#Batman one shot
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â mercury: retrograde. â
ââ batman x reader
MINORS DNI 18+ WORD COUNT: 2k SUMMARY: after your failed attempt to recover the last pieces of joker present in the victims of his diseased blood donation, you discover a mystery about the batman in both body and spirit. NOTES: during the events of batman: arkham knight, when harley quinn tries to reclaim the joker-ified victims from panessa studios. the reader is somewhat in the place of harley quinn WARNINGS: f!reader | explicit sexual content | implied creampie | unprotected sex | established relationship: enemies to lovers | size difference | slapping (m receiving) | previous relationship with joker is implied.
You stir at the feeling of strong grips handling your waist, the heavy haze of unconsciousness fading as youâre lifted from the ground. Memories gradually return with each inch gained, and your eyelids flutter open, the dull light stinging your gaze. The motion of you being punctually raised to your feet only to be thrown over the shoulder of none other than the BATMAN is jarring to say the very least. âHey. Hey!â you interject when you come to, your mouth finally catching up with your brain as your stomach makes contact with his armored shoulder, and the wind is knocked from your lungs.
âTake Charisma back to the cells. Iâll catch up.â he orders the newest Boy Wonder. A man clad in red and green holds Johnny Charisma in a similar fashion to your position, mirroring you.
Robin nods, and sees himself out. âDonât take too long.â he jests, and if you were paying more attention you wouldâve rolled your eyes. Instead, youâre much too busy running your mouth with any kind of noise, kicking your feet, and banging your fists against the Batâs lower back. With each blow, the cape bounces back to brush your angry hands, and in a brief fascination you clutch onto the foreign material with the intent to rip it. Of course, it doesnât, and you consider the possibility of tearing into it with your teeth as you would duct tape. To calm your writhing legs, he straps an arm around your thighs, lumbering along with you on his shoulder as if you simply werenât there. Itâs dizzying being all the way up here, the Bat towers over most everyone⊠itâs that or all the blood thatâs rushed to your head. He enters a different room than where Robin went, and momentarily you entertain the fact he seeks to interrogate you. But what could you possibly know that the Bat wants? It was always Joker with the big ideas. Now that heâs gone, youâve been trying replace him as the Head Guy but itâs just not the same.
So you thrash. You move your body in any way you can think of, anything to loosen his vice-like grasp on you, but he is infallible. Taking you deeper into this abandoned set in Panessa Studios. âPut me downâ! Hey! Are you listening to me? I said, put- me- downâ Oh!â Your commands are interrupted by your own squeak of surprise as he unceremoniously drops you, landing on your feet with a bounce as your countenance shifts to one of endearing disbelief. You rally, skewing your features to convey indignity. âHow dare you?â you scold, but itâs grossly performative. You raise your hand, punctuating your disdain for him with a sharp slap of admonishment to his cheek. It reverberates in this empty room, and his neck has craned from the force. Perhaps out of respect. Youâve seen this freak throw grown men across the room, youâre sure he feels nothing but a sting on his skin. So you give him another one, smacking him to pivot him to the other side.
âTouching a lady like that! You should know better! Iâm wearing a skirt! Anyone couldâve seen! What would my men think of their boss if theyâve seen her panties? Huh? Do you have any idea what it takes to be a leader in this economy?â With each passing phrase, your voice heightens shriller, the emotion of the scene getting to you, but he is unaffected. Slowly, he faces you, opening his eyes to meet your vindictive gaze. âYouâ! Youâre the one that killed him, if he were still alive I wouldnât have to be in this messââ your tone cracks at the mention of the Joker, and a desperate sort of need takes you over. You throw yourself onto the statuesque vigilant who remains expressionless as you clutch onto whatever purchase his tight armor possesses, climbing up his chest to his collar.
Your instability is cause for your sudden shift in depression and wrath; one second youâre clinging onto him, shaking him (or more accurately, shaking yourself using him and his immovable body), and the next youâre pinching your features into a frown and weakly banging your fists against his chest for round two. They glance off, and he stares down at you. It takes you an inappropriate amount of time to question how long heâs been letting you do this to him, until he side-steps you. Comically, you fall forward from the loss of balance, the lack of his beam-like support causing you to stumble and clumsily regain your footing to round on him.
âEnough.â he commands, and his recognizably annoyed tone sets your lips into a thin line. âTell me what you know.â Inviting himself into your space, this dark towering figure stoops to your level, forcing you to arch back as he imposes.
You audibly gulp, scanning his form. He notes that. That scares you. So you attempt to throw him off the trail, taking a step back so you have room to straighten, cross your arms, and stick your nose in the air. âI donât know what youâre talking about.â you insist, and wiggle your shoulders, peeking at him through your closed eyes to gauge his reaction. You donât have time to react before his huge glove has enclosed in the puffy fabric of your sleeve, yanking you back to him. Instinctively, you reach out, bracing against his chest so you wonât trip again. A furtive glance is paid to your handâs position on his emblem, and when you meet his gaze heâs already looking at yours.
âYouâre here for the patients. You think theyâve got the potential to replace him, donât you?â Just like that, he ruins the moment with his big mouth.
You scowl, lifting yourself on your toes as if thatâll intimidate him. âThey are him!â
âHeâs dead!â The anger behind his words admits how resentful he is that you wonât deal with the Jokerâs death.
âBecause of you!â
âDonât be stupid.â An alarming shift in his tone conveys an uncharacteristic smugness, one that creases your brow in bewilderment because of how likely the phrase sounded like Batman was about to laugh at you. âHow long are you going to live in that fantasy?â
âIââ you begin, but a flash catches you off-guard. Untensing, you search his eyes for that flash again. A glint. A glimpse of that familiar viridian. Youâve looked into Batmanâs eyes countless times, you know his irises are colored blue. But for one single second, you couldâve sworn you saw a little of J in there. As if you werenât in control of your own body, you take a step forward. A great sense of relief overcoming you at the sight of green blooming faithfully in Batmanâs eyes. âItâs youâŠâ you muse in wonder, your gentle hands coming to cup his rough face, your fingertips grazing the helmetâs smooth material.
If you didnât know any better, youâd say you stunned the Bat. But he doesnât let it last long, growling in offense as he uses your abused top to toss you against a prop wall. You clatter against the hollow wood, meagerly propped up by the 2x4s on the other side. His massive fist nails the surface right by your head, and youâre too in awe to flinch.
âTell me what I want to know!â The Batman orders, and you know exactly what to tell him. You pounce on him, draping your body all over his armor as you wrap your arms around his neck.
âOh, Iâve missed you so much!â you exclaim. You had no idea a little taste of Joker blood had infiltrated the Big Bad Bat. Here he is, right in front of you again. Old feelings come flooding back as your lips peck at whatever is in reach, punctuated with audible âmuahs.â
He recoils, but your grip only tightens, clinging onto him until he pries you off by his hands on your wrists.
âOh, baby,â you croon, bending over to show him your cleavage as you wiggle it for him. âWhy you gotta make me wait, huh? Didnât you miss me too?â Your wrists, suspended in mid-air, make your arousal run impossibly deeper. Firmly enclosed in his big hands, restrained, you could jump out of your own skin. You tilt your head at him as he observes you, as unperturbed as ever, and you wonder if heâs fighting off the Joker-persona that takes over. âYou know you want itâŠâ you exhale, lusty and provocative. âI know you do. Whether youâre the Bat or the Joke I know you want me.â you test. Your tongue licks at the lipstick on your lips. âDonât worry,â you whisper, desperate. âI wonât tell anyone.â
This is not the first time heâs been tempted by you, yet he finds it more difficult than the last to refuse you. He allows you to take a step closer. âFuck it.â he says, and you squeal with delight as he scoops you up, pinning you back to the wall. You slam your lips to his, and he eagerly accepts you. The kind of kiss thatâs fucking sloppy. Disgusting. As reserved and formal as he is in kissing you, youâre far too disorderly for that. All tongue, you thrust it out between your lips to shove it into his, enthusiastic in playing with his. Surprisingly, he accepts it but doesnât match your energy as you tongue-fuck his mouth. You trace it over all the wrong places, giddy in the notion you know what the inside of Batmanâs mouth feels like. You line it over his his teeth until youâre sure you could recreate his dental print from memory.
It all happens so fast. One second youâre making out, sucking on his tongue like itâs his cock, the next his utility belt is on the floor and his actual cock is rearranging your insides. Heâs a lot bigger than your old boss.
âFuck, fuck! Right there, right there!â you mewl your praises, wet pussy gratefully slurping up his every inch. Itâs unfathomable how long youâve gone without proper dick, and something about the way heâs bullying his way into you hits the spot. Everything from the angle of fucking you against this wall, to the gruff and animalistic exhales he expels with each thrust has your pretty eyes rolling into the back of your head. âOh, my fucking God! Who knew you could fuck like this? If Iâdâve known you feel this good I wouldâve hopped on your bat-cock years ago.â Mindless, stupid ramblings of a thankful whore, reeling from his thick fingers that leave bruises in the flesh of your thighs. Heâs relatively quiet, letting you do the talking, perhaps he already regrets his decision to screw you but itâs too late now. Whatever implication this proves heâs not stopping to examine the morality of it, chasing his high and using your body to do it.
The familiar tremor in your thighs lets you know how close you really are, clawing at his armor. His hand cups your jaw, tucking your chin into the web of his thumb, pinching your cheeks together a bit as he adjusts you to look at him. âYou wanna finish?â he asks through the grit in his teeth, and you nod furiously, stifled by his hold.
âYes. Yes, baby, I wanna finish. I wanna cum.â you whine, seeking to please him.
âPromise to be good?â
A stinging thrill shoots up your spine originating from your sex. You had no idea he was into that kind of stuff, nor implementing it. You go crazy for it. Once again, you nod furiously. Whatever that definition entailedâ to be goodâ you would do it. Anything for him. âI promise, I promise. I promise to be good, I promise.â
You find out later being good entails being thrown into a cell to await policy recovery. Oh, but it was fucking worth it.
#indy: one shots#ch: bruce#batman one shot#batman smut#batman x reader#batman x f!reader#batman x fem!reader#batman x you#batman x y/n#batman x you smut#batman x reader smut#batman x f!reader smut#bruce wayne smut#batman fanfiction#batman fic#batman imagine#bruce wayne x reader smut#bruce wayne x reader#bruce wayne imagine#bruce wayne x fem!reader#dc comics smut#dc comics x reader#dc comics x you
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Alternative Universe Father-In-Law
Word Count: 2,700
Summary: Bruce enters a portal by mistake, leading him to bring back someone from another universe for a nice breakfest.
Pairing: Bruce x female!reader
Notes: I enojyed the comic and the animated movie where thomas meets bruce and i had an idea to write for it. also give alfred some well desserved flowers in being a dad. #alfreddesreveshisflowers
Warnings: dad that has come back with the milk
'I am telling you, Lois. Clark is stubborn, but he has a weak spot; mention the missing turkey of '08, and he will shut up and let you do whatever you want. "
'Wait! That really works?'
'Of course, it does. I have known Clark for 7 years, and I was the witness to that crime, so just mention it: he will fall back, trust me. Now I have to go. I am home.'
'Thanks, doll!'
'No worries, bye!'
Opening the big door, you enter with your phone nestled on top of your shoulder as you held the grocery bags. Stepping into the manor, you noticed the living room where Alfred was dusting behind the plasma screen.
'Mistress y/n. Welcome back.' The cheerful butler spoke as he walked to you, grabbing the grocery bags
'Thank you, Alfred. How was your day?' I asked him, striding next to him as we entered the spacious kitchen that held the marble island in the middle, placing the bags on top of it
'My day was good. The gardener came by and took care of the bush that Master Damian had 'shaped' with his swords yesterday. Although the poor man left with a terrible mind haze after finishing the Herculean task, managing to shape it back into a proper bush, and not some rhombus as Master Damian did.'
'Do remind me to tell Damian to leave the shrubs at peace. Maybe he can use those swords' skills to cut up meat when we have BBQs.'
'That seems like a great idea.'
The two hushed and resumed their conversation as Damian entered, his smile non-existent, his eyes scrunched into a tight-knit. You turn to him, saying with a slight chuckle
'Speak of the devil. What's up, Dami?'
The child walked between Alfred and you, crossing his arms and with a deep sigh, he articulated gradually
'Father has disappeared.'
You look at Alfred, knowing fully well that sometimes Bruce disappears to follow a clue, 'He will turn up by the end of the day. Bruce is like that, don't worry, sweetheart.'
'That is true, even before his vigilante lifestyle, Master Bruce was always the one to go with no notice but always turned up when his belly rumbled.'
With a giggle nestled in Alfred's sentence, Damian spoke again, shaking his head 'No. Father and I have been working on a portal and when I was grabbing a tool, he connected two wires, which opened a portal and pulled him in. By the time I came close, the portal closed.'
Looking at Alfred with a concerned look, you spoke what you two were thinking, 'And how come you two didn't tell us about that portal?'
Damian shook his head 'I-I have no clue, y/n.'
'Okay... and do you know where the portal leads to?'
'Between our world and other 456 parallel universes.'
fuck
Sighing deeply, you look at Damian 'So we have 1 in a 456 chance of finding him?'
'Yes. So are we going?' Damina asked, ready to jump into the adventure of the chance to jump from one universe to another
'No. We aren't. Damian, I can barely turn on the TV here without asking for help. And by no means will I manage to open a portal. We only have to wait and be next to the Bat computer to see if there are any anomalies. If an anomalie happens, I know someone who can help us.' I say, looking at the small assasin child
Damian looks up at you, his eyes asking questions, 'Who do you know, mother?'
'A friend, someone I knew way before you and Bruce. Even before I met Clark.'
You look at Alfred smiling 'He will show up, right Alfred?'
Alfred responds, faying his smile 'Of course, Misstress y/n.'
While the day dragged along in a snail-pace of time, you felt yourself doze off on the bat computer, a small trail of drool leaving a trail on the keyboard that was far too uncomfortable, but when you are fatigued, anything can be a pillow, and that stiff neck fo yours is a problem in the morning.
A shift in the air moved and circled, stirring you up from your slumber. Your eyes slowly open, adjusting to the luminous light that materialized in the Batcave, the wind pushing around the whirlpool of light as a tall, a dark shadow exited out. Staying up on numb legs, you felt the same pull you felt with Bruce, a warm safe space that drew you two always closer.
'Bruce?' you asked cautiously as you paused. The shadow you saw his features, the sharp hairstyle that was always in place, his tall and muscled build that was engraved in your mind. You knew that was him. Moving to him, you felt a wave of relief wash over you but another one followed, disappointment.
'Where were you?! We were worried sick about your stupid ass! How could you not tell me that you were making a goddamn portal in the house, Bruce!' you directed your words at him, the light of the rustled and shined over his taller-than-usual figure but nonetheless, you continued, 'And don't think for a fact you went to another universe that means I will get any sympathy from me. You are sleeping on the couch for the next 3 weeks.'
As the portal began to size down the light shimmered down you step back letting yourself catch a breath, sure you were mad but you were also glad that he was alive.
With the portal gone, the shadow started to dissipate bringing back the man you loved. You waited, a small smile on your face as you heard him speak a few shades deeper than what you know 'You were right. She is a firecracker.' Stepping back few more steps at the unfamiliar tone you watched a shape move behind him tall as him, same as him, did Bruce duplicate?
Leaning on the Bat computer, ready to press the button on the keyboard to call the remainder of the Bat Family you watched carefully as one moved closer to you, revealing... Bruce, your Bruce with a small smile.
'Sorry I was gone, dalrin.''
'Bruce, what is going on?'
'I met someone along the way.' Bruce steps for you to see the man that you talked to, with one confident step the man steps to you, his features coming to light, grey hair styled in a way that not even the wind could move one strand, his blue eyes decorated with wrinkles and his smile eerily identical to Bruce's looking at them side by side it struck you
'Love, this is my father, Thomas Wayne. In the universe I stumbled upon was a universe where my father was the Batman, and I was shot that night.'
Thomas smiled warmly at you, offering a hand to shake 'It is a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. L/n. Bruce has told me a great deal about you.' Shaking his strong hand, you think
What a great first impression. First, I thought he was Bruce and second I gave him an earful. What a great first impression.
'It is great to meet you, Dr. Wayne. I apologize for my actions beforehand, I thought you were Bruce and wel-'
'No worries about that. It is great to know that my son has someone who keeps him in check.' He spoke as you awkwardly laughed it off.
Bruce stood next to you, placing a hand on your waist 'Let's try this one more time. Father, this is Y/n, she is the love of my life, and the woman I wish to marry and spend the rest of my life.'
It's your time to be shocked yet again. You and Bruce never talked about it, only joking about being called Mrs.Wayne but he never communicated his desire to get married. Thomas glimpsed at the two of you, Bruce stood proudly with you while you tried your best to conceal your red cheeks and shocked eyes at his claims 'You better treat her right, son.' Thomas spoke
'He does, Dr. Wayne.'
You uttered, looking at the alternative universe father-in-law as Bruce examined your expression and in that moment, he felt himself fall in love yet again with you.
'How about we grab a bite? I am sure that Dr. Wayne would appreciate a good breakfast.'
Thomas nodded his head in agreement, beaming 'I'd love that, but y/n, no need for formalities. Call me Thomas. I haven't been a doctor in decades.'
'Sure. Thomas.'
Grabbing Bruce's hand you three exit the Batcave and head to the living room.
Strolling into the living room, you smelt Alfred's mouthwatering breakfast, scented the familiar maple syrup, and took notice of the sizzling bacon.
'I am bringing our guests.' You announced and Alfred cracked a smile as he watched you bring Bruce into the dining room where Damian was already seated. Alfred placed the lofty breakfast on the table. Pivoted to Bruce switching into scolding mode 'Now, young Master, I think we could have a great and lenghty chat about what goes in the Batcave.'
As Bruce stood behind you, Thomas' voice boomed into the ear of the butler 'I agree, Pennyworth. He surely needs that talk."
Alfred froze when he heard that voice. His eyes caught onto Thomas and he felt and thought that he was dead, joining the afterlife as there was no way that the deceased Thomas Wayne was standing before him.
'Master Wayne?' Alfred weaved quietly towards the man, and Thomas smiled 'Hello, old friend.'
He spoke, grabbing the longtime friend into a bone-crushing hug. Smiling at the interaction, Damian stood from his seat, walking towards his alternative universe grandfather 'So by my conclusionâŠyou are my grandfather?'
Thomas stepped and crouched down to his eye level, smiling 'Yes, but I am. From another world.'
'I figured as much.'
Thomas looked at Damian and Bruce, his gaze shifting from one to another 'The resemblance is uncanny. He is your and y/n's copy.'
You felt yourself freeze as you interrupted him 'Thomas, he isn't mine. I--i mean he is my son but he didn't come from my stomach. Damian's mother is a leader of a group of assassins.'
Thomas stood up, watching his son 'You cheated, son?'
Bruce shook his head 'Father, no. Damian's mother and I met before me and y/n. Damian's mother was a --'
'She is a cold-hearted assassin who doesn't care about me or my well-being.' Damian cut in, saying what he considered his mother.
Thomas looks to the side, a bit shy about this situation, thanks Bruce.
Alfred coughs dryly, breaking the tension 'Let us all sit for a nice breakfast.'
Sitting next to Bruce you saw his smile, his true smile. The one reserved for you, comfort moments you both encountered and made, a smile that told you he felt at peace.
As everyone ate you desired to ask questions your father-in-law 'So Thomas, what do you think about Bruce being this world's Batman?'
Thomas looks at you a slight smile 'I always believed in the multiverse, and I alwats hoped that in one of them my son is alive and living his life. Being Batman, I suppose, is a part of the Wayne lineage, but what I mostly hold important in my heart is that my son is happy.' And he smiles bigger. 'And I can see that he truly is.â
Blushing at Thomas' words you looked at Bruce, your eyes twinkling with love while his blue irises showered you in silent praise 'I definitely am.'
Damian whispers to Thomas 'Thanks a lot. Now they will make-out in front of us.' Thomas laughs, whispering in the exact low tone 'That's good. It's better than to fight, besides, Martha adn I were the same. Always in love, never apart.'
Bruce turns to Damian saying slyly, 'You are aware that you are across the table, and not 40 meters away, Damian. We can still hear you.'
Damian rolls his eyes, playfully but nonetheless taking his grandfather's words to heart. It is definitely better for them to be in love and not fight. 'I have to feed Bat-Cow. Y/n, will you help me? I am too short to get the ball of hay.'
Smiling you stand up, leaving with Damian. Alfred, Thomas, and Bruce stayed at the table.
'Bat-Cow?' Thomas asked, perplexed, while his hands tingled
'No worries, Master Wayne. Thankfully, it is not a hybrid of a cow and bat; it is just a plain cow with an artistic name.' Alfred spoke
'Father, stay.' Bruce blurred out, declaring the thing he wished he would receive an optimistic answer to
'Bruce... I can't. If I stay long enough, my universe will disappear. Besides, if I did.... I don't want you to grieve all over again.'
'Believe me, Master Wayne...Master Bruce still grieves to this day.'
Thomas stands up from his seat, hugging his son 'I love you, Bruce. There is no need to grieve anymore. It won't change anything. You have no idea how much it brings me happiness to see you happy with Alfred, your son, and Y/n.â Thomas didn't let Bruce stand up, not to see the small pixel-like specs encircling Thomas' legs. Alfred noticed the scene but stayed silent.
'When I see you looking at your son and Y/n I see myself and my life I had before that night. And it makes me so happy to see it. I know that it can be better. You make me proud every day, and will continue to do so."
The pixels reached Bruce's eyesight, standing up to look at hIs father, Bruce weakly said 'Stay...please.'
'It's not me to decide but I am happy I had a nice meal with your family.'
Kissing his forehead, Thomas dissipated back into his universe. Bruce looks at Alfred a small tears escaping his eye. The two men stand up, hugging each other, leaning on this moment. Bruce wanted to talk to his father more to make up for the lost and stolen time. It was time that he wanted nothing more than to be a son again. Alfred wanted to talk more to Thomas about Bruce. To tell him how he has matured, how he traveled the world and yet came back home, in Gotham, to make the city shine brighter than ever. To tell him how Bruce keeps an engagement ring for y/n ever since she moved into the manor but is not sure when to pop the question.
Both Bruce and Alfred wanted to tell him about their path of trying to grasp at straws to find justice in this forsaken town.
Pulling away from the hug Alfred spoke, 'As you can see, your father is proud at you. And I believe that goes for every Thomas Wayne in any alternative universe.'
Bruce looked at Alfred, nodding in confirmation 'I do believe that but I also am proud of the father that raised me as well. The one standing in front of me.'
Alfred's eyes twinkled in appreciation no words needed to be spoken at that response, there simply weren't those words that could how Alfred felt in this moment.
Steps echo closer and closer as you come back, with no sight of Thomas.
'Is he gone?' You ask, seeing Bruce walk to you, a smile on his face.
Bruce nods, hugging you, Feeling a bit sad at not being able to say goodbye to your father-in-law you ask Bruce 'How are you feeling?'
Pulling away Bruce chuckles 'Good. This moment made me realize some things. About my family.'
Bruce understood. The reason he went into that portal and brought his father here, it was a shifting moment for him, a moment to bring him in a more grateful state, he knew how lucky he was to have Alfred as his father figure, his son, and you, possibly his future fiancee.
That is until he pops the question.
Hope you enjoyed it!
#imagine#robert pattinson batman#batman one shot#batman imagine#bruce wayne#bruce wayne one shot#bruce wayne imagine#bruce wayne x reader#dc one shot#dc imagine#dc x reader#justice leauge imagine#justice league#batman x reader#thomas wayne#alfred pennyworth#damian wayne#dribble
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First Impressions.
Summary; Bruce is distracted when he meets you at a Gala Pairing; Bruce Wayne x Female Reader WordCount; 552 Credit to cafekitsune for the banner and the divider!
Bruce navigated the room with practiced ease. He slipped into the room with precision. Bruce knew exactly what to say, and who to say it to. Bruce knew the attendees who he needed to work harder to obtain what he wanted.
Events like this Bruce often remained focused during a Gala such as these. Albeit, he often found himself bored. It was all about keeping up appearances.
However, Bruce was distracted tonight. A long flowing black gown glided across the floor. Eyes met momentarily as Bruce allowed a subtle smile to grace his lips. A mirror image as you brought a champagne flute to your crimson-painted lips.
Bruce didn't care for any other guests tonight. Except you. He wanted to make your acquaintance. Suddenly, Bruce was no longer engaged in the current conversation. He nodded his head, providing short answers. Desperate to end the conversation to make his introductions.
Bruce allowed the conversation five more minutes before he made his excuses. He took two champagne flutes from the waiter passing by.
You were alone, taking a breather from the constant barrage of questions and fake pleasantries. Unlike many you were attending because you cared about helping under privileged children. Unlike those who were heard to spread and hear gossip.
"You look like you could use this" Your eyes glanced up to be met with the hose for the evening. Blue eyes met yours. "Thank you, this place looks beautiful." You examined the room taking in the sight. His team had done an amazing job. Except Bruce couldn't admire he view because he couldn't take his eyes off of you. You were breathtaking.
"I can't take the credit. I have an excellent team. They're the ones who made it possible." "Well then you have a great team, Mr. Wayne, you should be proud." "Thank you and please call me Bruce." Bruce angled himself towards you, interested in taking in every minuscule detail about you. That was only the beginning for Bruce, he wanted to know you inside and out. Bruce's nerves were on edge. He'd never been so compelled before. Never by another person. "So what brings you here tonight?" "I work alongside the charity. You're doing excellent work you have no idea how much of an impact the donations will have getting kids off the streets, giving them a chance at life." Bruce admired the way you spoke, The passion in your voice, the way your animated hands reiterated that. "I'm always willing to help any way I can. Gotham's youth are going to bring change. It's something I'm passionate about Bruce observed your smile widen. "I wish others here tonight held your sentiment. Most are here for the publicity and the idle gossip. Tonight's more about flaunting their wealth. They will not give a second thought to the children tonight." "Perhaps we could arrange dinner? Talk about the ways I could help. I'd love to get more involved. "Thank you, I don't know what to say." "Say yes. Let me take you out. Somewhere more intimate and less pretentious. We can talk about everything and make a plan. Bruce gave you a moment, hoping this could provide the opportunity to get to know you and create a different change rather than fighting Gotham's underbelly. "Sure I'll go to dinner with you."
#dc imagines#Dc imagine#Dc one shot#dc oneshot#Bruce Wayne imagines#Bruce Wayne imagine#Bruce Wayne one shot#Bruce Wayne oneshot#Batman imagines#Batman imagine#Batman one shot#Batman oneshot#heroes versus villians#Drabble
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âhard-knock lifeâ
plot: even with the riddler locked away in arkham, his followers manage to haunt bruce to this day. thankfully, youâre more than willing to help your fiancĂ© tie up all his loose ends... even if they are a bit ridiculous. or four times the riddlerâs followers make a threat on bruceâs life and the one time alfred shoots them for it. pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: humor, fluff, established relationship, you and bruce are engaged, I use âfiancĂ©â gender-neutrally, generally silly but some angst, serious but cartoonishly awful attempts at violence, guns, excessive use of the word âgoonâ, based off this post by @emma-d-klutzâ. words: 3.5k.
a/n: I just canât stop thinking about this post
Bruce figures he could look a little more concerned right now.
One goon holds a phone up to his faceâso that he can see himself on screenâwhile two more have his arms arrested in their grip. The comments on the live stream are moving too fast, but he imagines theyâre not worth reading.
The goon holding the phone laughs through his mask, clearly amused by Bruceâs lack of emotion, âLook at the little Gotham prince trying to put on a brave face. Wonât be so brave in a minute now, will you?âÂ
Bruce assumes theyâre referring to their comrade in arms a few feet away, readying a pistol, but he canât look long; he feels a harsh kick to the backs of his knees and he kneels against the gravel. This close to the docks, they could dispose of his body in the river after his swift execution. Was it weird to be offended by their choice? He was kind of offended. Almost as offended as he was when heâd figured out their plan two days ago.
âI can offer you money,â Bruce recites, your idea, unenthusiastically, âanything. Anything you want.â
The goons laugh. The one holding the pistol steps forward and places the barrel against Bruceâs temple. âAnything we want, huh? Why donât you tell our audience how you shouldâve just died when the Riddler gave you a chance? What a glorious death you would have had.â
Bruce wants to tell them that itâs not exactly his fault Edward didnât make sure he was home before trying to kill him. He imagined that would just anger them more. Bruce takes a deep breath.
The safety on the gun clicks off when a heavy fog starts crawling toward them from beneath a nearby dumpster. Some of the goons exclaim in confusion and the executioner points toward the smoke.
âWhat the fuck is that?â The cameraman yells, turning to film the steadily approaching fog. Itâs thick and moving quickly, starting to crowd around the Riddlerâs followers like a dramatic omen. It isnât long before Bruce canât see a foot in front of him. His arms flex, waiting for the telltale sound of his namesake.
A sudden chorus of chirping overhead has Bruce ducking, the trigger-happy goon shooting off into the sky as black wings speckle the fog.Â
The two holding Bruce still are suddenly forced off of him. Thereâs the sound of violent fighting in the midst of the fog but Bruce is more focused on the shooter, his position given away only by the bullets he shoots off with reckless abandon. Mapping his position on the docks, Bruce takes a violent leap forward and feels himself collide into him, dragging his much smaller body forward and forward and forward until-
Splash!
Bruce canât see it through the fog, but he hears the goon hit the railing and fall into the river below soon after.
âShit, shit, shit! Weâve been ambushed!â The one filming is the last one standing. He scrambles nearby, trying to find an escape. Within the fog, a dark figure approaches him, and Bruce can just make out the sound of their opponentâs nose getting crushed by the weight of the attackerâs palm. The phone falls out of the goonâs hand when he collapses, unconscious.Â
Shortly after, the wind carries away the remaining fog and Bruce walks into the clear night where he sees you perched behind the dumpster, giving him a thumbs up over the machine that sputters out white haze. âDid we do it?â You ask, giddy.Â
Alfred walks out of the fog next. It was a miracle Alfred could even see in the Batsuit. It dwarfed him. âI believe we did. Are you alright, Master Bruce?â
âAlrightâ was a stretch for what tonightâs events had done to his mood, though heâs thankful he doesnât have a bullet-sized hole where his oncoming migraine should be. Bruce is just happy to have pulled this off in the first place. âPeachy,â he grits through his teeth, âis the stream still going?â
Alfred hums, wiping some of the goonâs blood off his knuckles, âNo, I think enough has been seen tonight. The GCPD will be on their way shortly.â
That was a relief. Their theatrics werenât all for nothing. With luck, tonightâs failed execution would serve as a warning to the Riddlerâs remaining followers: Bruce Wayne was untouchable, and any attempt on his life would result in the same fate. Maybe now theyâd stop trying to kidnap him off the street.
They, in fact, did not stop.
Alfred had taken the necessary precautions to ensure Bruce did not die in the following days after the docks incident, and with the added threat of paparazzi flooding the tower, Bruce was confined inside until further notice. As far as anyone was concerned, Bruce Wayne was taking some vacation time after a âharrowingâ threat on his life. It only made sense. No business engagements for two weeks, at least.
This vacation was, of course, not for the Batman.
Bruce had a wedding to be planning for Godâs sake, and yet here he was, perched in the shadows, watching as five squirrelly idiots set up shop across from Wayne Tower... to snipe him, theyâd said online.
This was the other downside of the Riddlerâs fans gunning for revenge on the Batman: Bruce had to spend ungodly hours on their forums combing for new threats on his life. Most of them were half-baked plans too big to pull off, but the few that werenât were constantly on his radar.
It wasnât that Bruce was afraid for his own life, though. He was afraid for yours. The Batman could walk off a bullet wound and Bruce Wayne had fortified his body against most attacks. You, on the other hand, were painfully mortal. One well-aimed shot from a sniper rifle and heâd lose you.
âLooking awfully severe tonight, Mr. Wayne.â
Bruce cracks a half-smile when your voice crackles to life in his ear, right on cue. You mustâve been getting into position. Bruce makes sure his voice is low enough that the goons canât hear him from his perch. âYou donât have to do this, you know.â
You really, really didnât. He could easily wipe out these five on his own with only a few injuries sustained, but you had worried over the guns and convinced him heâd need all the help he could get. Even if it was just a measly distraction, âDonât worry. Batman will protect me.â You sing.
Your shadow passes a window and one of the goons lines up a shot for you. He propels himself down onto the sniperâs back, knocking him out cold.
Thereâs considerably fewer goons tonight than there were upon his kidnapping, which Bruce finds amusing. Maybe he could get a few hours of patrol in after thwarting this second attempt on his life. Maybe youâd still be awake by the time he got home, and he could pull you away from poring over wedding plans to celebrate a job well done-
Away in his own mind, he isnât prepared for the butt of a rifle cracking up against the cowl. In the time it had taken him to run away with his thoughts, heâd downed four of them already. He slowly turns. No hurry.
The goon flinches back, eyes wide behind the non-prescription frames slipping off his nose. If Bruceâs ears werenât still ringing from the hit, he might have went for the temple and called it a night. But again, no hurry.
Bruce grapples the man by the front of his coat and dangles him over the ledge of the building. Softly, he hears you gasp over the comm line, âYouâre not gonna drop him, are you?â
Instead of answering you, Bruce gives the goon a good shake, âThis wonât end well for you.â
The goon is shivering in Bruceâs grasp, clutching onto his wrist for dear life, swatting at air to get leverage. Bruce extends his arm out further and two voices exclaim this time. âY-You betrayed him! You betrayed the Riddler!â The voice that comes out of the man is squeaky, almost young. Bruce frowns. âThe Waynes will pay for what theyâve done to Gotham!â
âAre those your words or his?â
He falters some, unsure, and obviously it isnât Bruceâs job to play therapist. He doesnât know what this kid is getting out of working for the Riddler, what lies heâs been fed. All he knows is that someone had pointed a gun at his fiancĂ© and tonight could have gone very differently if he hadnât been ready.
But this kid wasnât the one holding the gun. âIâm giving you a warning: leave the Waynes alone,â Bruce drags him close enough for their eyes to meet, âthere wonât be a second warning.â
The goon all but scrambles onto his feet the second Bruce drops him back onto solid ground, having only that second to gather his bearings before Bruce brings his fist down onto his head, knocking him out with the rest of his friends. Tying their wrists behind their backs is quick work, as is piling their worrying amount of weaponry far, far from reach. One quick request to Gordon for cleanup is the icing on the cake.
Bruce is scaling his way down the building when you chime in once more, âYou alright, handsome? I hope these guys arenât getting to you.â
Getting to him was an overstatement. They had to pose an actual threat to get to him, âI wasnât going to drop him.â
âYou were thinking about it, but you wouldâve caught him right after. Are you heading out for patrol?â
His lip twitch is the only sign of argument against you because you unfortunately know him well. Bruce slips into the shadow of an alleyway, scanning the street for any other surprises. âMaybe... maybe later. Iâm heading back to the tower.â
He hears you make a little noise on the other end, watches your figure outlined in the glass by the lamplight. Itâs dark out and youâre high up, but somehow, he feels like you find him down there anyway, âYou better take off that suit before you track gutter water through my house, Mr. Wayne.â
Bruce canât help it. He laughs, âI thought you liked it when the suit stays on.â
You had made it a priority, if you were to marry Bruce, that he make time for date night.
Obviously, with being the CEO of Wayne Enterprises and Batman, you didnât expect him to always have time to spare. That was the compromise youâd made long before heâd gotten down on one knee. However, for his sake (â-and the sake of Gotham!â youâd added, just to be safe), break time was a must. An hour at least, maybe two if you were lucky. He didnât even have to spend it conscious. Youâd spent plenty a night with his head on your chest and your fingers carding through his hair, reading a book or telling him about your day.
Tonight would have been the same had you not convinced him to come out in disguises. With a little prompting, you two had had a great night on the town. Youâd all but forgotten the hectic past week.
And then you both had walked into the penthouse, giggling through the front door, only to find Alfred lugging a dead body across the living room floor. âHeâs not dead.â Alfred assured. A body, then.
Bruce rushes in front of you, âJesus, Alfred. What happened?â
The butler looks far too nonchalant for the scene, but you do notice the lack of a blood trail.
âI was making tea. Enjoying a quiet night to myself, I was, when I heard glass shatter from the other room. Lo and behold, I find one of these Riddler clowns climbing through the window.â
âSixty floors off the ground? Howâd he even make it?â Your voice is riddled with wonder. Climbing gear attached to the corpse- body shows a considerable effort. You notice as well, after a moment of disbelief, that thereâs a barely concealed handgun sticking out of Alfredâs waistband. In all your time living here, youâd never seen a weapon like that in the Wayne household. Bruceâs hatred of guns had made sure of that. âDid you shoot him, Alfred?â
Bruce tenses up too, then bristles when he sees what youâre looking at. Alfred even looks a little sheepish and drops the body altogether to hide it. âYou shot him?â
Alfred gulps, âYes... with a rubber bullet, not a real one.â
âAnd you do that often? Shoot people?â
âOf course not, Bruce.â
âSo you just happened to have a gun on you-â
âSomeone was breaking in!â
â-while you were making tea-â
âAnd the gun is not real.â
â-I canât imagine what else youâve got hidden away in this house. What, am I going to find a grenade in the coffee grinder tomorrow morning?â
You inch yourself closer to the incapacitated man on the ground, the bridge of his clear frames caved in on themselves. You can see a worrisome bruise between his eyes. Just to be safe, you check the manâs pulse to confirm that Alfred really hadnât killed him. Sure enough, he hadnât lied, but brain damage wasnât entirely off the table yet.
Alfred scoffs, folding his arms over his ruffled vest, âI donât use bloody grenades. And I havenât shot a real bullet in years! Most of the guns I own are entirely non-lethal.â
âMost? How many do you have?â Bruce accuses.
A moment passes. âYouâll never find them all.â
The bickering continues at an even louder volume after that. Bruce is furious that Alfred never told him about the guns and Alfred, the military-bred man that he is, was struggling hard not to just say that he was a grown man who could do what he wanted and be done with it.
As (oddly) endearing as it was to see the father and son bickering, you couldnât let Alfred get in trouble on your watch.
âUm, Bruce,â you interject, catching both of the menâs attention, âto be fair to Alfred, this guy was carrying a real gun with real bullets. If Alfred didnât have his weapon, this couldâve gone way worse. He saved the day.â
Alfred, as smug as an English gentleman could be, turned his attention back to Bruce.
The news had slowly but surely sobered Bruce up. One more look at the goon on the floor had dried up all the frustration, leaving him thoroughly exhausted, â...he didnât hurt you, did he?â
âThe shattered window is unfortunate, but I can call the repairmen in the morning. I trust you two have nothing as exciting to report.â A shared look between yourself and Bruce has Alfred nodding, discussion supposedly ended. âVery well. Then I shall retire for the night. Unless youâd like to raid my belongings for suspiciously sharp pencils... Master Bruce?â
All the fire in him had been extinguished. Bruce shakes his head and Alfred makes his leave, âWhat about the guy?â He yells after the retreating butler.
Alfredâs bedroom door shuts shortly after. It appeared date night had officially come to a close.
Bruce had been vehemently against a police detail for himself. It was you and Alfred that really needed it, heâd insisted, but Lieutenant Gordon had a brain that worked like anyone elseâs and understood that the man with the hit on him needed it most. And so, much to his chagrin, heâd been hunkered down in Wayne Tower for the last few days, sneaking out as the Bat only when absolutely sure he wouldnât get caught.
As his future spouse-to-be, you were the one who had to cover for him. But sometimes, no amount of lying could account for his missing presence in the penthouse, and so the Bat had to be put on the back burner until further notice... and it was driving him insane.
The police were in the kitchen, in his study, outside your shared bedroom, and on every floor of Wayne Tower. The media was still abuzz of the latest failed assassination attempt. There were too many eyes on him, it was making him itch.
Thatâs why, on the rare occasion that you could both pull it off, you helped him into the terminus elevator, helped hide his hair beneath his hat and hood, and sent him off on his bike before any one could question where you and Bruce had gotten off to. Pre-newlywed stuff. It was the honeymoon before the honeymoon, Alfred had joked once.
And of course, the one time you could get him out of the house successfully, he gets kidnapped.
Itâs embarrassing standing next to Alfred as the police detail watches the news feed on the living room TV. Bruce was tied to a chair in the middle of the frame, three goons including the cameraman huddled around him and attempting to get a rise out of him. Threats that heâd heard a thousand times over had become stale at this point. Left out too long. If you werenât so ashamed that youâd unwittingly helped him get kidnapped again, youâd be laughing at the unimpressed look he was giving the camera.
The bright side was that one, they seemed to not have found his suit and two, the goons had dwindled even more in number. Perhaps they were finally giving up?
âCitizens of Gotham, Bruce Wayne has been a hard man to get in touch with. But that doesnât matter: the Riddlerâs righteous justice will be delivered this day!â The cameraman declares, poking Bruceâs chest with a baton. Bruce barely moves. The cameraman sounds as put off by this as you feel, âUh... any last words, Wayne?â
One of the officers is furiously working with a dispatcher to locate where the video is broadcasting from. Another in the corner is snickering behind her coffee cup. Youâre not sure why you relate to them both.
Your future husband looks so done with the situation that youâre reassured heâs in no real danger, but you canât fathom why he let himself get caught if that was the case. Surely, he wouldâve taken them out just fine on his own. There were only three of them.
Another goon nudges his head with the barrel of his gun, yet Bruce does not flinch, âSpeak up! The world is watching!â
Wordlessly, Bruce shifts in his seat once, twice, and brings his once bound hands to his front completely freed. You swore you heard a collective gasp across the nation.
The men in the room with Bruce look just as shocked as he reaches for the gun aiming (wobbling) at his head and gently covers the barrel of it with his palm, weaseling it out of the goonâs hand. The magazine falls to the floor shortly after and the gun is discarded across the room. When Bruce approaches the cameraman, the camera jerks back.
The phone is yanked away by Bruce. Before the live shuts off, you hear him speak for the first and only time since the broadcast started, âThis is getting embarrassing.â
An uneasy quiet settles over the room after that. When Bruce comes home later that evening, escorted in a cop car, he looks absolutely pitiful. Your open arms are more than appreciated.
Itâs been a long few weeks.
Wayne Enterprises was in a tizzy trying to get media under control. First the police, then the paparazzi, and now it felt like heâd gone from slipping from place to place unnoticed to being the talk of the town. It had made being Batman significantly harder, but it had also made him significantly more irritable.
Between you and... well, you, the only thing keeping him sane was currently asleep upstairs. After the last kidnapping debacle, it seemed that all the Riddlerâs followers had been scared off, so at the very least, the police presence had dwindled down to a select few. Heâd been given the go-ahead to take his own trash out, even. Promised he just needed some fresh air. A few hundred dollars thrown the night guardâs way and he was standing out in the cold at the back of Wayne Tower, in just a âI survived my trip to Gotham!â t-shirt and a pair of boxers, holding a trash bag.
The one Riddler clone standing across from him almost looks too afraid to stumble out of the shadows and recite their spiel. Heâd be too tired to listen, anyway.
âGo home,â Bruce grumbles, tossing the bag into the dumpster, making no effort to try to appear like more of a threat than he really was. He didnât even have mace on him, âI wonât even mention it.â
The stalker waits in the shadows for a few beats, practically shaking, unsure of himself. Bruce stares, unblinking. At the very least, if he took too long coming back up, theyâd probably send someone down to check on him. This guy had a chance to get at least one shot off if he wanted. Bruce had survived three at one time, once.
After the worldâs most unimpressive standoff, the goon turns around and starts walking home.
Itâs been a long few weeks.
taglist: @yikes-buddyâ @alexxavicryâ @moonlightreader649â
#bruce wayne x reader#bruce wayne scenarios#bruce wayne imagine#bruce wayne one shot#bruce wayne fic#bruce wayne fluff#bruce wayne#batman x reader#batman scenarios#batman imagine#batman one shot#batman fic#the batman#batman fluff#battinson x reader#battinson#mjwrites#dc
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more than words can say - Batman x reader
Summary: your a valuable member of the league and someone accuses you of being a traitor.
word count: 2.2k
author's note: I have decide to go in a complete different direction and write for batman. I will also be writing for other DC characters too such as night wing. I have no clue if there is still a community for these fanfics so please let me know if you like it :)
ââââââââââ ââ©â âââââââââ
As a member of the Justice League, I felt an immense sense of pride and accomplishment. I had spent years training to perfect my powers and become an integral part of the team. My unique abilities allowed me to control the elements of water, fire, earth, and air, giving me a versatility that was unmatched by most.
I had first discovered my powers as a child, and with the help of my parents, who were also gifted with extraordinary abilities, I learned to control them. As I grew older, I honed my skills through rigorous training and countless battles against evildoers who threatened the safety of innocent people.
My reputation as a formidable superhero eventually caught the attention of the Justice League, and they extended an invitation for me to join their ranks. It was a dream come true, and I was determined to prove myself as a valuable member of the team.
I took a seat at the long table in the conference room of the Watchtower, the Justice League's orbital headquarters. The room was spacious and dimly lit, with large windows that offered a stunning view of the Earth below. The table was made of sleek, black marble and was surrounded by high-tech chairs that seemed to conform to the body of whoever sat in them.
Superman stood at the head of the table, his broad shoulders tense with worry. His usually warm smile was replaced with a grave expression, and his piercing blue eyes scanned the faces of each member of the League with a sense of urgency.
The Watchtower hummed with the sound of the powerful engines that kept it aloft, and the only other noise in the room was the soft beeping of the high-tech equipment that surrounded us. The sense of gravity and importance was palpable in the air as Superman began to speak.
Superman stood at the head of the table, his expression serious. âWe've discovered a traitor among us," he said, his voice carrying a weight of concern. "Someone on the inside has been leaking information to our enemies. We need to find out who it is before they do more damage."
A feeling of unease crept over me as I listened to Superman lay out the details of the mission. Green Lantern sat across from me, his cold stare adding to the tension in the room. I shifted in my seat, trying to ignore the feeling of his eyes boring into me. I was grateful for the opportunity to contribute to the mission, but the accusation that someone among us was a traitor left me on edge. The sudden tension in the room was palpable, and I could feel Halâs mistrust directed towards me.
"As the meeting came to an end, Hal wasted no time in confronting me. "You're the one we should be watching," he said, his voice dripping with suspicion. "I don't trust you."
Halâs words stung, and I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I had always thought we were on the same team, fighting for the greater good. The idea that he saw me as a threat or a traitor was beyond comprehension.
"I can't believe you're accusing me of this," I said, my voice shaking with emotion. "I've dedicated my life to this cause, just like you."
But Green Lantern remained resolute, his arms folded across his chest as he glared at me. "You've always been a wildcard, with those elemental powers of yours. Who's to say you're not using them for your own gain?"
Before I could even begin to respond, Hal launched himself at me with a powerful construct of energy. My heart pounded as Green Lantern's fists crackled with green energy and he charged towards me. I braced myself, summoning my powers to control the elements of water, fire, earth, and air. We clashed, our powers colliding in a spectacular display of energy.
I sent a blast of water towards Lantern, but he deflected it with a shield of energy. He countered with a barrage of green energy beams, which I dodged by shifting the earth beneath my feet. The ground rumbled as I caused a fissure to open up between us, and Lantern jumped back to avoid falling in.
We circled each other, each looking for an opening to strike. I summoned a gust of wind to try and throw him off balance, but he countered with a construct of energy that knocked me off my feet. I tumbled backwards, but quickly regained my footing.
Hal charged at me again, this time with a construct of energy that resembled a giant fist. I summoned a wall of earth to block it, but the force of the impact sent me flying backwards. I landed hard on the ground, feeling the wind knocked out of me.
I struggled to get back up, but Green Lantern was on me in an instant. He grabbed me by the neck and lifted me off the ground, his eyes blazing with anger. "You think you can take me down?" he snarled.
With a surge of willpower, I summoned a fierce blaze of fire around my body, causing Green Lantern to release me in surprise. I took advantage of his momentary distraction to send a barrage of rocks hurtling towards him, however, before the lantern could deliver another blow to me Batman was the first to reach my side, shielding me from Green Lantern's attack. Â
"Back off, Lantern," he growled, his voice low and menacing. "We're all on the same team here."
Lantern hesitated for a moment, his eyes flicking between me and Batman. I could see the doubt and confusion in his expression as he weighed his options. The tension in the room was thick and heavy, and everyone watched in anticipation, waiting for the next move.
Suddenly, a burst of green energy erupted from Green Lantern's ring, catching Batman off guard. The Dark Knight was sent flying across the room, crashing into the wall with a loud thud. I winced as I saw him hit the wall and immediately tried to run to his side, but Green Lantern blocked my path. "You're not going anywhere," he snarled, his ring glowing with a dangerous intensity.
But before he could make another move, a bolt of lightning struck him, sending him staggering backwards. The Flash appeared beside me, his hand crackling with electricity. He stood in front of me, ready to protect me from any further attacks.
"You mess with one of us, you mess with all of us," he said, his voice laced with determination.
With Hal momentarily stunned, I saw my chance to strike. I called upon the elements once more, sending a blast of fire towards him. The flames engulfed him, forcing him to the ground.
As he struggled to get back up, Wonder Woman lassoed him with her golden lasso, restraining him. He began to struggle against the bonds. "Wait...stop!" he yelled. "I didn't mean to betray the team. It wasn't my choice."
The members exchanged a look of confusion. "What are you talking about?" Superman demanded.
Green Lantern took a deep breath, his eyes focusing on the heroes around him. "I was brainwashed," he explained. "Our enemies, they...they got to me. They made me do it."
The room was silent as everyone processed this information. Batman stepped forward, his expression hard. "Who did this to you?" he demanded.
Hal hesitated, his eyes flicking nervously between the heroes. "I don't know. They wore masks, and their voices were distorted. They...they said they had leverage over me, that they could hurt my family."
Superman placed a hand on Green Lantern's shoulder. "We'll help you, Hal,â he said, "We'll find out who did this to you and put a stop to it."
The rest of the Justice League nodded in agreement, their expressions determined. As they led Hal away, I couldn't help but feel a sense of relief. While the revelation was shocking, it was a relief to know that one of our own hadn't turned against us willingly.
I stood up and winced when I tried to put pressure on my right leg. "Let's get you to the medic bay," Batman said, his voice calm but urgent. "You may have a sprain or a fracture. We need to make sure you're okay."Â
Batman guided you through the hallways of the Watchtower, his grip firm but gentle. You leaned into him for support, grateful for his strength. As you limped along, you couldn't help but feel a deep sense of comfort in his presence.
Arriving at the med bay, Batman helped me onto one of the beds and fetched a medical kit. As Batman continued to patch up my injuries in the med bay, he paused for a moment and looked into my eyes. "I need to tell you something," he said, his voice serious. "I've been meaning to tell you for a while now, but I just didn't know how."
I looked at him curiously, waiting for him to continue.
"I care about you," he said, his voice low and intense. "More than I should. You have a way of getting under my skin, and I can't help but want to protect you at all costs."
My heart skipped a beat at his confession, realising the depth of his feelings for me. "Bats," I said softly, reaching out to touch his hand. "I...I don't know what to say."
"You don't have to say anything," he said, his eyes fixed on mine. "Just know that I'll always be here for you, no matter what. I'll do anything to keep you safe."
Looking into his eyes through his mask, I leaned in and kissed him, he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled be so I was flushed against his hard suit. I wrapped my arms around his neck, trying to pull him even closer if that was possible.Â
Suddenly Bruce stopped and his head whipped up and he noticed a blur of red and yellow out of the corner of his eye. "Flash, what are you doing here?" he asked, his tone slightly annoyed.
I turned my head around and saw Flash stumble to a stop, his hands held up in a placating gesture. "Whoa, sorry Bats," he said, grinning sheepishly. "I didn't mean to interrupt anything important."
I blushed, feeling embarrassed that we had been caught in a vulnerable moment. Batman turned to me, his expression softening. "It's all right," he said, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze. "We can continue this later."
Flash's eyes widened in mock surprise. "Ooh, is there something going on between you two?" he teased, winking at me.
Batman shot him a stern look. "That's none of your business, Flash," he said firmly. "Now, do you have a reason for being here or are you just here to make bad jokes?"
Flash sobered up quickly, remembering the reason for his visit. "Right, sorry. I just wanted to check in and see how you were doing after the fight."Â
Batman nodded in acknowledgement. "We're both fine," he said, gesturing to me. "Just a few bumps and bruises, nothing serious."
Flash grinned. "That's good to hear. Well, I'll leave you two to it. Catch you later, Bats."
After Flash left, Batman turned back to me and gave me a small smile. "Where were we?" he asked, his voice low and intense.
I smiled back at him, feeling a warmth spreading through my body at his words. "Right here," I replied, leaning in for another kiss.
As we kissed, I could feel the strength of his love for me in every touch, in every movement. It was as if we were the only two people in the world, completely focused on each other.
Eventually, we pulled away from each other, both breathing heavily. Batman rested his forehead against mine and looked deep into my eyes. "I meant what I said earlier," he said softly. "I'll always be here for you, no matter what. You mean everything to me."
I smiled, feeling tears prick at the corners of my eyes. "And you mean everything to me," I replied, reaching up to touch his masked face. "I love you, Bruce."
He smiled, his eyes crinkling underneath the mask. "I love you too," he said, his voice full of emotion. "More than words can say."
We stood there, lost in each other's gaze, feeling as if we were the only two people in the world. For that moment, nothing else mattered but our love for each other.
#batman x reader#dc batman#bruce wayne x reader#batman#batfam x reader#bruce wayne#fanfic#batman fluff#batman fanfiction#batman comics#Batman one shot#Bruce Wayne one shot#young justice#justice league#dick grayson#nightwing#dick grayson x you#dick grayson x reader
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christmas!battinson?! kissing under the mistletoe? snow fights in the garden? baking cookies? PLEASE
wayne manor christmas
I LOVE THIS IDEA SO MUCH THANK YOU ANON THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU! happy early holidays everyone! i hope you all enjoy, although my writing skills arenât at 100% currently.
pairing: pattinson! bruce wayne/ reader
warnings: none :)
you woke up this morning with a start. bruce however was not ready to get up, moaning tiredly as you roll over on top of his sleeping figure.
âbruce! come on letâs get up!â you whisper shout as you card your fingers through his black hair. he opens one eye to peer down at you.
âwhatâs the occasion?â he asks sarcastically, his voice was low and hoarse from sleep. you roll your eyes and sit up, tugging him by his arm until he unwillingly stands up. once he was on his feet and you smothered him with kisses, he began to perk up and even show you one of his rare smiles. what made this morning better was the snow that was steadily falling outside. it was christmas morning and you were too eager to head downstairs and exchange presents with bruce.
âhereâs yours my good sirâ you hand the present to him gracefully and watch eagerly as he rips off the wrapping. his eyes visibly light up as he observes your gift to him. it was an expensive watch that he had been eyeing for MONTHS but never got around to buying.
âmy watch! i love it, thank you honeyâ bruce kisses your lips gently and you could feel him smile against you. âhere, open yoursâ
you open the present quickly, too excited to see what lies inside. once pulling the box open, you were met with the most beautiful necklace youâd ever seen. he knew your taste perfectly. you were too afraid to ask how much it cost.
âbruce! itâs beautiful, thank you!â you nearly knock him backwards as you throw your arms around him and kiss him all over for the second time that day. the two of you spent another hour, talking and opening your smaller gifts for each other. before deciding to bake cookies for the christmas party you were hosting tonight.
âdo we really have to host the party?â bruce asks, to which alfred gives a glare.
âyes, master wayne. it would be good for you to connect with some old friends, donât you think?â
âplus we can show off our christmas decorationsâ you give an encouraging smile and pull out the christmas cookie ingredients.
baking took a lot longer than it should have. you were either throwing flour at each other, or shielding the raw dough from bruce who would have eaten it all if you let him. but alas, you eventually got the cookies baking in the oven.
âmission accomplished!â you high five bruce, which creates a cloud of flour. bruce had white handprints all over his clothes, and on his nose and cheeks.
âyou got a little somethingâ you point at your own nose, and bruce gives you a scowl.
âreally? i didnât noticeâ he throws sarcasm at you, and sticks his hand into the pile of flour on the counter. before you could react, he had rubbed it all down your face and shirt.
âoh my god!â you smack his hands away and gasp with shock, although a smile was tugging at your lips.
the two of you ended up showering while the cookies baked, and by the time you were finished getting ready, people were arriving for the party. you and bruce were in ugly christmas sweaters that you insisted would be cute to wear as you greeted guests that arrived. you enjoyed catching up with old friends, and even though bruce wasnât enthusiastic, you could tell he enjoyed the socializing at least a little bit.
you both had an overwhelming feeling of normalcy, not having to worry about crime in the city as much, it seemed batmanâs presence had really made it die down. it felt good to be able to breathe, and have something as normal as a party.
an hour in, the two of you were socially drained. you stood off under a wide doorframe, lost in a conversation that you didnât have to force out like around guests. suddenly, bruce looks up. furrowing your brows, you follow his gaze and notice a mistletoe hanging above the two of you. you look back at him, giving him that âreally?â stare, along with a playful smile.
âdid you plan this?â you cock your head to the side, bruce copies your head tilt and steps closer to you.
âi donât know what youâre talking aboutâ he shrugs and places a hand on your waist. his other hand gracefully balanced a wine glass. you on the other hand, nearly spilled your drink down his back as you wrapped your arms around his neck. you connected your lips with his, the kiss was passionate, a kiss reserved for when itâs just you and him (how convenient that the mistletoe is just out of the partyâs eye?). no matter how long youâve known bruce, every kiss felt like the first with him. the sparks never fade, but only grow stronger. hell, you felt like a highschooler.
the party flew by quickly with the help of being tipsy, and when you gave your farewells to all the guests you noticed the snow outside. the light from the moon bounced off of the powdery substance and you guessed there was maybe 2-3 feet of snow now. you gave bruce the look, and he immediately shook his head no.
âplease!!â you clasp your hands together and show puppy eyes in a silent beg, and bruce quickly gives in.
in an instant you were in your winter clothes and out into the night, trudging through the snow filled garden with a childlike wonder in your eyes. you turned to bruce to speak to him, but were instantly met with a snowball to the shoulder. you gasp in fake shock, and you suddenly felt like you were in a gunslinger stand off. the two of you made eye contact, waiting to see who would make the first move. quickly, you run behind a bush and begin to create snowballs that you hurled at bruce. you managed to dodge (most of) them, but when you popped up from your bush again, you noticed he was gone. carefully, you creep through the garden, armed with two snowballs.
âbruuuuuuceeeeeâ you sing out teasingly, tossing the snowball up and down in your gloved hand. before you could even react, bruce pops out from behind a tree and charges at you. you manage to throw one snowball before he gets to you, and sends the two of you crashing to the ground. you let out a scream, followed by laughter from the both of you. you take a breath to calm down, but fall into a fit again at the sight of bruceâs face absolutely covered in snow.
âoh thatâs funny?â he teases, grabbing your face and shaking the snow off of him onto you.
âhey, hey!!!â you grab his own face to stop him, the two of you were now dripping with melted snow. you kiss one of the snowflakes off of his cheek near the corner of his mouth, and when you pull back he catches you in another kiss on the lips. you smile against him and kiss back eagerly.
âcan we go back inside now?â bruceâs voice was shaking slightly as he smiled at you, and it made you aware of how cold you were yourself.
âgood ideaâ
#bruce wayne x reader#battinson#batman x reader#bruce wayne imagine#bruce wayne one shot#batman imagine#batman one shot#the batman#bruce wayne#batman#pattinson!bruce wayne#robert pattinson x y/n#robert pattinson x reader#robert pattinson one shot#robert pattinson#fanfiction
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babs study
#barbara gordon#dc comics#oracle dc#birds of prey#batman#salt.png#based off that one shot of scully in the x files
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"There are more of us than you think"
The ghost boy floated infront on Batman. All he wanted was to offer this kid some help. He has been deffending this town for a little over two years now with no help. So Batman just thought offering some training and other teen heros to help would be nice. But all he was met with was a cold hard stare. It wasn't a lookxof hatred, or anger, just disappointment.
"What?" He asked. For once in his life he didn't get it. What did he mean? 'There are more of us' more half ghosts like him? Multiples of him?
"What I mean Batman, is there are far more teen heros than you think. There are so many kids who were left to deffend their homes by themselves. I'm in contact with plenty of people like me. I don't need your charity work. We dont need it," Phantom took a deap breth, "so many kids had to save the world while the Justice League sat back and did nothing. Ben Tennyson has been saving the world since he was ten, a child soldier and the only effective weapon the Plumbers have. The Ninja over in Norrisville was given his powers at fourteen. Max Steel was fused with an alien and born with nuclear levels of power. The list goes on bats. Kim Possible, Jenny, Generator Rex, Zak Saturday. We all did just fine without you and your League."
Batman was speechless. That many? That many kids left to deffend their homes? Phantom obviously seemed to have contact with them, maybe they help eachother out, but still. How did the Justice League not know?
Phantom disappeared and left Batman to ponder his words alone. How many world ending events did thease kids fight? How many of them did they fight alone? How much help did each of them have? Phantom only has a niche group of allies, how small are their support groups?
He'll have to research this when he returns to the bat cave. Hopefully he can get all thease kids get the help they need. Set up Zeta Tubes in their cities, and end this awful epidemic of teen heros.
#dp x dc#dp x dc prompt#dpxdc#dc x dp#dc x dp prompt#dcxdp#ben ten#randy cunningham 9th grade ninja#max steel#kim possible#my life as a teenage robot#zak saturday#generator rex#prompt#writing#one shot#batman#dc comics#text post
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Dead on Main AU
Masterpost
Guys, I'm so sorry. But here's this!
~~~~
Danny blinks and he is somewhere else. Heâs sitting at a dining room table, surrounded. There are so many people here. Theyâre all talking over each other, some yelling, some laughing. This scene comes as a great surprise to him, who -one blink ago- was trying and failing to do his homework at home in his room. Danny shoots up, his chair making a horrible noise as he pushes it away so fast it tumbles over. Everyone in the room turns to look over at him like heâs insane.Â
âOh my god, who are you people?â Danny did not mean to say this out loud, but at the sound of his voice he startles. Danny takes a moment to assess, and then, âOh my god who am I?â Â He is tall, and big, and this is certainly not his body, what is he wearing.
The boy sitting to the right of Danny, a little shorter than he is, with black hair and blue eyes (though now that heâs paying attention that does describe most people in the room), starts chuckling lightly. âUh, Jason? Are you good?âÂ
Danny turns to stare him right in the eyes. âWhat day is it?â
And he can tell the concern around the table is just ratcheting up every time he opens his stupid mouth.
âDid you hit your head on patrol?â The voice comes from the only blond and one of the only girls in the room, who's to the left of the person across from him. The person across from him is another boy with black hair and blue eyes who is studying Danny in a way that makes him uncomfortable, that under-a-microscope look that makes you feel like youâre failing at something.
âI have no idea if Jason hit his head.â Danny says. âI was just trying to remember if it was my birthday.â
And if he thought the room was busy when he first arrived here it is absolute pandemonium now. Everyone starts shouting and asking questions that he canât even hear over the shouting. Someone with white hair in a suit just came through a door he didnât even see earlier to stand by the only person not shouting, who -Danny would guess- is the only other adult in this room, witting at the head of the table. He also has black hair and blue eyes, and where almost everyone elseâs reaction was panic, he froze instead. The person across from Danny also isnât shouting, but the person next to Danny on his right has now fully stood up and looks like he might actually jump across the table to win the argument he ended up in.Â
âAre you Jasonâs soulmate?â is the main gist of the shouting that Danny can interpret but heâs more concerned with actual Jason at the moment. If they switched bodies... Then Jason might be in troubleâŠ
âHey, I forget, how long is this body swap supposed to last again?â Danny asks.
âUntil you and Jason have physical contact. You have to actually meet.â The boy sitting across from him explains. He seems like one of the only ones that heard Danny talk, everyone else was still shouting.Â
âOh, that just seems terrible. What if weâre in different countries or something?â Danny complained. âEveryone in the world is just supposed to be able to drop everything and afford to fly across the world. The universe is really trying to screw people over now. Honestly, am I in a different country? Where even are we right now?â
âYouâre in Gotham.â This voice was new, coming from the head of the table to Dannyâs right.Â
âOh no. Nope.â Danny started backing away from the table, almost tripping on his overturned chair. âAbsolutely not, no, how do I get out of here?â He starts earnestly looking for a door to get out of this place, but there are three doors he can see and he has no idea where any of them go, and doesnât this room have any windows? What kind of a room doesnât have any windows? Do they like to eat in a basement?
âJason- not Jason. Uh, you need to calm down, everything will be fine alright, Weâll get you and Jason introduced no problem.â Danny swivels to track the voice and itâs the one who was sitting next to him, heâs walking towards him with his hands up and out in front of him.Â
âI have to get home.â Danny breathes.Â
âWe can get you there, promise. Now, Iâm Dick, can you tell me your name?â
âYour name is Dick? Who named you Dick?â Danny is so confused heâs stopped panicking. âHow old are you for you to go by the name Dick?â
âOkay, rude.â Dick sounds like a petulant child so Dannyâs estimations for his age are continuously dropping. âIâm 24.â
Danny snorts. âOkay.â The blond girl starts laughing over at the table. âIâm uh, Iâm Danny.â
âNice to meet you. Sort of. Iâm Tim.â The guy from across from him had made it over to stand next to Dick. âThereâs a lot of us here today so the one laughing like a hyena is Steph. That one there is Duke.â African-American, still with black hair but he has brown eyes and waves once introduced. âDamian is the short one next to him, and Cass was sitting across from Dick earlier. Our dad, Jasonâs dad-âÂ
âNot my dad!â Steph interrupted. Tim waves her off.
âEveryone but Steph's dad, is over there, Bruce. Alfred, our butler is the one next to him.â Alfred gives a slight nod to his head. Bruce is just staring at him.
âSo, names out of the way. You said you wanted to go home, where do you live?â
âAmity Park.â
#dcxdp#dpxdc#batman#danny phantom#dead on main#soulmate au#my writing#fanfiction#red hood#danny fenton#jason todd#I'm so sorry for starting another one#this is just a one-shot right now#but the ideas have hit me so I may write more later#trying not to get distracted from my other fics#but also trying not to let focus on my other fics hinder writing in general#cause sometimes if I try too hard to focus on one thing I just get super stuck and upset and end up not being able to work on it at all#oh well#writing is writing#hope you enjoy#whatever this was
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Do you think that the people of Gotham are ever just trying to enjoy their day and then see one of the Waynes walk into the cafe theyâre at or go to the movies at the same time as them, and think, âGreat, my chances of being a part of a hostage situation has just been raised by 20-40%â
#one time an intern at WE had her lunch break ruined because Tim liked the same coffee shop as her and kept getting kidnapped#by the third time as goon points a gun at you you honestly consider if itâd be better if you just got shot#The percentage depends on the Wayne#Bruce dick or Tim? yeah those suckers are getting ransomed#Damian or Cass? could happen. unlikely. they fight back.#Jason Steph or Duke? less likely. Jasonâs dead. Steph isnât a Wayne. Duke has a day job#batfam#batkids#Batman#Bruce Wayne#dick Grayson#Tim drake#Jason Todd#damian wayne#stephanie brown#duke thomas#cassandra cain
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Iâm back in my NolanVerse era. No explanation required
Little Things | Bruce Wayne x m!reader
@satan-incarnate-666 asked:Â OKAY MORE PROMPTS PLS DO NOT EXHAUST URSELFÂ
 "I donât need your expertise right now, I just need⊠fuck, I just need you to be here"Â
 all bruce wayne x m!reader đ„șđ„ș
summary: itâs nice to be reminded why you love Bruce.Â
tws: mentions of injury, swearing
word count: 1008
You and Bruce had been dating for a long, long while, and although you could not remember what had originally brought you together, from time to time you had a feeling or two of what it was; certain moments that you had with him where you were nudged towards why you had become his boyfriend in the first place. Usually when he made you smile on days where such a thing really didnât seem possible in the slightest; sometimes when he brought you a cup of coffee exactly the way you liked it even though you had not asked for one. The little, and usually mundane, things.Â
Keep reading
#christian bale#mlem writes#bruce wayne#bruce wayne x reader#bruce wayne x you#bruce wayne x y/n#bruce wayne x yn#christian bale x reader#christian bale imagine#batman#batman x reader#batman x you#batman x y/n#batman x yn#batman one shot#batman imagine#the dark knight trilogy#batman oneshot#the dark knight#bruce wayne one shot#bruce wayne imagine#bruce wayne oneshot
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Social Media AU: Y/n Wayne loves "Big Boy" Baseball
Other Social Media AU Big Boys:
STEVE ROGERS
CLARK KENT
#bruce wayne x reader#bruce wayne imagine#bruce wayne one shot#bruce wayne#batman one shot#batman anon#robert pattinson batman#ben affleck#batfleck x reader#batfleck#dc x reader#dc imagine#dceu#justice leauge x reader#justice leauge imagine#justice league smut#batman#dc social media au#social media au#fake social media#big boy
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Donât know if you are taking requests but maybe battinson and reader doing their mbti test, and reader getting a villain personality.
lmfao
pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: implied sexual content but no body parts mentioned. words: 894.
a/n: gratuitous amount of italics here. not sorry. implied sub!bruce but that's not what this is about. also, anon, guess who ELSE has a villain personality type according to google :)
who's gonna tell him
You probably know heâs not really listening. With the wrench between his teeth, fingers straining to reach into the void of his engine and find where the Batmobile had gone unresponsive, heâs only half present. Maybe a third at best. Still, he enunciates through the metal, already forgetting what you'd called him, âINT...C? What does that mean?â
âI-N-T-J. Youâre the architect. It means youâre introverted, intuitive, thinking, and judging. Youâre good at problem solving and detective work, of course. But you struggle emotionally and are prone to being⊠âsocially cluelessâ.â From your spot in the driverâs seat, Bruce makes a show of leaning around the propped up hood just to be clear on how much he disapproves. He even removes the wrench with his oil-slick hand so he can frown properly. âI didnât write this, babe. Donât look at me.â
âYouâre reading it to me.â
âI just wanted to know if weâd be compatible!â
He huffs, having found what ever kink in the machine he was looking for and focusing on that instead. He disappears behind the hood but his voice carries through the terminus loud and clear, âWell, are we?â
You decide to do some research.
Somewhere between Bruce triumphing over the engine and coming around to the window to gloat, he catches you staring incredulously at your phone.
âWhat's the verdict? Are we sworn enemies?â Your eyes dart up to Bruceâs and the longer you stare at him, picking him apart in silence, the more his smile begins to fade. For a second, he starts to think you actually might be sworn enemies. For a millisecond, he starts to care.
"I took the test." You declare, voice freakishly even. Bruce isn't smiling anymore.
"And?"
"I got ENTJ."
"And?"
"We're compatible, sure, whatever," Bruce squints, confused, because you'd been more excited to know the answer to that than he was, "but then I fell down this rabbit holeâI wanted to see who we shared personalities withâand then I found this article. Guess what we are?"
You turn your phone to him. You've pulled up a web result for âWhich MBTI personality types are villains?â. In the blurb at the very top, he reads INTJ. Then he looks over at you, your eyes wide and suspicious, and heâd ask you to stop giving him that look if it wasnât for the way your mouth starts to curl up.
Youâre not suspicious. Youâre impish. âWeâre both villains.â
Sure enough, the other most common villain personality type is ENTJ.
Bruce thinks itâs silly, a little less silly than when youâd done his natal chart (but heâd sat and asked questions all the same, a little too invested in the bits about his childhood karma) because the quiz at least knew something about him, but silly nonetheless.
But youâre also enjoying it enough that he leans into it, feels his own lips curling up too. He folds his arms on the door and leans inside the car, casting a dark shadow over you, "I have enough bad press as it is."
You giggle. You place a hand on his forearm and squeeze, "I don't know. I think you'd be pretty sexy as a villain."
Bruce watches you through hooded eyelids and considers, for a moment, that maybe you're a little too into this. He treads the waters, wondering whether you'll show your hand. He digs through his memory for what you'd called him, the other thing that had actually stuck, âThe architect andâŠâ
âThe commander.â You finish, jutting your chin up with pride.
âSounds about right.â
âI'll be the one in control, and you'll be my pretty little mastermind making everything happen.â
âSounds sort of right.â
âWhat do you mean, âsort ofâ? Youâre a slave to my every whim.â
âOh, I'm your slave now?" Bruce drops an octave with intention, delighting in your fingernails biting into his muscles. "Since when?"
Your eyes fucking twinkle. You look so excited that he fleetingly wonders if he should keep an eye on you. And he imagines youâd enjoy having him bested, kneeling at your feet as you unmask him and lean in and grin and declare, victorious- âHavenât you always been?â
Your breath on his lips hasnât even cooled before heâs leaning into the car and craning your mouth up to meet his, a hand at your jaw and the other keeping him propped through the window.
He imagines too, just for fun, leaning into a getaway car to celebrate a job well done, before coming around the side to jet off into the sunset. A real Bonnie and Clyde.
He feels you tugging on his shoulders and leaning back into the driverâs seat, compelling him to follow. You almost drag him fully through the window (a feat thatâs only possible because heâs basically putty in your hands right now), and he grips the center console to steady himself before he falls in and crushes you, âThe carâs been fixed all of two minutes and you wanna defile it already?â Bruce accuses, not actually caring in the slightest.
Youâre awful. Your eyes still twinkle beneath the innocent flutter of your eyelashes, clearly still on villains and evil plans and whatever images youâd conjured up in your brain after calling him your slave. What ever happened to not mixing business with pleasure? âCome on, Batman. Don't be such a prude."
taglist: @yikes-buddy @alexxavicry @theclassicvinyldragon @angxlictexrs @moonlightreader649 @geekyfer @thescarletfang @navs-bhat
#bruce wayne x reader#bruce wayne one shot#bruce wayne scenarios#bruce wayne fluff#bruce wayne fic#bruce wayne#batman x reader#batman one shot#batman scenarios#the batman scenarios#the batman x reader#batman fluff#batman fic#the batman#battinson x reader#battinson#mjwrites
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Out of all of the people The Ghost King Phantom expected to relate to, it definitely wasnât the scrawny red headed photographer of the Daily Planet. Jimmy Olsen has gotten so many temporary superpowers over his time being Supermanâs friend. Hell, he once gained a 4th dimensional beingâs reality warping abilities when he was given said dimensional beingâs powers during a fight. Sure thereâs a dozen or so heroes with the same amount of powers he has, but none as suddenly granted to them as a all powerful god that can relate to a teenager.
#bones speaks#hi this is bones in the future: below tags I do mean but I was Not Sober while writing them so they may have severe spelling errors#bones prompts#dpxdc#dp x dc#just google the amount of times Jimmy has had powers and what they are. I just read a comic#where the F PLOT of all things is Jimmy getting superpowers and causing havoc in Metropolis. thatâs how frequent this is#the all powerful god powers was in a recent Batman/Superman Worlds Finest issue where he got Mxyzptlkâs powers#like guys. there are SO many heroes that have more powers than Danny in DC.#off the top of the dome I can only name a few (in my defense I am Not Sober so memory is Not Good:)#Raven. The Spectre. Superman. The Atom. Batman (temporary powers). Dr Fate. Martian Manhunter#and I could name more if my memory wasnât shot rn#this is a mini rant in the tags but Iâm so tired of the âDanny has so many superpowers it would stump DCâ#it would for sure shock them. but they wouldnât be surprised. why are they all so shocked from Dannyâs arrival?#Iâve made many posts about how much more interesting Danny simply being in the JL like itâs just another Tuesday would be interesting#so many folks enjoy the discovery aspect of Danny and not the part where heâs alreaady a JL member and is#*isnt OP. itâs so much more interesting to write a character with flaws. make him regular powered and able to be struck down by a Big Bad#and not just his weaknesses. heâs been beaten to shit by ghosts before. the angst possibilities is crazy.#Billy Batson looking at a kid nearly his age get hurt more and more by Black Adam? Fear Gas setting him on a rampage in Gotham absolutely#destroying his perception of what being safe is anymore. Lex Luther finding his weakness and wrecking his shit#it could be SUCH an interesting direction to take dpxdc but no one does. when I write prompts with those ideas they make a fraction of the#notes of the prompts where I pander and have batfam in them. diversity of ideas in fandom is what makes us strong. keep the new and#unorthodox ideas flowing. it feels like youâre swimming upstream but itâs worth it to help a fandom grow
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đđ§đđąđđšđđ àŒâ§âË.ââ·
therapist! jonathan crane x female reader.
đđđșđșđźđżđ: when your father decided that you needed therapy, taking you to his dear friend dr. crane to treat and help you, you thought it wouldn't work at all, but it turned out to be everything you needed.
đđźđżđ»đ¶đ»đŽđ: SMUT(minors dni!!), noncon/dubcon, depression, cursing, crane is a mysoginistic prick, using therapy for unhinged reasons, smut, hair pulling, jonathan just being an creep, choking AND strangulation, dacryphilia, hitting, unprotected sex (safe sex its great sex!!), breeding kink, forced breeding, power dynamics, i think crane should be a warning himself, reader being borderline stupid and naive. also this has a lot of backstory iâm so sorry i got carried away lol.
đđŒđżđ± đ°đŒđđ»đ: 7.1K
đźđđđ”đŒđżâđ đ»đŒđđČ: omg my first fic on here!! this is also my first work on english and my first smut ever so i apologise in advance for any mistake!! i hope y'all enjoy it anyways ahahahaha live laugh love jonathan craneđđ» feedback its very appreciated so i can improve and continue to publish better works, anyways enjoyyyy đ
đđșđđ đđ»đ±đČđż đđ”đČ đ°đđ
It was awkward, to say the least.
You were sitting across from Doctor Crane in the couch at your dad's house, legs crossed as you watched him write on his clipboard, something about it making you feel anxious, a little nauseous, even.
This wasn't your first session, you started doing this four months ago, not long after your divorce that caused you to fall into a spiral of sadness and misery. Your failedâ and short marriage was the main reason you started taking therapy with your dad's friend, the chief of Arkham, Jonathan Crane, and still, you couldn't bring yourself to talk about it.
He was patient, you told him several times that he was a saint. Regardless, before you started with the sessions, he explained to your dad that he didn't really do this; therapy really wasn't his strong suit, but for a friend, a desperate one, he would gladly do it.
Your dad came to him, offering a big stack of money if he would talk to his little girl, make her recover her once joyful personality, like you had one to begin with. Jonathan really couldn't say no, and not really because of the money, he had other reasons in mind, unethical reasons.
And there you were now. You were quick to open up to him, eager to talk, to be listened and he, on the other hand, was ready to listen, to give you advice, console you and help you get through the sorrow that was following you since you were young, playing the role of your knight in shinning armor.
"I can't believe you don't actually do this" you said once, sniffling your nose with a handkerchief he gave you as he examined you with a warm gaze, an empathetic grin on his face. "You're really helping me"
Jonathan was quick to wave his hand and tell you that it wasn't a big deal, that he was just doing his job, and if you weren't so innocent, so stupid, you would have noticed the mischievous sparkle that flickered in his eyes for a split second.
You were landing right in the palm of his hand.
Not even thirty minutes into the first session you told him everything about your past; every little thing you thought he needed to know to treat you. And you were slightly right; he did need to know those things, but not to treat you, just to manipulate you and mold your little brain into what he was envisioning for you and your future together.
Truth was, you hated everything about your life, regardless of the fact that you had everything. That's what you've been told since you were a child; a big house, a lot of money, maids taking care of you so you wouldn't have to move a finger and just sit pretty and relax inside the walls of the huge mansion that confined you since you could recall.
You have everything. That was bullshit.
Sometimes, you couldn't help but think that people told you that out of pity, like they knew how miserable you felt, but not daring to say a word about it. Your dad was a powerful man, and you were aware of that, ever since you were born, he had bussines with Falcone and you knew that people feared him, he practically ruled Gotham, that lifeless and dangerous city that you had to live in.
You have everything. You were tired of that sentence. You didn't care at all about these nice things surrounding you, those dresses in your closet, those diamonds in your jeweler, that fancy car you owned since your eighteenth birthday, no, that was useless in your eyes, because all you really wanted, was love.
It was a lonely life; you learned how to do everything by yourself, how to comb your hair, how to deal with your period when it first came, how to dress up properly and do your makeup. You didn't even had to learn about boy problems because there weren't any boys in your life, you were homeschooled. So you were quiet, not really having to talk at all, there was nobody to talk to.
And since Jonathan was the only person you were talking to at the moment, you started to feel like you loved him, the idea sitting right with you without you even knowing it, thinking that this was how therapy normally went.
Loneliness striked your life at a young age; your mother died from a strange disease when you were eight, leaving you with a shattered heart thad bled everytime you walked past her bedroom, or saw a picture of her. You practically watched her die, a witness of how she lost her strength, how her once beautiful skin turned pale and yellow, and lost every little spark within herself, and the worst part was that all the money you had, couldn't even help her.
It was a deep wound that you carried with yourself, with nobody to talk about it.
Your father spent his days locked up in his office, and when he wasn't there, he was out in the city doing unthinkable things that you didn't even wanted to know about, leaving you on your own, having to fill all of those silent and empty rooms by yourself, with nobody to laugh with, nobody to hold you and see you grow. He wasn't really around, working all the time, too busy to know that his daughter didn't seem to care about all the expensive stuff he bought for her, not even taking the time to have dinner with you or hold a simple conversation. He loved you, you knew that, he just wasn't the type to show his affection with words or actions, but with gifts. And you hated everything about it.
But now, Jonathan was there, making you feel listened, finally saving you from falling into loneliness again. Your whole life, you thought you had a horrible sickness, that you were doomed to this awful destiny of sorrow and silence, but now, with his sweet words and good company, you couldn't be more than relieved.
You wished sometimes that you met him earlier, that this whole therapy stuff started before, and you even confessed it to him. And it irked him a little, that you didn't even remember how you two really met each other, hiding his annoyance with a warm smile.
Some months ago, your father started to brought you to parties he attended, parties were all the corrupts scumbags from Gotham reunited and celebrated how they were dragging the city to the gates of hell on their benefit, and you couldn't be more happy to attend them. You knew he was bringing you because he recently broke up with the young girl he carried with himâ that was most likely your age, and needed a pretty thing to hang of his arm and take care of the people he didn't feel like talking to.
So you accepted this new life, eating up this role of socialite like it was made for you.
It was a chance to know people, to speak and make new friends, but you learned quickly that those people weren't there for that, and picked up on how mostly of the people who talked to you just wanted to climb up the social ladder and gain some extra points from your father.
He, even, introduced you to a couple of people that seemed close to your age, and you chatted with them, feeling extremely anxious because you weren't used to this, so it was weird to them seeing such a pretty woman, with your status and fortune, acting so shy and quiet in a place that your dad practically owned.
After a couple of hours, you learned the agenda. All you had to do was put on a fake smile, get them off your father's shoulders and pretend you were very interested in what they had to say, hiding your uncomfortable expression behind your glass of champagne, promising them that you would arrange a reunion with your father someday.
One of those nights, your father introduced you to someone, someone who you didn't pay much attention because he seemed to be uninterested too, only being there for the sake of his job.
"Pretty girl, come here" your father said, a cheerful tone of voice as grabbed you by the shoulder to get your attention, snapping you out of your train of thoughts. "I want you to meet my friend, Doctor Crane"
You looked at the man in front of your dad, his pale blue eyes already sizing you up discretely, looking at you up and down in a way that didn't go unnoticed by you, a shiver running down your spine as his eyes finally locked with yours.
You couldn't help but feel small under his gaze, your glass now forgotten in your left hand, the right one extended to take his and stretch it for a quick second, returning to your first position, his expression remaining serious.
"Nice to meet you" he spoke, his voice sounding like velvet in your eyes, not quite sensing the undertone behind it. "Your father told me wonders about you"
You grin, the irony of that sentence making you laugh a little, what wonders could your father know about you? But you kept your composure, the conversation not going any further, and you forgot about him fast enough, when in another of those annoying parties you met the love of your life â or so you thought.
That same night, when you went back home, you were thinking about spending the rest of your life with some guy that flirted with you at the bar, and Jonathan, prayed to whatever thing listening to him up there, that crossed your path with his again.
He practically obsessed with you, because it felt right. You were young, beautiful, wealthy and had a last name that could open even more doors for him, getting tired of saving Falcone's man of going to jail; you were an opportunity, tied to a nice pair of legs.
After a few weeks of stalking, it kinda broke his heart that naive as he expected you, you got married to the guy from the party; he told you then his name was Lewis, and now you doubted it that was even true.
You were finally going to get what you always wished for, a family, love. And it was perfect. Everything was perfect.
It was a dream that you were living in. A dream that shattered in front of you no longer than three months after.
After you contracted married with this man, you took care of the house, now learning all of these housewife duties that you didn't know anything about, but making your best effort to please him, to be the perfect woman ever created, departing from your old life and habits and adjusting them to his own.
You couldn't be more happy, regardless of your bad cooking, the bad-swiped floor and the half-done bed that welcomed you both every night, you finally had love.
It lasted three months. Your wholesome real life fantasy of a marriage destroyed when you found out, accidentally, that this man was just an employee of your dad, willing to get a promotion if he married you. At that moment, you didn't know who you hated more, if the bastard, or your dad who was literally bribing the bastard to love you.
But your dad only wanted to make you happy, tho.
You were embarrassed, not quite sure of how to tell this to Jonathan, because after all, he was there for you, just for the money your dad was paying him. Your cursed the day your dad became rich, because all of it was making you miserable and it felt like it wasn't going to stop.
At this point, a feeling of despite against you was growing within Jonathan, after a few weeks treating you, he quickly remembered why he didnât chose this path of career, but remembering that he was there because of a major reason; a reason more important than your helpless cries for attention.
He was sick of you, all you ever did was complain in the commodity of your million dollar house, unaware that there were more important problems in the world. It isnât completely your fault, Jonathan thought one day, you were just an ungrateful brat, and his work was to tame you, and he planned to do just that today.
"So," he startled you, narrowing his eyebrows, an expression in his face that you could only understand as concern. "remember, if you don't speak, I can't help you".
You chuckle and shift your weight in the chair, immediately feeling your eyes fill up with tears as you confronted the fact that you had to speak about it, right now. He was quick to offer you his handkerchief, as he always did and with shaky hands you took it, sniffling onto it, closing your eyes as you felt your whole body shake with each one of your cries.
You felt Jonathan put his hand on your knee, softy caressing the skin that his thumb could reach, opening your eyes and looking at his, Jonathan welcoming you with a pitying look. You put the tissue aside, both him being so close and his scent impregnated on the piece of fabric making you feel a little giddy, a little confused.
Why was your heart racing so much? He was your therapist, here to talk about your former husband.
Jonathan couldn't help but grin a little, knowing he was maybe breaking a rule here, touching you like this, being so close. He couldn't care less, after all, he wasn't here listening to you cry and bitch about your whole life for the sake of your well-being. He was here because he wanted you to break and get on your knees to him. Figuratively and literally.
"It's so embarrassing" you struggled to spit out "He didn't even love me, Doctor"
He hummed, dragging his chair so he was a little closer to you, you looked at him through your teary lashes and tried to keep it together, this wasn't the first time you cried in front of him, but the reason itself was enough to make you feel full of shame.
He didn't say anything, this being a motivation for you to continue.
"My dad was paying him" you murmured, cleaning the mascara off your cheeks. "It was all a lie"
The whole situation was absurd, what happened to you still felt like a sick joke they were playing on you, your dad and Lewis, probably waiting for the perfect moment to tell you the truth.
But that wasn't going to happen, right now the only thing that felt true to you was Jonathan. He set you up to that, and you blindly fell on his silly trap.
"Poor thing" he cooed you, moving his hand a little further up your thigh, noticing the goosebumps on your skin. A mastermind, that's how he felt. "How could they?"
That was all the mendacity he fed you with since you started seeing him, making you believe he was actually empathizing with you, full of loathe against everyone who hurt you, who dared to leave you alone, but now he was there, his task being to pretend to care.
"It's pathetic" you blurted out, leaning into his touch when his prying hand went up to your cheek. You really couldn't say anything more, crying against his hand like it was something you did every monday morning. "I'm so sad. I don't know what to do"
He shook his face, your eyes meeting his with a confused expression, black stained tears dropping on your lap and wetting his hand before he returned it and looked over his clipboard, pretending to think.
You were so vulnerable, ready for him to destroy. He finally got you where he wanted. He then explained you that you were so sad that it made you unaware of a lot of things, blinded by your own pity against yourself that every door that opened, you closed. It all came down to a thing; you needed a diagnosis.
He gave you a moment to process the information, ready to continue with his plan.
"Actually," he started, his tone now more firm, more strict, the one he used when you were approaching the end of the session. On the last one, he recommended you to touch yourself, to liberate oxytocin on your brain or something you really didn't understood.
It was almost evil from his side, he knew that your only thought while doing it would he him ordering you to do so.
"I'm sorry to be the bearer of such awful news, Y/N" he stated, making your heart skip a beat. "But I think you're sick"
You nearly gasped, the air got stuck in your throat, more tears gathering in your eyes. You lifted one of your hands to your chest, a million thoughts crossing your head as Jonathan's clever eyes examined your expression.
Bingo.
"Sick" you repeated after a moment, almost like you were making peace with the revelation. "How sick?"
It was an innocent question, your tone of voice shaking as your inferior lip trembled, holding it with your teeth in an attempt to not burst into tears again, your whole body feeling like it was going to break into a million peaces by how much you were shaking in the couch.
Jonathan was quick, standing from the chair he was on and taking a seat by your side, his hand swiftly placing in your knee. You looked at him confused, he never got this close, maybe your sickness was serious.
"What am I, Doctor?" you whispered, your eyes showing him a hint of fear that made him finally lose all his faked professionalism. "Depressed? Crazy?"
Both of you were dying of anticipation now; meanwhile you feared that you were going to get admitted to Arkham, Jonathan was seeing the golden ticket to the best future he could ever achieve, and all thanks to you.
"Oh, no, no" he purred, his hand making its way up to your thigh. "You're sick, not crazy"
You parted your lips as his hand moved more further, not really sure of what was happening, not daring to stop him, too scared of your mental health to think about anything else, not helping the way your legs started to part too.
A sudden gasp left your lips as his hand squeezed your tight, a smile you never saw on him appearing on his face. The crying stopped a moment ago, the surprise of having him so close making you go a little numb.
"I know what a girl like you needs" he said, almost sternly, like his hand wasn't centimeters away from your panties.
Was in that moment, that you knew this wasnât about therapy anymore.
"You think so?" you whispered, your voice still shaky, but now for a whole different reason. "And what is it, Doctor?"
"To be fucked stupid"
It almost shocked you how he said that as it was a normal diagnosis, like he gave you a name of a medicine you could go and buy at any drugstore in town. You gulped and didn't move when his grip tightened on your leg, your face growing red.
A loud gasp escaped your lips when at your lack of response, Jonathan grabbed you hard by the jaw and forced you to look at him. Your eyes glistened with nothing but fear, your brows narrowing as you mumbled something that he really couldn't understand, and it wasn't like he wanted to.
"You're sick, Y/N" he repeated, more harshly this time, his hand moving your head as he spoke. "And I'm going to cure you"
He let go of your face to clasp his lips against yours, a kiss very far away from sweet, his mouth moving roughly against yours. You never had been kissed like this, so you tried to play it along, trying to show him some of the love you felt for him, that you thought you owed him.
But he didn't care if you felt loved during the kiss, trying to assert the dominance he held upon you, his hand now holding firmly the back of you neck to prevent you from pulling away.
It was a mess; your teeth clashed, drool was dripping from your chin as his tongue explored every space of your mouth, not leaving anywhere of it untouched. Your movements were a little stiff, unsure of what to do, trying to provide the sweetness that he lacked.
His hand moved to your the front of your neck and squeezed it a little, making you yelp in surprise, the sound muffled by his mouth. You tried to get away from the kiss, confused about his rough actions against you, a little scared of him even, almost like you didnât trust him every little part of your brain in this same couch for the last couple of months.
But then it clicked on your foggy brain, he knew you, perfectlyâ you only knew his name, you didnât know what this man was capable of.
You could only move a few centimeters away from his hungry mouth, your lips parted as tears welled in your eyes from the pressure he was applying to your neck.
âStopâ you managed to stutter, your breath mixing with his. âI canât- breatheâ
You doubted that he listened to you, your voice not coming out of your throat at all and getting stuck in your larynx, your voice-box completely muffled by his strong grip.
âShut up, bratâ he spitted, his tone sounding full of abhor, your eyes wide open as you felt the air leaving your body and your lungs starting to burn. âAlways getting what you wantâ
You weakly placed one of your hands around his wrist, another attempt of gasp elicited from your agape mouth as he lifted his other hand and choked you with both, something in your dizzy mind telling you that he was possessed.
âCrying all the time- complainingâ he continued, not caring if you were listening, the suffocation being to much to bare now. âSo selfishâ
And maybe he was.
Your brain was filled with fear, wondering how it all went from a kiss to thisâ almost getting killed by your therapist in your couch. You opened your eyes to meet his, feeling like your chest was on fire as there wasnât any air flowing in, seeing how the blue of Jonathanâs eyes has darkened and his lips were parted as well, the muscles of his jaw twitching as he choked you to death.
Your eyebrows narrowed together in terror as you noticed that familiar tingly sensation in your lower belly and your thighs clenching together. Maybe it was something about him exercising this power over you, how you felt so feeble under his touch, that was probably leaving bruises on your neck for you to carry and show around what he was making you do it.
You didnât have enough time to think about it, you were practically dying.
âAnd you are enjoying this?â he said with an amused tone, probably noticing how your thighs fragily contracted against one another.
You felt yourself slowly lose your consciousness when finally the relief came and the air started to flow again to your desperate lungs, taking long and loud puffs of air when his hand let go of your neck. Your erratic breath was interrupted by a loud moan that escaped you when Crane yanked you by your hair and shoved you to the floor.
He was quick yo position you between his legs, looking at you through his unfixed glasses, giving you a twisted smile that made you quiver in fear, that growing wet patch on your panties making you feel like a really sick girl.
âDoctor-â you mumbled, closing your eyes as he pulled your hair, withdrawing a mewl off your mouth. âHurtsâ
âYou talk when I tell you to talkâ he snickered, adjusting the way his fingers gripped your hair. You thought that he might just pull out the strand he was tugging. âIâm sick of your whiningâ
You felt more tears well up in your eyes; not sure if it was from the pain in your head or how his words felt like a knife that landed right on your heart. You were confused, sad, angryâ a little hot, too.
âI pay you yo listen to meâ you said, your voice so shaky you were lucky he could understand you. You wished he didnât understand you.
Another sort of moan left your lips as a hard slap made a landing in your cheek, your face turned to the side because of the impact. You closed your eyes in disbelief, a cry coming out as you felt helpless, wondering if this was some exposure therapy he was experimenting on you.
He repeated himself, instructing you to talk only when you were told so, nodding in defeat as you accepted whatever this was and continued to play along with Jonathanâs sick fantasy of controlling you, without even knowing it.
You looked at him with nothing but inquietude, the look in his eyes giving you the foreboding that nothing good was about to happen now, frightened of what we would do to you.
He didnât show any hints of letting go of your hair anytime soon, just holding it firmly to keep you looking at him through your heavy lashes, a wicked grin on his smug face.
âLetâs give that whining mouth of yours a good useâ he said, and you gulped, understanding what he wanted and quivering in fear, not really understanding why the sticky sensation between your legs grew.
âUndo my pantsâ he commanded, and you stayed still, your eyes not leaving his even when another slap landed on your tear-wet face. âDo as youâre told, brat. This might be your only cureâ
You couldnât help but sob a little, his tone sounding so definitive, so professional. Your trembling hands reached his belt and unbuckling it ungracefully, taking longer than he expected, you heard him chuckle as you unbuttoned his pants afterwards, then putting your hands back in front of your lap.
âCâmonâ he pulled your hair again, causing you to moan in pain. âDonât make me tell you what to doâ
You looked at him again in nothing but shame, trying to resist to this humiliating request of his, but complying it anyways. He said he was going to cure you, but now you doubted it, right now, you only wanted this to be over.
With a last look at his eyes you returned your attention to the growing bulge in his slacks, the shame in your brain being present at all times, not quite helping the way your eyes were fixated on his clothed member. You were quick to free him out after your staring earned you a other harsh pull of hair, your lips turned into a line when his cock slapped his abdomen, causing his dress shirt to wrinkle a little.
âGo on, Y/Nâ he encouraged you, as you looked at him with pleading eyes, silently begging him for mercy, knowing that even if you screamed it at him, he just wouldnât listen. âThis isnât about what you want, anymore. Is about what you needâ
A tear slid from your eyes and disappeared down your cheek when his free hand placed the tip of his hard cock on your parted lips, gesturing you to take it and not waste more of his timeâ more than you already did.
âOpen up, whoreâ he said under his breath, using your hair as a device to move your head and help you shove his length down your throat. You complied, the tears in your eyes now soaking in you cheeks by the effort that you were making trying to welcome his thick shaft down your mouth.
You were sure you scratched him with your teeth a few times as he bobbed your head up and down with his strong hand, manhandling you without care for his own pleasure. You placed your hands on his knees, trying not to gag, but when his tip touched the bottom of your throat, you couldnât help it.
You cried as you felt suffocated again, now for a whole different reason, a more humiliating one, and you almost wished he killed you then. His hips buckled everytime your lips reached the base of his cock, the room filled with the sounds of your mouth and saliva coating his shaft and the soft moans that came out of his poisoned lips.
âTake it, whoreâ he said, his voice now husky and distorted by the pleasure, the pain that your teeth accidentally inflicted on him turning him even more. âGod- you are horrible at thisâ
He chuckled between heavy breaths, pulling you by the hair and releasing his cock from your mouth, a vulgar pop filling both of your ears at the sudden separation of your lips and his member. Your eyes looked at the floor, feeling such a shame that the mere thought of meeting his face with your fearful face made you cringe, the pulsating pain on the back of your head making you dizzy.
âYou canât suck dick properlyâ he said, his tone sounding like he was making fun of you. âNo wonder why your husband left you. Youâre just patheticâ
You finally rose up your face to look at that insufferable smile of his, ignoring the way his cock was still hanging there in front of you, almost brushing your nose. His fingers finally untangled from your hair and giving you some sort of solace, the consolation that this traumatic session was over.
Maybe the remedy was worse than the sickness itself.
âJonathan, stop it, plea-â
Your imploration was completely ignored, followed by another slap on your wet cheek that made you cry even more, not understanding how this man couldâve been the same one who made you felt loved and finally listened. You fell for a lie once again.
âGet on the couchâ he simply said, his words were like a bucket of cold water fell on you. âStop the bitching, donât want to hear itâ
âAnd Iâm your doctor. Not Jonathanâ he reminded you, making you feel even more ashamed.
You did as he told, again, half-standing from the floor and sitting next to him, trying to take as much space from him as you could before he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you closer, your face growing red as his face was now centimeters away from yours.
âYou look so beautiful when you cryâ he whispered, caressing your face but trying to nor wipe the tears away, almost like he was admiring you. It made you melt into his touch, glad that his kind demeanor was there again. Even if his words made you cringeâ and the fact that his cock was still out, you felt your heart grew warmer by the way he tenderly touched you.
It didnât last much longer, when his lips twitched into a malicious smile and went down to nibble your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses around the bruised skin and bitting where his fingers hurt you previously, making your fingers wrap on his hair and cry for mercy, trying for him to stop hurting you this much.
âShut up, stupid bratâ he repeated that same insult, making you swallow your cries, closing your eyes in disbelief as he continued to injure your already suffering skin.
You arched your back in surprise when all of the sudden his hands reached for your breasts, groping your tits like his life depending on it, stimulating you through the fabric of your shirt, but all you felt was fear and anger, impotence flowing through your veins because you just couldnât scream and push him away, fear was freezing you on the spot.
The worst part? You maybe didnât wanted to push him away. Because maybe if he gets what he wants now you would be cured and heâll be back to normal, returning you the sweet Doctor Crane that you met once, not this monster that was groping you like a piece of meat.
He clicked his tongue and dropped both of his hands to spread your legs open, forcing your back to drop onto the hand rester of the couch. You looked at him with big eyes, your heart felt like it was going to jump out of your chest and scream to Jonathan that enough was enough, you just couldnât take any of this anymore.
But your heart stayed there, between your lungs that seemed incapable to hold any air, making your breathing erratic. So nobody screamed Jonathan to stop, and he continued with his profanation against your personaâ your dignity.
He bit his lip at the sight of your fucked-up face, your legs open as it showed him the dark patch on your baby blue panties, darting his eyes from your half-exposed crotch to your teary eyes.
âGod, keep crying and I might come nowâ he growled, lowering his face to meet your pussy, kissing it through your underwear, making you mewl, closing your eyes at the sudden attention your core was getting.
You felt embarrassed at how much you enjoyed when he moved the fabric to the side and started making out with your cunt, swallowing your fluids like a starved man.
âSo wetâ he mumbled against your labia, the vibration making your eyes roll back, bitting your lip to prevent any moan to come out; he was raping you, why did he make you enjoy it? âI bet you like this, to be treated like a whoreâ
You shook your head, more tears falling out of your eyes as you felt nothing else but humiliation, pleasure washing over your body everytime his tongue brushed your clit, your back arched against nothing.
âYou like it?â he said, finally pulling out and pushing his body up so his face was in front of yours, his cock grazing against your now stimulated pussy, a gasp leaving your lips, a gasp that quickly turned into a hurting moan when his hand slapped you again, this time in your throbbing cunt. âAnswer meâ
âI- I doâ you whispered, gripping his shoulders when you felt him align the head of his member with your whole, scared of how it was going to fit. You had trouble taking it when he face-fucked you, how the fuck it was going to fit down there?
âIâm going to fuck you so goodâ he whispered between pants, jerking himself off before entering you. âYouâre going to forget that pathetic husband of yoursâ
You couldnât help but cry, trying to push him off by the shoulders, a terrified look on your face. âIt wonât fit, Doctorâ you pleaded, a crooked grin on his face as you keep on calling him that. âI beg you, donât-â
âYes, beg meâ he said, starting to push his member inside you with a slow but relentlessly pace, not giving you enough time to adjust, just to scream and hit him weakly on the chest, face and shoulders before ge grabbed your hands and pinned them down, on the sides of your body. âIâm going to cure you- do you so goodâ
His voice was low, as he barely could speak when he felt just how tight you were, your walls hugging his cock just the right way, his pulsating head making your mind dizzy, the stinging pain starting to be forgotten.
But when he slid out and entered back it, the hardness of his movement made your insides burn with pain, a loud cry echoing in the walls of the living room as he started to trust into your pussy with a fast pace, not caring at all if you felt good.
He snapped his hips against yours with an animalistic force, growls escaped from his mouth every time his cock was welcomed by the warmth of your stretch whole, the sensation making him go even more feral, making you cry more.
He let go of one of your hands and grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at his eyes as he fucked you vigorously, the blue on his iris not existent anymore, only his widely dilated pupils meeting yours, your blurred vision distinguishing the depraved expression in his face.
âYou- so tightâ he snarled, his voice barely audible, covered by the sound of skin slapping and your loud cries. âI bet your stupid husband didnât fuck you like thisâ
You felt nothing but shame as you felt his cock now sliding in and out more easily, the wetness of your cunt growing as he spoke to you like that, that familiar heat flourishing in your lower belly as his words degraded you, your cries quickly becoming moans.
âThis was all you needed- fuckâ he said, his spit splashing your face as he talked, his words full of disdain. âA good dick, thatâs all it takes to keep bitches like you quietâ You nodded, thinking that if you agreed he would stop. How wrong you were.
In a quick movement Jonathan took his cock out and spun you around, not giving you time to get on your ass up by laying your chest down before he stabbed your hole again, pushing your skirt all the way up to see how his pelvis came into collision with your ass.
You were moaning like a bitch in heat now, sure that the maids were listening, not really caring about it anymore. Jonathan was fucking you nice and hard, your mouth wide open as his tip brushed your cervix, screaming to him to keep it right there.
âIâm closeâ he said, pulling your hair back to press his chest to your back, his other hand going down to play with your swollen clit, wanting your to come around his cock like the slut he knew you were. âCome with me, you whoreâ
âYesâ you moaned, your tongue out as his cock hit the right spots, making your hips to move against his, grinding against his hand and dick, feeling your wetness drip down to your thighs. âYes, yes, I want toâ
He laughed, approaching your ear with his tongue to bite it, leaving a long and wet kiss underneath it that made you grow hotter, your eyes closed as you let him use you; the only thought in your mind being him and his wonder-working cock.
Truth was, he was fucking you stiffly, every slam of his hips stronger than the last one, but you were so deprived of touch, so dick-starved, that even if Jonathan was fucking you like a lifeless doll, only for the sake of his pleasure, you loved it, even when it hurt you.
âIâm going to fill you upâ he said against your ear, his hand leaving your clit unattended as he grabbed your hip to increase the velocity of his thrusts, ramming your hole like a demented man, making your head drop against his shoulder and scream at the ceiling, now knowing what he meant by curing you.
âGoing to get you pregnantâ he said, more to himself than anything âso you donât have to bitch about being alone anymoreâ
You opened your eyes with terror, you didnât want children, you were so young. The idea made you frightened, the moaning now sounding like little nos and pull outs, but Jonathan didnât listen.
âDoctor please, please, pull outâ you pleaded, reaching for his hips and trying to push him away, one of his hands slapping your ass and pulling you down by your shoulder blade so you wouldnât fight anymore. âDoctor Crane pleaseâ
âI will fucking fill you up, Y/Nâ he chanted, laughing at the idea of your round belly and your swollen tits, carrying his baby all day and feeling all worked up and needy all day, only waiting for him to fuck you all day. âYou wonât be alone again. You wonât be sad againâ
Then you realized it.
When he came, your hot walls creamed every single drop of his cum, making his thrusts sloppy and slow, his moans filling your ears as you sobbed under his touch, feeling his seed paint your walls and load your insides with his sperm.
That was your cure.
His hot release that now flooded inside your leaking cunt, that was your so-promised antidote. He took away your solitude by giving you his and yours firstborn, a bastard baby that would give you the company that you lacked.
You felt him chuckle as he rode out his high, the chase of his own climax made you forget yours, so now there you were, your swollen cunt looking for its release while his rested among your insides calmly, like it was meant to be.
He didnât pull out immediately, taking his time to appreciate the sight of your skirt resting in your hips all rolled up, your bruised neck and messy hair, the way your ass was exposed to him by the way he had you arching your back. All for himâ for him to wreck.
He pulled out and rolled his eyes when you started crying, now being annoying instead of hot. You sat on the couch and saw him button his pants and fix his hair, hissing when you felt nothing but pain growing in your worn-out pussy. You explained through your weak voice how he ruined your life, that he was the worst person youâve ever met and that now you had to carry the product of his sick and twisted rapist-fantasy, even tried to hit him, but your pathetic tantrum only gained you another slap in the face, and a stern look.
When he tried to stand up and leave, you grabbed him by the wrist and begged him not to, he couldnât just leave you, not now, not ever.
âDonât be so ungratefulâ he said, a smile that made you feel nothing but trepidation in his face. âYouâll never be alone againâ
You couldnât help but feel scared. Scared of him, of what just happened, of whatâs going to happen next, scared for your future son with this evil specie of a man.
When you continued to cry, and he pulled you for a hug as he assured you that he would never leave you; and how could he? He had a long life of success waiting for him now, giving a girl of your status his last name, his children. Oh, itâs going to be wonderful, he just needed to tame you and make you the perfect slave for him, and that wasnât going to be hard.
You were sure that youâll never be loved, but at least now Jonathan was going to be with you. Youâll never be alone again.
thanks for reading. w/love, fenina;)
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Good Job.
"You really went on your own?"
Billy nodded his head vigorously, grinning like a fool even as Batman wiped away the blood off his temple. The older hero shook his head, his stern expression faltering slightly.
"..Get someone to accompany you next time." He grunts, ruffling Billy's hair. "I didn't know you can get hurt.."
Billy scoffs. "You? Don't know? That's impossible!" He exclaims, getting up from the stool he was sitting on. His height nearly towered over the Caped Crusader's. If only I was actually that tall. "But that's besides the point- I've got the whole thing covered! Put those scrawny robots into the spirit realm!"
Batman let out a faint sigh, taking a step back as Billy got back on his feet. "A warning would be nice. It's reckless for you to charge into battle without the others' permission. We haven't even made a plan yet.."
"You have to admit I did pretty good though!" Billy bounced, floating just above the ground. He punches the air. "I defeated all of them on my own! No plans from the rest of the League whatsoever."
As much as Batman disliked the idea of Billyâor anyone on the Justice League for that matterâpursuing a mission without a second opinion, he can't help but smile. He always had a soft spot for the boy, after all. He placed his hand on Billy's shoulder when the false adult returned to stand on solid ground. "You did. You did a good job."
Billy's expression softens, and Batman squeezed his shoulder. "Good job." The man repeated. Then, he looked over at the couches that were set up in the room they were in. Golden Condor sat stiffly, his unmoving eyes transfixed on the both of them, watching.
"Isn't that right, Condor? Don't you think he did a good job?"
Billy knew Batman made the wrong move. Why bother interacting with that jackass?
Golden Condor got up from the couch, but he didn't approach them. Instead, he glared at them from afar. It was mostly directed to Billy, though.
He never liked me, Billy thought. Well, guess what? I never liked you either.
"Don't praise him for doing something normal." Golden Condor spoke in that voice that would always make people grimace. He really needs to drink more water.
It was hard to notice, but Batman's shoulders tensed. "..Normal?" He uttered quizzically. Billy could imagine the look Batman was giving him under that cowl. "You think him going out to fight those robots alone, is normal?"
"It's normal to our standards." Golden Condor crossed his arms, his glare sharpening. "He should be expected to do it and punished if he doesn't."
What the hell, Billy thinks, feeling his heartbeat picking up pace. Batman stiffened. "Don't you dare speak of him that way." The Dark Knight walked over to the obnoxious man with an intimidating stride until the two were a few feet apart. Batman glared up at him. "He put himself in danger to save lives. He should be praised for his initiative, as reckless as it may be. Why can't you tell him he did a good job?"
Golden Condor huffs, looking at Billy, then back at Batman. "Because it's what everyone here does, Batman. It's nothing spectacular- nobody calls us good when we do the things we do. Why should it be any different with him?"
Billy couldn't believe it. Is Condor actually that stupid? It's even more embarrassing that this man is way older than him. A grown man is acting this way.
"And as if," The vigilante continued. "that child has the abilities of the Gods. I've said it before and I'll say it again; he should be expected to do it. He's not putting himself in danger because he's practically invincible."
"Superman has his kryptonite," Batman responded, his voice on edge. "and he's weak to magic. Diana also has her weaknesses and she's a demigod. Everyone on this team has weaknessesâit doesn't matter! You saw the blood on his head! It's still dangerous, Euge- Condor."
Golden Condor took one step closer, his haunting eyes ablaze with barely-concealed ire. "You're just coddling him," He said, his tone rising a little. "he's making you soft. It's pathetic."
Billy swallowed a lump in his throat. For the first time in his life, he was speechless. Batman's eyes narrowed. "I'm treating him with the kindness he deserves, unlike you," He said, jabbing a finger to Golden Condor's chest. The man in turn swatted his hand away. Batman's expression darkened. "you just hate him because he's a kid. I know how you are, Golden Condor."
The tension in the room was palpable. There was a brief intake of breath from Billy. They're going to argue again. They always do. Why does Batman have to go through this?
Golden Condor gritted his teeth. He was practically fuming. His aggression didn't deter Batman, as he continued to face him, his head held high and his chest puffed out.
"You're a fool!" Golden Condor spat at the shorter man's face. "If you keep this up then he's going to grow up thinking he's going to be given everything on a silver platter for doing jack-shit!"
"Just because you've never been praised doesn't mean you can't praise him!" Batman snapped back, unyielding. "Really, that's all that I want you to do; praise him! It's so simple and yet you have to make it difficult! I think he's severely lacking a parent figure who lets him know that he's appreciatedâ"
Billy's ears blocked out the sounds of their incoherent arguingâhe could barely make out the words they were saying to each other. His feet were almost glued to the ground as he watched them, looking at their gestures and their moving mouths. It was a familiar sight with these two.
He could feel ringing in his ears, and Billy averted his eyes to the floor instead.
TGCS Š Mr. Hermit ⣠Dragon Eyes
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