself deeper within you, "such a perfect girl."
the praise shot to your cunt, and you felt yourself flutter around his pulsing cock.
talia continued to rub soothing circles into your scalp, her mouth pressing breathy kisses to your hairline softly-- all the while she muttered praises of her own, agreement that bruce was bigger and better than anyone else; sympathy because weren't you just their poor girl? you've been needing this for such a long time, haven't you? such a shame we didn't get to have you sooner.
"but it's alright," bruce gasped softly, bottoming out within your aching pussy, "because we get to have and take care of you now."
your pretty irises rolled into your skull for the upteenth time that night as you felt bruce begin to move. he drove himself out of you slowly, at first-- as if he had some sort of restraint he had to adhere to-- but the second you moaned and whined and bucked your hips, pleading, "please, bruce, please fuck me," the man hadn't stood a chance.
his lower stomach repeatedly ground into your clit every time he was sheathed within you fully; the friction making your toes curl and back arch away from the couch. talia would sigh, would coo, would kiss at you absentmindedly-- drawing your attention away from bruce momentarily, because shouldn't she have some fun too?
in the heat of it-- with your legs clenched tightly around bruce's hips and his cock throbbing inside of you-- talia snaked her hand down your stomach and towards your clit, rolling just as she had before.
the combination of bruce's cock kissing and massaging your g-spot and talia's fingers at your clit was almost too much. pleasure and euphoria was beginning to blind you, and your legs quivered around bruce's frame in a fair warning of your second orgasm.
bruce, ever in touch with your body, gripped one of your calves tightly-- only to raise it, and bring your leg to his shoulder. he turned his head softly, black locks clinging to his dampened forehead, to press a kiss to your ankle bone. the new position had him deeper than you had thought was possible, and your entire body thrashed from underneath the married couple.
"don't cum yet," bruce spoke jaggedly, "i know you're close, sweetheart, but i know you can wait for me."
talia nodded from above you, fingers still abusing your clit. "we know you can," she echoed, "you've shown a history of being good at listening-- hasn't she, beloved?"
bruce nodded towards his wife, adam's apple bobbing as a bead of sweat rolled down his temple. "she has," he exhaled, "such a good girl for us."
your bottom lip was surely bitten raw-- for you had had it caught in between your teeth to stifle your moans, stifle your pleasure, hold off your orgasm because of course you would listen to bruce and talia.
but it was getting difficult-- your pussy was beginning to spasm with the first waves of your orgasm that you could not suppress, and the sweetest of mewls were falling from your lips. so much so, talia took pity on you-- and pressed her lips to yours.
you moaned and hummed freely against the kiss, savoring the taste of you and her within her mouth. she, too, groaned softly at the contact-- her circles at your cunt going slack for a moment, only to pick back up in pace.
bruce's pace as well, quickened. the repetitive motion of him thrusting in and out and in again, entirely too thick and yet not enough was making both of you insatiable. "fuck," he groaned-- and your cunt pulsed, because bruce wayne swearing was far too fucking attractive for you to handle.
"i want to cum," you begged suddenly, words tumbling out of your mouth, into talia's and the air around you all, "please. i- i've been so good, please,"
never had you ever considered begging for anyone else like this-- the act much too humiliating to consider when fucking just anyone else.
but this wasn't just anyone else. they weren't just random people you had decided to hook up with.
bruce groaned incoherently as he moved his head again to bury his mouth and nose against your ankle-- teeth suddenly digging into the flesh of your calf to muffle moans (moans! your cunt had bruce wayne moaning like a pornstar!) as his cock jumped inside of you.
again and again and again-- did his tip find and make love to your g-spot.
this was bruce wayne and talia al-ghul you were fucking. of course you were going to beg.
"please," the plead fell from your mouth in a broken, sob.
"i love it when you beg," talia mused, her breath fanning across your lips, "sound like such a good girl."
she swallowed, and through teary eyes did you watch her throat bob softly. her fingers-- two, now-- rolled and circled your clit incessantly, different than before. they fucked you now with a purpose. to draw something very intentional out of you.
bruce was fucking you like that too-- intentional. his tongue darted outwards to taste the salt of your calf to your ankle, and his voice vibrated tantalizingly against your skin. "i'm going to cum," he announced, shuddering, "and i want you to cum now too, a-alright?"
the announcement of his own orgasm coupled with talia's intense movements was more than enough to make your cunt flutter once, then twice-- then uncontrollably and terribly powerfully as your orgasm knocked the wind from your lungs.
your nails were piercing subtle moons into talia's wrist where your hand still remained; the same thing happening to bruce's arm where your grip on him was also just as tight.
you couldn't think of anything logically-- not with your cunt fluttering hopelessly around bruce's cock, not with talia scratching at your scalp gently and peppering kisses along the fat of your face and along your jaw.
not with bruce's dick suddenly spilling pump after pump of cum into you-- his cock pulsing repeatedly within your weeping pussy. the man was gritting his teeth, still moaning into your skin, grip entirely too tight along your waist where he still continued to drag you onto his appendage.
"bruce--!" you gasped, thighs quaking as his thrusts grew unrelenting.
"i know," he breathed, icy irises squinting down at where you both still remained connected, "need to fuck it all out, make sure all of my cum gets inside of you."
talia giggled along your skin, licking a stripe upwards from your chin to your mouth. "such a demanding man," she cooed, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, "my beloved can get so greedy once he sets his eyes on something he wants."
from above, bruce spoke-- voice harsh as the remainders of pleasure bled from each syllable. "you say that like you aren't a persistent woman, my dear,"
"well of course i am," talia whispered, hand leaving your hand to press against bruce's stomach-- effectively getting the man to pull out of your sopping cunt.
all three of you watched as bruce's cum began to ooze out of you-- a thick load, mixed with your own arousal and cum. dark lashes beat against talia's cheek as she got up from the couch and took bruce's position in between your legs; even taking one of your legs up and onto her shoulder, offering a gentle kiss to your ankle like her husband had.
bruce himself didn't move very far-- as he was still close enough to plant a kiss to talia's hairline. the woman leaned into his touch, a thousand unspoken words travelling between them, until their shared gaze fell upon you once again.
talia cleared her throat, hooking one leg over your hip-- allowing both of your pussies now to only be a few inches apart. she lowered herself down, and it was impossibly lewd-- the way bruce's cum clung to her cunt as it trickled out of you. her voice was low, seductive-- the same tone you had grown used to hearing as gotham's moon hung high above the sky.
"because now it's my turn to fuck you properly, isn't it?"
Is it just me or everyone imagine their fav characters that they are obsessing over in real life???
Like I'll be at work and then I imagine that bitch sitting next to me, talking to me and admiring me while I FUCKING KNOW THAT I HAVENT KISSED A MALE SPECIES IN MY ENTIRE LIFE
I don't know if that's sign of a fucking mental problem or what but I swear if I'm even Slightly upset or tired of my life i WILL open tumblr and start imagining them or talking to them (aka my wall. It be sitting there like the fuck gurl im not your man)
He's the least unbothered by it. He know he could just take you to a shopping spree, lend you his card or whatever. But instead of that, he spends a month listening to your little needs and complaints. If your neck hurts, if you run out of something, if work is too hard on you. He also observes all the things you spend more than five seconds looking at the shops.
The 25th, there a huge basket with your name and all the things he's been recollecting. Your favorite shampoo, a neck massager, that expensive tea you like, those gloves you tried on but didn't buy, etc. And two plane tickets for a gorgeous villa in Greece.
DICK GRAYSON
Dick turns it into an experience, because of course he does. He’s never believed gifts should just sit there. They should move, breathe, make noise, leave a dent in your memory.
He starts subtle. Little things appear over the month: your favorite pastries “accidentally” brought home, a scarf he insists you borrow because “it looks better on you anyway,” playlists sent at 2 a.m. with a single line: this made me think of you.
On Christmas morning, he’s practically vibrating. There’s a small box first. Inside, something personal and deceptively simple. Maybe a piece of jewelry or a watch, but worn-in, not flashy. Something chosen because it fits your life, not because it shines.
Then comes the real gift.
He takes you out. No itinerary, no warning. A train ride, laughter, his hand warm and steady in yours. You end up somewhere beautiful and a little unexpected—maybe a winter-lit city, maybe a quiet coastal town. He booked a place with big windows and ridiculous blankets, somewhere you can see the world without being chased by it.
At night, he pulls you onto a rooftop or a fire escape, points out constellations he half-remembers from the circus, makes up the rest with confidence. He doesn’t promise forever. He promises this: presence, joy and the kind of care that makes even ordinary moments feel choreographed.
JASON TODD
He hasn't gifted that many things in his life, so he wants your present to be perfect. He asks Roy for advice, who doesn't help at all (Roy is the type to wrap his dick with a bow as a Christmas present). Then, he wanders around all the shops in Gotham, the malls and even supermarkets without finding something perfect.
That's when he finds the courage to just ask Barbara for some help, she recommends him a tiny shop almost in the limit of Gotham where he finds the most beautiful, jaw-dropping and hand made earrings with a matching necklace.
They are delicate, almost looking like orchids but not quite. With a pink, purple-ish color that sees you wearing all the time. He knows they are perfect for you.
TIM DRAKE
Tim doesn’t give you things this year. He gives you a year.
The album is heavier than it looks. No title on the cover, just your name in his careful handwriting. He hands it to you a little awkwardly, because it’s honest.
Inside, it’s chaos in the most deliberate way. Photos he took when you weren’t paying attention: you laughing with your head tipped back, half-asleep on the couch, focused and brilliant at work. Polaroids, phone prints, even a couple grainy shots clearly pulled from security footage he absolutely should not have access to. Ticket stubs. Receipts. Pressed leaves. The wrapper from a candy you said tasted like childhood.
Between the pages are notes. Not captions—thoughts. Things he never sent you, written at 3 a.m. and then folded away. Observations about how you hum when you’re nervous. Apologies for days he wasn’t present enough. Lines where he tries to explain how being around you quiets the static in his head.
Some entries are messy. Some are painfully precise. A few are crossed out, rewritten, argued with in the margins. There’s a pattern to them: he keeps circling back to the same idea, from different angles, like he’s trying to prove it to himself.
Near the end, there’s a pocket with a final letter. Short, by his standards. He doesn’t say “forever.” He doesn’t promise anything dramatic.
He just writes that this is how he remembers loving you: by paying attention, by keeping record, by refusing to let the moments disappear.
If you haven't heard, the em dash has been getting a lot of attention lately…
Because it was trained on pirated work—including freely accessible online writing (like fanfic, academic texts)—ChatGPT picked up patterns and quirks native to human writing.
Including (sigh) the em dash.
There are other victims here (RIP tapestry and delve 🫠), but the appropriation of the em dash—a punctuation mark beloved by writers everywhere—feels especially personal.
A kind of low-grade panic is ensuing. Writers who once memed their own em dash overuse—the greatest punctuation mark ever to grace the control-freak’s lexicon, frankly—are suddenly backing away to avoid accusations.
No. More. We have centuries of dash-abusing writers behind us. We will not sit quietly while AI repurposes our beloved stilted aside—or the just-one-more clarification the sentence demands—or the dramatic pause your comma could never—etc.
You don’t write like AI—AI writes like you.
Defend the em dash.
(Feel free to download/share/stick it where it matters!)
Holy Fanfiction Batman @shadow-singer123 - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
