#batman x black!reader

[c-nstantine]

Things That Go Bump In The Night

Description: Vampire!Bruce Wayne fucks his maid

Warnings:Blood, Vampirism, Maid Costume, Cunnilingus

Word Count: 1.4k

Y/N knew the job was a little sketchy but who could say no to this kind of money, especially in Gotham? When she saw the advertisement put out by the housekeeper of the old Wayne Manor, she figured why not? Being paid $19 an hour for simply cleaning up the house was almost too good to be true. However, sometimes you gotta get it how you live it.

There were three rules that the housekeeper, Mr. Alfred, instilled upon Y/N during her acceptance of the job. The first of which is that she must leave before the sun sets every day. The second was that if the door was locked, leave it be. Finally, she must wear an oddly sexualized maid uniform. Y/N did question the last one but Mr. Alfred swore that it was the way it had always been.

Y/N had been working at Wayne Manor for about two weeks and nothing odd had happened. Of course, occasionally there would be an odd creak here and there but Y/N wrote that off as the house is old. She did feel like she was being watched but that was just the amount of paintings that were trapped in the home. One time she asked Alfred whatever happened to the Wayne family, and he responded with "Sometimes it feels like old Master Wayne still lurks around,".

That was an odd statement to Y/N but she continued her work nonetheless. She found herself in the library of the manor and there was something so serene about it. She began to dust book after book until she was sure that there was dust stuck in her fluffed-out afro, which made her regret wearing her out today. For some reason, she felt more tired than usual and thought about taking a nap. Mr. Alfred had already left for the evening and there were plenty hours of daylight left. A little nap wouldn't hurt.

"What are you doing here?" A deep voice said, startling Y/N from her nap. A tall pale man stood over her. He had eyes as blue as lightning that touched the ground and his black hair was messy.

"Who are you?" Y/N responded standing up next to the man. In the two weeks that she had been working, she had yet to see another person other than Alfred. She also had to pull the already short skirt down because it left nothing to be desired. Of course, this only caused her cleavage to spill out even more.

"I asked first," The man said looking her up and down. Y/N felt self-conscious under his gaze but the man was simply drinking her. His eyes trailed everything that the damn uniform didn't hide.

"I'm the maid that Mr. Alfred hired," She said wrapping her arms around herself. Once again she forced her cleavage to be more prominent.

"So, he does have good taste after all," The brooding man licked his lips at the sight of the woman by the fireplace light.

"Huh? Who are you?" She asked once more stepping back away from the man before her.

"Bruce Wayne," He said, stepping to her once again. He cared not for her personal space, after all, it was she who was in his home.

"The Waynes all died. Everyone in Gotham knows that," Y/N stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Then how am I standing right in front of you," Bruce pestered the younger woman. He could see the gears turning in her head.

"Are you a ghost?" In Y/N's defense, that was the most reasonable thing to assume with a creepy old house involved.

"No, I'm something better than a ghost. You smell nice," He leaned in next to her and sniffed just above her neck. Y/N found herself not being able to move.

"Excuse me?" This man was giving her whiplash. At first, he had seemed angry that she had been in his house after hours but now he seemed attracted to her.

"You smell nice. Virgin?" He asked, stepping closer to her once more. Y/N could no longer step back and was leaning against a shelf of the books that she had just cleaned.

"I guess it doesn't matter, you won't be after tonight," He spoke once more after Y/N didn't respond to the question.

"What are you talking about?" Her voice wavered. She was scared but something about him felt safe. She didn't like it.

"Do you want me to pretend that I can't smell you from here?" He whispered carefully. Y/N wanted to pretend that this entire situation wasn't turning her on. She squeezed her thighs together in hopes of something changing. Nor did she begin to question how this man could smell her arousal.

"Oh, sweet girl. Clenching those thick thighs doesn't hide the arousal," Bruce taunted and he forced his knee between her thighs to spread her legs. Y/N was almost a little too compliant with her actions but she wanted to see where this would go. Her skirt rose and just barely covered her panties.

"What do you want from me?" She asked as Bruce pressed himself against her. He didn't have the aura of someone trying to hurt her but rather please her.

"It's not what I want but what I can give you. I'll give you pleasure, but you'll have to do something for me later," Bruce was a bit ambiguous on the terms of the deal but that was his job in a way.

"Pleasure?" Y/N asked almost with a moan. If she didn't have any self-respect, she would've been riding that man's knee then and there.

"I will relieve that little ache between your legs. Just say 'yes'," He began to kiss down her chest and paused as he waited for her confirmation.

"Yes," Y/N sighed and the creature picked her up and bent her over the couch's arm that she was previously napping on.

"Good girl," He said as he yanked off her panties. There was a distinct ripping of the cotton fabric and Y/N whined. He simply hushed her while looking at his feast.

Y/N's stomach was pressed against the chair's arm as Bruce's tongue played with her clit. His tongue felt sharper than what she imagined and she swore she saw a fang earlier. Those notions were dropped from her mind when he spread her pussy lips to dive deeper inside of her. He continued to lick and prod while her pussy gripped nothing. He was having fun with this, she thought to herself. Bringing her to the first orgasm of the night, with nothing but his tongue.

"If your pussy tastes divine, I can't wait to see what your blood tastes like," Bruce said, giving a heavy smack to her ass. Y/N was too fucked out from her first orgasm to even comprehend the words that fell from his lips. She heard the dropping of his belt to the floor and the soft steps of him stepping out of his dress pants and underwear.

"I'll go slow for you since it is your first time. I make no guarantees for the future," Bruce said lining up his cock with her entrance. Just the head had gone in and Y/N was already moaning like a bitch in heat. Bruce simply chuckled. Her pussy was sucking him in but he remained strong and continued his strokes at a slow pace. That was until Y/N tried to push herself away from him.

"Good girls don't run from dick," He said while grabbing her hips. He held her in her place on the couch as he began to ram into her. Since she wanted to run, she would take all that he gave her. The echoes of skin slapping began to fill the library. Y/N never really thought about how she would lose her virginity but in a library by firelight sounded nice enough. Y/N's knees buckle and Bruce smirked as he continued to ram into her pussy. Y/N's moans were almost pornographic and the stimulation from his balls hitting her clit was what finally put her over the edge. Her eyes crossed for a second.

"Now, it's my turn," Bruce whispered. He sat Y/N up and she stood on shaky legs. Bruce pushed her afro out of the way and sniffed her neck. He bared his fangs and with a hiss, his teeth broke her skin and drank her blood. Y/N soon passed out and Bruce carried her up to his bed and left her there until she awoke, a new.

#x black!reader #black!reader #x black reader #black reader #bruce wayne x black!reader #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne smut #batman smut #batman x reader #bruce wayne x black reader #bruce wayne x black!batmom #batman x black reader #batman x black!reader

[blackcupidangel]

Things Batmom has said:

“Keep your father out of the kitchen, I’ll be back by morning.”

“We’ll if it isn’t the consequences of your own actions”

“It means you can either drive yourself home or I’ll have Alfred come get you.”

“Look at my handsome boys growing into fine gentlemen.”

“Stay safe, I love you”

“Eyes open, baby birds.”

“Alfred and I made food for the week, it’s in the fridge” *punch* “Your running shoes are on the left side of the closet” *kicks* “Make sure his project is done tonight, it’s due tomorrow.”

“I’m going to let you fix it, because if I fix it I’m going to jail.”

“It’s called,” she raises one fist “fuck around,” then she raises her other fist, “and find out.”

“You don’t even know me, you don’t even know my real name…” she leans in with harden eyes yet calm features, “I’m the fuckin boogie man”

“Do not play with me, I am not the one, two, or the three.”

“Don’t kill him.” //“I’m sorry but who’s the one tied up here?” //“Darling—“// “Because the way I see it, it’ll be in self defense.”

“Just one leg.” “No” “Both legs?” “No!” “You’re right….I’ll go for their kneecap.”

“So…you’ve chosen to disobey me.”

“Alright now…don’t write a check you can’t cash.”

“I’m sorry, what did you say? I couldn’t hear you because of your tone of voice.” She leans in with a hand cupping her ear to encourage a second chance.

“Do I look like booboo the fool?!”

“Brilliant.”

“As mad as I am, I can’t let you shoot him.”// “Just this once?” //“No.” //“I’ll go for the knees. Nothing vital.” //“Hhgh.”

“You really hit the nail on the head with that one Batman.”

“And WHO do you think you’re taking to?”

“Don’t tell your father.”

“Be home by 10, or I start looking windows.”

“I’m so very proud of you!”

“A girl’s gotta be prepared.”

“You know…about the whole guns thing, I’m still not so sure I feel as strongly as you do.”

“Way to go, Bruce.”

“Touch my child, I dare you. Make my day.”

“Ahh…Motherhood.”

—————————————————————————

Heyyyyyyy hotties I’m backkkkkkk. Send me asks and requests as I’m easing my way back into things. It might take me a while to find my flow and writing style so bear with me please. I missed you all so much honestly.

#batman imagine #batman x black!reader #batfamily x reader #black!batmom #black!reader #batfamily #batboys #batboys x batmom #bruce wayne imagine #batmom #bruce x reader #batkids #bruce wayne x poc!reader #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne x black!reader #bruce wayne x batmom #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #batman x you #batboys x reader #batman x reader #batman #batman x batmom #batfamily x batmom #batman x y/n #batboys x black!batmom #batfamily x black!reader #batboys x black!reader

[brownsugarwrites]

Bruce Wayne n sundress season😍just looking at you like👀👀👀 and plotting to fuck u up in the best way🤭

ok so yes!!!! you and bruce parent dick, jason and, time :3

You were seen packing the beach bag in the kitchen before you took the boys out for the day and you’re just distracting him.

He didnt think the dress would fit you THAT well. I mean when you saw it in the window at the mall of course he was gonna buy it! You’re his wife like its his duty as a husband to get you things.

Regardless when he came out of one of the boys room to see you fixing lunch he had to restrain himself. He quietly stood from behind the wall before making his presence know watching you make the sandwiches while some music could be heard coming from your phone.

All he wanted to do was bend you over the counter while lifting your dress up and pulling your panties to the side and-

"Bruce honey!!! I need your help" You would call for him clueless that he was standing just a few feet away

Making his way into the kitchen he made his way behind you to place a quick kiss on your neck

Giggling lightly you continued to bag the lunches

“Sweetie can you check on the boys for me?” you would ask turning to look at him with wide and excited eyes

Caressing your cheek he explained that Jason just got out the shower while Grayson was... being Grayson and the only one that was ready was Tim.

"That leaves us with some time to spare" he would hint at before trailing his hands down your plush thighs giving it a teasing squeeze feeling him brush up against you.

"Bruce the boys are just upstairs" you sighed feeling more kisses being placed on your neck

"It will be quick sweetheart just relax" he said in your ear before bunching up your dress before resting his hands on your hips and playing with the thin strings of your underwear

“Nun uh Bruce you say that every time. We promised the boys we’ll take them to the beach love” you said trying to fight away his kisses

“We still can baby. We have the whole day” he explain before moving your body back to his feeling the slight tent in his pants.

He was right. it was only 11:30 but you wanted to get back in time to make dinner

But as the kisses became more intense and his neediness turned into yours and you soon lost your restraint

Reaching into your panties his calloused fingers starting to play with your sensitive clit as he continued to kiss and suck along your neck teasingly.

"Cmon baby you gotta open up for me" he would say teasingly along your neck while hiking your leg up so he could pull your panties to the side.

Giving into his touch you mentally cursed to yourself.

"its gonna be quick" You thought/prayed to yourself

You guys went for two rounds on the counter and didnt leave the house till one pm.

#bruce wayne x black!reader #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x black reader #bruce wayne x black batmom #batman x reader #batman x black!reader

[funnyexel]

Imagine having Makeup Sex with Bruce Wayne

You’re married, he stupidly accuses you of cheating and after much resistance, you finally give in and fuck it out…

“I won’t forgive you easily.” You say sure of your resolve, how naïve of you.

——

“Its not coming off.” You whisper to him in the darkness, speaking about your bra.

“want me to rip it?” He breathes against you and you hum in compliance. The clasps a tearing to his inhumane grip, fabric ripping as well.

“here..” you mutter, “touch me here, please,” you beg him. Tears on the verge of falling from your frustration. Using his finger to lift your chin, he kisses you, his warm lips pressing against yours and increasing the ball of heat. Which blazes through your whole body, a ball of heat and want. Sneaking his hands to your hips, he helps you straddle his lap as his rough palms move over your soft and smooth thighs. The kiss was slow but your moments were hasty, needy, your hand messing up his naturally styled hair as your tongues intertwine in the most sinful dance ever. Trailing the kisses down your chin to your neck, you take a breath and bite back a moan.

“hurry up.” Your voice breaks with the demand, you wouldn’t be surprised if he clowned you the next morning for all the whimpering you’re doing. Before you give him anymore leeway to touch and tease your body more, you slide down his shorts. And he pulls your panties aside in response, ridiculing your hole and pushing two fingers inside.

“you’re…so wet.” He thickly swallows, holding your hips still as he pushes them in and out.

Taking his fingers out you for good he’s hard, using the wetness he collected on his fingers to lube himself up. It not only made his cock strain but it made him twitch in anticipation. Pushing yourself up, he lines himself up with your hole. Resting your hands on his shoulders and sliding down, you stretch out as you sit inch by delicious inch.

“m’slow, baby…slowly.” He lets out in a labored breath, the silhouette of his head leaning back on the headboard. He is always horny, he just controls himself majority of the time. And you, without fail coax him out of his composed nature, turning him into a man with instincts once he gets you alone.

“oh..fuck.” Your breath shudders, hips rocking against him. This is all he wants. You on top of him, moaning and cursing from the pleasure. It makes his night after he spent so many nights cumming in his hand, looking at your sleeping body and wishing it was your cunt. All his anger towards the world disappears when he’s inside you.

Your soft palms move to his hair, so you can pull him closer. Shoving his face in your breasts. Shrieks leaving your vocal cords every other moment when he would push himself into you, deeper than you could ever do without help. He hums, his eyes not leaving yours. Though you could barely stay focused on his eyes, he never stopped looking into yours. Sitting up on the bed as your knees sink in to better hold yourself up, his hand slithers up your back. Making you jerk forward, boxing him in against the headboard and your boobs. Your hands moving from his hair to the headboard.

He mumbles under you and even if you could hear him its just incoherent nonsense he spurs out when he’s pussy drunk. His mouth latching on your nipple and sucking, all the while he is thrusting into you at a shattering pace. You can’t help but roll your eyes, moaning with no restraint.

You try to laugh at how much he’s enjoying this but your face twists at the pulls and pinches happening in your cervix. Breathing his name lowly as you cry out for him.

“bruce, hm’..” Your nails scratch visible marks into the wooden board as you slam yourself down to his balls, squeezing tightly on his cock, relieving yourself. His grip on your hip tightened as he moans, your warmth, sounds and ability of your body overwhelming him. Flipping you feverishly, he huffs over you, a surprised high pitched hum leaving your lips. Hands digging into his shoulder as he rolls his hips into you, then snapping them harshly beginning a rogue pace. Moving one hand to the top of the headboard, you use it as a cushion for your head as you body gets pushed upward.

“hah…my- my head.” Words totally escape you. He grunts, gripping the backs of your thighs and moving you both lower on the bed.

“you’re…” he starts, “so fuckin’..” in between, “pretty..” every thrust. “oh my god-” The moonlight illuminates his shadowy figure nicely, you watch as he roughly grips at his roots. Grabbing one of your ankles, you jump at the suddenness of it but melt into it as he rests it on his shoulder. Doing the same to your other leg. Stopping his rhythm completely.

“what’s wrong..?” You squeak at the pull in your legs, a bit of shuffling going on.

“nothin’…hmph..oh.” He says abruptly starting again, purposely putting all of his body weight on you to mush you into a mating press. Now babble was leaving your lips, a mix of no’s and yes’s, stuttering and stumbling over simple words and most of all whining. So much whining, and sharp breaths.

“yes, m’little wife,” you deliriously smile at the name.

“sorry…sorry..sorry, please! fuck.” you shout mindlessly, your nails finding the nearest pillow to dig into.

“who’s my little wife,” he sighs, grinding into you.

“no..o-oh my..fuck!” you put one hand against his chest, your lungs burning from the strain and gummy walls aching around him.

“don’t make me ask again..” he mutters in your ear, enjoying you cracking under the intensity.

“please…” you beg him, “it’s me-” you recite, giving in, “fuck! it’s me,” you gasp.

“say it” he bathes in your hiss of pain when he bites lightly into your neck.

“i’m your little wife!” your leg shakes against his head and you couldn’t be more ignorant to the pain, “your wife,” you cried out, “just your wife!” to the top of your exhausted lungs.

“..’m gonna cum-“ he rasps, slamming into you, over and over. Whining and letting all the slutty noises leave his lips. Only focused on getting off. Opening your mouth to intake more air, your labored breathing fills the air along with your skin clapping together in applause and his cute whining. Your chest heating up at your bodies moving the bed back and forth. His intimate and broken moans being the start of the end to his barbaric speed. The strength of his strokes increasing.

“ah..oh..shit,” he recites in a chant, swallowing his access spit. His hips sputtering to a stop as a line of curses leave his lips. Hot fluid burning the insides of your body, shooting into you, moaning lowly at the feeling of his hot semen in your cunt. Heavy breathing mixing together in a song of sex. Looking down at your spent body, he takes in your fucked out look. He knows it hasn’t been long but by the looks of it, you won’t last another round. Lifting up off of you, he gives both your legs a rest as he places them down gently at either side of him. Keeping his hands on your thighs to feel the violent shake.

“y-you ass-h-hole.” you hate when you stutter but you honestly couldn’t help it.

Your hands go limp at your sides as you relax, hesitantly reaching down to feel his cum leaking out your plugged pussy and a wet spot on the bed. You’re too surprised and caught up in the fact that you squirted and didn’t notice that he dipped off the bed.

“you okay?” he asks, coming back, wiping your inner thighs and legs. Humming to him, you smile in content. Rolling you on your side, he spoons you.

“Isn’t the bed wet.” you croak and he shakes his head, telling you it was is shirt that’s wet. Lying in the pillows, your eyelids shut as a loud yawn escapes your lips. The exhaustion in your body not helping you ignore the immense butterflies swirling in your abdomen as he rocks you to sleep.

The burn of the morning sun shocks you out your slumber, rolling into open arms, you mush your head into his shoulder. Deep chuckles rumbling his chest as he ruffles the sheets, shielding you beneath his pile of flesh.

“mornin’..” he slurs, his head pounding from the night before.

“good morning.” you bathe in his raspy morning voice, eating up the way his eyes identify all your facial features from the curves and creases of your lips to each darling hair of your eyebrows as if they’ve changed overnight.

Tilting your head up, you force your eyes open, blinking a few times to clear the blur and find his lips. Once, twice, thrice and smiling into the last one.

“how’s your legs.” he smirks at your unamused face, already knowing the answer to his teasing statement.

“you must get off from getting a rise out of me.”

A/n : I literally can’t stop taking huge breaks and its so bad. I’m changing up my formatting for my works if you couldn’t tell. I also might be publishing a Brahms story but then again who knows…

more of my writing

#fanfiction #black fanfiction #y/n #black y/n #black girls matter #black girl magic #black women #smut #dc smut #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x black female reader #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne x fem!reader #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x y/n #batman x reader #batman x black!reader #batman #rich men in fiction #mmmm yes #fuck yes #yesdaddy

[apocalypse-shuffle]

BRUCE WAYNE | BATMAN (generalized canon)

────────────────────

────────────────────

“Staked Claim” (Bruce Wayne x Gn!Reader)

| Bruce and the Reader take stock of each other’s scars. That’s it, that’s the story.

| SFW, scar examination, poor expressions of emotion, fluff -vigilante!reader

| Pictures used are just for aesthetics and have no contextual meaning to the story. (Picture source: Batman V Superman: Dawn of Justice 2016 & Zack Snyder's Justice League 2021)

| 800+ words

The barely noticeable weight of the blanket shifts when you move under it. Soft cost-more-than-most-people’s-rent sheets gliding against your skin.

The muscles in your arm ache in tandem with you reaching up to rest your palm flat against the warmth of the owner of the bed you’re in.

“What about this one?”

You watch, genuinely taken for a second, the hairs on his arm stand at the feeling of your breath ghosting across his bicep.

He doesn’t waste a beat before he answers.

“Firefly,” rumbles right after you ask. Of course. Why would he need to think that hard about the marks on his person? They might not actively be on his mind but it’d be hard to forget a memory that’s physically staked its claim on your body.

Firefly made sense though. The scar tissue was as erratically placed as the pyromaniac’s own personality. It also, like many of his scars, has the added bonus of looking twice healed over. Considering Bruce’s clear allergen to sitting idle that doesn’t surprise you.

“Why the sudden interest?”

Laying on your side you shrug with the shoulder not attached to the arm you have braced on the bed. Bruce’s eyes have sparked with a level of interest that you’ve figured out means he’s reading you. Or trying to at least.

“I mean, there’s a lot. Why? You don’t want me to be curious?”

“Most people refrain from asking questions.”

The wry lilt he takes on has you scoffing while you drag your free hand down to his abdomen. The area’s so tense that when you push down the muscles stubbornly refuse to give.

“Most people are scared of hurting your feelings.”

“My feelings?” he grunts.

You sigh out an agreeing “Uh huh,” and press down more incessantly with your fingers. Still no give but you know he gets the message when he forces himself to relax with a heavy exhale. You grin. “Not that I don’t care about your feelings, of course. I just know that if you didn’t want to talk you wouldn’t.”

If you were a different person now would probably be the moment you’d lean in to brush a kiss to the pink tissue left behind from the burn, show Bruce the little bit of kindness he doesn’t often get. As it stands you only hum, hand already moving to the next mark. Already searching for another answer, brown skin stark against Bruce’s deathly pale.

As usual Bruce indulged you.

“You’re looking for yours.”

It’s not a question. You answer him like he’d posed one anyway.

“No,” you say, but when he grabs your hand - hard earned calluses rubbing against your own similarly worn skin - you don’t stop him.

The scarred patch of skin he directs you to is on the other side of his torso, out of sight from your angle, and when your fingers brush up against it you don’t hesitate to laugh. An amused puff of air hits cool skin and Bruce shivers minutely at your warmth.

You croon lowly at him and press a kiss over the spot on his chest your breath hit. Only when he lets out a grumble of a sigh, relaxing just that much more into the bed, do you press more firmly against the knot beneath your fingers.

“This was the poison arrowhead too, wasn’t it?”

Bruce doesn’t even react in any major way, just gives you an exasperated, even slightly amused look.

“If I’m remembering constantly having to reopen the wound to flush it out correctly, then yes.”

Another grin pulls at your lips, you move your head to press another lingering kiss to the side of his neck. It’s not an apology.

“Glad I could make a lasting impression,” you say and Bruce chuckles like that was at all a sane response in the way only someone else who went around the world doing what you both did would understand.

From where his left arm is wrapped around your waist Bruce slides his fingers low and then slides them backwards until the pads of his fingers make contact with a thick line of matted skin. He caresses his physical claim on you with his own brand of tenderness.

It’s your turn to shiver then. You can feel how Bruce smiles against your head; fingers pressing down more firmly on the scar.

“Batarang,” he whispers in your ear. He noses at your hairline and presses a kiss on your temple next and it’s all you can do to keep quiet.

That peace can only last for so long once your gazes meet.

Simultaneously the two of you burst into quiet breathless laughter, curling into each other’s spaces and bodies slotting into one another like you were cut from the same cloth then mercilessly separated but had finally, miraculously, found each other again.

Palm curling almost protectively over that mess of destroyed tissue on his pelvis - your mark - you smile the realist smile you have in months, lungs aching with laughter and a comfortable warmth settling just under your skin.

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!!

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it! this is a sideblog tho so I won’t respond.

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[neonovember]

Do they know you’re with me?

pairings: battinson x fem!reader

summary: this city always found a way to take another part of bruce, until all that was left of him was Batman. But taking you? Now that was just downright stupid.

warnings: very graphic displays of violence, feral!bruce wayne, misogyny, assault, fluff, angst, literal murder

word count: 4.9k

a/n: watched batman for the second time and decided to dip my feet into the seeping black oil spill that is bruce wayne and his fucked up morals. + you end up driving the fucking batMOBILE

You don’t remember how you found yourself sprawled on the floor of a rotting warehouse 20 miles from the inner city streets of Gotham, all you can do is feel the brick stones beneath the weight of your body, scratchy and old, crumbling beneath the grip of your fingers.

The slits of sunlight that cast shadows across the floor look like mirages. The fuzzy edges of your vision not quite clearing despite your desperate blinks. You want Bruce, you want him now.

You scrawl to the bordered-off windows, stuffing fingers into the space between the pieces of bordered wood, trying to pry them open, you’re exhausted, you don’t know why, your entire body is just aching, your limbs limp and feeble, sore from an exertion you have no memory of. The thought makes you shudder unconsciously, why is it so hard to remember?

Your mind is a collection of big black oil spills, they spread, when you try harder to think back to hours before. You don’t like this, god, everything fucking hurts

You continue this limp pathetic excuse of an escape, eyes burning with tears as the wood refuses to budge, the flashes of Bruce teaching you self-defence engulf your mind.The smell of old rubber, your complaining and his gruff condescension clambering on the gym floor as he taught you a left hook, how to twist under an assailant, how to fight smart instead of hard, how to knock a 200lb man unconscious- it all falls flat now, settles on the floor amongst the rotting moss and burrowed insects, what a fucking joke.

You can’t help but feel the discerning glare on Bruce’s face at this moment, watching you stifle as if you hadn’t spent weeks together preparing for this exact moment.

You’re pathetic, he’s wasted air and time on you. The image of his face pulls the tears on your waterline down your cheeks, and you collapse against the warehouse walls as you crumble. You relish the burn of your nails digging into your palm, letting the burn radiate through your hand as you roughly hit your head against the moist rotting stone.

This was it, the last of your name left to rot next to wet hay and dust, all you’ve worked for, all you’ve done, swept away and taken with the autumn wind. You know it’s horrible but isn’t this such a pathetic way to die? Not in combat, the blood and dirt of your struggle signifying your sacrifice, but because you were weak, brittle and foolish like your father had always said.

You stuff a fist into your mouth, reprimanding yourself, you will die, you will get your head spilt on this floor if you don’t get up, right fucking now. Forcing back the guttural groan back into the ribs of your chest, you survey the damp warehouse for any way out, and your eyes catch the glint sparkling against the rays of the rising sun.

Metal, something hard, something you can use to pry open blanks. It might be oxidising into rusted dust in the seconds that pass but it’s something, and that’s good.

Staggering towards it, you hold your weight against the warehouse walls, practically hopping with your one good foot towards the sledgehammer. You grasp the metal into your weak fist, and relief washes over you as the weight of it reassures some real damage.

Your eyes catch the bordered wooden door, secured with a padlock drilled into the metal bars, this warehouse is left to its mere skeleton, the metal rotting as peaks of asbestos break free.

Trying to be as quiet as possible, you shuffle your body towards the door, crouching closer to inspect the latch, your ears catch rambunctious laughter and the crash of bottles far to the right of the rotting warehouse. Your assumed assailants celebrating your capture perhaps, you shudder as you recall your unconsciousness moments ago. What else had they done to you?

Bringing the heavy hammer down into the padlock, the dust from the door flutters to the floor. You pause as you await the sounds of boots running to ensure your capture again, but it does not come. The laughter and boom of their festivities conceal your escape.

Giving the padlock two more hits, it finally gives way, cracking through the metal as you rip it from the door handle. You breathe through your nose as you take a tentative step forward, slipping through the gap you’ve forced open.

It takes a second for your eyes to adjust to the pitch-black darkness that surrounds you, and soon you realise the warehouse is much bigger than you thought. Rows of brimstone columns hold up the rows of metal fixtures, slits of moonlight filter through the expansive window roof, the stench of old machinery and dye hinting to a possibly old fabric factory. You don’t want to consider how those big machines could be used against you, the idea pushed back down in your mind.

Shuffling forward, you catch the shadowy burst of light coming from your right, licks of orange and yellow crawling up the decrepit walls. A fire of some sort, surrounded by your assailants casts shadowy figures that seem huge and monstrous.

You begin searching for an escape, a latched window you could force open, some hole in the wall, anything. You come up empty, the towering walls looking down on you almost sealing your fate. You’re at the hands of these men to do as they would like, and for a moment you’d wish you’d listen to Bruce and let him attach that tracking device on your watch, violating or not.

You press your fingertips to your eyes as you try to think, the only plausible chance of escape is to move closer to the right wing of the warehouse and slip past their drunken state whilst their guard is let down.

Pressing your back to the wall, you venture forth, pressing forward with the tips of your toes as your sneakers squeak against the dirt floor. Making a turn your feet crash into a wayward liquor bottle, the glass chattering beneath your feet. You wince as you hear the men stop their guffawing at the sound, ears picking up your mistake. 

“What the fuck was that?” You hear the gruff throaty sound of someone yelling.

“No idea, ya sure you kept our girl locked and tied??” Another replies, you have to keep from retching at the sound of them referring to you as “their girl”. The way their slimy mouths wrapped around the word had you sick.

“Don’t fucking tell me you forgot rookie, or else you’ll fuckin join her ass” The man from before argues, anger riddling his tone.

“Hey! Relax aight? He padlocked that shit, there ain’t no way she’s getting through it. So sit the fuck back down Daroll, it’s probably some fuckin’ rat. You know how this city is, with all its fucking filth clogging the streets, turning those animals into the size of goddamn cats” The man replies, in a calm tone. He seems to be the ring leader of sorts, the rest of the men falling in line and replying in unison.

“At least now we’ve got Bruce Wayne’s girl tied back there, this time we’ll get our goddamn compensation from this city. I’ll make sure of it” The man replies.

You shiver as they refer to you as some sort of bargaining chip like Bruce would send millions in a briefcase in return for your safety. You don’t doubt that he would, but the thought scares you to no end. If this played out how they wished for it, what would stop any common thief from snagging you off the streets of Gotham in return for their “reparations”?

Bruce had to set an example, and you don’t doubt the events that would follow would be a bloody mess of fists and broken bones. You can’t help it, but something deep within you preens at the thought, Bruce, clad in his dark element, falling over the assailants like a spreading darkness.

But the fear of being left to rot in some warehouse on the docks of Bleak island is still there, and who’s to say Bruce would even find you? Your body, left in an unmarked grave once they got what they wanted, or better yet, thrown into the city’s river to be used as fish bate.

“Bruce fucking Wayne, man if there’s one name I hate in this goddamn city. Shit, you can barely escape it from the way they’ve plastered his face on every inch of Gotham” A man says

“Ya know the news outlets, always love a fucking sob story, actin’ as if families don’t get massacred by us daily” The man laughs, and they soon join him, falling back into the harmony of throwing back beer bottles and throwing knives at rats scurrying away.

Once you feel their ears aren’t catching every tiny sound, you continue your venture through the warehouse, the grip of the sledgehammer is firm in your grasp and it tethers you to the ground. If they did find you, at least you wouldn’t go down without a fight.

Catching the view of the group of men, huddled around a large bonfire, they each wear the same worn dirtied clothes, maroon jackets and washed-out plaid shirts that peek through. Beer cans and stunted cigarettes litter the ground, chests full of what you assumed would be weapons and drugs strewn about.

From the way their expansive shoulder stretch the material, you grapple with the fact that these men weren’t your typical scrawny thugs looking for a fix. They had decent muscle, the kind that could crush your neck within their grasps. And you were in their very own lion's den.

Gulping down the fear radiating down your back, you catch the stream of moonlight peeking from a cracked open door. A hope stirs within you, and you force yourself to swallow your fear as you calculate the very short steps you would need to make before finally escaping.

Stepping forward, your eyes are strained on the group of men, never letting your eyes leave them as you slip past from the shadows of the warehouse walls.

You’re so close, the door practically at arms reach before you are yanked hard by an invading hand, your neck rag dolls back as the mysterious man shoves you against him.

“No!!” You scream, as he leans into your neck, the faint smell of tobacco and beer causing you to wretch your face away.

“Looks like I found our very own little lady tryna escape” The man yells towards the huddled group at the centre of the warehouse. You thrash against him with all your might, limbs flying with little control as you try and rip yourself from his grip.

His chest is like a wall, laughing down at your frail body thrashing against his own, he presses your backside into his own as he grinds from the side of your eye.

“If you want it rough ya could’ve just said that doll” The man snarks, hand reaching down to grip your chest before you bite down on it, hard.

“You fucking bitch!!” He rips his hand from your mouth before his fist is colliding with your face. Your brain takes a minute to register the pain, almost blinded by the force of it, before you groan loudly. The white-hot pain spreads across your face and down your neck, throbbing with an intensity you’ve never felt before.

Your neck lies limp across his chest and he drags you towards the men looking on in amusement. Throwing you to the ground, your eyes meet scuffed boots that press against your bruising cheek.

You try and get yourself up before the boot is pressing onto your back, imprisoning you to the floor.

“Seems like you got in a little tussle huh?” The man you’ve recognised as the leader of the pack speaks down at you.

“You see, we wanted to make this as painless as possible for you, but now you had to go and try and escape didn’t you?” The man pulls you from the floor, dropping you onto a plastic chair that presses onto your back.

You don’t dare to look up to the man, he’s got a good foot on you and he looks at you like a formidable statue.

“Look at me when I speak to you” The man roars suddenly, pressing a dirty finger to your chin, forcing your chin to meet his thundering blues.

Forced to look up at him, you take notice of the features that make up his face. Blond hair dirtied with blood and dust falling over his face, the scratching scrawl of a yellow stubble that spreads across his jaw and neck. Brooding dark brows hang over his deep silver-blue eyes. His features are conventional in the way a Prince Charming or cover model would be, but the snark and deep hatred that seeps into every one of his features cast an malevolent shadow, and sets your heart to pound against your chest.

“Don’t you see? My men wouldn’t have hurt you if you’d- if you’d just listened. Why can’t anyone fucking listen, huh? Do you think I want to do this?” He screams at you, hands flying arms they press at his chest in some sort of act. His features morphed into a facade of anguish as if he had no choice but to chain you in a rotting cell.

You bite your tongue to stop your sharp mouth from scoffing in his face, the taste of copper is one you swallow regretfully. You eye his erratic behaviour, the way his body moves around like his a life wire, it’s one you’ve seen before.

Some unmarked drug that had taken over the streets of Gotham, one the GCPD has been scrambling to find out but coming up with loose ends. Bruce himself had warned you of its destruction on mostly unassuming teenagers and drop heads, the way the high would go on forever, before descending into a madness fuelled by the user's deepest fears. Sending you into a psychotic breakdown you can’t escape without throwing yourself from a building or shoving a pistol down your throat.

He seemed to be at the peak of it, relishing in the euphoria and grandiosity it granted him.

Your eyes catch the shadow of a winged cape, up high and cloaked in the darkness of the ceiling, and you have to press your fingers into your thighs to stop your face from showcasing the relief that washes over.

Bout damn time.

Your eyes focus on the man again but glancing from the corner of your eye as you catch your winged saviour perched on the ceiling's metal columns. He raises a gloved finger to his lips, mouthing one single word.

Distract.

You blink twice to show you understand, before diverting your eyes back to the erratic man who’s begun to sneer at you in disgust.

“What do you think you’ll get out of this?” You mutter, and he reels back at you in shock, before a smile pulls at the slit of his lips, eyes blazing with a fury that sets you on edge.

“I always knew he liked em’ mouthy” The man replies, before stepping forward.

“Bruce isn’t going to sacrifice the security of his name just to give you all some fucking pocket change. You think he’s that stupid?” You reply in a voice you hope is every bit steady and confident as you think.

That man narrows his eyes at you, as the rest of the men look on in eagerness. Ready to watch you get ripped to shreds by their beloved leader, salivating at the thought of you bloody and bruised by their fists.

“Bruce is too soft for this city, spending all his damn time boarded up in that manor, all that money just left to gather dust.” The man begins, resting his body against a barbed-wrapped bat.

“For years, Gotham had griefed that man, reconciling that The Bruce Wayne was no longer a symbol of hope for this city”

“But then there was you, that sweet little thing that forced him out of his fucking cave. And boy did the media love you, how couldn’t they? A precious doll that got Gotham’s billionaire to open his manor gates again” The man replies in disgust, spitting next to your shoes.

“And then he was back to being the public’s favourite rich, billionaires boy. All we’ve worked for, everything we’d done to prove he was like the filth that crawled through these streets out the fucking window”.

“Whilst people like me, like us, good hard working people, were left to get drowned by the muck and filth of this city. The swamp that sludges and clings to the streets. Now I’m not that religious, but how the fuck is that fair?”

“I know you aren’t stupid, different from the other woman he’s plastered to his side, anyone with two fucking eyeballs can see that. Which makes it all the more reason that we’ll get what we need no matter what”. The man smiles at you fondly, as if he hadn’t just threatened your life mere moments ago.

His eyes light up at the look of disgust you throw at him,

“Oh don’t look at me like that baby, It’s just business. Brucey will give us our well-deserved money, and we’ll give him back the one thing he cares about.” The man replies, before raising his bat to press gently into your chest.

“You.”

Your ears catch the swift swoop of air before your eyes register the enveloping black armour that glides across the warehouse.

It happens quickly, one moment the self-proclaimed leader is chanting, murmuring Bruce’s fate before he is knocked down by a batted creature

“The fuck?! Is that Batman-“. You hear the murmur of confusion litter the men, as they catch glimpses of a swallowing darkness descend into their safe haven.

The rest of the men don’t get a second to reach for their weapons before he's taking them down with his bare hands, picking them off, one by one like fleas.

You watch on as Bruce collides a man's face into another, smashing their skulls until their faceless and bloody. One brave thug throws a wooden crate at him, and he catches it swiftly, throwing it into another’s back.

The sound of splitting skin and the crunch of bone seems to go on forever, the grunts of Bruce’s voice the only sound he makes as he throws limp bodies like rag dolls across the dirt floor.

The rest of the thugs scurry like ants, escaping through the side door and jumping into rusting pickup trucks as they watch through the review mirror in heaving horror.

Batman has left one men in particular behind, wanting to take his time with them, the ferocity of his unneeded rage doesn’t escape him, his fists are practically dumb as they are split and bleeding from colliding with bone.

He’s shaking with it, the fear and malevolence that seems to drip from him like blood. His head is screaming, white noise blocking the outside world since the moment he found you missing. He knows at that moment that the deep dark part of his night city creature is rearing its head, he wants to destroy every single fucking thug that has ever even aided in your capture, preens with a burning desire to eradicate and burn their entire existence off the face of Gotham itself.

He hears the sound of your soft whimper, and he tears his eyes away from the groaning man at his feet. And for the first time since his fist collided with that fucking, he’s eyes glide over your frame hunched in the chair.

Jaw tight as he naughs his teeth, a growl escaped his chest at the sight of you, his baby, dried blood seeping down your neck as your left eye is swollen shut from the force of the punch.

Bruce steps towards you, tearing his gloves off to press his cold fingers towards your cheek, soothing and brushing the tears that streamed down your face.

“It hurts Bruce, it hurts so bad” You sob, and the sound retches at Bruce’s heart, his eyes set on the outline of a fist pressed into your perfect skin.

“I know baby, I know, I’ll make it better okay? I’ll make it better” Bruce replies softly, presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

The evidence of another man, daring to put he’s hands on you sends that same unchecked rage to burn through his chest, and Bruce turns swiftly at the man responsible.

He’s crawling away pathetically, his leg twisted at the awkward angle as he sobs in pain loudly. Bruce boots steps towards him, the towering expansive figure of what you could only describe as a brick fucking wall moving with ease as he watches on at him pathetically.

Reaching down, he reaches with a gigantic hand to drag him back towards Bruce’s feet. Pressing a foot to the broken bone, the man howls in pain as Bruce brutalising his wounds. It isn’t enough, the cries and screams of your attacker do nothing to satiate the flames of anger unfurling in him.

He wants him silenced.

Gripping his neck, Bruce roughly licks him up, dragging his limb body towards you. Picking up his face by his dark strands, Bruce forces him to stare at his work shaking him to emphasis what he had done to you.

“You did this no? You like beating women?? You dare put your goddamn filthy hands on her and you try to run away?” Bruce roars, pulling tight against the man’s hair as he gains enough energy to howl loudly.

“I think it’s only fair to apologise, it’s the least you could do” Bruce growls into his air before throwing him to the floor. The man looks back at Bruce in confusion, blooding spitting out of his nose.

“APOLOGISE” Bruce roars, it bursts through his belly like a caved creature and the man quickly complies, shaking in fear as he fold himself onto his knees, looking up at you behind clasped hands.

There is a gurgle as you look down, like he’s trying to speak the words but there is too much blood flogged in his lungs. It fills you with a concerning pleasure to see your attacker like this, shaking knees as he looks up at you, coughing and heaving, mouthing the words before restarting.

“I’m not sure she hears you, how about you say it abit louder” Bruce yells from behind, causing the man to flinch.

Finally regaining speech, the man fights through the tearing and failing of his voice cords, and screams out in sobbing chants.

“I’m sorry? ‘m sorry ‘m so sorry’ please!”

It’s all it takes before Bruce is picking him up by his collar, colliding a ginormous fist across his face, the wheezed scream leaving his barely intact throat as he beats him to the ground, hands coming down again, and again and again. Blood spraying across his unmasked face, a deranged look taking over that saw only one purpose.

The man begins to crawl away on his knees, a wheezing wet exhale leaving his chest every few seconds, a line of sludge blood follows him, circled him like a tail, he sputters as his lungs begins to fill with liquid, before upruptly shooting up and collapsing limp onto the dirt floor covered in shit, piss and blood.

Bruce turns to you, his footsteps hurrying to crouch down as he cradled your head in his strong arms. He shushes you gently as he rocks you back and forth, caressing you with the bloody hands that avenged you.

“Oh Bruce, I should’ve listen to you, if I hadn’t-I I had just, if I would’ve just listened-“ You strain, voice wobblying as the fear and anger burning through finally caught up. The adrenaline and numbing you felt moments ago now replaced by the reality of the situation you had found yourself in.

Bruce raises your face to meet his own, shaking his head as he wipes away tears

“Hey, hey, none of that, you being connected to me? It would’ve happened sooner or later. I just thought I could protect you from that-this” Bruce gestures to the mangled corpse surrounding you two “Just for a little longer. You held your own today, and god you looked beautiful doing it”. Bruce replies, a haze cast over his eyes as they bore into your own.

“I’m proud of you, and l’m just thankful your alive, alright?” Bruce shakes your shoulder gently to emphasis his point, causing you to let out a laugh that sends knifes down your lungs.

You grip him closer to you, your hands trailing againts the thick metal and fabric of his suit that seemed to stretch endlessly. Reaching further, your hand comes into contact with a wet lukewarm spot that seems to stream between your fingers. Looking down, your eyes bludge as you take notice of the deep jaggered gash stretching across Bruce’s midsection.

“Oh my god, Bruce you’re bleeding” You whisper, pressing a hand towards the bleeding wound spreading its wetness further and further.

And as if he hadn’t even noticed before, Bruce takes his eyes off of you for the first time, looking down at the wound on his stomach. Ripping through skin and muslce so fiercely, lol or a lighting bolt only thicker and redder with blood.

“It’s fine, just a little scratch” Bruce replies, however he doubles over you anyway, hunched figure holding onto your shoulders as the pain rocks through him.

“You’re going to bleed out, we have to get you to a hospital” You cry, tears burning your eyes at the thought of losing him. You had just got him back, it isn’t fair.

“No, no, no hospital, take me to Alfred” Bruce erases our, copper spilling out of his mouth as he coughs violently.

“How? Bruce I can’t, you won’t make it if I walk you or-or get a cab-”

“Honey, honey I need you to listen to me, you have to take the Batmobile, it’s the only way” Bruce replies, as you haul him up gently onto his feet, resting his arm around you.

“What? You can’t possibly think I’ll be able to drive that” You mourn, the Batmobile was another thing entirely, a second extension of Batman himself. You don’t even know if it was suited for anyone else to drive without you know, hurting them.

“I’ve got about 10 minutes before the entire contents of my bloodstream is emptied between those fingers” Bruce replies wincing, as he angles himself so that he is resting his body weight on his good foot.

“You’ve got to do this, I know you can do this” He groans out, a wave of nauseous pain takes over him and he topples over, retching.

You have no choice, despite the spine tingling fear of driving Bruce’s most prized position, your man needed you, and if you didn’t step up, you would lose him right between your fingers.

“Okay, okay” You huff out, breathing air from your mouth as you shuffle towards the exit of the warehouse, Gotham twinkles in the depths of the night, the crumbling infested towers and roads of filth alive even now.

The Batmobile comes into view, in all its indestructible and formidable glory, and you gulp as you approach the mass of a vehicle.

You slide Bruce into the passenger seat, before walking around the car into the drivers compartment, the cool ventilated air of the Batmobile does little to ease the anxiety jittering your bones.

Bruce rips a rug in half, holding it between his teeth before wrapping it around his stomach, forcing the wound to soak up the cotton. He reached for a latch in the batmobiles left console, ripping open a syringe filled with some sort of golden liquid, handing it to you, he nods againts your wide eyes, towards his naked arm.

“What??” You reply ghastly

“Just some pain killer hun, ain’t nothing different than an IV”

Shaking, you brace his arm, before driving the needle into his arm, pressing down the contraption as you watch the liquid golden seep into his bloodstream.

Bruce winces before letting out a huffed breathe of releif, blowing out some strands across his face before leaning back.

You gawk at the millions of contraptions and buttons of the center console, parts you notice belonging to any normal car while others seemed intergalactic. You know Bruce had a knack for inventing even the most daring gadgets, technology that veered on science fiction. But this was something else entirely.

As if sensing your trepidation, Bruce walks you through the powering switch, before pressing a button from his sleeve that promoted a holographic figure of Alfred.

“Master Bruce? Y/N? Is that you?” Alfred replied in shock, the brisket white hairs of his eyebrows pulled tight.

“Alfred, god, Bruce has been hit, badly, he’s just- he was saving me and now- now” You hastily reply, a half sob crawling up your throat as your forced to recount the prior evidence.

“Jesus Christ, Bruce always over estimated himself in all the years I’ve known him, but taking down a whole sector with no back up??”

“It’s just a scratch Alfred, you-” wheeze- “you need to relax” Bruce replies coughing loudly

Alfred peers down at him in disapproval

“It’s save to say, I’ll be prepping the operating room and phoning in Dr Proctor” Sighs Alfred, the turbulence of caring for such a man, for two men, aging him.

The holographic projector of Alfred shuts down, as Bruce shifts his face to look at you, beads of sweat has formed across his forehead, a thin sheen coating his face.

“Now it’s all you baby, get us home” Bruce replies softly, you reach towards his face to brush away the dark wet strands falling across his face.

Pressing a hard kiss againts his forehead, Bruce quickly reachers for your cheek, pulling you down to press his soft lips against your own, swallowing the pain and anguish whispered between the both of you.

You can’t help but let the tears stream down your face, and as Bruce glides his tongue along your bottom lip in a strangled moan, he licks them away quickly.

Shuddering with squeezed eyes, you peer at Bruce’s figure, layed across the passenger seat, heavy breaths wheezing through his chest.

You turn back to the wheel of the Batmobile, your hands grip the wheel until the leather squeaks under your fingers. Everything from this terrrifying ordeal falls away, the men, Bruce’s final victim, that room..it’s muffled by the thick air of the Batmobile interior. You are Bruce’s, and you will fight teeth and bone to ensure he doesn’t die saving you, after all his done, after everything that had happened.

Most of your life, you’ve never been able to know exactly what you want, or what to do, until Bruce had swooped into your life, cape and all. And now you have one purposes at this moment, and it comes to you clear as day. Deep as bone, beyond flesh and blood.

You get him home.

divider by @firefly-graphics !

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[jokersaciid]

bruce wayne x reader . ( fluff !! ) warning ahead . synopsis .. 🕷️bruce is super anxious after an event &&. needs comfort .

bruce was sitting there silently, facing the suite's walk in closet as he stared at the suit that was placed there. he didn't buy this.. so why was it there?

his eyebrows quirked up in question before he felt the swoosh of cool summer air from the now opened window near his bed. he turned in time to be face to face with you, a smile plastered across your handsome face.

" get my present? "

your smile slightly dropping as bruce nodded quietly, stepping back to sit down on the edge of his bed. his demeanor wasn't serious, he seemed excruciatingly anxious. you didn't like this at all.

" what's wrong, carino? " you asked immediately, sitting down on your knees to get a good view of his face that was halfway covered by his large hand.

" i don't know.. i'm trying to figure that out. " he mumbled into his palm, his eyes sliding towards you as if begging to be held.

" c'mere, big boy. "

you climbed up onto the bed, laying down and dragging his large frame on top of your own to latch onto his body that you hadn't even noticed had been shaking.

" how long have you been feeling anxious? " the words were whispered, however bruce heard you clearly as his shoulders lifted and dropped.

" since this afternoon, i tried to look for you but i couldn't find you anywhere so i've been locked up in here. " he mumbled quietly as he hid his face into your neck, his arms locked around your waist.

" i'm sorry, mi alma. i was trying to plan something for us for later. " you replied, " why didn't you call me? "

" didn't want to be a burden. "

you turned your head towards him, unlooping your arms and cupping his face immediately, " don't ever think you're a burden, bruce. " his eyes widened slightly as he stared at you, he felt so guilty now for doubting if he could go to you. something he shouldn't have felt, but he couldn't help it.

" i'm sorry.. " he whispered softly causing you were frown deeply, his blue eyes misty and wet with tears .

" nonono, cheri, don't be sorry. " you immediately wrapped yourself around him again, kissing his lip multiple times. immediately wanting to protect the masked crusader in your arms with everything in you.

you knew bruce had trouble opening up, you also knew bruce wasn't the best with comfort at all so seeing him cry in your arms because he allowed himself to be so vulnerable with you was such a blessing.

you never stopped hugging him, just wanting to hold him forever until he didn't have a single tear left inside him. bruce stayed silent as he held onto you.

eventually he had fallen asleep, you however were still wide awake staring at the the ceiling of the hotel room. you had your own past, your own mental issues but you didn't put your violent past into being a hero like bruce did.

damn that man. he was sure to be the death of you, you loved him so much and you knew he loved you too. he damn near destroy half the city looking for you once, little did he know you flew back to your homeland to visit a sick relative.

you admired the man laying on your chest, your fingers sliding through his hair, twirling the strands between each finger as you kept staring off into space.

as you looked back up at the ceiling, you didn't realize bruce was awake now. his eyes staring at the mirror on the side of his bed as he watched you stare at the ceiling.

yep, he was going to marry you. hope your family likes white men—

#batman x male reader #batman x black!reader #batman x hispanic!reader #dc x male reader #batman fluff #jokersaciiid #nate writes (⁠☆⁠▽⁠☆⁠)

[stargirlfics]

Constrict

Bruce Wayne x Black Female Reader

The one where Bruce receives his first blowjob

18+ ONLY PLEASE, mostly pure smut lol enjoy!! sloppy blowjobs, dirty talk, cum swallowing/eating and a touch of deepthroating and dominant bruce 

Word Count: 2.6k

Nervous energy coursed through your fingers as you fiddled with them, waiting for the elevator to finally stop and open onto the underground expanse beneath Wayne Tower that Bruce so often occupied, now you’d just taken to calling it the Batcave.

As expected, you found him hunched over his worktable, reviewing footage from the night before, his notebook open to the side of him scribbled with his thoughts. 

“Can’t sleep?” he turned his head just a little to acknowledge your presence, and you took it as your sign to approach. “Not really no…” you trailed off, pressing a kiss to his hoodie-clad shoulder and peeking over him to see what his hands were toying with.  

That was half of the truth. You had been restless upstairs in his bed where he had left you. It was late and you had tried to get your mind to wind down so you could sleep but it had been of no use, all you could think of was Bruce. 

At first, your thoughts had been innocent, a reflection of longing, just wanting him to be next to you so you could curl up against his side but the more you thought of him, the less innocent your thoughts became until you were longing in a different way. 

You were needy and wanted a release, and decided that maybe tonight was the night to be a little more intimate with the man you had so recklessly fallen for. 

It made you feel giddy thinking about it, the fact that this was still a new relationship, that because of how busy Bruce was during the nights under his cowl and cape, there hadn’t been much time to be physical with each other besides you sleeping over on occasion and coaxing him to rest for once, let you cuddle him for a while, and now you were about to make a move. 

The dull ache between your thighs brought you back out of your thoughts and you pressed your front against Bruce’s broad back, your arms wrapping around him, the motion was slow, teasing, and it made him shift slightly on the stool. Bingo.

Distracting Bruce Wayne wasn’t something he’d say was easy to do but when it came to you, well, everything got thrown out the window. 

He was acutely aware of your presence, your eyes on him, your touch, everything, and you knew this, playing it to your advantage till he sighed and stopped adjusting the bolts on the sleek black gadget he was working on and swiveled around to face you. 

You did indeed have his full attention now and it filled you with a sense of pride to know he couldn’t seem to bother getting annoyed with you anytime you interrupted him while he was down here. 

Truthfully, Bruce was grateful you were here. He’d also been trying to get his mind to shut off but that wasn’t ever easy and there was something about your sweet voice and warm touch that he couldn’t resist going towards. He wouldn’t admit it yet, or maybe ever, but all you really had to do was give him a pout and he’d be willing to drop everything to turn it into a smile. 

He was still a bit awkward in those quiet moments like this where unspoken tension hung in the air, not wanting to say the wrong thing to you in fear the moment would slip away. So instead he reached out, his hands finding their place on the curve of your hips, pulling you in towards him. 

Your own arms wound their way over his shoulders, your pulse quickened as he tucked his head down so that his forehead was against yours, and you didn’t skip a beat before your lips were on his, the kiss sweet and polite. 

“We should go to bed…sorry for leaving you alone up there, I thought you’d be out like a light,” his voice was calm, whispered, relaxed in the way he only ever got with you or Alfred. 

Now was your chance…you were nervous, your heart practically leaping into your throat but something about this felt right, you wanted him and weren’t gonna shy away this time. 

“It’s okay, I did too. I..just kinda couldn’t stop thinking about you, that’s all…” your hands twisted the fabric of his hoodie slightly once the words left your mouth, hoping he would begin to catch on to all the signs.

He did. The big hands still on your waist, tightened their hold just a little as he nodded slowly, his eyes studying your face and the quick rise and fall of your chest. 

Bruce felt his pulse beating fast too, thoughts coming to the forefront of his mind of all the rather sinful things he wanted to do with you and to you. Yes, he wasn’t very experienced with this stuff but he was hungry for you and was tired of trying to hide it, from you and himself. 

“I see. Wanna tell me what you were thinking about?” there was an edge to his voice, a suggestiveness that made your belly warm, especially so when he pulled you in by your waist even closer to him.

“Mm, well I actually think it’d be better if I just showed you. Can I?” you squeak out, very aware of the way his legs widen to give you more space to stand between them. 

You were so cute he couldn’t help but smile at your request, jerking his chin up in a sly nod that signaled you could do what you wanted. So you took in a breath and let your hands slide down from his shoulders to his chest and then inched lower, not too quick, not too slow, delving under the hem of his hoodie before the tips of your fingers traced down his abdomen.

Bruce closed his eyes for a mere second as you did, the muscles there contracting slightly, his breath heavier the lower your fingers went until they stopped at the waistband of his pants. Your eyes met for a moment and before you could move, he had a thumb on your chin, his index finger underneath to keep you there. 

“Don’t get shy on me now.” 

The gruff edge to his voice sparked even more desire in you, giving you that one last nudge to go for it.  

So you smirk and flick open the button of his pants, tugging the zipper down in one swift motion and letting your hand flatten out against him, “I’m not shy at all, baby,” and your smirk only widens when you feel him twitch underneath your fingers. He’s already hard and it makes your core ache. 

Bruce chuckled and quickly took off his hoodie, rolling it up and dropping it on the floor in front of you, “Knees, sweetheart.” 

You knew what he meant, fighting an audible whimper as you sank to your knees, the hoodie padding them a little as you helped Bruce pull down a couple layers, mouth watering as his length sprung free. 

The tension in the air was thick as you watched Bruce pump his hand up and down the shaft, just watching you from his perched position on the stool, growing harder at the sight of you licking your lips, waiting so patiently to get your mouth on him. 

As much as he wanted to make you wait, to tease you, he couldn’t bring himself to do it, not when you were giving him those puppy eyes, so he reached down, cupping your chin and pulling you forward until the tip of him was tapping against your lips. 

“So are you gonna finally show me what you were thinking about? Or do you need me to do that for you too?” 

Oh, he wasn’t playing fair, like he knew you would be into that slight touch of dominance, and you were, and you liked that Bruce was gaining confidence, but that would have to wait for another day. His words were a challenge and you were determined to do this. 

The grip on your jaw tightened when your tongue came out to swipe over the head, a ragged gasp leaving Bruce’s lips. One second in and he was mesmerized by the sight of you. This was the first time anyone had ever been on their knees for him, taking him into their mouth and it made his chest feel tight in the best way. This was already so much better than his lone hand at night. 

You hummed and glanced up at him as you wrapped your lips around him, taking him a little further into your mouth, tasting him, letting your tongue flatten out on the underside of him, smiling when you felt his thigh jump underneath your hand.

He was thick, filling up your mouth generously and the deep breaths and groans he gave you as you hollowed out your cheeks a little more on his chest, one hand twisting the rest at the base only made you wetter. 

It was unlike anything he’d felt before, his muscles seizing slightly every time you sucked him further into the heat of your mouth, especially so when he felt you gag, his eyes going wide at the realization that he was slipping down your throat, that you were swallowing him down, choking on his girth and that you were hungry for it too. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, that feels…” the words died in his throat as you bobbed your head further down, desperately trying to reach the base of him, tears starting to prick at your eyes. He sounded so damn hot and it spurred you on knowing you were making him feel so good. 

Up until this point Bruce had one hand steady on your jaw and the other outstretched, holding onto the workbench his back was against, he was almost afraid to move because he knew what his hands would do but he didn’t know how much force to use just yet, afraid to hurt you, make you uncomfortable.

But you could see it in his eyes, the slight tremble of his hand, how his fingers must itch to grab you, so you decided to let him know that you wanted him to let loose. He deserved it. 

A few slurps were rewarded before you started to pull off him, spit dripping onto your chin, a string of it still connected from his tip to your mouth and the sight of that alone made him twitch. 

“You can touch me you know,” you leaned back in to kiss his thighs, peppering them up along his shaft, “Know you want to put your hands on me; you don’t have to hold back, or be so gentle. I can handle a dick.” you giggled when you saw the look in his eyes change, your words sinking in. 

Well, since he had your word, he’d give you what you wanted. 

There was a split second of time for you to suck in a breath of hair before his strong hands were on your head and jaw, guiding your head back onto his throbbing length, the touch of strength, the way he was handling you exactly what you’d been hoping for. 

You relaxed your throat as much as you could, sinking into his hold, letting him know you had his trust, that it was okay, your teary eyes blinking up at him as he pushed into your throat, a string of curses grunted under his breath as your throat constricted around him just right, the sensation spreading to his toes as his hands deftly worked your head up and down on him, the sounds so damn filthy and wet but so good. 

It was sloppy and Bruce realized he liked that. He liked it a lot actually. As he pulled you off him a little so you could could get some oxygen, some of your drool fell down to your chest and some of it slid down to the base of him. It felt so dirty and he fuckin liked it. 

“God…how long have you been thinking about my dick down your little throat? Hmm, baby? How long?” the words didn’t sound like the typically shy and reserved Bruce that you knew but of a side of him newly awakened and you were all for it, indulging him.

“W-weeks.” you garbled, trying to speak around the thickness of him, whimpering as your throat spasmed, and his own moan followed.

“Mhm, that’s my girl. Your little throat feels so good on me.” Bruce smirked when he noticed you clenching your thighs together at his words. He very much loved seeing this side of you too.

Eventually, his grip on you loosened a bit, and the quick and shallow thrusts he’d been giving to fuck into your mouth became less controlled, allowing you to take a little more of the reigns as you got him towards his climax, relishing in how his muscles flexed the closer he got. 

You kept your eyes on him, trying to commit to memory how beautiful he looked, how hot his groans sounded, how powerful you felt being able to bring him to this point until his voice was pulling you from those thoughts. 

“Fuck, fuck, gonna cum-” he grit out, a hand once again at your jaw trying to pull you away. How cute, as if you wouldn’t want him to cum down your throat after all that, but you couldn’t blame him, he’d never done it before but you were determined to be the first to taste him like this. 

His eyes flung open at the realization that you weren’t pulling off him so that he could finish on your chest or something, no, you were flush against him, your eyes a sinful sight, practically begging him to do it, to let go. 

And that’s what sent him over the edge, the fact that you wanted him like this. 

Bruce felt white hot as he focused on it, on the sight of you between his thighs, your hands accommodating what you couldn’t fit, the obscene sounds, the way he felt so worshiped, so wanted by you at this moment and it all rose to a fever pitch inside him, almost overwhelming as he gave in to the pull. 

The side of his fist slammed into the workbench, rattling it as hot ropes of cum spurt onto your tongue, your eyes fluttering at the sensation, your head bobbing still but slower now, milking him tenderly, wanting him to ride out the high as long as possible, swallowing what he gave you as best you could while he was still pulsing into your mouth. 

When you finally eased off him you were both out of breath, him more so than you, but there were unmistakable grins on your faces as well. 

Bruce watched as you cleaned the edges of your lips with your fingers, sucking the last remnants of his cum off them, another string of curses said under his breath at the sight. You were gonna be the death of him if this was any indication of what intimacy would be like with you going forward. 

“Not bad for your first blowjob…” you giggled, pulling yourself up to stand now, legs a little wobbly. 

He caught your wrist and pulled you forward, chest still rising and falling deeply, “Ah well thankfully I’m in capable hands,” he pressed his lips to yours, a sweet thank you uttered in between kisses. 

It was later now than it had been when you ventured down here and something told you that neither of you would be getting much sleep with the way Bruce had you pressed against the wall of the elevator on the way back up to his bedroom, his cock hardening once again, but that was okay, you thought to yourself, your mouth missed him far too much already anyway.

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A/N: I just really think Bruce is a fan of sloppy blowjobs and couldn’t help myself! Hope you liked it and please reblog and comment, let me know what you think! Thanks for reading!!!

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some tags! @emilykjh​ @squidlywiddly87​ @lothcatlady​ @yelenas-lova​ @allaboardthereadingrailroad​ @inklore​ @fluffyprettykitty​ @yonduismarrypoppins​ @empower-bi-women​ @geniedetails​ @ozarkthedog​ @existentialvacuum​ @earl-aive​ 

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[vampireimiko]

A Romantic Evening

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬, ooc bruce but idfc !! other than that, none really ^_^

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞, love me some bruce wayne 🫶🏾

Valentines Day, a day where family, friends, and lovers got together and expressed their love for one another. Whether it be through acts of kindness or gifts. Bruce had never felt the need to celebrate Valentine's Day after what happened to his parents.

Who would he celebrate it with after all? Since he was The Batman, he'd just seen it as another day of fighting crime and stopping another villain from pulling off an elaborate scheme. Sure, Alfred would give him presents and chocolates through the years, until Bruce wanted him to stop.

He just didn't understand the whole Valentine's Day thing. That was until he met you. The day Bruce met you, he swears up and down you changed his life. He'd told you he'd never felt the urge to just get to know someone so bad.

You stuck through everything with Bruce. Through the late nights he'd come home battered and bruised, or the nights where he'd have nightmares. You'd make sure he took care of himself. You were there to patch him up or hold him whenever he needed it. You made him feel whole.

That's why tonight he decided to do something special for you tonight. He asked Alfred to make your favorite dish followed by your favorite dessert. All the while he started planning your surprise at your apartment. Bruce Wayne, planning a surprise? He'd laugh in your face if you told him he'd be doing this a few years back.

"Baby, do you wanna tell me why I have a blindfold on right now? And what smells so good in here?" You questioned as Bruce led you through your apartment to what you think was your dining area. You only got a 'tch' in response followed by a

"You talk too much." He said with a small smile on his face. You'd roll your eyes at him right now if you could.

Before you could respond to him, your blindfold was taken off and welcomed by a table full of your favorite dishes. You looked at the food and back to Bruce.

"Bruce.. did you do this for me?" You asked in a softer tone.

"Of course I did, darling. I want to let you know how much I care for you and absolutely adore you. This is one of the many things I have planned for you tonight." He responded, while rubbing his thumb over your cheek and looking deeply into your brown eyes.

God this man knew exactly how to make you melt.

"Thank you baby. Truly. Now let's sit down and eat I'm hungry as hell!" You giggled as you walked over to your chair and sat down as Bruce did the same. All the food tasted as amazing as it looked. Everything was cook and seasoned to your definition of perfection. You'd have to tell Alfred thank you for that.

During the dinner you and Bruce discussed various topics such as the time you two first met and how shy he seemed in front of you, or the time he first asked you out. After dinner, Bruce told you to go to your bedroom and you found a massage bed (idfk what they're called😭).

"Undress for me and I'll give you the best massage you've ever had." He said rolling up his shirt sleeves as you checked him out.

"Oh? Anything for you while your standing here looking like this." You said grabbing the robe he gave you and running towards the bathroom to undress and put it on. Fast forward to you massage, it felt absolutely heavenly.

"Oh god.. Bruce right there. Agh! Yes, thats the spot. How did you get so good at this?" You asked while in pure bliss. He laughed in response and told you to not worry about it and just focus on how it felt. You had no complaints about that.

After that godsent massage, Bruce ran you a bath. A nice bubble bath with rose petals floating around inside. Accompanied by a very nice glass of wine.

"You really mean business today, no? If I knew you were doing all this I would've gotten you something my love." You spoke looking at him while he sat at your side on the outside of the bath.

"You don't have to get me anything I promise. Just knowing your here with me and have been with me all these years is enough. At this point I'm not even sure I could live without you. You put up with all my antics and have stuck beside me despite everything I've been through. I truly do love you." Bruce said looking you dead in the eyes.

Leaning over, you placed a tender but sweet kiss on his lips, then you started to deepen it. After a few seconds you both pulled away for a breath of air.

"I love you so much Bruce. Never forget that."

After your bath, Bruce had prepared some cute lingerie pajamas for you to put on. He'd bought you outfits, shoes, jewelry, and perfume. He would surely buy you more if you wanted that. All you had to do was ask.

"These are the sexiest and cutest pajamas I have ever seen." You said while checking yourself out in the full body mirror you had in your room. The lingerie hugged all your curves in the right places. It was your favorite color, and most importantly comfortable. In the background you could see Bruce re-entering the room holding a tray.

"Oh my goodness, you didn't." You said in a excited tone while jumping up and down.

"Oh but I did."

On the tray was your favorite dessert followed by a few chocolate covered strawberries. He really wasn't kidding when he said he wanted to spoil you.

Bruce had really managed to make you feel special tonight. Not like you didn't feel special already, Bruce just rarely expressed his feelings and when he did, you felt elated.

"Baby, I know I've said it so much tonight, but thank you. You've made this the best valentine's day ever. I truly do adore you." You said stroking his cheek while taking the tray away from him.

"Now, lets get this show on the road!" You added on while climbing into bed with Bruce following close behind you.

𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ; AYEEE THIS WAS KINDA LONGGG.. i hate it ^_^ UHM HAPPY VALENTINES DAY BABES 🤎 i hope you enjoyed !! reblogs are appreciated and you can find more of my works on my pinned <33

𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

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[introvertllux]

Meet the Wayne’s Chapter 3: Maternal Ties and the Shadow of Gotham

I DON’T claim the rights to batman only the black!OC. Also this is pure fiction and NOT my thoughts on marriage at all.

Scarlett P.O.V.

Despite living a life without a mother and engaging in activities far removed from what a traditional mother might do, I've always felt a profound pull towards motherhood. It was as if I was inherently maternal, destined to embrace the role with open arms. Yet, under the shadow of Ra's al Ghul, such dreams seemed distant, almost forbidden. Isolated within the confines of his domain, my world was restricted, my interactions limited. Discussing and acknowledging the natural teenage yearnings felt dangerous—punishable, even. Among the few women there, Talia—Ra al Ghul's daughter—was the only one close to my age yet far from being a confidante. I was an intruder to her, not for stealing her father's affection but because I was there at all. She saw me as a rival, though I never viewed Ra's in the paternal light she did. My mind was often elsewhere, lost in daydreams of everyday life outside these walls—friendships, romance, and the simple act of holding someone's hand.

Those dreams seemed like fantasies, unreachable and fanciful. Yet, here I am, years later, a mother to five incredible boys. My sons, each unique in their strength, humor, and brilliance, are the anchors that keep me grounded amidst the turmoil of my life with Bruce. They are my priority, the driving force behind every decision I make, including my disputes with Bruce over his relentless pursuit of justice as Batman. His obsession with patrolling Gotham has strained our relationship, but more importantly, it has impacted our boys. They witness our conflicts, absorbing the tension and reflecting on their individual bonds with their father. Bruce has his flaws; he can be overly strict and sometimes distant. Yet, when he's present, he's an inspiring figure—empowering, affectionate, and constantly pushing them toward greatness. He may not be perfect, but he's constantly evolving, striving to be a better father.

Our home, a nexus of love, conflict, and unspoken fears, bears witness to the struggles and triumphs of a family not quite like any other. For all his strength and resolve, Bruce grapples with the dualities of his existence—between the man and the mask, the father and the vigilante. His physical and emotional absences leave a void that I strive to fill, weaving the fragile threads of family unity with each day that passes.

In their resilience, the boys adapt and grow, each carving their own path under the weight of the Wayne legacy. Their struggles and triumphs are a daily reminder of the complexities of our lives—a life built on the foundations of sacrifice, secrets, and an unwavering commitment to each other.

In the quiet moments, when the chaos of our lives settles into a rare peace, I reflect on the journey that has brought me here. From the confines of the League's domain to the expansive heart of the Wayne family, my life has been a testament to fate's unpredictable, winding paths.

Motherhood, with all its challenges and joys, has been my redemption, my salvation from a past marred by darkness. It has taught me about the power of love, the strength of family, and the endless possibilities of embracing one's true self. Standing at the precipice of this life I have built, I am grateful for the unexpected gift of motherhood and the five remarkable boys who call me Mom.

_________________________

Third Person P.O.V.

The Wayne Manor kitchen was a flurry of activity, its usual solemnity replaced by the chaotic energy of the Wayne sons preparing for the day's event. Amidst the sizzle of breakfast on the stove, Scarlett found herself not only as the orchestrator of the morning meal but also as the mediator of an unfolding debate among her boys.

"I don't see why I have to wear a suit. It's not like the orphans are going to care what I'm wearing," Jason grumbled, tugging at the collar of his shirt with a scowl that seemed permanently etched on his face whenever formal attire was mentioned.

"It's about showing respect, Jason. We represent the Wayne family; we should look the part," Dick interjected, ever the voice of reason, his own suit fitting him like a second skin—a testament to his comfort in their world of galas and public appearances.

"Yeah, but why can't we show respect in jeans and a tee? At least we'd be comfortable," Tim chimed in, pushing his glasses up his nose as he eyed the suit laid out for him with undisguised disdain.

Duke, the newest addition to the brood, seemed less bothered by the dress code, though he couldn't resist joining in the banter. A little color wouldn't hurt. These suits make us look like we're attending a funeral, not celebrating an opening."

Damian, the youngest and often the most vocal about his dislikes, was surprisingly quiet, his usual complaints about 'draconian dress codes' absent as he meticulously adjusted his tie—a more miniature replica of the one Bruce often wore. It was a rare moment of conformity from the boy, who was usually anything but.

Scarlett, flipping pancakes with one hand and managing to look entirely at ease amidst the morning chaos, couldn't help but smile at her son's antics. "Gentlemen, you all look handsome, and wearing a suit won't kill you. It's one afternoon, and then you can come home and change into whatever you'd like."

"But Mom, it's not just the suits. It's the ties, the shoes—it's like being strangled by your own clothes," Jason argued, his dramatics earning a chuckle from his brothers.

"Jason's right," Damian finally spoke up, his voice betraying a hint of solidarity with his brother. "It's archaic, and it's uncomfortable. Father insists on these traditions without considering practicality."

Scarlett turned, offering a plate of pancakes to her sons as a peace offering. "Bruce wants this day to be special for the orphanage's family and children. Wearing a suit is a small part to play in making today memorable. And Damian, your father considers many things, including how the Wayne family presents itself. It's part of our responsibility."

The boys exchanged looks, their arguments deflating under the weight of their mother's logic and the allure of breakfast. As they gathered around the table, their banter continued, lighter now, interspersed with plans for the day and the roles they each would play at the reopening.

Scarlett watched them, her heart full. These moments were what she cherished most—her family united not just by blood or name but by the shared experiences that bound them closer with each passing day. She knew the importance of today's event extended beyond the orphanage; it was a testament to their resilience, their unity, and the legacy they were building, one day, one suit at a time.

As breakfast concluded and they prepared to leave, Scarlett felt a surge of pride looking at her sons. Despite their grumbling, they were ready, each embodying the strength and grace of the Wayne legacy. Today was more than an event; it was a reaffirmation of their commitment to Gotham, each other, and the ideals Bruce and Scarlett worked so hard to instill in them.

As the Wayne family convoy wound its way towards the heart of Gotham, the tension that had bubbled over breakfast seemed to dissipate, replaced by a shared sense of purpose. The sleek black cars blended seamlessly with the city's rhythm, a silent testament to the Wayne legacy that extended far beyond the corporate skyscrapers and into the very fabric of Gotham's community. Inside the lead car, Scarlett found herself sandwiched between Bruce and Alfred, the latter having taken on the role of driver for the day. The boys, divided between the vehicles, continued their debate over the necessity of formal wear, their voices a distant murmur over the car's communication system.

Bruce, catching Scarlett's eye, offered a small, appreciative smile. "They'll understand one day," he said, his voice a blend of resignation and hope. "The importance of today… it's more than just an appearance. It's about setting an example, showing Gotham that the Wayne family stands with them."

Scarlett nodded, her hand finding Bruce's. "They will. They're more like you than they'd care to admit. Strong, determined, and with a heart for Gotham's people. Today will be a good day." Their arrival at the orphanage was met with fanfare, with the community turning out in force to celebrate the reopening. The Wayne family, stepping out of their cars, were immediately swarmed by reporters, city officials, and excited children, all eager to glimpse Gotham's most prominent family.

Despite their earlier complaints, the boys moved with a grace and poise that belied their years. Dick took the lead, his natural charisma making him an easy favorite among the attendees. With his characteristic scowl softened for the day, Jason was surrounded by a group of older kids, his tales of motorcycle escapades drawing awed whispers. Ever the strategist, Tim conversed with city planners and philanthropists, discussing future projects and investments. Duke became an instant hit with the younger children with his infectious smile, leading games, and laughter. Maintaining a stoic facade, Damian nonetheless found himself drawn to a quiet corner where a few shy orphans observed the festivities from a distance.

Scarlett felt pride as she watched her family mingle and engage with the community. Today was a reminder of their collective strength, their ability to transcend the challenges and scrutiny that often accompanied their public lives. It reaffirmed their commitment to making Gotham a better place, one child, one family at a time. The jubilation of the day, palpable in the air filled with laughter and celebratory voices, was abruptly shattered. Moments before the chaos, Bruce stood at the podium, the crowd hushed in anticipation of his speech. The Wayne family stood to the side, representing unity and support.

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for joining us on this momentous day," Bruce began, his voice carrying over the assembled crowd. "Today is not just about reopening the doors of the orphanage; it's about reopening our hearts and extending our hands to those in need."

He paused, glancing towards Scarlett and their sons with a tender smile. "My family stands with me today as witnesses and pillars of our commitment towards this cause. Each of them, in their own way, contributes to the mission we've embarked on — to ensure that no child in Gotham feels abandoned."

Bruce's gaze swept over the crowd, his presence commanding yet warm. "This orphanage is more than a building; it's a beacon of hope, a promise of a better tomorrow. We dedicate ourselves to this promise, not just with words but with action. With support, care, and love, we can change lives."

As he spoke of future initiatives and the importance of community involvement, the atmosphere was charged with a sense of purpose and optimism. The Wayne family, listening intently, couldn't help but feel proud of their legacy, a legacy beyond the capes and the headlines, grounded in real, tangible change.

"And so," Bruce concluded, "we look forward to a future where every child knows they have a place to call home, a family to belong to, and a community that cares. Together, we can make Gotham a beacon of hope for all."

Applause erupted, echoing off the walls of the newly renovated building, symbolizing the new beginnings Bruce had articulated so passionately. The Wayne family joined in the applause, their hearts full, unaware of the looming shadow about to descend upon their moment of triumph.

When it came, the explosion was sudden and deafening, a brutal punctuation to Bruce's message of hope. Her instincts overriding her shock, Scarlett reacted with a speed born of necessity. Her powers, long kept hidden, flared to life, weaving a protective cocoon around her sons as debris and chaos reigned around them. The force of the blast sent her tumbling, darkness claiming her as she fought to stay conscious.

______________

Awakening in the infirmary wing, the sterile white of the room starkly contrasting with the vivid nightmare of the explosion, Scarlett's first thought was of her family. Alfred's presence, a steady constant, brought a measure of comfort, but his news did little to ease the dread coiling in her stomach.

"The boys are safe, thanks to you," he reassured, though the worry in his eyes spoke volumes. "But, Miss Scarlett, the symbols... they've spread."

As consciousness slowly crept back to Scarlett, her first coherent thought was a piercing fear for her sons. Panic clawed at her chest, her breaths coming in short, rapid gasps as she attempted to rise, only to be met with the firm, steadying hands of Alfred.

"Where are they? Are they safe?" The urgency in her voice was palpable, her eyes wild with maternal fear. With his ever-calm demeanor, Alfred reassured her, "They're safe, Miss Scarlett. I personally saw to their safety. They're with Master Bruce."

Her mind, however, couldn't find peace until she saw them with her own eyes. Then, the memories began to flood, memories of how Alfred first discovered her secret.

It was a late evening, months ago, when Alfred had walked in on her tending to a wound on her shoulder — a wound that should have been fatal yet was healing at an unnatural pace, the skin around it glowing faintly with intricate symbols. She remembered the shock on Alfred's face, the way he froze, a tray of tea in his hands, now forgotten.

"Miss Scarlett, what on earth...?" he'd begun, his voice a mix of concern and disbelief.

She had no choice then but to confide in him, to reveal the origins of her powers and her past with Ra's al Ghul. "Alfred, what you see... it's a part of me I've hoped to keep hidden. These symbols are not just scars but a map to a barely understood power. A power Ra's al Ghul sought to control."

The conversation that followed was long and fraught with revelations. Scarlett explained her fear of Bruce's reaction, knowing his distrust of anything related to magic or the supernatural. Alfred, for his part, listened with a growing sense of foreboding, understanding the weight of the secret Scarlett bore.

The fear for her sons momentarily subsided in the infirmary, replaced by a new wave of panic. "Bruce... is he okay? He wasn't near the explosion, was he?" Her voice cracked with the question, the thought of Bruce injured — or worse — reigniting the terror within her.

"Master Bruce is unharmed," Alfred assured her, but the comfort his words were meant to provide was overshadowed by Scarlett's growing dread over the spreading symbols. "But we must keep him from seeing these symbols, Alfred. He cannot know of this magic within me."

The decision to keep Bruce in the dark had been mutual between Scarlett and Alfred, but the secrecy now felt like a chasm widening between her and her husband. Alfred's worry was evident, knowing the strain such secrets could inflict on a family already navigating the complexities of their dual lives.

Bruce's confusion turned to anger when he was barred from entering the infirmary, Alfred standing firm at the door. "Why can't I see her? What are you hiding from me?" His voice, usually calm and commanding, was now laced with betrayal and concern.

The situation escalated quickly, with Bruce's demands to see Scarlett met with Alfred's unwavering refusal, guided by his promise to protect her secret. The tension reached a boiling point, the air charged with unspoken accusations and the weight of untold truths.

Scarlett could hear the muffled exchange from her bed, her heart aching with each of Bruce's angered pleas. The fear of losing Bruce, of fracturing their family with her secrets, was a specter looming more significant than any physical threat she had faced. In that moment, she realized the actual cost of her powers — not the danger they posed to her, but the potential they had to unravel the very fabric of her family.

As Alfred finally returned to her side, their heavy silence spoke volumes. The path ahead was fraught with uncertainty and the inevitable confrontation with Bruce. But for now, Scarlett focused on regaining her strength, preparing for difficult conversations, and bracing for the impact of her secrets on her family's future.

__________________________________________________________

Taglist 

THANK YOU ALL!

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#black!reader #orginal story #batman #robert patterson #batfamily #batman x black!reader #battison #black reader #batman 2022 #gotham riddler #batman x batmom #zantana #Justice League #Young Justice #black batmom

[c-nstantine]

wholesome

Description: a quiet night in with Bruce and Y/N.

Word Count: 0.3k

Warnings: None

Bruce normally wouldn't complain about being between his wife's legs, but this time was different. He agreed to allow her to oil his scalp. In all honesty, he doesn't remember agreeing to this but he would never say no to his wife.

"Y/N, is this necessary?" He asked as she deeply massaged his scalp. He would be lying if he said that he did not enjoy this. It was the first time in weeks that he felt relaxed.

"Yes, I refuse to let you bald," Y/N spoke softly and she began to hum On & On. She and Bruce already got enough shit from the media for just existing. The amount of bullshit that would be spewed if Bruce started balding would be terrible.

"Five more minutes then I have to go," Bruce said as he pretended to want to leave. He'd sit here all day if she let him, but there were important things that needed to be done.

"Okay, but I have to rub shea butter on you first," She got up to grab the jar of shea butter and rubbed some between the palms of her hands.

"Why?" His throat was a little dry at the thought of his wife rubbing him all over with cream. It was almost as if she didn't want him to leave their bedroom. He'd need very little convincing to stay. For her, he'd walk across the Earth barefoot if it meant that she'd be happy.

"Because you're stressed out enough, and I'd prefer if you didn't wrinkle too soon," She knew Bruce stressed about things more than the average person could ever understand.

"Are you only with me for my looks?" Y/N chuckled after her husband asked such a question. She knew he was only joking but his deadpan would always make her laugh a little more than it should.

"No, I like your money, too," She joked as she kissed his cheek. Bruce simply snorted in response. Perhaps, he would be staying in tonight after all.

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x black!reader #x black!reader #batman x reader #batman x black!reader #bruce wayne #batman #black!reader #black reader #c-nstantine

[blackcupidangel]

Batboys as TikToks:

Batmom and Bruce:

She was out with the girls (Diana, Selina, Lois, Dinah) and as always she loses track of time. Bruce will blow her up if she’s not home when she said she would be, as if he doesn’t have a dozen trackers on her🤨.

#batman imagine #batman x black!reader #batfamily x reader #black!batmom #black!reader #batmom #batboys #batkids #batfamily #batman x you #batman x reader #batboys x reader #bruce wayne x poc!reader #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne x black!reader #bruce wayne x batmom #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne x reader

[brownsugarwrites]

Love drought.-

Pairings: Bruce Wayne x Black!wife!reader

Synopsis/warnings: Angst. Bruce is a asshole because he doesnt know how to express his feelings to his wife. Mentions of cheating/infidelity. General hurt and confusion. Based off of beyonce's love drought. Angst with no resolution.

Notes: Literally wrote this in like fifteen minutes because I have love drought playing on repeat cause im insane. Anyways I almost shed a tear writing this but I hope yall enjoy!

You, you, you, you and me could stop this love drought.

Sitting against the window watching the rain fall over the city. You took another sip out of your wine glass wondering what you did wrong. Well, where did everything go wrong.

You loved bruce. Despite him being the towns vigliante and also being the wealthiest person in all of gotham. You hated when the two of you were like this. Sleeping in separate rooms. Him drowning himself in work and sometimes not even sparing a glance at you.

It hurt your feelings a lot. You wondered if he was having an affair on you. Finding pleasure in another woman that wasn't you. Your insecurites also came back. Thinking if you were being a good enough wife for him. If it was something about you that he didnt like. It messed with your head.

You hated feeling like this. You wanted this to work. For you, the boys and overall the marriage.

Placing the cup down on the ledge of the window you snuggled against the chair that had his scent on it.

You couldn't lie and say you didn't miss his touch on you. Feeling his warm embrace wrap around you. Giving you soft and gentle kisses on your temple every morning which he doesn't do anymore.

You tried talking to him about it. But being the person he is. He dismissed it making you even more upset.

"Are you cheating on me." you asked feeling your eyes water

"What-"

"Just answer the fucking question." You hissed at him.

"No. No absolutely not" He said getting out his seat coming towards you.

Seeing his wide stature you tried not to fold under his presence

"You've been distant lately." You said before wiping your eyes.

"I have a big project to present. The meeting is today you know this."

"Ok but that doesn't excuse you for pushing me away. It seems like you care more about work than me and the boys." you said pointing a finger at his chest

"We're not having this conversation." He bit back at you

Feeling a sharp pain in your heart you scoffed and walked out of the office.

Which lead you in the library staring out the window watching the rain as Bruce got into his car leaving the manor.

Feeling more tears slide down your face you quickly wiped them.

Maybe this relationship ran its course. Maybe it was time for you to let him go.

Not wanting to think about divorce being an option your sniffles became greater before you started sobbing into the chair.

Where did you go wrong?

#bruce wayne x black batmom #bruce wayne x black reader #bruce wayne x black!reader #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne imagine #batman x black!reader #batman x reader #sugars stories

[a-fandom-reimagined]

The Caped Crusader set you on the balcony of your apartment with the utmost care.

Your heart was pounding in your chest. "That was wild," you laughed. "Thanks for all your help Bats."

And you could have sworn the Dark Knight blushed at the compliment.

"Of course."

"I was almost a goner."

"The police will be here momentarily."

You let your eyes rove over him. The suit, the cape still cresting on a phantom breeze. the assortment of hidden weapons and gadgets just barely visible to the naked eye and laughed again. It was all so silly. So obvious. So Bruce that you weren't sure how you'd missed it. The way he went ramrod straight in your arms when the Bat Signal was cast to the sky. All those nights you woke up in his bed alone, the house silent. It all made sense to now.

You folded your arms across your chest. "Are we still on for tonight?"

His dark eyes widened. "What?"

"I'm not stupid, Bruce I know it's you."

"I-I don't know what you--"

"I gave Bruce Wayne a hickey last night. Now what are the odds that Batman has that same hickey, in the same place?"

He stood there for a moment. Not saying, not even breathing it looked like. And then without a word, he dove off of the balcony.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: I have had this sitting in the drafts for months and decided to share. 

REQUESTED! | REQUESTS: OPEN | REBLOG DON’T REPOST | GIF?

#not MY gif #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x black!reader #bruce wayne imagine #imagine bruce wayne #battinson x reader #battinson x black!reader #bruce wayne fluff #battinson fluff #batman x reader #batman x black!reader #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne x y

[apocalypse-shuffle]

BATMAN | BATFAMILY (assorted canon)

────────────────────

────────────────────

“Long Overdue” (Bruce Wayne x Batmom!Reader)

| Reader was with Bruce in the past but grew distant after Jason’s death. No one tells her when he comes back from the dead until Bruce is forced to bring her in on an ambush when they’re overwhelmed.

-Jason and Batmom!Reader reunion.

| SFW, canon typical action, cursing, past death of a child, Reader & Bruce are divorced, -angry!reader

| This is like half fanon half UTRH/Batman:Hush. I’m really just fucking around with canon rn. Also the pictures used are just for aesthetics and have no contextual meaning to the story. (pic source: Batman - Three Jokers comic)

| 1k+ words

| parts: one, spurt, two, three, four, five, six/six point five, seven.

Bruce clears his throat for the third time in ten minutes.

In contrast you roll your eyes for the third time in just as long before bending over to switch on the A/C. The Batmobile got stale whenever Bruce started binging. The vehicle not smelling like old blood and sweat stopped being important once your ex husband neglected his duties as Bruce Wayne.

Once upon a time that negligence would have worried you. Still does even if you vehemently tamp it down.

Another clearing of his throat.

“Spit it out already.” You hold your arm tighter to your chest at a bump in the road as you watch him, bullet wound treated rudimentarily enough to hold you over until you get to the cave but still adding to the scent of blood.

Bruce isn't a meta-human; he still emoted even if he did it in such small increments that the untrained eye wouldn’t catch on. You were far from untrained though; you’ve been speaking Bruce almost as long as Alfred has and so you see the twist of fearangersorrow that flashes across his face.

The same damn twist of fearangersorrow from the last days of you and Bruce’s relationship. This time around your stomach doesn’t drop and your body doesn’t flare, mirroring those same emotions. You don’t answer Bruce's natural pull at all in fact, only sigh as you do your best to keep your arm from jarring.

“I didn’t come here to fight. Say what you want.”

Not that you expected to get much leeway on that front. Asking Bruce to communicate without a million half truths was like asking a baby to scrape the paint off thirty feet walls. It could be done technically, it would just take a lot of patience and outside assistance.

His hands tighten on the steering wheel, gloves creaking, before he works through the motions of forcing himself to relax.

“You’re not going to like it.”

“Bruce, when's the last time I liked anything that came out your mouth?”

“You were on a video call with Dick and you laughed when I was complaining about that mite infestation in the cave.”

Of course he would remember that, living filing system that he was.

“Yeah, I was laughing at you,” you clarify with a tiny snort and Bruce gives you his faint smile.

“I know,” he says voice gone soft. You have to clench your eyes shut against the onslaught of emotions that tone elicits. How long has it been since you’ve heard it? “I'm…sorry.”

You don’t think he’s talking about the joke.

“Bruce-”

“I know,” he repeats before pausing. You recognize the active way he’s composing himself and something in you can’t help but to shrivel up. What could be so bad that he's acting nearly as off as when he had to explain how Joker killed your son to you?

Your heart pumps faster in your chest like it wants to run away from the impending news, and you have to open your mouth so that your breaths don’t begin to stutter. No more, not after Jason, you can’t take another death.

In an attempt to avoid the nearing collision of your anger and worry at Bruce gearing up to drop yet another bomb on you and straight up verbally expressing he’s sorry about it beforehand - which what the hell? - you run through what you know.

He could just be acting funny about a shared account you forgot to separate. That’s always a possibility. You focus on keeping your breathing level.

You’d seen Dick and heard from Babs tonight, talked to Dick on how to not burn down his house whilst cooking just three afternoons ago and he’d mentioned Alfred doing fine then. Hopefully that still rings true. The newest Robin that’d been dragged out of a collapsing building last week would still be recovering and no one had mentioned Timothy adding to his injuries so it likely wasn’t him that had Bruce like this, and you haven’t heard anything negative or otherwise about Batgirl.

Even this new Red Hood guy didn’t seem to be much of a problem outside of you not knowing who the hell he is and him being all up in your business earlier. You’d take a lot of shit over the dysfunctionality of you and Bruce’s relationship, but not from a stranger. Besides, you weren’t omniscient - that was more Alfred’s deal - so you weren’t exactly the best gauge on the greater intentions of the city’s newest crime boss. You made a habit of not looking too closely at Gotham’s vigilante scene if you could help it.

Joker did go by that once though, right before his metamorphic dip in a vat of acid green, but you knew it wasn’t the clown under that helmet. For one, Joker didn’t fight with Hood’s brute strength and honed finesse and secondly you knew for a fact the green haired bastard was in Arkham right now. Alive and well.

Your hands clench at the reminder.

“You let him live!”

“We are not executioners, Y/n!”

“Uh uh. Absolutely not, that’s where you’ve got me fucked up.” You take a deep breath before gesturing towards the expanse of Gotham. “When you choose over and over for this man to live you are explicitly signing everyone else’s death sentences, and how you don’t see that is beyond me.”

The way Bruce shakes his head is almost reflexive.

“We always stop him before he can do anything like that.”

“Oh really? Always? Because I got a son six feet under that says otherwise, and last time I checked so do you.”

Bruce twitches. “We don’t trade lives.”

You stare at him, your frustration a harsh nearly livable thing at that moment. The memory of him throwing you off the Joker, of the screaming match afterwards, makes your tongue taste like ash.

“Sure we do,” you murmur. “You just won’t see it that way.”

“We. Don’t. Stoop. To their level, Nightfall,” he accentuates gruffly and just as suddenly as it came your anger rushes away with the next gust of wind that lashes at your face.

An argument on methodology is not what you came here for. You're furious about The Joker, you have no doubt you always will be, but that fury isn’t what drove you to hunting Bruce down on a random rooftop. Joker isn’t what got you back in your suit on this night. Bruce is.

Bruce Batman who’s clearly getting ready to turn this into a thing again.

“Bruce. Bruce stop it.”

You look at him. Really look at him for the first time in weeks and something just…clicks. Bruce and you have been standing at a precipice this whole time. This was it. How Bruce handled Jay’s death was either going to make or break you. And if Dick going virtually no contact had been the trial run the continual state of your marriage wasn’t looking too good. No more kids to patch up the cracks. No more looking away from new cracks formed.

Your mask gets pulled off a second later.

“My baby is dead, Bruce. We had to bury our mangled son today and you want to go out and be Batman when Bruce Wayne is needed at home. I don’t want to argue philosophies, I want you to leave the cape at the door and be here for me as my husband.”

Problem was that Bruce hadn’t been able to do both, and by the end of that interaction you’d punched him for it. Punched him for your son too. One failed attempt and all of a sudden he couldn’t kill Jason’s killer or let you do it for the both of you. No, he’d cracked down instead. It would be inexcusable and he’d clash with you the whole way.

You can admit to yourself that you gave up because you didn’t want to be faced with the possibility of Bruce throwing you in jail over the Joker. He’d stopped you from wiping him from the earth three times at that point, who’s to say he wouldn’t have eventually caved and gotten you committed?

Bruce couldn’t balance being the husband to a grieving wife and being the grieving father of a murdered son. Couldn’t handle being Bruce Wayne when The Batman was so much simpler; easier to hide behind than confronting everything. So he retreated.

In a way you understood, the death of a child wasn’t something you walked away from at all in some cases and it certainly changed you in every situation, but you were supposed to have been able to deal with that blow together.

Bruce’s voice, tight and broad, less Bruce and more Bat once more, brings you out of your head.

“A few weeks ago the Red Hood made his presence known after an undisclosed amount of time hiding below the radar in Gotham with a duffel bag full of severed heads.”

You hum lightly having already known this. Dick got chatty when he was stressed.

“A few days after that Red Hood and I got in an altercation wherein he unmasked and gave me his blood and fingerprints. Both that I then tested…”

Behind your mask you squint, breath rushing out of you as another possibility you hadn’t dared to let yourself think comes to mind. Grief’s most dangerous wish. You start shaking your head. It's a useless attempt to not let the pieces come together.

“The results matched that of Jason Todd’s,” there’s a moment of brief wrenching stillness before he adds quieter, as if his veneer of control has suddenly been punched out of him. “Our Jason….”

…TBC

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed! Comments would be appreciated if you wanted to leave one! I read all of them, I only don’t respond cause this is a side blog.

P.S.: It’s gonna come off like I hate Bruce in the later chapters (only sometimes irl) so yeah. Apparently I’m just getting out some general Bruce frustrations with this, so fair warning. This is not a happy ending for his ass.

#bruce wayne #batman #black!reader #black y/n #black!batmom #•long overdue (the series) #bruce wayne x black!reader #batman x black!reader #batman x batmom #divorced!batmom #bruce wayne imagine #batman imagine #batmom & jason todd #batmom x jason todd #batfamily x batmom #batfamily imagine #batfamily x black!reader #batfamily x reader #batmom angst #bruce wayne angst #batman angst #batmom!reader

[creamupuffuu]

I hate reading romantic!batfam fics and the reader is one of Bruce's kids 😐

"B-B-But they're all adopted 🥺👉👈" ION GIVE A FUCK‼️❗️I will litteraly rub my bare coochie against dry cement and slurp a leather jacket through a plastic straw before I read some bullshit about Jason asking Bruce to marry batsibling!reader trust.

#batfam x reader #batman and robin #batman x black!reader #batman comics #batfam imagine #batfam #batman #dc comcis #dc comix #red robin dc #red hood #dcau #incorrect dc quotes #bruce wayne x reader #alfred pennyworth #jasontoddxreader