summary: in which batman takes a quick trip to the iceburg lounge and gets distracted..
bruce wayne x dancer!blkfem!reader
warnings: lowercase, doggy style, semi-public, masked, rough sex
a/n: might be a little out character for him but bare with me ppl
he's seen you before. on his countless missions to gather information at the infamous iceburg lounge ran by the penguin that was crawling with drunk or high people and corrupt politicians of gotham.
you had a beauty to you that most women he's seen around the lounge didn't have. even as one of the only black women as a dancer, you walked with confidence and kept your head held high.
sometimes, bruce found himself staring at you from the roof of the lounge while moving around the city in the shadows. tonight was no different than any other mission. the penguin had been moving drugs through the city again.
bruce wanted to catch him red handed but the penguin had other plans.
bruce was pissed. he's in one of the backrooms waiting for the penguin to come in at any time. he had been waiting for almost an hour and started to get irritated with the wait.
that's when you walked in. in a usual skimpy outfit that was apart of dress code on the lounge. you only worked there for the money. living in gotham wasn't cheap and you still lived in a crappy apartment.
"well you weren't who i was expecting." you looked at the masked man in front of you. you've seen the news stories about the cold, stoic vigilante that showed little to no mercy.
"where's the penguin?" his gruff low voice boomed quietly. it was like it was laced with gunpowder. "he's not in tonight. how'd you even get in?" the room fell silent as he didn't answer your question. "you seem so tense bats."
the nickname rolled off of your tongue as you stride towards him. "have trouble with talking to pretty ladies?" you stood in front of him and tilted your head. his dark eyes pierced into you.
"i don't create conversation with suspects." you laugh softly. "so i'm a suspect? i told you the truth bats. penguin ain't in tonight." bruce looked you up and down. the purple led light shined beautifully off your melanin skin.
"why don't i show you a good time? help you relax.." you placed your manicured hand on his metal chest plate and looked up at him with seductive eyes. you could see a small flicker of something in his eyes.
hunger.
it was almost like a switch in his behavior. he went from being quiet and intimidating to rough and demanding. his lips ravaged yours. you didn't even try to fight back for dominance. you moaned into his mouth as he pushed you against the wall.
after the roughest yet hottest make out session you've ever had, he had you bent over the crappy couch that sat in the corner of the room. you didn't know how he got his massive cock out of his suit effortlessly but you weren't thinking much of it.
"f-fuck!" before you knew it, he was ramming his cock into you at a brutal yet slow pace. you gripped onto the couch for support. he grunted as you clamped down on him. "you're fucking tight..." his gruff voice sent chills down your spine.
his thrusts picked up pace as he fucked you into the couch. "oh god! right there!" you felt like he was gonna fuck you senseless. you already felt yourself going over the edge. bruce's grunts and pants had gotten louder, signaling he was close.
"gonna cum! please don't stop!" you screamed as you pushed your ass back to meet his thrusts. one final thrust sent him and you over the edge.
after you both had released, you were left panting. "damn bats.. you must've been pent up." you chuckled softly as you heard shuffling behind you. "bats?" you turned your head and he was gone. back into the shadows.
idk guys is this good? feel like i could have done a bit better.
bruce's been overworking himself recently and all you want to do is take care of him.
pairing: bruce wayne x reader
warnings: 18+, MDNI, fem!reader, dry humping (does it count as dry if it's in a bath?), making out, mentions of bruce's masochistic tendencies
a/n: another apology for disappearing, i've been busy with family stuff! i'm currently working on the requests i've gotten, and i'm hoping to get everything posted before i go on another trip next week :)
masterlist
Your husband has never hidden the fact that he's eager to have your hands on him.
Truthfully, it's all too easy to have Bruce Wayne on his knees, begging to be taken care of. It's just that to a man with such deeply masochistic tendencies, the concept of being taken care of can skew pretty far from what you would think up. And that—the version of care you offer so readily—is something that Bruce will almost never ask for directly.
He's been ramping up recently, asking you to pull his hair harder, bite his thighs until they bruise, and sit on his face until he's almost suffocating between your legs. The real warning sign came last night when you were riding him. You had slid your hand up his neck, and he had reached up and made you squeeze down harder than you ever have before. It scared you, honestly.
So, tonight, you're staging an intervention. Not a typical one full of tough love and well-wishes. No, this one is full of eucalyptus-scented massage oil, dim lighting, soft music, and a warm bath. The kids had promised to take over patrol tonight. Even they were tired of seeing Bruce acting so reckless.
He comes home from a long day of pointless meetings just as Alfred's starting to lay out dinner. If he's surprised to see Dick, Tim, Damian, and Cass all sitting at the table, he doesn't say anything. Your concern deepens the longer he sits in silence as dinner passes. He barely eats any of his meal, doesn't respond unless his name is called twice, and barely has the energy to roll his eyes when Dick makes one too many dumb quips.
Needless to say, you've never seen Bruce quite so run down.
Still, he waits until everyone's finished their meals and retreated into the manor to set his silverware down and push his plate away. You take that as your cue to put your plan into motion. It only takes a few steps to get from your chair to his. Bruce doesn't say anything when you step up behind him, nor does he when you wrap your arms around his shoulders.
"You're tired, aren't you?" you murmur in his ear.
Bruce doesn't respond verbally, but his eyes flutter shut, and his head droops down toward your arm.
"Let's go upstairs." One tug on Bruce's hand has him rising to his feet. Even exhausted, he still manages to stand tall; it's a quality you both hate and admire about him. Nothing ever takes him out for long, but he's always working himself into the ground and running through loops of obsessions that twist his mind into knots. You're usually the one who ends up having to untangle him when it gets to be too much.
Bruce didn't fight you when you led him to the bathroom. He didn't even try to resist when you stripped him down and pushed him toward the eucalyptus-scented bubble bath waiting for him. And he wasn't exactly complaining when you undressed yourself and climbed into the bath after him.
The water is warm, the room is dim, the bubbles rise up to your chest, and Bruce's body acts as a barrier between you and the porcelain tub. It's cozy, but, beyond that, it's grounding for Bruce. The combination of your weight pressing down on him and the calming steam floating through the air has his muscles relaxing for the first time in weeks. As a few minutes go by, you can physically feel him sinking into the tub and into your presence more and more.
Eventually, you turn around in his lap and reach behind him to get a pump of shampoo in your hands. After working it into a lather, you start massaging it into Bruce's scalp. The furrow in his eyebrows slowly fades away, and he's left staring up at you in a daze.
You're able to rinse out the shampoo and work in some conditioner before he pulls you into a kiss. He leads with hunger and desperation, you meet him with tenderness and love, and he melts against you like butter. You've always been his greatest indulgence, the only weakness he gladly lets himself succumb to.
Two big hands slide down the length of your spine before they start kneading and groping at your ass and thighs. The roughness of Bruce's calloused fingers feeling you up sends pleasure shooting through you. Your own hands have long since slipped out of Bruce's damp hair, instead drifting down the sides of his neck to rest on his broad shoulders.
Bruce tries to surge forward, to flip the script on you, but there's no room in your plans for him to try something like this. You press him back against the lip of the tub, and, while he grumbles against your mouth, he doesn't try to take over again.
"Just sit back for me, baby," you murmur, one hand lightly stroking the back of Bruce's neck.
Bruce's lips, however, have already migrated down the side of your neck. Try as you might to muster up resistance, it all fizzles out when his stubble scratches at your collarbone.
"I like being here, though," he counters.
And, really, who are you to deny him? Tonight is for him, to let him relax…a few kisses couldn't hurt anything, right?
Wrong, apparently! Bruce's mouth takes a quick diversion down your sternum, pressing kiss after kiss to your smooth skin before latching onto your right breast like he'd been starving for it. His fingers continue to knead at your thighs while his tongue flicks over your nipple, causing you to shiver. The involuntary movement has you shifting your weight over Bruce's lap, just to feel something hard pressing against your thigh.
"Bruce?"
"Hmm?" he hums around your nipple.
"What's that?"
"Dunno what you're talking about," he mumbles. Despite his words, though, he rolls his hips up against yours.
"You got hard because I was being nice to you?"
Bruce lifts his head up, ice blue eyes sparkling with warmth and hunger, "Sweetheart, your boobs are in my face right now. I'm not a monk."
"Really?" you ask dryly. "I hadn't noticed."
He opts to ignore you words and goes back to littering kisses over as much of your torso as he can reach, grinding his thick cock against your folds all the while. Eventually, you give into him. Your hand reaches down between the two of you, lining hip up so he's gliding against your clit with each motion.
Bruce's hands are back on your ass, guiding you to rock back and forth in time with him. The added friction makes him groan into your chest, and pleasure spikes low in your belly every time the head of his cock nudges up against your clit. The veins pulsing along his cock only add to your pleasure.
It feels silly, grinding against your husband like you're a couple of virgins all over again, but it feels too good to even think about stopping. The water surrounding you sloshes and gets closer and closer to splashing over the edge of the tub the faster you and Bruce grind against each other.
"Can you—" Bruce takes your right hand and guides it up to his hair. You know he's asking you to pull it. To tug on it until he keens. Instead, you card your fingers through his dark hair lovingly, scratching along his scalp gently. Bruce expected violence, always. He keeps himself braced for the worse, so when he feels you caressing him so tenderly…he doesn't expect it. He lets a low moan slip out, just loud enough to hear over the splashing water, and you know you've got him where you want him.
"There you go, Brucey. I love you so much. So much. Let me be sweet to you tonight. It'd make me feel so good." You've learned that sometimes reframing things that Bruce would never ask for as something you want gets him to give in a lot easier. Bruce nods against your chest, and you know that this is one of those nights. "Thank you, honey."
"Mmf…anything you want, Mrs. Wayne," he whispers in between kisses to your neck.
"Remember that later when I force you to sleep."
"Like I said, any—hah—thing you want," he groans, helping you keep your rhythm. Pleasure's pooling low in your gut, and you can feel Bruce's cock twitching against your clit. You're both close, both clinging onto each other desperately as your hips chase any friction they can find.
Bruce cums first, and the sight of his eyes rolling back in his head coupled with the feeling of his cock pulsing against your clit triggers your own orgasm. Your hips stutter against his, and you stifle a moan behind a bitten lip.
The two of you are left panting, chests heaving as water pools around the tub. You can already picture the look Alfred will give you when you tell him about the mess later, but all you're focused on now is getting rinsed off so you can give Bruce the massage he's been in such desperate need of.
The bath drains slowly, but the two of you manage to get rinsed off. You end up having to wash Bruce's hair again because the conditioner sat in his hair for way too long, but neither of you mind the prolonged closeness.
Bruce is surprisingly eager to sprawl out on your shared bed for you. The massage oil you set aside earlier is high quality and mixed with a bit of menthol, soothing away any small aches and pains he's been dealing with. You don't stop until he's pliant and half-asleep under you.
The second you climb off of him, your husband is crawling toward you and collapsing with his head on your chest. He usually insists on holding you, only ever breaking that rule when he's truly exhausted.
It's not like you're complaining, after all. He's safe, loved, and snoozing away as you comb through his clean hair. It's all you could ever ask for. He's all you could ever ask for, and you know you'll never stop showing him how much you love him until he knows that fact, too.
all written work and dividers belong to @ackpplepie!! do not plagiarize, feed my work into ai, or translate it. i do not own the characters or images used above.
Your relationship is over and some drinks could help you forget. But why does the man across the bar feel so painfully familiar in this NSFW Choose Your Own Adventure?
Jason Todd/Red Hood x Fem!Reader
NSFW Choose Your Own Adventure
🔗 READ/PLAY HERE
🎮interactive fanfic "I Hate You | Jason Todd x Reader" by bugsy
📖 Episode 1 of ?
☕️ you patch up batman’s wounds. || this can be read as after alfred’s death, kinda hurt/comfort with fluff? if that makes sense, drug usage for medical purposes, headcanon format, reader doesn’t know batman’s identity, … || ⋆˚࿔ main masterlist
Batman loves it when you patch him up.
Or at least, that’s what you think since he always comes to you.
You don’t know his real identity and even though you are dying to know, you won’t try to find it.
But you will patch him up no matter what.
Ever since the night he ended up in your fire escape, lying there like a wounded animal after getting a stab wound, he came to you whenever he needed to be tended.
You, without even realizing, have become his private nurse.
Whenever he ended up in your flat, you were ready to care for him.
He was not a burden for you. How could he be? He was the savior of Gotham, your hometown. That was the least you could do.
But you were curious… Did he not have somebody to care for him? Was he so lonely that he trusted a total stranger?
So, one night, you decided to ask. “Don’t you have another person for these?”
There was a beat of silence. You couldn’t see his face because of his cowl, but his lips parted— maybe because he was not expecting to be asked this.
“I— Sorry for bothering you—“
“No,” you cut him off immediately. That was not what you were saying. At all. “I’m glad to help you. I was just curious.”
He leaned back to the couch again. You were stitching a knife wound on his thigh. He was half naked right before you.
“I had someone.” He mumbled. The drugs you gave him were making him numb. He usually did not want anything to numb him, but tonight, he took it.
“Did they leave you?”
“You could say that.”
You kept stitching in silence after that. When you were finished, you gave him time to get dressed again.
His moves were slow. He seemed tired. You didn’t want him to leave like that. He was under the influence of drugs and he was hurt and tired.
“You can stay.” You said. “I won’t come here until you go. So you can take your cowl off.”
He was considering the offer. He had every reason to stay. He trusted you, you trusted him. He could stay. You wanted him to stay.
Batman didn’t say yes or no but he went back to sitting. You smiled at him and saw a small reflection of your smile appear on his lips.
You brought him a pillow and sheets, readied the couch for him to sleep.
“I can… wash your clothes—“ You tried to offer but before you could form the sentence, he held your hands in his gloved ones.
“That’s not necessary.” He gently squeezed your hands. “Thank you.” And brought them to his lips to press a kiss.
Your heart almost gave up.
You licked your lips, squeezing his hands back. The moment was so intimate, so precious that you didn’t want to leave him.
“Good night, Batman.” You pressed a kiss on his cheek and as your face burned with a shy feeling that came from deep inside you, you left him there in your living room.
That night, you had the Batman sleeping on your couch. That night, you kissed his cheek.
That night altered your small crush into an even bigger one.
could we possibly have more Bruce x Pregnant Reader please? the domestic fluff of this trope tickles me in a way i yearn for. (ಥ_ಥ)
𐔌՞ ܸ.ˬ.ܸ՞𐦯 ──── relief .ᐟ
in which bruce provides just the right amount of relief!
( bruce wayne x pregnant!reader | fluff )
chubby speaks! : lmao someone in my inbox mentioned that i forgot to warn y'all that the reader was pregnant in my last bruce fic and it made me giggle mb!!
bruce was overprotective, you knew that from the moment you got involved with him—it all made sense when you learned of his story and especially when you learned that your some what normal boyfriend was actually the caped crusader that roamed the dangerous streets of gotham.
but when you became pregnant? oh it was a whole different ball game. if bruce had it his way you would never leave the bed until the day of the birth. yet you were restless, you needed to be active however you were nearing the end of your pregnancy and you desperately wanted to stay in bed.
but you were also petty and you didn’t want to prove him right.
so here you were, in the batcave, helping with files as your worrywart husband loomed over your shoulder. it didn’t matter where in the cave he was at—his eyes remanded on you. he cringed when you stood, winced when you hissed out in pain and he most definitely walked closely behind whenever you walked anywhere.
“almost done here mama?” he asked as he walked over to where you stood, waiting for some papers to finish printing. you just hummed, leaning your back against his chest—head resting on his shoulder.
“should be a couple more minutes” you yawned out. bruce watched as you shifted your weight from foot to foot as you tried to get comfortable with standing yet no relief ever came. so without much thought bruce wrapped his arms underneath your swollen belly and lifted your stomach.
you gasped in surprise, hands quickly shooting towards his wrist but instead of questioning what he was doing your body let out a shaky yet satisfied moan as the weight of your child had seemingly been passed on to bruce’s arms.
“holy” you breathed out “that feels amazing” he smiled, swaying the both of you from side to side as he held the weight of his world in his hands.
bruce would never admit that he learned of this technique due to a tik tok video dick had sent him the moment he had learned of your pregnancy but he was thankful nonetheless. especially since you seemed so relieved—he just wished he had done this way sooner.
“can we have brownies?” he laughed, a genuine laugh that came from the pit of his stomach “lets get you into bed and ill see what alfred could muster up”
Bruce Wayne is a lot of things. A billionaire, a philanthropist, one of the world’s smartest men, and a notorious playboy.
But he is also your boss… who you happen to sleep with from time to time.
You started working for Wayne Enterprises a few years ago, and took the position to be his executive assistant. As his assistant, you were there to schedule meetings, correspondence, and perform other administrative tasks. Bruce could count himself lucky to have you as his assistant because not only are you very professional and smart, but your main focus is also to help the company grow. But he could also count himself lucky because a beautiful, and smart woman like you was also sleeping with him behind closed doors.
And nobody fucks better than Bruce Wayne. He sure knows how to please a woman.
It was late at night, and everyone already went home after a long day at work.
Well, everyone except Bruce and you.
You were in his office, body half laying on his desk, your iPad still in your hands, and your skirt laying somewhere in this room.
“Go on sweetheart. Don’t let me stop you from doing your job.” Bruce said teasingly as his fingers slid beneath the damp fabric of your panties, and traced circles against your pulsing clit.
You held your head up and take a sharp breath before you start telling him about the meetings he has for next week.
“You have a meeting with Kord Industries on Tuesday-” you let out a sharp breath as you felt one finger slide inside your pussy. “Mhhhm, at two pm.”
The feeling of his fingers curling inward made you clench your thighs together slightly.
“Good. And why are they coming?” Bruce asked you mockingly.
“Just to get an update- fuck- on how the advanced research is going.”
You were trying your absolute best at staying concentrated but it was so hard. All you can think about is how good his fingers moved in a steady rhythm inside you. You shuddered under the touch as he swiped back and forth inside your pussy.
“Any other meetings I should know about?”
“Yes. A meeting with Ferris Aircraft is scheduled on-” you stopped talking as you felt Bruce slide in another finger, increasing the pressure as he flicked against the center of your pussy. “Fuck! Mr.Wayne."
Bruce lets out a small laugh, deeply amused with how you’re on the verge of falling apart with just his fingers. He’s not even fucking you properly, and you already feel overstimulated.
“Don’t stop talking sweetheart, tell me when the meeting is.” oh this cocky bastard…
“Mhmmm- it’s on friday. Five pm.”
“Yeah? Isn’t the gala on Friday at six?”
“No, it’s on saturday.”
“Perfect.”
Your walls were sucking in his thick fingers completely, and you felt how your legs were about to give up on you. You were helpless to the avalanche of your own needs, and you felt a coil of heat tightening deep in your belly.
“Bru- Mr.Wayne, fuck, I’m about to cum.” you cry out as the need to cum grows stronger with each time his fingers curl inside you.
“Stop calling me Mr.Wayne, and I’ll let you cum.” he replies calmly.
“Bruce, please.” you start begging at this point.
“Good girl, now make a mess all over my fingers, yeah?”
You let go completely, tumbling over the edge as you create a mess all over his fingers. A breathless gasp tore from your lips as your hips bucked into his fingers.
“You’re so beautiful like this.” you hear him whisper, and felt his lips leave a small kiss against your shoulder. The next thing you hear is the sound of his belt unbuckling. His pants fell down to the floor, quickly followed by his boxers.
His bricked cock that was shifting uncomfortably in his pants was now free. A gasp leaves your mouth as you felt his cock rubbing against your clit. His free hand braced against your hip, ready to push himself inside your wet pussy.
“Hold still princess.” he uttered before pushed his veiny cock inside your wet pussy.
You closed your eyes at the feeling of your walls trying to adjust to his size. Once he pushed his whole length inside your tight cunt, he started to move. The pace was careful, slow enough to draw out the tension before picking up the speed.
“You wanna hold the presentation for the–hmph- the Ferris Aircraft meeting?”
“Yes! Fuck yes, Mr.Wayne!” a low sound rumbled as he fucked you more urgent and desperately.
A moan left your lips as you felt a slap against your ass, the stinging pain immediately turning into pleasure. “What’s my name, mh?”
“Bruce, your name is Bruce Wayne.” you cried out.
A ragged breathing escaped Bruce’s mouth and the overwhelming physical heat consumed the both of you. Your back arched inward, and sharp gasps were punctuated the intensity of how his cock felt thursting deep inside you.
The iPad fell from your hands, and laid abandoned on his desk as you held onto the edge of his massive desk. His fingers trailed down your spine, raising a sudden rush of goosebumps.
Your overheated body shaked as Bruce kept thrusting deep and rough inside you. The feeling was so intoxicating, and so hazy… you’re sure that nobody could fuck you better than your boss.
“You’re doing such a good job, sweetheart.” you heard him say behind you, followed by a quiet moan. “Let me hear you, yeah? Struggle for me.”
“Bruceeee.” you whine out.
A loud groan escaped from Bruce as he felt you clenching around him, making it a little harder to push inside you.
“Such a mess for me.”
His pace quickened, each thrust driving you closer to your second orgasm. “Please, I need to cum.”
“Already?” Bruce shook his head. “I’ll let you cum -hmph- if you put another meeting for Thursday.”
“I will!”
“That’s my good girl. Now cum all over me.”
The pressure peaked, snapping the last thread of your restraint. Your body convulsed around him, earning a ragged groan from his throat. Bruce drove into you with a final thrust, and spilled his release into your pussy.
“Who do you have a meeting with on Thursday?” you ask him with curiosity in your voice. You can’t think of someone who is supposed to have a meeting with him.
Bruce sits down on his chair, pulling you by your waist, making you sit on his lap. The mixed fluid was leaking out of your pussy, and pooling on his thigh.
You immediately let your head rest against his chest, and you could hear how his heat was racing.
Bruce Wayne takes in a single mom and now watches her from out of the window of his home office every single day as she sits by the pool in a tiny bikini —
Took you long enough to feel comfortable to grab your own glass of water in the middle of the night, it’s essentially a pleasant surprise when he started catching you reading your book in the garden every so often—
You always make a fuss and a show out of explaining all your job and work opportunities and ventures to Bruce, as if to show him your active effort in looking for a position in your field, or maybe it’s just off season, but otherwise really youre stuck at home all day with nothing to do.
Alfred manages meals which by extension means you’re only ever picking groceries up, never actually shopping, and he finally managed to corral you into letting him take over summer camp drop-offs (never pickups) , as well, to give you ample opportunity… to do what? Continue doing nothing lest you end up leaving the house.
You raise your daughter good and well when she’s around, your day really starting the second she comes home, but there’s a good stretch of day you have to entertain yourself, by yourself. In a billionaire’s mansion, surrounded by a thousand non-related to you people who don’t really address you. So yeah, you end up soaking in the pool. On one of Gotham’s long, laggy and sweaty summer days? OooOf course. Lotion up the wazoo.
Feels silly to justify, but Bruce Wayne is all about analytics — he sees this, feels this with you, the tension, the vulnerability, the sharpness, still that exists in between your attraction. But he also just happens to be in perfect view of your mostly naked body at the ceramic edge of his glowing pool, in his very own backyard. I’ve lost myself in the fantasy here.
𑣲 Desc: After getting your hands on a small fortune worth of goods, Bruce follows you to see what you might be up to.
𑣲 Tags: Established Relationship!!, GN!Reader, Rogue!Reader, He calls you pretty, Bruce Wayne has stubble because I Like It That Way, Pathetic Bruce Wayne, Needy Bruce Wayne, Mentions of size difference, He's literally a brick house of a man, Bruce Wayne loves to spoil you, Bruce Wayne follows you home, Banter, Casual, Petnames; sweetheart, honey, This is probably OOC, Suggestive implications towards the end, Bruce Wayne likes having his hair pulled, idk how else to tag this
𑣲 Notes: Heyy I'm posting my first work everrr! If this post does even just vaguely okay I might make a nsfw 2nd part so yaaay!!! Emphasis on might bc i feel shy about these things (ヽ´ω`)
Creeping in the dark alleys of the less populated sides of town is hardly a fun way to spend your Saturday night.
You should be in a casino, betting your hard-earned cash. Maybe at the opera house, you heard they were selling tickets for cheap on opening night. Or perhaps, if all else failed, you should be indulging in the warm, buzzing company of a drink at the bar.
Instead you find yourself busy. Slipping from one shadow to the next, hugging each tight corner as you make an attempt to lose any potential enforcers on your trail. You've made a maze out of the city you love, it's become second nature by now. You're more familiar with complicated maps of back alleys than most law enforcers could fathom.
You know the city like the back of your hand. And although most getaways go without a hitch, the weather isn't always on your side.
It's raining.
Hard.
The smell of wet concrete muddles your sense of scent, and the constant shushing of falling rain on asphalt muffles your hearing. The combined problem forces you to rely more heavily on your sight, the only sense that remains sharp and unaffected by the harsh weather.
Unfortunately, depending on sight alone can only get you so far.
You're in the comfort of your own apartment now, having shed yourself of your gear— your mask discarded on the couch, your sleek knee pads forgotten nearby. You've done a good job at getting away without rising suspicion, and at staying mostly dry. In the rain it'd be hard to keep proper track of you anyway.
Under this belief, you stand calmly at the small island in the center of your kitchen, emptying your goodie bag atop the granite so you can start making note of your earnings. You haven't even started counting, but the layout on your counter looks promising enough, a satisfied little grin spreading easily across your face.
"What are you doing?" The rumble of a deep, gravely voice cuts through the delicate silence of your apartment. Familiar. But most importantly, coming from behind you.
However, you don't startle. You expected him.
You carefully place the pair of gemstone earrings you'd been assessing back on the counter— emerald, you're willing to guess. You're shameless, flaunting your findings as he interrogates you.
You shoot him a contented little smile over your shoulder as you turn on your heel, facing him properly. Your eyes land on his familiar silhouette— that dark, towering shadow that consumes all light. A black hole adorned with little ears.
"It wouldn't kill you to be a little more noisy, you know," you reply, hand lingering on the counter behind you. "You could've given me a heart attack. I don't think you would like to see me like that," you then claim in a show of dramaticism. But you soon turn your back towards him once again, with little care for his presence.
You left the lock to the balcony unlatched on your way in, a quick glance let you know that much. But you couldn't bring yourself to care when the surprise it brought in was this pleasant.
"That doesn't answer my question—" Bruce grumbles, taking a quiet step closer— "What are you doing?" He repeats himself, the furrow in his brow almost audible in his voice.
You lift your hands in false surrender. "I didn't steal, if that's what you're implying," you reply, shooting him another look over your shoulder. This time one of irritation.
"How did you get your hands on this, then?" He asks you, crossing his arms.
"Hmm..." you consider telling him, your irritated frown turning into an amused little smile just as easy as it had appeared. "Only if you promise to keep it a secret, okay?" You ask him in return for his cooperation, a barely disguised teasing lilt in your voice.
"Hm," Bruce gives a soft, short grunt in response, a near silent agreement of compliance.
You're going to be honest with him, just as you always are. But not without something in return, just as these exchanges always transpire. It's not like Bruce is awfully hard to bribe, he always seems to give in to you so easily.
Your lips press into a pouty frown as you turn towards him once more, this time leaning back against the counter.
"I didn't do anything," you defend yourself. "I've been keeping myself out of trouble, if you even care." You tilt your head ever so slightly to the side, leaving yourself open. Making yourself look vulnerable to silently draw him in.
And it works, as he takes another step forward. "I trust you are," he replies, voice laced with a nearly inaudible amount of softness.
"Mhm." you give a small nod of your head, pout replaced by a smile. A sweet, pretty little smile that falsely tells him you've done nothing wrong. "It's the rich folk— they don't know how to behave," you continue, voice taking on an oh-so-innocent tone. "You saw the news, right? How a fight broke out just outside the theater earlier?" You curiously ask, to which Bruce nods his head.
"Of course I heard of it," he replies, voice level. "I heard about it over the comms." He pulls his mask over his head, letting the hood fall back. "You know I have to stay informed on these kinds of things..." Bruce adds, running his fingers through his black hair. It's a futile attempt to make himself look less bedheaded, but the sight of his pretty face is enough to make your gaze soften anyway.
"Right, well..." you pause, drawing out the suspense. Bruce silently urges you to continue with a curious tilt of his own head. "I was there," you finally say, a Cheshire grin taking over your previous smile. "I stood silent in the shadows where no one would see me."
"What..." he trails off with a furrow of his brow. He hesitates to continue, already piecing together the story in his head. "What do you mean by that?" He asks. He's a star detective, but he hopes for your honesty regardless, blue gaze lowered to meet yours in something of a puppy-like fashion
"I waited for the scene to clear out, and it's like the heavens rewarded me for being so patient," you say, your hand blindly reaching and searching behind you.
"Pearls everywhere," you claim, fingers finally hooking onto one of the strings to dangle the evidence in front of him, creating an imaginary barrier in the space left between you.
"Jewlery, purses, wallets..." you list, though Bruce gives you a suspicious look on the last item. "I didn't take the wallets," you quickly correct his line of thought, brushing away his suspicion as quickly as it came.
"Mm, that's good at least," he hums his praise, though the admiration is only short-lived.
"I only took the cash in them, of course," you laugh, carelessly tossing the string of pearls somewhere onto the pile of goods behind you. They land with a troubling scattering sound, but you're not too concerned by it. "I'm not stupid enough to run away with someone's credit card, it's not worth the trouble." Even if the temptation is strong.
Retracting his precious praise, the muscle in his brow twitches once again. "You're a thief," Bruce accuses you, hands coming down to firmly rest on the edge of the counter at your sides, effectively caging you between his arms. You only shrug in return.
"Did anyone see you?" He asks. He's not trying to be imposing, never with you, but he can't keep to himself when you're so close.
"Would it be so bad?" You muse in return, a teasing whisper. His stubbled jaw tightens, and you decide it'd be for the best to change your answer. "No, Bruce. Nobody saw me," you deadpan, if only for the sake of his nerves.
He sighs in return, dipping his head to be more level with you, searching your expression.
"I don't like you putting yourself in harm's way over petty change," he rumbles, a small frown tugging at the corners of his lips. "I've told you already, sweetheart, if it's money you need, I—" hes cut short.
You press the palm of your hand over his mouth, brows pinched together and lips drawn into a tight line as you take offense to his offer. "Shower me in all the expensive gifts you want, but you'll see me dead before you ever see me asking for money," you stubbornly refute, upset at his suggestion.
After a brief silence, Bruce gives a small laugh, the forceful exhale of air brushing against the back of the hand still firmly clasped over his mouth. No matter how much he argues with you on this subject, you're never willing to accept his financial aid. His gifts, yes, but never the idea of asking him for money.
He pulls away from your hand, eyes crinkling as he makes an attempt to reassess the situation. "I don't do it to diminish your efforts, honey," he assures you in that gentle, bassy tone, warming you up from the inside out like a warm cup of coffee.
"I just hate having you on the streets scrambling for loose pearls when I can provide for you so easily..." he murmurs, inching closer, his steady breath mingling with yours. His desperation to be near you is palpable.
"It's not that easy," you give a small shake of your head, but you don't push him away, avoiding his direct gaze. "No money is easy money, Bruce. You should know that better than anyone else..." you explain, a theory you've reviewed a thousand times over with him.
"If I use this dirty money for good, it's like getting payback," you add. And although he doesn't entirely understand it, he respects it. He tries to keep an open mind for you.
"I know..." he nods his head in acknowledgement, seemingly agreeing with you. He takes your hand, still hovering near his face, and guides your palm towards his mouth once more. He presses soft kisses to the inside of your hand, eyes fluttering shut as he relishes in your warmth.
"God," he murmurs. His free hand shifts from the counter and lands on the small of your back, splayed wide. He pulls your hips flush against his, hoping to feel more of you— to feel just how real you are. "I'd keep you to all myself if I could," he says. "Safe and sound..." but it's merely wishful thinking, and he'd be a fool to think otherwise.
"You know I wouldn't let you..." you refute, body easily molding against his. Like a puzzle piece finding its missing neighbor.
Blue eyes open, gazing up at you from beneath dark lashes. It's soft the way he sees you, displaying only his unconditional affection. "I know..." he answers once again, a distant melancholy in his voice. But its quickly overshadowed.
"You have auch a bright mind," Bruce murmurs, settling your hand on his shoulder and leaning close to press a reverent kiss to your temple. "And you're so pretty..." he kisses the tip of your nose. "And your heart—" his hand travels up your arm, towards your chest— "It's in the right place, I know it is," he says, feeling each steady beat beneath his palm. "I won't bother you about this anymore, I promise..."
But you know that's not true. Because Bruce a man who believes blindly in the concept of recovery, and you can't help but be endeared by it even if it's not always right. "Okay," you agree nonetheless with a nod of your head. "Thank you..." Because you know he means well.
He doesn't ask any further about the valuables you stole, turning a blind eye to your misdeeds just as he always seems to do. Instead he simply changes the topic, having always been so skilled at leading conversation.
"You should be out enjoying your weekend, Honey," he suggests, fingertips finding the soft curve of your chin, holding your face steady for him. "There's no reason for you to cause trouble in the city when the weather's so... gloomy." He tilts your head upwards, angling his own to steal a kiss from you. It's a brief press of his lips, but it sends sharp currents of electricity down your spine.
"How else am I supposed to get my boyfriend's attention if not by inciting pity, hm?" You ask him, but you don't really mean it.
"Mm, but you know I don't pity you," he hums thoughtfully, thumb tracing soothing circles into your back. "Far from it," he adds. Though it's mostly because he knows he'd wake up to a slit throat if you ever sensed him looking down on you.
"Yeah?" You ask, voice low and breathy. Luring him in once more, getting him to lower his guard just a little more.
"Yeah..." he confirms, a small smile stretching across his lips. As charismatic as ever. "I couldn't come see you sooner, but I missed you so much," he rumbles, thumb tracing the soft curve of your bottom lip, hoping to feel them against his again. "I thought about you everyday, and I wanted to call you but it never seemed like a good time," he adds, hoping to explain his absence. Though, really, you've only spent a few days apart.
"I was starting to think you'd found someone else to pass the time with..." you say, lips pressing into the sad little frown you use to get your way.
"I wouldn't never do that," he promises, leaning further into you. Your back presses against the edge of the counter, with his hand acting as a barrier so it wont cause you discomfort. "Let me make it up to you— tell me how I can make it better," Bruce gently encourages.
The smile from before threatens to return to your lips, corners of your mouth subtly twitching upward. He's so willing to give in to your whims that you dont even have to try.
"I can think of one way you could make it up to me," you whisper. Your hands find his forearms, fingertips carefully tracing every seam and line of his suit. "Or maybe a couple..." They follow the curve of his biceps, fingers greedily spreading as they reach his sturdy shoulders. No matter who he's standing next to, he always looks so much bigger by comparison. It's truly wonderful to have such an imposing man wrapped around your finger.
"Mhm?" He breathes, joined by a near inaudible tremble of anticipation. "Like what? I'll make it happen for you," he offers more calmly, correcting his nervous slip of energy.
Wrapping your arms securely around his neck, you press your lips to his jaw. Every kiss is soft, feather-light as you trace a path towards his eager lips. However, you stop just short of his mouth.
You pull away, teasing him in denying him the pleasure of having you. Bruce merely groans in disappointment, and silently decides to take matters into his own hands.
"Expensive dinner, maybe a gift or two..." you begin, watching as he leans in to bridge the gap between you both. In response you simply turn your head away from him, forcing his kiss to land on your cheek rather than your lips. "Then we can drive around town in that fancy car of yours," you continue as though nothing had happened, looking up at him through lowered lashes.
"That doesn't sound too complicated," he muses in agreement, settling for nuzzling against your temple, happy to simply breathe in your scent— Warm skin and faint, lingering perfume. "Whatever you want..."
He's being so generous with his promises tonight.
You aren't a secret, your relationship is known to the public eye. Most media outlets have reported on it at least once, claiming you as a mystery partner with a face but no name. You don't mind it, especially when every outlet is singing your praises for keeping the famous Bruce Wayne so well behaved. If anything, it just means he's allowed to spoil you more openly. And you make sure to take advantage of it.
"Then..." you begin, drawing out each soft word just to keep him on edge. "If you're good— Only if you're really good..." your hand trails a little further upward, fingers threading through the soft hair at the nape of his neck. "After the date, we can book one of those gorgeous penthouse hotel suites and spend the night," you suggest. With his money of course.
"And then?" He asks, further lowering his head, nosing at the crook of your neck. You merely shake your head, fingers curling in his hair to give a gentle tug and pull him back in line. The pressure makes him groan.
"You only get to find out when we get there," you say, your voice an intimate little murmur. It sends pleasant shivers through his body.
"I'll be on my best behavior then..." he breathes.
