(Pt.1/2) Batman x fem!reader
★。・ 。・:・゚ : ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀ ᴛʜɪᴇꜰ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴀᴛᴀ ʙʀᴏᴋᴇʀ ᴡʜᴏ ᴛᴀʀɢᴇᴛꜱ ᴄᴏʀʀᴜᴘᴛ ᴇʟɪᴛᴇꜱ, ᴇxᴘᴏꜱɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ꜱᴇᴄʀᴇᴛꜱ ᴛᴏ ꜰᴜᴇʟ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀɢʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ʀᴇꜱɪꜱᴛᴀɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀ ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴛ. ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴡ, ɢᴏᴛʜᴀᴍ’ꜱ ᴅᴀʀᴋ ᴋɴɪɢʜᴛ ɪꜱ ʜᴜɴᴛɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ. ʏᴏᴜ ʟɪᴋᴇᴅ ᴛᴇᴀꜱɪɴɢ ʜɪᴍ, ᴘʀᴏᴠᴏᴋɪɴɢ ʜɪᴍ, ᴘᴜꜱʜɪɴɢ ʜɪꜱ ʙᴜᴛᴛᴏɴꜱ, ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ꜱʜɪꜰᴛ ɪɴ ʜɪꜱ ᴇxᴘʀᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅɪᴅɴ’ᴛ ʀᴇᴀʟɪᴢᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜱʜᴀʀᴘ ᴛᴏɴɢᴜᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ꜰɪɴᴀʟʟʏ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ʙᴀᴛᴍᴀɴ ʟᴏꜱᴇ ʜɪꜱ ᴘᴀᴛɪᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜ, ᴀɴᴅ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴜʟᴇꜱ.
⌒♥ ✧*:・゚: ᴀɢᴇ ɢᴀᴘ, ᴄʜɪʟᴅʜᴏᴏᴅ ᴛʀᴀᴜᴍᴀ, ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ, ꜱᴍᴜᴛ(ꜰ!ꜱᴜʙᴍɪꜱꜱɪᴠᴇ), ᴏʀᴀʟ ꜱᴇx (ꜰ! ʀᴇᴄᴇɪᴠɪɴɢ), ꜰɪɴɢᴇʀɪɴɢ, ʜᴀɴᴅᴄᴜꜰꜰ, (ꜰ!ɪɴᴇxᴘᴇʀɪᴇɴᴄᴇ)
ʜᴇʟʟᴏ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ! ★。・ 。・:・゚
ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴇꜱᴛ ɪɴ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ! ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴍʏ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴄᴀᴍᴇ ᴜᴘ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ɪᴅᴇᴀ ʏᴇꜱᴛᴇʀᴅᴀʏ, ꜱᴏ ɪᴛ ᴇɴᴅᴇᴅ ᴜᴘ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ʟᴏɴɢᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴘʟᴀɴɴᴇᴅ. ᴇɴɢʟɪꜱʜ ɪꜱɴ'ᴛ ᴍʏ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ, ꜱᴏ ɪᴛ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ʙᴇ ᴀ ʙɪᴛ ᴍᴇꜱꜱʏ (ʙᴜᴛ ɪ'ᴍ ᴜꜱɪɴɢ ᴛᴏᴏʟꜱ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇʟᴘ)! ɪ'ᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ɢʀᴇᴀᴛ ᴀᴛ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ꜱᴍᴜᴛ ᴅɪʀᴇᴄᴛʟʏ, ʙᴜᴛ ɪ’ʟʟ ᴅᴏ ᴍʏ ʙᴇꜱᴛ! ᴛʜᴀɴᴋꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ—ɪ’ᴍ ᴇxᴄɪᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ꜱʜᴀʀᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ! ⌒♥ ✧*:・゚
You glanced down at the unconscious man in the expensive suit, sprawled carelessly on the floor. In your hand was a small chip, no bigger than a thumbnail, its surface glinting faintly under the dim warehouse lights. Inside it held encrypted documents, confidential government files worth more than his life.
You twirled the chip between your fingers, satisfied.
Men like him were always the easiest. Flash a smile, play innocent, ask the right questions and they’d hand you their treasure like candy. None of them ever questioned why a beautiful woman would ask to meet in a place this deserted.
You barely gave him a second look.
Instead, you reached into your coat pocket and pulled out a single white lily. Carefully, you placed it on his chest. Attached was a small card, handwritten in graceful script: Truth never bleeds quietly.
Then you turned, melted into the shadows, and disappeared, just another ghost swallowed by the night in Gotham.
The name The Nocturne had become something of a whispered legend in recent weeks. A phantom thief, a shadow hacker, someone who could slip into the most secure systems of corporate giants and federal agencies without leaving a trace, except for stolen truths and broken silence.
And yes, that thief was you.
Twenty-five years old. Vanished from all records since the age of seven. You had no official name. No fingerprints. The government listed you as missing, dead, most likely.
Your parents had been murdered in front of you for attempting to expose a massive human trafficking network, one that stretched its roots deep into international power structures. You’d been forced into hiding ever since, raised by ghosts in the underbelly of the city—hackers, spies, criminals. You studied, watched, learned everything about systems, firewalls, social engineering, manipulation.
Science and code became your language. Survival became your only law.
Now, after more than a decade of gathering names and evidence, you’d finally started stealing.
You sold the data to underground revolutionaries, rogue journalists, resistance cells, anyone brave enough to burn the truth into light. Not for glory. Not for justice. Just for survival. A price for truth.
And in Gotham, that made you a problem.
A threat to national security.
But it wasn’t the police you feared.
Just thinking about him brought a smirk to your lips. You’d crossed paths with Batman a few times. Not many, but enough. Now you understood why criminals whispered his name with dread.
He was fast. Smart. Brutal. Relentless. A towering figure cloaked in matte black armor, a cape that swallowed the wind, a chest marked by the yellow bat sigil, sharp and proud like a warning. You never saw his full face. Just that tight, sculpted jaw and the eyes behind the cowl that burned with something cold. Calculating.
You liked to toy with him, to be honest.
Because why not? That's Batman! You flirted, teased, dropped cryptic lines that left him brooding in frustration. It was…fun. Dangerous, but fun. It was worth it to see that indifferent expression change a bit.
The glory dark knight of Gotham City. The one people are having faith in.
You’d thought about telling him once—just once-that what you were doing wasn’t just theft that it mattered. That it was bigger than you. But you knew his ties to Gordon, to the police, to the system.
You couldn’t trust anyone in that system. Not even him. You shook your head at the thought of the Dark Knight. It was fun, messing with him. Even if sometimes he scared the living hell out of you. But you didn’t really have the luxury of paying him too much attention.
Elsewhere, not long after your escape, in a dimly lit warehouse in Gotham’s Narrows, police officers stood around the collapsed body of a prominent politician. Spread across the floor were freshly printed documents, leaked files from a classified government server. More proof of the human trafficking ring now becoming impossible to deny.
A single white lily rested on the man’s chest.
Beneath it, a note. An elegant handwriting. New evidence from the thief.
Commissioner James Gordon stood in the rain just outside the crime scene. A brown fedora soaked by mist, the collar of his long trench coat pulled up against the wind. He lit his final cigarette of the night and stared at the scene in silence.
This was her mark. Her signature.
There were no prints. No footage. Nothing but a new note and same flower. The name he heard echoing more and more in the alleyways and precincts alike. The Nocturne has made her move again.
The rain hadn’t stopped. Gordon stood on the rooftop of the Gotham City Police Department, the skyline spread out before him like a crooked smile full of broken teeth. He took a slow drag from his cigarette, watching the thin red ember flare against the wind before he let the smoke drift up toward the clouds. The city below pulsed, too alive, too damned quiet.
Behind him, the wind shifted. Just slightly.
“She left another one,” Gordon said without turning. His voice was tired, clipped.
“Not just flower. This time with a calling card, handwriting”
He held out the small card, the edges damp but the ink still sharp.
Truth never bleeds quietly.
A low voice answered from behind him. Steady. Cold. “She’s not hiding anymore”
Batman stepped from the shadows, not arriving so much as materializing from the dark. Rain ran in silent lines down his cowl, his armor glistening faintly beneath the streetlamps. That yellow bat sigil burned like a warning on his chest.
Gordon sighed, rubbing at the bridge of his nose.
“These documents… they’re not just classified. They’re black-ops level. Clean-up teams are already swarming the Narrows. D.C. is furious. They want someone to blame”
He turned now, facing Batman fully.
Batman said nothing. His jaw tightened slightly, barely perceptible beneath the rain.
“You’ve crossed paths with her, haven’t you?”
His voice was low, almost reluctant.
“She’s fast. Smart. A chatterbox. Controlled. No violence unless necessary. Precise”
Gordon narrowed his eyes.
“That doesn’t sound like your average thief”
Batman looked away, eyes scanning the city below as if searching for something he couldn’t quite name.
“She’s not stealing for herself. Not completely. There's definitely something behind that”
“Then who for?” Gordon asked.
“That’s what I intend to find out”
The wind picked up. The city seemed to breathe beneath them. Gordon exhaled a cloud of smoke, watching it get torn apart by the wind.
He didn’t use the name often. Only when it mattered.
“This one… she’s not just another masked thief. There’s something else going on. The government’s acting nervous—too nervous”
“They’re hiding something”
Another long silence stretched between them. The kind that says more than words ever could. Then Batman turned away, stepping toward the edge of the rooftop.
“She’ll strike again soon”
Gordon raised an eyebrow.
“How do you know?” Batman looked over his shoulder, his voice barely above the rain.
“Because I’ve been watching her too”
And just like that, he vanished into the night. A shadow chasing a ghost. Or maybe something more than that.
You’d gone quiet for a while, not out of fear, not even caution. Just patience.
Every move had been mapped long before the city even realized it needed watching. You knew the names, the faces, the links. Who to start with, and who had to wait until the very end. And you waited, letting the noise of the last incident fade. A whole week of pretending to be a harmless civilian, melting into the background of a city too loud to notice.
You’d spent the last few days surveying Artnexts—a sleek, private tech conglomerate that had risen far too quickly for comfort. Wealth and prestige don’t just happen overnight in Gotham. Not without blood in the foundations. The CEO’s name had surfaced in whispers, tied to the same trafficking rings you’d started ripping apart piece by piece.
But tonight? Tonight was a gift.
Word in the underground was that Deathstroke had been hired to eliminate one of Gotham’s old-money families on the other side of town. High-profile. Loud. Which meant Batman would have no choice but to prioritize that chaos over you. He’d chase a bigger monster. He always did.
So while the city’s eyes were somewhere else, you climbed the rooftop of Artnexts.
One press of a button, and your virus took root. The firewalls folded open for you like an obedient pet.
You hummed under your breath, relaxed, eyes glinting as screen after screen flashed and surrendered their secrets. Blueprints. Trade logs. Offshore accounts. Incriminating emails dressed up in corporate gloss. You stole every byte with a calm smile. By the time they noticed the breach, you’d be long gone.
Another night. Another takedown.
And this one was almost too easy.
You moved with graceful ease, humming to yourself as you adjusted the delicate white lily on the rooftop ledge. The note you left fluttered softly in the night wind, anchored just enough not to blow away. Satisfied, you stepped back, your smile feline, elegant, about to vanish into the shadows like always.
A heavy gust of wind followed something, or someone, descending behind you with unmistakable force. The subtle scrape of boots on concrete. A sound no ordinary person would notice, but your body reacted before your mind did. Your breath hitched. Your pulse spiked.
You didn’t need to turn around to know.
You froze for a second, just a heartbeat. Then, slowly, purposefully, you turned, smile curling on your lips like silk. The city lights reflected off your eyes like embers.
“Well, well,” you purred, voice velvety. “Didn’t think you’d make it. I figured you’d be too busy babysitting Deathstroke tonight”
Batman didn’t answer. He stood about fifty feet away, cloaked in shadows, towering, silent. A specter in black. His cape billowed like wings, eyes glowing faintly beneath the cowl. He didn’t move, didn’t speak.
And you could feel it. That familiar, smoldering pressure, like his gaze was crawling under your skin, mapping every breath you took.
You tilted your head. “What? No dramatic speeches tonight?”
Still nothing. His silence was heavier than words.
You stepped forward slowly, hips swaying. “You’re quieter than usual. Did I finally leave you speechless, Bats?”
He finally spoke, voice low and gravel-edged. “You’re getting reckless"
You laughed softly. “You say that like it’s a bad thing"
“You left a calling card,” he said. “You never do that"
“Don’t.” That one word was curt. A warning. But not a refusal. Not really. You giggle then took another step forward, closing the gap with deliberate care.
"Why? Are you worried about me?" You smiled wildly as you walked closer to him "That's so sweet darling"
He didn’t move, but you saw the twitch in his jaw. A flicker. Barely there, but you saw it.
“I’m not worried,” he said finally, voice rough like gravel beneath steel. But you make a face, clearly don't believe him.
"Hmm, that's a bit heartbreaking"
He stepped forward at last—just one pace, but it changed everything. The shadows clung to him like armor, and yet you saw how his eyes tracked your every movement.
“You’re chaos,” he said, low. “I've been watching you, Nocturne”
The way he said it made your skin prickle.
You cocked a brow. “So you have been thinking about me"
Silence again. But it wasn’t the cold kind.
You took another step. Close enough now to feel the electric charge between your bodies, the heat radiating off his suit. Your voice dropped, silken and dark.
“I can be a very good girl too, you know…”
You leaned in, your breath ghosting near the edge of his cowl. “But only when someone makes me behave”
The muscles in his neck tensed. He didn’t touch you, of course he didn’t. But for a moment, it felt as if he might. And if he did... You knew damn well you would let him.
You weren’t proud of this strange obsession, this pull he had over you.
“You play a dangerous game,” he said.
“I don’t play,” you whispered. “Not unless I really want to”
Then you slipped behind him, letting your fingers trail through the space near his shoulder, but never quite touching. You paused behind him, voice low, teasing in his ear.
“We always knew how this would end. But some risks…”
You leaned just a breath closer.
In a blink, so fast it stole the breath from your lungs, his hand shot out and clamped around your upper arm. The grip wasn’t painful, not quite, but it was unyielding.
You flinched, only slightly, just before your smaller frame was yanked forward, colliding hard with the solid plane of his chest.
Your heels struck the floor sharply, the echo ricocheting off the walls. And then you were looking up, face level with his chest.
Even in your heeled boots, he towered over you. His silhouette loomed like a shadow you could never outrun, swallowing you whole.
“You think you’re the one in control here, do you?”
His voice was low, gravel-dark and laced with something more dangerous than threat. It brushed against your face.
You let out a soft laugh.
The space between your bodies no longer existed, no air.
Your lips tilted upward as you leaned in, close enough for your nose to graze the sharp shadow of his jaw beneath the edge of the cowl.
“You haven’t pushed me away yet… or am I imagining things?” you whispered, velvet-sweet, laced with fire. The taunt hung in the air between you, delicate and daring.
You could feel the tension coil in every muscle of his body, tight, controlled, like a predator barely restrained. Ready to strike. Ready to end this dance with teeth.
But something stopped him.
Batman always controlled the darkness.
“Don’t test my patience,” he growled, voice deep as thunder, the words vibrating against your skin. “I’m not the kind of man who plays these game without finishing them"
It was meant as a warning.
But it only made your smile deepen, rich with amusement, like you knew exactly what kind of fire you were playing with, and had every intention of getting burned.
“So why don’t we finish it then?”
Your voice came out as a low, silken tease, your lips curling into a soft, suggestive smile. Fingertips brushed the edge of his cape just for a moment. Then, in the next heartbeat, you leaned in as if to kiss him.
He didn’t pull away, not exactly. But his jaw clenched, tight enough that the vein in his neck flared against the skin. That was all you needed.
In that breathless second of hesitation, you struck.
Your free hand slipped into the seam of your bodysuit, retrieving a small, flat device no bigger than a coin. And before he could react, you pressed it against the armored slab of his chest.
A sharp jolt of electricity surged.
It wasn’t enough to knock him out, but just enough to stun, to lock up those muscles for a split second. Long enough.
You twisted, yanked your arm from his grip, and pivoted sharply. Two steps back. Then you were gone, vanishing into the shadowed rooftop.
His voice was a low, guttural snarl behind you.
You didn’t look back. But his frustration cracked through the silence like thunder—raw, unguarded. The kind of sound that made you grin.
Your boots hit the rooftop hard as you picked up speed. The heels barely slowed you down. You slipping through alleyways, leaping across crumbling rooftops and rusted pipes, ducking under low-hanging cables and billboards scorched by Gotham’s smog.
You couldn’t afford to let it end here.
You had work to finish, truths to reveal, monsters to unmask. No matter how fast your heart still thundered from the feel of his body against yours.
No matter how the scent of him still clung to your skin.
You told yourself you didn’t have time to get swept up in anything else.
A heavy thud landed on the rooftop behind you. Metal groaned.
The flutter of a cape slicing the air. The quiet but unmistakable weight of boots pounding across stone and steel.
You cursed under your breath, cutting left through an alley, launching yourself across a rooftop gap. You rolled mid-landing, sprang to your feet, only to freeze.
Batman dropped down in front of you from above.
You skidded to a halt, breath catching in your throat. Eyes widened, lips parted.
You turned on instinct to run but he moved faster. In a blur, his arm lashed out and caught you.
You snarled, twisting in his grasp, palms slamming against his armored chest. But he didn’t flinch.
His arms were steel, coiled around you with terrifying ease. You barely registered the shift of his weight before you were lifted effortlessly, and slung over his shoulder.
“Put me down! You asshole! Son of a bi—!”
You thrashed, cursed, kicked into the air, fists pounding his back, but he didn’t answer. He simply walked calmly, relentlessly back through the alley, back toward the city lights on the other side.
You were frustrated, and afraid.
For the first time, you’d been caught. Not just by him, but by anyone who had ever come after you.
You’d always slipped away before—vanishing through carefully laid plans and split-second decisions, your mind sharper than most and your instincts sharper still. Your ego was far too inflated to ever truly believe this day would come.
Now that it had, your thoughts were in complete disarray, clashing, spiraling. Pride, panic, disbelief… all colliding inside you at once.
And in that silence, there was something new. It wasn’t Batman's usual coldness. Not quite. It was something quieter, heavier, that you didn't notice.
By the time he reached the Batmobile, his sleek, jet-black beast of a machine, you were thrashing harder, fists pounding against his back in rising panic.
You know damn well where he would be taking you.
You didn’t expect what came next. Without warning, he threw you onto the hood of the car with ease.
Your body hit the cool metal with a soft thud, breath catching. Then, he was on you, his towering frame moving to cage you in, blocking the night and the city and everything else out.
“What- what? Still want that kiss?” You tried to sound flippant. Amused. But your voice wavered just slightly.
There was no amusement in his eyes.
“Shut up,” he growled, voice low, rough.
Before you could respond, his hands gripped your shoulder and waist, spinning you over effortlessly. Your front pressed flat against the car’s hood, the cold of it shocking against your skin. Then came his weight, pressing down, not crushing, but immovable. The strength of him was undeniable. Inescapable.
You struggled, furious now. But it was like trying to push against a wall of solid steel.
And then your wrists snapped behind your back, locked in cold steel.
“Seriously? Are you actually cuffing me?!”
You barely got the words out before he hauled you upright again, one strong arm around your waist. The car door hissed open, revealing the dim, amber-lit interior of the Batmobile. He tossed you in, not hard, but unceremoniously. You tumbled onto the leather passenger seat, your hair a wild mess, boots flailing before you scrambled upright again.
“Hey! You can’t do this! I never agreed to—!”
He climbed in after you, the door shutting behind him with a dull thud that seemed to silence the entire world.
The heat of him filled the space.
He reached over, tapping something on the control panel. But in the reflective surface of the windshield, your eyes locked, two storms colliding in silence.
“Did you really think you could outrun this?”
His voice was graveled, quiet, cold in that way only he could make feel like a threat and a promise at once. You were breathing hard, cheeks flushed, chest rising and falling rapidly from adrenaline, rage, and maybe something else.
“I don’t have time to be locked up, all right? Let me out of this car"
He didn’t answer at first. He just turned and looked at you, really looked.
And you could feel it. The way his gaze traced you, like he was memorizing the details he’d pretend later not to remember. His jaw clenched again. You saw it twitch beneath the cowl.
“You’re a thief,” he said simply.
“And what choice did I have?”
Your voice cracked, raw with something deeper.
“You think you know everything, but you don’t. You have no idea what I had to give up just to make it this far”
The silence after that was almost unbearable.
The space between you charged, thick, heavy with things neither of you could say.
You were in his world now.
Trapped inside his lines, within his reach, under his rules. And he was saying nothing.
He moved, hand hovering over the ignition, just enough to make you panic again.
You softened your voice, pleading, sweet now, instead of defiant. Hope it would change his mind(knowing damn well it’s not)
“Can you please let me go?"
“Come on, Bats, just this time…”
“Then at least take off the cuffs?”
The same tone. The same finality. You inhaled sharply, frustrated to the edge of screaming.
Then you turned your body toward him slowly, deliberately, letting your eyes linger on his silhouette. You didn’t look at the windscreen anymore. You looked at him. Dead-on. Voice low, teasing, laced with challenge.
“Oh? Or maybe the real reason you won’t let go" you paused "The reason you’ve got me locked like this is because you like it. You’re afraid that if you let me go, you won’t get to see me like this again”
He moved sharply, turning to face you fully, eyes narrowing under the cowl. The shadow over his expression deepened. That's not what he wanted, but still asked.
You tilted your head, eyes lifting to meet his, defiant, teasing.
“Like this. Tied up, helpless, with nothing left to do but to beg you”
You gave him a slow, wicked smile.
“You like seeing me restrained, don’t you?”
A low, involuntary growl rumbled from his throat. He leaned in, closer, so close you could feel the heat of his breath against your skin.
“You have no idea what you’re playing with,” he warned, voice rough like gravel in a firestorm.
“Oh, but I do…” You whispered back, the words dancing off your lips like a promise, “and I happen to like it"
You shrugged nonchalantly, then tilted your body toward him, despite your wrists still bound, refusing to retreat even as your heartbeat pounded like thunder beneath your ribs.
Now, there was barely a breath of space between your faces.
“Or… would you rather prove it to me?”
You tilted your chin, teasing, taunting. “That Batman really is as good as the they say"
You caught the faintest twitch in his expression, just a flicker, but enough.
His voice dropped to a rasp that vibrated through you. His large hand came down to grip your thigh through the tight leather, fingers pressing in hard like he was anchoring himself, holding back something wild.
You doubted he even realized what he was doing.
You smirked, lips curling at the corners with delicious mischief.
“I just want to know" you murmured, your eyes drifting deliberately downward. Down to where the black armor betrayed him. Hard edges swelling, straining against the fabric in ways you weren’t supposed to notice.
But you noticed. And you let your tongue sweep slowly across your lower lip.
“I want to know,” you said, voice soft “If every inch of the man behind the mask is just as hard and just as impressive as the they claims”
You grinned even wider “I really wanna know… is that really his kind of thing?"
At those words, everything he’d tried to restrain shattered into nothing.
He lunged over you in one swift motion, his weight pressing you down as his mouth crashed into yours without warning. The breath was knocked straight from your lungs.
One hand slid around your back, yanking you flush against him as he devoured you with a brutal kiss, fierce, consuming, and relentless.
No room left to breathe. No space to think. His breath burned hot against your lips as he growled the words between gritted teeth,
“Keep running your mouth and you’ll see what happens when I stop playing nice"
You gasped, breathless, lips still wet from the kiss. But your eyes gleamed, defiant. Mocking "So you're really into that kind of thing," you paused a bit.
“And here I was thinking that was you being serious"
A guttural sound tore from his throat. The next second, your back hit the seat hard.
His hand pinned you down, your clothes slipping slightly from one shoulder as you writhed beneath him. He didn’t wait this time. Didn’t pretend anymore.
He leaned down again, like a storm come to swallow you whole, and kissed you deeper, harder, tongue slipping past your lips to steal the taste he’d been craving all this time.
There was nothing tender about it. His mouth claimed you, commanded you. Every kiss a warning. A punishment.
And yet, instead of pushing him away, you found yourself giving in.
Your lips parting willingly to meet his.
Your body betraying you with the way it arched and moved beneath his touch, chasing the heat. His weight pressed fully into you now, and you felt it, the fire pulsing through his skin, the restraint slipping thread by thread.
“Still got something smart to say?”
His voice was quiet, but it rumbled low in his chest, a dangerous sound that made your heart trip in your chest. The hand that had been gripping your thigh so tightly began to roam slowly, almost reverently.
Fingertips trailing along the curves of your body like he was trying to memorize every inch by touch alone.
His breathing hitched, uneven, as if holding back was costing him everything.
And you, you weren’t much better.
But it was clear now, he was running out of control.
The soft clink of your wrists shifting against each other filled the air as you twisted them within the restraints. Somehow, the lack of freedom only made your body burn hotter. The scent of leather, sweat, and him, so uniquely him, saturated the car. It clung to your skin, to your breath. But none of it compared to the heat in his eyes.
He was looking at you like he wanted to devour you.
And then he moved again, leaning in to whisper against your ear, his voice a searing breath of flame.
“Then sit still and shut up"
You forgot to breathe for a second, thinking he’d actually stop. That maybe, just maybe, he was pulling away.
Somehow you didn't want that to happen.
“So that’s it? You’re scared?” you murmured, your voice trembling with mockery and something deeper “Afraid to take it further? I knew it, you really are all bark and no bite, Batman"
You thought those words would make him mad. You thought he’d back off, or hesitate.
But instead, they lit the fuse.
He snapped back around and kissed you again, so suddenly, so forcefully, it stole your breath. You whimpered into his mouth, caught off guard as his lips crushed yours with the weight of everything he’d been holding back. It was rough, heated, and hungry.
He kissed you like a man who had finally lost control.
It was as if he’d finally run out of patience for her sharp tongue.
You didn’t have time to catch your breath. His broad body slid between your thighs, claiming the space like it belonged to him. One of your legs was lifted, wrapped around his hips as his hand slid deliberately up your inner thigh, igniting every nerve it passed.
The heat was unbearable. And only growing stronger. You could feel it, your own arousal, warm and slick against the tight leather pressed between your thighs.
And yet, the way your body trembled beneath his touch said otherwise.
While you were still lost in the haze, his hand slid down, bold and unrelenting, pressing firmly against your soaked center.
Thick fingers moved with a brutal rhythm, circling, grinding, rubbing into you with no mercy.
A choked moan escaped your lips as your hips twisted in search of relief, but his other hand clamped around your waist, locking you in place.
He could feel how drenched you were through the thin leather.
And when he realized it, his fingers pressed down harder, deliberately rolling over your swollen clit again and again until the heat became unbearable.
Batman broke the kiss, finally, and you gasped, breathless, your head falling back against the seat.
You had been so close to unlocking the cuffs behind your back just moments ago, but now your arms dropped limp again, helpless, surrendering.
“B-Batman, wait- what are you...ah!”
His hand lingered against your core a beat longer. Then, without warning, both hands gripped the waistband of your skintight leather pants and ripped them down the middle with a vicious snarl. The sound echoed through the cabin. Loud. Raw. Brutal.
You gasped, eyes flying wide open as the sudden scrape of torn fabric stung against the sensitive skin below. You never imagined it would come to this. By now, panic was clearly flickering in your eyes.
“W–wait! What the hell are you...!?”
But darker now. Lower. Rough with tension. The seat jerked beneath you as he yanked the recline lever, flattening it all the way back, and you tensed, heart pounding, as you lifted your head, staring up at him in shock and breathless disbelief.
His voice was muffled against the heat between your thighs, but you heard every word, low, dark, and teasing.
You looked down, and there he was, face buried in the part of you that ached the most, where the wetness had already pooled, your wet pussy. His tongue, hot and relentless, traced every sensitive curve with wicked skill, drawing helpless sparks of pleasure through your body.
When he felt you jolt, he doubled down. His broad tongue pressing, licking, circling, focusing on that swollen spot until your moans trembled out of you. Your back arched involuntarily.
He was far too good at this.
Each flick of his tongue was practiced, confident. You had no doubt he was well-experienced. And yet, you weren’t prepared, could never be, for just how completely he was unraveling you.
His sharp eyes looked up through dark lashes, catching your expression. Your skin was dewy with sweat, lips parted and quivering, breath catching like you were holding back a sob. For just a second, his mouth curved into a crooked smile.
“S-Stop. You’re...You’re being greedy"
Your voice trembled, cracking like you were on the verge of tears, but your words only seemed to excite him further. Without hesitation, he plunged his tongue deeper.
The slick sounds filled the enclosed space of the car, mingling with your broken gasps and shaking breaths. You tried to twist away, but he pinned your hips down firmly, holding you in place like a prey.
You were twenty-five, but you’d never done this with someone before.
Your life had always been about survival. It's all about hiding, running, escaping. Not once had you let yourself imagine this kind of raw, intimate contact. And now, here you were, writhing beneath him like fire was licking through your veins.
Batman pulled away slightly when he noticed how you kept writhing beneath him like someone entirely inexperienced. He straightened up, gaze locked onto the beauty in your tear-glossed eyes.
Your face was damp with sweat, lips parted and trembling, slick with saliva. Your whole body trembled under his touch, flushed and vulnerable.
His jaw clenched. Fists tightening at his sides. It was the first time he had lost this much control, especially in the middle of a mission. With a swift motion, Batman tore off his gloves and let them fall soundlessly to the ground. You, dazed and breathless, barely registered what he was doing until his bare hand returned to the slick heat between your thighs.
“W- wait Batman, are you...”
“You haven’t come yet,” he said flatly.
The shameless honesty in his tone made your heart thud wildly in your chest, so much so that you missed the flicker of desire in his usually unreadable face.
“Don’t worry,” he murmured. “It’s not as big as mine"
He didn’t let you finish. Without warning, his thick fingers slid into your soaked entrance, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips. Your walls fluttered in response to the sudden intrusion, and he grit his teeth as he felt the heat clamp around him. His own arousal pulsed heavily beneath his suit.
You really were dangerously good at riling him up.
He didn’t rush at first. He let you feel him, drawing slow, deliberate motions in and out of you, as though giving you time to adjust. You couldn’t look away from the sight of his strong hand working you open, your breath coming in short, needy bursts.
But his patience didn’t last.
The slow rhythm turned feverish. His fingers thrust deeper, faster, and the abrupt change forced a cry from your throat. Your head fell back, hips lifting in search of more.
Your body clenched around him, drawing him in again and again. Teary-eyed, you looked up at the man above you, breath hitching.
A low sound rumbled in his chest.
Your voice trembled, pleading, breathless. Beneath the half-mask, your tear-streaked face painted a picture of helplessness that could’ve broken anyone’s heart. You looked like someone unfairly cornered. And yet, instead of showing mercy, he seemed perversely captivated by it.
His hand didn’t ease, it drove deeper, and you let out a choked sob, unable to stop yourself from flinching at the overwhelming sensation. When his touch angled just right against that unbearably sensitive spot deep inside, you jolted violently, half-rising just to clutch the hard armor covering his chest.
Somehow, you’d managed to slip off his handcuff without him realizing.
His next motion was deliberate, a rougher, sharper press against that vulnerable place, punishment disguised as pleasure.
“Batman! N-not there...please—”
Your protest cracked into a moan, your body betraying you.
“What happened to that sharp tongue of yours?” he murmured against your ear, voice low and dark, sending a shiver racing down your spine. “You had a lot to say a minute ago. And now you’re unshackling me behind my back?”
“I-I’m sorry…” you whimpered, trembling under him.
Each movement of his hand only made the tension in your core tighten. The sound of it wet, slick, indecent, echoed obscenely in the confined space, a cruel reminder that you were coming undone at the hands of the one who should’ve been your enemy.
And yet, it felt like the world was falling away.
You clenched around him, your body’s instinctive response to the wave that was cresting dangerously close now. Each time he found that exact spot, your walls tightened, hips arching helplessly as if trying to escape and chase the feeling all at once.
“Bat—I can’t...I’m close—”
Your hand reached up to cup the side of his jaw, needing to anchor yourself to something solid before everything inside you shattered. His eyes, so often hard and unreadable, met yours. And the sight of your dazed, tear-glossed expression made a deep, primal sound rumble from his chest.
The man above dipped his head and kissed you again deeply, fervently, without warning. His warm tongue tangled with yours, stealing your breath, even as his fingers below continued their merciless rhythm. If anything, he pushed harder, forcing your hips to buck up in response, chasing after the overwhelming pleasure without realizing it.
Batman let out a low sound in his throat, something between amusement and a groan at how horny you were, despite your inexperience. His tongue pressed and swirled, demanding more, until a sharp wave of sensation surged through you. Your hips jerked once, and a sudden heat flooded over his hand and onto the expensive leather seat beneath you.
Your cry was muffled, he didn’t break the kiss. If anything, he held your jaw more firmly, deepening the kiss further while keeping his fingers inside you, now still but possessive.
Only when he finally pulled away did you gasp for air, your breath ragged, your eyes glassy and dazed. He slowly withdrew his fingers from your trembling body, the sight of it making something dark flicker in his gaze.
Batman looked down at the aftermath with eyes that burned like coals, barely restraining whatever war raged within him. This wasn’t who he was. He never allowed things to go this far. And yet here he was.
“Batman…” you whispered his name, barely audible. He met your gaze, those piercing eyes catching yours.
“Well,” he murmured, his voice low, teasing, almost cruel, “now you know, don’t you? Was it worth the risk?”
There was something mocking in his tone, pride perhaps. Or a warning.
But instead of lying still, you reached for his free hand, the one slick with your warmth, and pulled it toward your lips. Slowly, deliberately, your tongue traced his fingers, tasting what lingered there. Your eyes never left his.
The sight of you, soft, flushed, and staring up at him like that sent a jolt through his body.
“You don't have to be so cruel to me”
The words were simple, harmless even. But they struck a nerve. Something about them lit a fire in him, an anger that flared without warning. Whatever the reason, it burned hot and fast.
The tall man jerked his hand back sharply and snatched up the pair of handcuffs you’d managed to undo. Without a word, he snapped them back into place around your wrists. He didn’t think you’d be able to slip out again. Not in your condition. You were barely able to move.
With a low grunt, he adjusted the seat carefully, making sure you wouldn’t fall over during the ride. Then, without another glance, he stalked back to the driver’s side, his jaw clenched tight. One broad hand gripped the steering wheel as the other reached for the ignition.
A soft buzz from the dashboard caught his eye. A message from Nightwing: “All clear on my end. Don’t worry"
He ground his teeth, biting back a curse. His gaze flicked to your motionless form slumped against the seat. You were unconscious now—utterly still. And it left him alone, with nothing but his seething thoughts for company.
Without hesitation, he turned the key. The engine growled to life, and the Batmobile slipped silently from the shadows, tires humming against the damp asphalt.
But it wasn’t the GCPD he was heading toward.
The streets blurred past, a familiar route guiding him to the Batcave. He drove without a word, jaw tense, eyes narrowed.
There was still too much he didn’t know about you.
And he was going to find out.