as a society, we need more long fiction where the reader haunts the narrative. yes, I want to be that dead wife at the beginning of each movie. if I disappear or die tragically, i want to haunt the character every moment. we don't need a few paragraphs about how much the character hurts over our death, we want at least 10k where it is established at the beginning of the story that reader is dead, we want to see flashbacks to the past when we were happy. the longer the story goes on, the darker they become, all the way to the present. I never want to leave the character alone.
If you know of any fic like this or are writing one, please recommend it! 🙏🏻🙏🏻
pairing - bruce wayne x fem!reader x clark kent
word count - 4.2K
summary - on an intergalactic mission, your partners are poisoned by a peculiar substance - sex pollen. they come crashing down into the night, chasing the only antidote they can find: you
warnings - 18+, sex pollen, established relationship, pwp, nasty smut, begging (and it's not from you) oral sex (fem! and male!receiving), handjob, unprotected penetrative sex, hair pulling, dirty talk, eye contact, everyone basically switches lol , two sufferers of huge dick syndrome, as yonce said "we be all night!"
can be read as a pt.2 to possessive or as a standalone
divider by @cafekitsune
the grandfather clock struck 12am in the wayne manor, chiming at the axis of the estate, signifying the early beginnings of a new day.
the building, which usually was hauntingly quiet, felt even more muted to you as you attempted to shrug off your nightgown; it was one of your anniversary gifts from bruce, one of hundreds, expensive and snug, to him it was perfect. clark loved it even more so as the colour illuminated your skin in the night, and its shadow sculpted your figure in a way that made him drool in his sleep.
by the grace of whoever controlled the universe, gotham was going through a heatwave. which was weird. the usual gloomy, wet and dark gotham was sticky with heat and had left the manor unremarkably tepid.
tepid enough for you to have spent the week planting fresh flowers, baking plenty batches of banana bred and sunbathing in the garden. it had been the most peaceful week you had in a long time, allowing relaxation to seep into your bones after months of hard work.
but tonight, conveniently, your lovers were not here.
it had still vexed you that the justice league whisked them away from you for a top secret mission off world.
the memory of hal jordan and barry allen wolf-whistling outside of your shared bedroom when the team had arrived was fresh, you could envision the sharp eyebrows clark and bruce raised in tandem as your sacred time had been made privy and discussed by the super heroes.
you were certain barry and hal would be stuck in the back seat of the space ship, if bruce had his way. he always did.
not many had known, but you and clark were able to bring a playful side to bruce that none had seen before. where he was stoic and cold with others, he always gave the two of you a small smile when you both made witty comments. he was soft and caring, always the one to check up carefully on clark after a brutal fight or even making sure you had your favourite herbal tea in stock. bruce was considerate, a great way to balance clark's brightness; the smallville boy who demanded his 9 kisses from the two of you at night and picked fresh roses straight from the plant as a gift.
the three of you acted as a trinity, always supporting each other and always loving one another.
they had both left lingering kisses on your lips after their mission debrief, leaving a zest of unspoken feelings in the air. you knew something was different about this mission but thought little of it upon their departure.
and so at times like these, when you were left alone to your thoughts, you missed them terribly, the silence driving you mad.
even alfred's absence was felt, you had given the butler the weekend off amidst the chaos of the looming heatwave; he left your favourite dinner in the refrigerator and muttered something about 'gotham weather being subpar to the english countryside.' typical.
with a sharp exhale you made the move back to your room, growing tired of your own wandering when a load crash was heard within the building. it echoed eerily and left a trail of goosebumps in your wake - it seemed to be coming from the cave.
the noise was enough to make you shiver in the heat whilst you slowly crept towards the noise. the hairs on your back rose with bubbling fear at the thought of an intruder.
you grabbed a sabre from the decorated wall and walked slowly towards the cave entrance, you knew if worse came to worse you could hold your own - clark and bruce had trained you for moments like these in the most extreme cases.
creeping further down into the catacombs, the commotion grew in volume, you heard muffled noises and...whimpering?
your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, thinking some bats had become injured in a rabid manner.
the batcave was in full view, a crater lay depressed in the floor and concrete was scattered far and wide.
you took in a deeper breath and stalked closer to the centre, raising the sword above your head and preparing for a sharp, clean swing.
with a sharp scream, you made the sabre oscillate down into the direction of the assailant, until all of a sudden a large hand gripped yours tightly, holding you in place.
"-hey! hey, stop, what are you doing? it's me!" clark whizzed into your view, gesturing you to put down the sword.
you froze in shock , not expecting one of your lovers to be making such a mess in the cave - plus, didn't alfred say they wouldn't be home for a few more days?
shaking your head you ran into his chest and squeezed him tightly, "you're here? i've missed you, i thought you were never going to come home!" he picked you up with one hand and tugged you deeper in an embrace. his hands felt dangerously possessive as they wandered to your lower back.
"we'd never leave you, sugar" with that your body stilled, clark never called you sugar - it was always baby, darling, honey, or something incredulously old fashioned and midwestern. that was clark after all.
pulling back in apprehension, you took a real look at clark. he was still in his suit and covered in the remnants of debris, but it was his physical appearance that really floored you.
clark was slightly panting, his skin was flushed to a pretty pink and a light sheen covered his brow with moisture. his lips looked an angry red, like as if he had been angrily kissi-
he placed you firm onto your feet when immediately your back clashed into something hard and thick, clark spun you round and you into contact with the dark knight.
he hovered over you like a corrupt figure, whispering noises that sounded like a corrupt prayer, his hands journeyed over to your face, his thumb finding your lip and tracing it. he was shaken. something was wrong. his cowl was gone and his face was bare in front of you, his pupils were dilated and blown out of proportion. he looked like he had been enchanted by a spell which he didn't know if he could wake up from.
bruce was quiet, there were light bruises on his face down to his neck, his suit hanging off of him as if he tried to rip it of; it felt like his presence was scattered across the hollow in mania, his atoms colliding and tearing apart at each millisecond. he mirrored clark in such a way that you almost missed it. their bodies swayed in the same fervid chorus, bruce's snarl matching clark's pout - but something was wrong.
his eyes carried the same look he held just before he'd take you and clark to bed and rock your world. wetness began to seep into you panties but you grit your teeth and pushed it aside.
"is he okay? clark, what happened? bruce is everything alright," you voice began to raise in worry until clark shushed your increasing worries, pressing his head into your neck - wait was he sniffing you?
"just some minor mishaps that a little water can't fix, right brucie," you noticed clark's words were slurring slightly, yet he was agile on his feet and not weary. you narrowed you eyes at him, ticking a box of your mental checklist: not kryptonite, but what else?
bruce whimpered again, tucking his head into your shoulder for comfort and his knees began to buckle. "we missed you." he had said it so quietly that you would have missed it, had it not been for clark wrapping his hands back on your waist.
bruce looked at you as if you were one of his cases that he needed to strip down piece by piece and penetrate with his mind and touch.
"clark," you puffed out to the kryptonian, "help me carry him to our room,"
misreading your demand, he rather enthusiastically picked the both of you up and flew up to the room.
in a flash, bruce's bedroom came into view, you noticed that the billionaire's whines were growing loader by the minute, so you placed him on the plush sofa, hoping it would offer some solace to the hero.
his breaths became even more choked out as you neared to peel his suit off, "shhhh, i'm here bruce, it's okay." both you and clark fought to strip away the armour, he mirrored clark's look: hair all tussled, cheeks flushed, and his lips? bursting in anger as it looked like he had been biting down on the skin in pain.
but his body. holy fuck.
you had always thought yourself lucky that you had been gifted, not one adonis, but two. where clark was soft, clean-shaven and polished to perfection, pecs beating to the rhythm of a drum, bruce was rugged in his masculinity, slightly hairy and covered in scars, which you spent countless nights kissing one by one.
bruce's erection poked out from his boxers, angry and unattended for, as it pulsed with rage in front of your eyes. bruce was begging to be claimed. and it was killing you
he mumbled words, moaning again in pain - you couldn't quite make it out - but what was clearly identifiable to was the large tent in bruce's pants that pulsed with heat.
with a gasp, you looked back up at him and immediately clark pressed his front into your back, his hard on pressing firmly into you, "the pollen's done a wonder on you, hasn't it brucie?," clark giggled as if he was on a substance and your head whipped to question him.
"pollen? what pollen?"
"the sex pollen!" he said so matter-of-factly, smirking as if you were on the outside of the world's greatest inside joke.
bruce shifted next to you, placing a heavy hand to the side of your cheek, managing to string out a sentence, "i-it was some sort of..." he took a deep breath, unbeknownst to you that he was inhaling your scent, attempting to make the fragrance bind to his bloodstream and overtake his senses, "...aphrodisiac. from a world cra-crawling with biohazardous plants."
clark cut in, placing his strong hands to your hips as if you were an anchor, "brucie and i volunteered to go down, then we were exposed, diana and j'onn were not happy, then brucie started to get feverish as we planned an emergency return back to earth-"
bruce's moans interrupted clark's ramblings, it was clear he was significantly more affected than the kryptonian, "is there any cure, i mean, is there anything we can do to help hi-"
clark rutted his hard-on into your core, making you let out an unanticipated moan which reverberated within the room, what stunned you was that clark moved one of his hands under your chin to look at bruce state. you noticed he had made work to remove his suit from his body and stood naked.
with the other, he picked your right hand up and used it to palm bruce's cock under the dense material of the boxers. nice and slow, tantalising, just the way he liked it.
it brought him a little relief, he collapsed further into your touch.
despite being so concerned for his health, you were a little turned on. heat began growing between your legs, you tried closing them but clark's large thighs prevented you from doing so, he parted them back open.
"isn't it clear?" clark kissed down your neck in such a sedated way, it felt like time itself was decelerating to clark's command, "the antidote is you, sugar." he began to nibble down on your earlobe as bruce's attention now perused your neck, all the way down your robe covered breasts.
he mumbled a pained "please," wanting a release that only his lovers could give him, "please."
"tell us if it's okay, please baby," you could feel his precum through his suit, the moisture making the room's temperature sizzle at an insane high.
you continued palming bruce and spun round to gaze at clark, "i want to help, let me help?" you offered above his lips and with that, clark's resolve had left and his lips grasped onto yours, tugging you forward and caressing your lower lip. you couldn't help but slide your tongue across his as lust had taken over your mind, it was if you welcomed the pollen into your circulation - placing all three of you at such a state of inebriation that you would need days to recover. clark bit your lip, making you gasp as his tongue slid further in your mouth to explore all the possibilities that this night could lead you. you began to notice the hint of mint and a woody tang that lingered on his lips, realising bruce and clark had spent their time travelling back to earth trying to alleviate the other's pain.
you pulled away from clark in surprise and turned back to give your attention to bruce; he was fully writhing on the couch and you cooed at him, "you're doing so good for us, aren't you brucie?" you pulled out his hard cock and began to nuzzle at the base. you knew bruce. the pollen was steadily tearing at his rationality. ye he was strong but you wanted him to lose all restraint.
clark began to kiss bruce silly, quieting his cries as you began to lick up the base of his cock, making sure hum over the underside vein that always made him short circuit; he shuddered and clark palmed your tit beside you as a gesture of consideration, when suddenly, you had an idea.
you pulled clark off of bruce and pushed them both into the cushions, despite their protests,
"baby what are you doing-"
"is everything okay-"
their breathless concerns fell on deaf ears when you began to stroke both of their cocks, at a pace that would have two respective gods fall at your knees.
your left hand caressed clark, in gentle strokes as you bowed to take bruce into your mouth, slobbering all over his cock and bobbing up and down at a steady pace. you traced your thumb over clark's sticky slit, whilst your throat touched bruce's base, small hairs brushing against your nose.
the pornographic moans that could be heard at the moment from the world's finest could be enough to send the world into paralysis: they were entirely at your mercy.
"you spent hours fucking each other on that ship huh? you removed yourself from bruce as your hands worked the two of them up, your tone teasing them to the edge, "clark fucked you silly, didn't he brucie?"
bruce tipped his head back onto the sofa, chasing what seemed like the fiftieth high today as clark nodded beside him, "went down on him three times; fucked him twice - still wasn't enough,' his voice faltered as you began to suckle him now, he was girthier than bruce (where he was long), yet you still refused to back down from the challenge.
"wanted-," bruce's voice was high-pitched, he was begging, "wanted you."
"hmm that's right," you could feel both of their build up with each passing minute as you stroked them harder, mouth alternating between the two.
they were so close to release, you could feel it, when-
they ripped themselves away from you, their cocks slapped their stomachs, still standing proud and irritated as they stood and moved towards you.
you feel the power balance in the bedroom tilt on it axis when bruce growled at you, snatching you up in his arms and throwing your ass over his shoulder, he gave you a hard spank on your rear, making you squeal in shock. clark flew closely behind, giving you a light kiss and taste of what was to come.
bruce flung you onto his bespoke desk, the one he worked on during the late hours of the night, shoving all his files, papers and collectibles to the floor in an indecent manner.
he dragged you down the edge by your ankles as you gazed up at the two of them and in a hurry they were both on you.
two pairs of hands cascaded all the way from your breasts, pinching and pulling your nipples at a pace that made you sigh hedonistically, squeezing your tits tightly in between your necklace, letting the symbol decorate your body sinfully. your expensive robe was now ripped to pieces - thanks to clark, "brucie'll buy you five more, baby."
clark gripped bruce's chin aggressively and turned the gothamite to make eye contact with him, "you're gonna take everything you need, okay brucie?" he shoved the gothamite to his knees, in front of your clothed pussy, bruce used his teeth to drag them down the apex of your thigh.
he pulled your legs apart as clark moved to place his cock between your mouth, beckoning for you to open your lips and take him in full, which you gladly did. he was so heavy and salty on your tongue it had your eyes rolling to the back of your head. bruce began attacking your clit, "let me drink," he murmured as his tongue flattened and licked long stripes on your pussy, making juices flow down into his mouth like an elixir. he pressed your thighs deep into the wood, cracks began to seep into the desk, etching the experience into time that no doubt bruce would have them permanently commissioned into his daily work life.
"good boy, brucie," clark began to grab your hair and pushed his cock deeper into your throat, careful not to hurt you, but enough to make his pleasure take control, "take everything you need."
bruce shoved two of his thick fingers into your opening, scissoring them in a motion that had a white heat building up in your lower pit; you sucked clark harder now, your hands fondling his balls in an effort to make him cum.
"just like that, don't sto- ohhh" clark's cum began to fill your mouth, you swallowed it all, refusing to break eye contact with the kryptonian, you coaxed his balls to give you everything he had. despite everything he was still painfully hard, however bruce's actions took over your interest as his tongue continued to bully your clit and fingers massaging that special spot. tears began to feel your eyes as the heat only grew larger, "fuck brucie feel so good!"
you cried out in ecstasy as fluids gushed out from you and all over the desk, bruce was desperately lapping up everything you had to give, his hair stuck to his forehead, his mouth covered in your sex, his eyes begging for more.
"such a good boy for us, brucie," you whispered out in encouragement as clark snatched your body up from bruce's grip flying you over to the window, your tits pressed to the screen; it left a cooling sensation to your body, your arched your back into clark as he grabbed his cock, rubbing it over your clit in such a delicious way.
he pressed his cock in to you and both of your cries only spurred bruce on from the corner, he was sat in his chair, studying the two of you, jerking off to the sounds of the wetness that decorated the domain.
"look at him, baby," clark positioned him deeper into you, enough to make you squeeze on his cock tightly, "he's so gone for you, your sight makes him feel so good," your head lolled to the side as bruce image was striking enough to make your eyes close and mewls grow in capacity, you could all but feel every single thick ridge, pulsing vein, and prodding mushroom tip from clark and it was already bringing you to another orgasm.
"you're so good for us, sweetheart, thank you, thank you thank you-" clark was losing his sanity at how your wetness was dripping down to the floor.
your second of the orgasm of the night came in a blaze, illuminating the both of you as clark pressed you harder into the window, grabbing at your ass, fucking you harder as his wanton moans matched the frequency of bruce's.
his come filled you just as fiercely, filling every crevice inside of you, "we're not done with you," he growled.
he grabbed you by the legs and carried you bridal style to the bed, placing you on all fours. bruce was no beneath you, his eyes now black, his mushroom tip swollen and his abs contracting in pain.
you glanced down and climbed on top of him, placing your hands flat on his chest, "gonna take care of you both, don't worry," bruce pulled you down by your necklace in a feverish kiss, marking you with his tongue, his hands squeezed your tits, making you all slick.
clark pulled you back on to him, hand brushing your neck as he kissed gently across your shoulder, bruce groaned from beneath you, grabbing his cock and filling you in an instant, "you're gonna me the both of us feel good, understand?" this was the most possessive, the most hungry he had seemed all night - the pollen's control over his senses was its zenith.
you sank down on his cock, welcoming the stretch, glad clark had already accommodated you earlier, it had been so long since they had fucked you.
you tried to close your eyes to bask in the moment but clark immediately pushed into you, you could feel them both all the way in your throat, "open your eyes," bruce demanded coldly, he and clark fucked you at such a wicked tempo that they were able to slide themselves off each other, taking turns to bully you into submission.
you normally didn't shrink under his gaze but now it made you feel on display, your whole soul being exhibited under the watch of your lovers, who fucked you deeper into the mattress, "you doing so good for us baby," clark kissed you, his tongue sliding messily across your lips, teeth crashing messily as bruce's fingers slipped down to your clit, setting off another edge you weren't sure you'd come back from.
"make me come, ah, you want to feel pleasure?" you questioned, demanded, as their hands controlled your hips, thrusting deeper into your cervix, "make me fucking come!"
you whined at a high pitch as clark faltered first, his seed spilling into you in hot spurts; that set off bruce's orgasm as he followed soon after, filling your pussy with his sex.
you collapsed onto the dark knight as they both slipped out of you, their cum coating your clit and dripping down your thighs, you were spent.
your body shifted as bruce stood to join clark at your back, instantaneously you felt a set of mouths stroking your clit, tears fell from your eyes, "this isn't finished" bruce voice was hoarse but still challenging.
it was going to be a long night.
***
it had been hours, the dawn beginning to break through the gotham skyline, bruce's bedroom lay wrecked.
sheets were ripped, the frames on his bed lay splintered, the smell of sex lingered in the air.
but he didn't care, the pollen was out of his system, he had spent the most euphoric moments with his lovers - he had everything he wanted.
you were now taking a bath in his en suite, you had done so much for them and would need all the energy you could get. clark sat behind you, using his laser eyes to light a choir of candles across the room, telling you humorous stories about their time away in space. you gently giggled as your hands were wrapped in his.
bruce, now cleaned up and clad in silk boxers, placed two chaste kisses on the both of your lips, always a man of very few words. he silently exited the room to make his way to the kitchen and bring back some supplies.
he moved to open the door and was met with the sight of alfred.
shit.
he opened his mouth and closed it again. it was like as if his father had caught him in the very act of sex.
alfred silently handed him a tray: berries lay in a china bowl, with french toast on a large plate and some herbal tea within a porcelain pot.
"for the master and miss," he stepped back and spun on his heel, though he paused for a fraction of a second, "though may i remind you, master bruce, not to mix business and pleasure. i have had to receive a rather cumbersome telegram from lady diana, during my sabbatical."
alfred gently tutted and moved down the hallway, out of sight.
bruce could do nothing but close his eyes, take a deep breath, and step backward towards the room.
you overheard a conversation Bruce had, making your feelings hurt, a lot.
english it’s not my first language so please be kind about it :’)
part two.
Bruce Wayne was cold as ice.
Your relationship with him was great. You’d get use to his shy behavior and lack of affection, but he, somehow filled your heart with love.
And you, indeed, showed him how beautiful love can be. You loved kissing all over his face, you loved their showers together and even the silent breakfast early in the morning. His little smile and hand squeezes were enough.
You’ve always accepted the idea of Bruce being a vigilante. Your love towards him was very much intense no matter how ridiculous his decisions were when it came to Batman, you hated the idea of him getting hurt o putting his life in danger, at the same time though, you knew he wouldn’t leave his late night activities.
So you didn’t have any other option, and just live with his decision.
You were his eyes when he leaved at night.
Bruce allowed Alfred follow his actions while he was patrolling Gotham, letting him help Bruce if he needed it.
And you’d also watched him all night through his contact lenses praying for his health, and of course Alfred behind you telling you to go to bed and wait for him. Most of all nights you accepted and wait for him in bed.
Not that night though.
The cave was cold and alone sending shivers down your spine while you were walking to Bruce’s computer. The cave was almost in silence lacking of Alfred’s presence, making you frown when you saw the big screen, it was Bruce’s vision.
Your eyes watched what he was seeing and your ears could hear a voice, a woman’s voice.
“Y/N, huh?” The voice was feminine, dark and warm. “Why you keep her if she’s annoying then?”
Selina.
“I didn’t say that,” Bruce’s voice was deep, and sharp.
“You said clingy, isn’t that the same thing?”
Somehow the air around you become more dense and cold, you felt your body paralyzed when you heard those words. Were you clingy?
Your eyes watched Selina’s face, her face was pretty and delicate, her eyes watched Bruce’s eyes with desire making youfeel your chest heavy every time your own eyes see their interaction.
“Selina…”
A small gasp came out your mouth when you heard that. Bruce’s voice was smooth —almost pleading— making your heart stop for a second. You gaze flicked to Selina eyes seeing how her owns travel to Bruce’s lips.
He never has sounded like that before, not around you.
“Please… let me take care of you, B” her seductive voice filled the cave making you feel sick and feeling your eyes getting wetter.
Before you could even get to watch more, you turned around to the elevator hearing only your heart pounding and your stomach aching. The jealousy feeling was overwhelming and making your chest hurt really bad you’d to grab it.
“Oh, Miss, I didn’t-” Alfred voice made you jump a little bit when you finally went out of the Cave. “Are you alright, Madam?
“Uhm…” The words didn’t come out of your mouth making Alfred look at you with preoccupation. “I just… I-I saw Bruce downstairs on the screen and I-”
“Oh, darling” Alfred grabbed your hand that was on your chest and smiled just a bit. “I told you not to worried about it. He’s fine, was he driving way too fast, wasn’t he?”
You looked at him and tried to smile. You could feel how your own eyes blinked many times to stop the tears to fall down your face. “Yeah… yeah, he was speeding… I got worried, that’s it”
“I’ll talk to him later.” Alfred squeezed your hand making you nod at him. “Try to sleep, I’ll make tea.”
Clingy was the word that repeated in your mind almost all the time. You were indeed a girl who loved to show your emotions, you were in love, for Gods sake, Bruce made you feel like no one else would.
You knew he wasn’t to affectionate towards you, but his little smiles were enough, his hands looking for yours under the table when both were out on public, his need to grab your tight every time, it was enough.
See him with Selina made you sick. You’d try your best to ignore the feeling but it was just too much to ignored it.
Even though Bruce was new at relationships, he knew something was off when you stopped give him bunch off kisses before he went on patrol. He has been busy, but he’d notice you suddenly change.
Until that particular night.
It was late at night when he came home. You’d hear his heavy footsteps walking up to the bedroom in which you were laying in bed only listening to the pouring rain.
Your back was facing the door and you close your eyes when you heard him open the door.
You felt your heart race but tried your best to fall asleep before he could talk to you, you’d felt your body relax and your eye lids getting heavy, the sounds Bruce make fading every time you breathed.
“Hey, baby”
You opened your eyes at his deep, quiet voice and blinked twice realizing you’d fall asleep.
Bruce was behind you, his nose was burried in your neck making you move your shoulders in a sleepish way. “Didn’t mean to wake you up,” He leaved little kisses on your neck making you fully open your eyes and tense and the sensation, you knew Bruce noticed. “You alright?” He asked, still smelling your neck and your hair.
“I’m just… sleepy” You murmured, still not facing him. Those kisses felt cold against your skin, you could only thinking about Selina.
“I missed you.” Bruce said feeling his hand gently touch your hip. “Is this your shirt?” He asks grabbing your own oversized t-shirt you used as a pajama. Not one of his. His question was full of confusion and you could hear a little disappointment coming out his mouth.
Why would you use your own clothes anyway?
You close your eyes feeling the knot in your throat, in other time, you’d feel excited and you’d not wait any time to turn around to him. This time though, your chest was filled with resentment.
“Bruce…” You whispered. “I’m tired, maybe other time” you shyly said feeling the tears in your eyes with the guilt filling your whole body.
It was the first time Bruce frown his eyebrows at your reaction. You’ve never ever rejected him before. Bruce could feel his heart sank at the way you grabbed the blankets to your body, your back still facing him, trying to sleep. Hoping it was a type of joke and you were about to turn around and laugh sweetly, climbing up to his lap and kiss him with the most sweet smile.
But you didn’t.
The bedroom never felt so cold and gelid, even with you on his bed.
synopsis: you were the voice in his ear, the shadow behind the screen, the one who stayed when the city chewed him up and spat him out. but you were never his. he was never yours.
word count: 1.2k
warnings: just angst </3
note: heavily inspired by the song of chappel roan, again english is NOT my first language so sorry if there are any mistakes! Again I used a pic of bale batman but you can imagine really any version of bruce you want. I enjoyed writing this little piece hope you enjoy reading 🤍
You and Bruce weren’t exactly in a relationship.
You didn’t know what you were, really. Partners in… crime? No, that wasn’t right.
You weren’t criminals, and you weren’t his equal in the field. You weren’t his lover, either, despite the nights spent tangled together in the dark.
You were just there. A presence in the cave, a voice in his ear. A necessity, maybe, but never something more.
It hadn’t always been like this.
You had been a detective in the GCPD, filling in for Gordon while he recovered from an injury—one he’d sustained on one of his evening patrols with Batman.
You hadn’t trusted the masked vigilante at first. A man dressed as a bat fighting crime in the dead of night? It all sounded ridiculous. Borderline insane.
And yet, somehow, he had proven you wrong.
He’d saved your life. You’d saved his. That had been the turning point, the moment when your worlds became entangled in a way you never anticipated.
He’d bled out in front of you, the infamous Bat crumbling to the floor, and in the frantic rush to keep him alive, you discovered the truth: Bruce Wayne was Batman.
At the time, it hadn’t even registered. The billionaire playboy façade was so far removed from the bleeding, broken man before you that it barely mattered.
All that mattered was keeping him breathing. You’d tried—and failed—to drive the Batmobile before fumbling for his phone and calling the only contact he had labeled as ‘Emergency.’
Alfred Pennyworth.
You hadn’t thought about the strangeness of it all until hours later, when Bruce was stable in the Batcave and you were left sitting in the cold, damp silence, staring at the cowl he had carelessly discarded.
That was how it started. How you became his.
Not in the way you wanted. Never in the way you wanted.
You were the voice in his ear, the one watching through the high-tech lenses embedded in his cowl, the one guiding him through the streets of Gotham from the shadows of the Batcave.
He never said it, but you knew he relied on you. Needed you, in a way. But not enough. Never enough.
Tonight had been like any other night.
Bruce had intercepted a mugging, left the thugs broken and whimpering in a dark alley, and now he was prowling through a warehouse rumored to be a hub of criminal activity.
You were in your usual seat, shrouded in dim light, eyes locked onto the monitors displaying his every move.
Then she appeared.
“Fancy seeing you here, Batman.”
The voice was unmistakable. Sharp, sultry, carrying the kind of confidence you could never quite master. The moment Bruce turned, his lenses scanned her features and displayed the name you already knew by heart.
Selina Kyle.
Catwoman.
Your stomach twisted as the sleek silhouette of her body came into view, wrapped in that infamous leather suit.
The pointed cat ears, the glint of mischief in her eyes—she was perfect, in a way that made you feel painfully ordinary.
Bruce grunted something in response, but you weren’t really listening. Your mind was caught in an endless loop, analyzing every interaction, every glance exchanged between them. You knew their history. Everyone did.
The bat and the cat.
She stepped closer.
Your breath caught.
You told yourself you were imagining it, that you were just seeing things through the distorted, blue-tinted lens of the cowl’s feed. But then it happened—
She kissed him.
It wasn’t a long, drawn-out affair. Just a brief press of lips. But it was enough.
You felt your chest tighten. A stupid, irrational reaction.
Pull yourself together.
You forced a breath out, clearing your throat as you leaned back in your chair, trying to appear casual. Trying to be casual.
“Well,” you said, feigning indifference. “Care to introduce me to your lady friend one day?”
Bruce barely spared you a glance. “She’s not my friend.”
“Oh.” You let out a humorless chuckle. “Then whatever she is.”
He didn’t respond. Just moved forward, deeper into the warehouse, his focus shifting back to the mission.
Your fingers clenched around the edge of the desk.
Right. The mission. That was all that mattered.
You swallowed down the bitterness rising in your throat and forced yourself back into the rhythm of things.
It should’ve been easy—you’d spent months perfecting the art of detachment, training yourself not to expect more than what Bruce was willing to give.
But something about tonight felt different.
The silence stretched between you, heavier than before. You spoke only when necessary, feeding him intel in clipped, mechanical sentences. And Bruce—Bruce noticed.
He always noticed.
The warehouse turned out to be a dead end. By the time dawn was creeping over the horizon, you were already halfway out the door, eager to escape before you did something stupid.
But then—
“Wait.”
You froze.
Bruce’s voice, still rough from the night, still filtered through the comms, stopped you dead in your tracks.
“Stay,” he said. Blunt. Direct.
And you knew what he meant.
You had done this dance before.
Batman was just a man, and men had needs. Carnal needs.
And when the weight of the city grew too heavy, when his demons clawed at his throat, he turned to you. Not out of love, not even out of affection, but because you were convenient.
And maybe, for a time, that had been enough.
But not anymore.
You closed your eyes, inhaling sharply. “No. Not tonight.”
A beat of silence.
Then—
“Maybe you can go find Selina.”
The words left your lips before you could stop them, laced with something sharp, something you couldn’t swallow down fast enough.
Bruce scoffed. Not angry, just exasperated.
“You need to let this go.” His voice was clipped, impatient, like he was reprimanding a child.
And that—that—was what did it.
Your jaw tightened. “Good night, Bruce.”
You didn’t wait for a response. You tore the earpiece out, slammed the monitor off, and grabbed your things with shaking hands. You were done.
Alfred met you at the entrance of the Batcave, ever the picture of quiet understanding.
His gaze flickered over your face, taking in the unshed tears clinging to your lashes, and in a rare show of restraint, he said nothing.
Because he knew.
Of course he knew.
You left without another word.
And when Bruce returned to the cave hours later, peeling off the cowl with the same stoic expression he always wore, Alfred was already waiting for him.
The older man said nothing at first. Just set down a cup of tea with deliberate slowness, watching as Bruce methodically stripped off his gear.
Then, finally—
“Was it worth it, sir?”
Bruce didn’t look up. “Don’t start, Alfred.”
But Alfred only sighed.
“I do wonder, Master Wayne… how many times must you push away the ones who truly care for you before you realize you’re running out of people to come back to?”
Bruce stiffened.
For a moment, the cave was silent.
“She was never mine to begin with.”
A pause. A flicker of something in his expression, something unreadable.
Alfred shook his head. “No, sir. But you were hers.”
he doesn’t check the clock — doesn’t have to. he knows the rhythm of your nights better than his own pulse. the soft scrape of the fire escape, the two flickers of your hallway lamp before it steadies. the shape of your shadow under the door, the tiny pause you always take before unlocking it. it’s embarrassing how well he knows. domestic. stupid. but he knows.
tonight, nothing. no flicker. no squeak. the apartment stays still. he tells himself it’s fine. that you only lost track of time, that maybe the train ran late. but he knows gotham too well — and worse, he knows you: soft‑hearted to a fault, stubborn in ways you don’t even see.
he tried to find you first. streets you cut through when it’s late, alleys near the store where you buy cat food, the back entrance of that diner you like when you can’t sleep. even checked the tracker— the one you teased and slightly fussed at him about because you swore you could take care of yourself— but the signal was dead.
so he ended up here. boots dripping rain on your thrift store rug, cape hanging heavy around his shoulders. the water pools, dark stains blooming into the worn fabric you picked out last spring. everything smells damp.
the apartment feels smaller without you in it. still. too still. your plants by the window, chipped mug half full on the table, your keys in the little ceramic dish. everything here but you.
he’s been here longer than he’ll ever admit. waiting, pacing, scanning for anything— a note, a text left open on your phone, something to tell him why you’re not home at the time you always are.
batman doesn’t panic. batman stays cold, focused. but bruce wayne, the part he keeps buried under the armor, feels it anyway. the panic biting under the calm, the what‑ifs playing out faster than he can stop them. gotham isn’t kind to soft things.
then he hears it.. footsteps in the hall, a familiar rustle against the door. his muscles tighten, he doesn’t let himself move yet, not until he’s sure.
the lock clicks and your silhouette fills the doorway— soaked hoodie, hair plastered to your face, your arms wrapped around something small and trembling. you look exhausted and out of breath, but alive.
he doesn’t realize he was holding his breath until it slips out, ragged. relief hits so hard it almost hurts. but relief never comes out gentle from him — it comes out sharp, rough.
you flinch when you see him, your eyes going wide— fear flashing across your face before it melts into something softer. “jesus, you scared me.”
“where were you?” it comes out harsher than he means and you shrink a little, shoulders curling in. he immediately hates himself for it, but the fear is still buzzing in his veins, and he can’t quite smooth it out.
“i—” you glance down at the kitten in your arms, gentle. “i was looking for him. he got out.” he steps closer, cape shifting around him, the shadows following.
“i waited,” he says, quieter now, but still edged. “you were gone longer than usual.” your brows knit, lashes dripping rainwater. “you… waited?”
he doesn’t answer to that. just looks — at the kitten, at your wet hair, at the faint tremor in your hands you probably don’t even notice “you shouldn’t go into places like that alone,” he grinds out. his jaw flexes, there’s more he wants to say.
“i know,” you murmur, voice thin. “i just… i couldn’t leave him.”
the rain outside fills the silence between you, soft and steady against the glass. your eyes meet his, something fragile and raw flickering there.
“next time,” he forces it out, voice cracking just enough to betray him. “call someone. don’t do that alone.”
“okay,” you breathe. quiet. barely there. the kitten mews, tucking closer into your chest. “you were really here the whole time?” you ask again, almost teasing, but your voice wavers at the end.
he hesitates. the truth sits heavy on his tongue. “yes.”
he doesn’t give you enough time for you to think about it before continuing. “go dry off,” he mutters, voice rough. “before you get sick.”
you nod, making your way to your bedroom. as you pass, you lean in just enough to press a small, fleeting kiss to the edge of his exposed cheek, barely brushing the damp cowl.
“thanks for caring, bat,” you whisper, soft and a little breathless.
you keep moving toward the bedroom without looking back.
he doesn’t say anything — just stands there, watching your shadow disappear down the hall. and for a moment, the apartment feels warm again… ♡
a world alone ➾ bruce makes his first public appearance since the memorial service, with you by his side (the dynamic between them is everything im sobbing)
warm ➾ (why can't this be me)
works by @house-of-kolchek
the darkness hides the truth
living a triple life
works by other amazing writers
right place, right time (series) by @devilfic ➾ you took the hippocratic oath. you swore to help those in need. you didn’t sign up for a man crawling through your apartment window bleeding to death, but you’ve unfortunately seen worse. surgeon!reader, secret identities, meet ugly but it’s kind of cute, vigilantes breaking into medical professionals’ houses but it’s not because they don’t heave health insurance, bruce wayne is a masochist. (AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!! THIS ? THIS? yes yes yes. It's so intense and brilliant shut up I love you for writing this)
surely, you'd burn the same (series) by @jangofctts ➾ reader works with gordon, is childhood friends with bruce, starts sex pollen trope! (one of my favorite battinson series ever, genuinely in love. I think I have read it like 5 times. the smut? the plot? the tension? the level of like wtf going on for the reader is just so perfect. absolutely adore this)
delicate by @psychedelic-ink ➾ “you’re the only thing I care about,” (sobbing)
like an animal by @imaginedisish ➾ sex pollen trope! after the riddler strikes again, he leaves some unusual clues behind for you and Bruce…including a strange green dust. (this HAS TO BE one of my favorite sex pollen trope fic ever. the plot? the tension? 1000/1000)
iron by @stargirlfics ➾ (this is probably one of the hottest bats fics out there, this had me on my knees)
are you upset? hot. by @athenalvss ➾ bruce has a weakness for his wife when she's angry, maybe he should make her angry more often. (hot, genuinely have read this 50 times)
i don't wanna be fucked like a slut and then discarded.
i wanna be fucked like you've never been loved before; i want to be used and folded and manhandled like i'm some sex doll you bought for cheap online. i want your eyes rolling back, your entire body flushed, tears pricking the surface of your eyes. i want you spent and overstimulated but unable to control yourself as your hips snap up into mine, because it feels so good, too good, and even though your vision is bordered in black, it's not enough to command your body to pull away.
you need it. you need it you need it you need it.
your thoughts are a mush in your head, melted into soup by the heat heavy in your cheeks. you can't string together a single coherent sentence. you barely know what's happening.
your mind is blank.
maybe you're even begging me to understand. "i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry. i'm so sorry. i'm sorry...."
see, if you fuck me like i'm a slut, the goal is to just get it out of your system. that can take five minutes. that's not enough for me.
