#Jason is not getting through residency his blood pressure is going through the roof

[twistpixel]

Is Jason being a medical Dr a topic. Sheila. I think Jason would um. I think he would throw up every time he lost a patient sorry I don’t think he wants to be a Dr. Damian is already a surgeon make him do it

[glapplebloom]

Originally written as a fan DBX. Trying to add some Visuals to this...

In a cabin in the woods, three people were hiding. They knew that their boss, who was the bigger of the three, was a key component to send their gang to jail. They got away from Gotham and hid in a forest. One of them looks nervous.

Thug 1: Are you sure no one will find us here?

Boss: Of course not. Nobody ever enters these woods. They believe its some sort of Death Curse in the place.

Thug 1: But what about the Bat? Didn't he went all the way to Japan to capture a guy?

Boss: It was that guy's fault for making it so obvious.

Thug 2: Yeah. Who in their right mind would even come to this place?

They hear a snap of a twig outside.

Thug 1: What was that noise?

Thug 2: Its probably just a animal. Nothing to worry about.

Meanwhile, above the forest, a plane shaped like a bat was floating above it. Inside was the Batman. While the Boss did his best to cover his trail, he did leave enough clues for the Cape Crusader to figure out where he was going. Using an infrared sensor, Batman was scanning the forest to locate his target since he doesn't know specifically where they were hiding. Eventually, he finds three signatures. With no other signature in the area, Batman concluded that they were the ones he was looking for. 

Setting the Bat Plane on Autopilot, the Vigilante exits his vehicle and slowly lowers himself down to the roof of the Cabin. Making as little noise as possible, Batman opens an upstairs window and enters. He carefully listens for noise and doesn't hear anything. They must be asleep. He slowly goes down the stairs and heads towards what he assumes is the living room. When he enters, he sees the person he was looking for, as well as two others, dead. He also spots a 4th person, one that was not detected by the infrared sensor. He was holding a bloody machete as he looked down upon his last victim. 

Despite the Batman's best effort at stealth, the murderer turned around and noticed him. He was wearing a hockey mask and looked to have no life in his eyes. This was the creature known as Jason Voorhees. The Undead Killer began to slowly walk towards Batman as he decided to walk backward. Seeing all the signs of a walking corpse, the Detective immediately figured that he was fighting someone who has already died. This not only allowed him to use more lethal measures to deal with his opponent but also bring out his Nth Metal Knuckles to damage the creature. Jason raises his machete to swing down at the Bat, which was his opportunity to counter attack. Voorhees swings, an easy move for the Dark Knight to avoid. 

After the swing, Batman counters with an Nth Metal Punch to Jason's face. The Undead Creature staggers a bit but it still remains standing and after the Hero. Jason goes for another swing. This time the Vigilante caught the swing and used the momentum to Judo Throw his opponent to the ground. Knowing it wasn't enough to take the Killer down, Batman pulls out two Explosive Batarangs and throws them towards the walls opposite of each other. He gets out of the cabin in time as the Batarangs explode, taking down the entire cabin and anything in there. Knowing that his mission was a failure to bring the boss into justice, he vowed to at least end this monster's rampage in the forest. But as destructive as those weapons were, the Detective did not expect it to finish off his opponent. 

And just as soon as he thought that, the creature rose from the rubble looking as if nothing happened. Like an unstoppable machine, Jason got back up and began to go after the one victim he hasn't killed yet.

Unknown Source: Ki, ki, ki; ma ma ma.

The Detective sees Jason coming towards him and decides to take the attack to him instead. Charging towards Voorhees, the Batman continues to dodge the Machete slashes and delivering various blows. Punches with his Nth Metal. Slashes with his Bladed Gauntlets. And even elbows and knees to where it would normally be pressure points. They clearly do damage but the Camp Blood Resident continues to attack as if nothing happened. 

Growing irritated from this Mask Man attacking him, Jason surprises the Dark Knight with a backhand from his non-machete hand. This sent the Batman flying into the ruble that was the cabin. Despite everything he done, the creature continued to go for the attack. Seeing no way for him to defeat Jason, Batman set off a smoke grenade on the floor. It didn't phase Jason as he continued to walk towards his next victim. When the smoke cleared, the Bat was nowhere to be seen.

Unknown Source: Ki, ki, ki; ma ma ma.

Back in the Bat Plane, Batman goes back into the pilot seat. During the Smoke Screen, he used his Grappling Gun to get himself back into the plane. He knows he was unable to stop the creature by himself. So he decided to call for help.

Batman: Batman to the Justice League. I am in Sussex County, New Jersey. There is a killer in the woods and killed three suspects I was trying to apprehend. It is undead and has a high tolerance to Nth Metal. I recommend...

The Glass of the Cockpit was broken into by a fist. Jason Voorhees, with no explanation, was on the Bat Plane doing his best to pull Batman out through the hole he made. Because of the commotion, the Dark Knight lost control of the Plane and it began to head down towards the ground. The Hockey Mask Killer manages to finish pulling the Vigilante out of the cockpit and was planning to finish him in Jason's trademark style. But before he could, the plane crashed and created a large explosion. Everything in the area was set ablaze, including the now departed Batman. Jason Voorhees rises once again, still on fire. It began to rain dowsing out the fire. And Jason continues to walk the woods, waiting for the next fool to enter his woods.

[imagining-sio]

Red Blood & A Heart of Gold IV

Summary: Bruce boi is fun boi

Jason Todd x Reader

Chapter Four

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“Dixon, when you go to file this; can you get me every known file on the Red Hood.” I handed the file back to him.

“Uh, yeah; sure. Why?” the strawberry blonde nodded.

“I have a theory. I just need more evidence.”

“How far back do you want to go?” Dixon tucked the file under his arm.

“As far back as you can go.”

“That may take a while to get a hold of. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks Dixon.” I gave a tight lipped smile at the rookie smiled and walked away; “Lemme know when you find something.”

“Will do detective.”

I took a deep breath, letting me mull over the address. At this point; it should still be a working crime scene.

“Yup.” I grabbed my helmet and belongings; briskly walking out of the headquarters.

I whizzed through traffic, not caring if I got caught by other officers. It took fifteen minutes to arrive at the crime scene. I screeched to a halt, setting my black motorcycle on its kickstand.

“Look lady we already had the press conference, we don’t need-.”

“I’m Detective (Y/N) Jones; you will let me in this crime scene, now.” I said with an authoritative tone.

“Y-yes ma’am.” the officer paled and backed away.

“Did you recover any shell casings?” I asked the officer.

“N-not presently no,” The man stuttered.

I nodded, looming over the chalk lines and blood spatter. I looked up from the open lot, spotting a rooftop that would give someone the perfect view of the entire deal.

“Do you think it was all possible that the assailant was on that rooftop?” I pointed at the gothic building. The officer surveyed the blood splatter, squatting on his knees. His head switched back and forth from the ground to the rooftop.

“It’s certainly possible; I’ll send the evidence technicians up there.” He stood up slowly. I nodded, making my way toward the building’s fire escape.

“What are you doing?” The officer asked as I stood on top of the dumpster that resided under the steel structure. I leaped up, grabbing onto the rails. My side instantly regretted the action, causing me to let out a painful grunt.

“You alright ma’am.” The officer asked concerned, tilting his hat up.

“I’m fine, thank you.” I said strenuously. I then shimmied myself up in order to grab the railing. Hauling myself onto the fire escape, I had to take a few second to recoup from the burning pain in my side. I ascended the steps all the way up to the roof. I stopped as I reached the rooftop’s ledge, surveying where to put my feet. There were indeed several shell casings.

“You find anything!” the officer shouted from below.

“Yeah, make sure to send the evidence technicians up here!” I hollered back.

“You got it!”

I scooted over several feet in order not to disturb the evidence that lay on the rooftop. Hood must have shot them from that spot, before swooping down from the fire escape to kill the men one by one. It was certainly a message he was sending not only to criminals, but to Gotham. One that seemed to only make things worse. I took a deep sigh, turning to look over the rooftop’s ledge, down at the crime scene. I turned up to the Gotham skyline, paling when I could easily spot my current apartment building a few blocks away from the vantage point. You could even see the window.

So he knew I was already living in that apartment when he decided to visit.

Who else knew?

My phone buzzed; Jim’s name appearing on the screen.

“This is Jones.” I said into the device.

“I found a few black tie’s in my closet; I’ll be sure to bring them in to the station for when you come back.” Gordon spoke. I cracked a smile.

“Thanks Jim, you’re a lifesaver.”

“Just part of the job; also someone wants to say hi to you.”

“Hi (Y/N)!” Barbara took the phone from her father, almost yelling into the microphone by the sound of her voice.

“Hi, Babs; how’ve you been?”

“Boring! Y’know how physical therapy goes.”

“Yeah, I feel that pain,” My hand went to my side, pressing the afflicted bruise gingerly.

“So how are you? Is your elevator still broken?”

“I don’t think they will ever fix it, Babs. But I’ll let you know that I’ll be able to take lunch with you next Friday if you want.”

“That’s great!! I can’t wait!”

“I’ll see you then, Babs” I laughed. I noted that the door to the roof had opened, the officer who had first approached me walked out followed by the evidence technicians. I deftly pointed toward the shell casings a few feet away from me. The officer nodded and directed the evidence techs toward the gold casings.

“Bye Laura!” The phone silence, leaving me with a dial tone until it went back to the lock screen. I pocketed the phone with the fruit on it and walked over to the officer.

“Make sure that ballistics sends their findings to my office when they’ve made an identification.” I relayed to the officer. He nodded in response.

“You gonna go down the fire escape or will you use the elevator this time?”

I laughed, “I’ll take the elevator now that I know the building has one.”

The officer chuckled, bidding me goodbye.

————————————————————————

After returning to the station headquarters to pick up a tie from Gordon, one he insisted that I keep for future use, I went home early I order to prepare for the event this evening. I quickly went to my closet and pulled out my two-piece maroon suit, and the one black button-up I owned.

I quickly slipped the pants on and then the shirt, making sure to tuck it in as I button up the pants at the small of my waist. The legs of the pants reached just above the ankles, perfect for wearing heels or any other type of dress shoe. I eyed the platform leather loafers I got as a clear and obvious re-gift from one of the rich college coworkers I once worked with. I had never worn these shoes in my life, since they outclassed pretty much everything I could possibly own; even the maroon suit I had gotten from H&M. Plus, if I were to protect somebody tonight, I certainly wasn’t going to do it in heels. I could barely walk barefoot sometimes.

I grabbed the tie out of my purse, pulling up a tutorial on my phone as I walked into the bathroom. After about five tries, and a slew of curses I flung at the inanimate object, I managed to get the tie the damned tie around my neck without strangling myself. I checked the time and grabbed my holster, placing it on before putting my pistol inside. I snatched the blazer off of my bed and put it on over the shoulder piece, making sure it was discreet in the ensemble. Adjusting the tie to where it wasn’t having any pressure on my throat, I shoved my phone in the front pocket, which thankfully, was big enough to hold it. I slipped my badge on my waistband and grabbed my helmet and keys.

I was eternally grateful that I didn’t have any kind of helmet hair when I arrived in the museum. The place was bustling with people trying to set up the ice sculptures and the table placements around the many priceless artifacts scattered about. I spotted Gordon conversing with a few of his higher ranking officers. Briskly making my way through the number of workers running about, I was able to make it to the elder man still dressed in his trademark trench-coat.

“I want you two up on that balcony, and make sure to post someone at any possible exit in the building.” He directed the men, and they wordlessly scrambled to their designated posts.

“Detective Jones, reporting for duty,” I said dryly, making the old man jump.

“Duly noted Detective,” the man titled his head, a soft chuckle in his voice followed.

“Your tie is a little off,” He adjusted it accordingly. I remained still for him as he did so.

“Thanks, Jim.” I gave him a soft smile as he admired his handiwork.

“What would you do without me, Detective?” he quipped.

“Commissioner Gordon! This is a little excessive don’t you think?” A voice interrupted, echoing through the main room. I turned to find the host of the gala approaching, clad in an expensive as suit and tie.

“Mister Wayne, we are taking the necessary precautions.” Gordon explained with a tight lipped smile.

“And who is this young woman?”

“I’m (Y/N) Jones, GPD.” I stuck my hand out to the billionaire. His brows furrowed, seeming like he did in fact remember me, or at least, my name.

“Have we met before?” he shook my hand.

“I was a friend of Jason Todd.” He paled at the mere mention of his name, but quickly hid it behind a smile.

————————————————————

[dreadhaus-literature]

{January Collection} #16

Elephant

Wednesday’s Theme: Description

It’s all fun and games until the Batman shows up and insists you make good on the Elephant in the Room.

Monica swallowed the nervous sound that threatened to spill past her painted lips, staring up at the intimidating figure backlit by the flirtatious moon streaming through the open window. Cold air bit at her bare arms but she almost couldn’t feel it, the Batman was so close all she could take in was the spiced metal scent of Gotham’s Night Stalker. He was in full regalia, from his billowing cape to his cowl, and Monica...was left wondering why it was she sometimes mocked his outfit, again? Granted she’d never seen him so close, before--she had no idea he knew where she lived. She was just one of Gotham’s eight million residents, and she was likely one of the most anti-social--except online...which is how this whole thing started. Monica was an internet personality in Gotham, boasting a Twitter following in the millions that would make most view-thirsty YouTubers jealous. Monica was most known for her scathing wit and hilarious re-telling of Gotham’s many problems using Twitter’s 240 character limit, but most days she didn’t need all that to get her point across. Liviari’s Lines was a popular Gotham-centric podcast Monica hosted twice a week that others clamored and fought to get a spot on, and Twine’s 5 second video format was perfect for Monica’s quick wit and excellent camera work. If you wanted to be in the know, you came to Monica’s many social media outlets. She was Gotham’s virtual tour guide and literal millions flocked to her for the hot take on Gotham any given day of the week.

It was only a matter of time before Batman wound up on Monica’s radar. The caped crusader was out on patrol every night, punching faces and returning snatched purses, and while Monica didn’t necessarily have a problem with the guy...how do you not mock a guy in a giant batsuit? It started out light-hearted, with Monica making quick quips on her videos and podcasts about the Bat’s nightly extra-curriculars, but with so many followers her words caught like a spark against dry tinder and anything she said about Batman was trending for the next three days. Monica may...not have made the best judgment call when one day, on air, she was confronted with the question “Is Batman hot, tho?” And she responded without missing a beat--

“Fuck Batman.”

And it was clear by the tone of her voice she did not mean in the silk sheets and rose petals kind of way. It was just, her guest had put her on the spot! She’d done a damn good job of never mentioning Batman’s attractiveness, that just wasn’t her style. Something about him made her want to turn her nose up rather than sink to her knees and the retort had just slipped out--but it had taken Gotham by storm. The hashtag #FuckBatman blew up instantly and stayed at the top of Gotham’s feed for weeks; people were putting it on their bios, it was on T-shirts and coffee mugs, and eventually Monica was collecting royalties for an off-hand comment she...really didn’t mean! Of course she didn’t actually have a problem with Batman, but it was too late to take it back!

The other side of the coin, that Monica could have no way of knowing, was the repercussions it was having for Batman, known to select few as Bruce Wayne. He was a genius when it came to tech but he didn’t care for social media and thus, had no idea who Monica, aka Liviari, was. He’d heard her name in passing from Duke or Tim, and he knew Jason though she was “smokin’ hot,” because Bruce had been in earshot when Jason said it aloud to Dick, who didn’t disagree. Unfortunately for Bruce, in this social media age, being out of the loop didn’t prepare him for the backlash of two little words, until he was out in Gotham on patrol and after saving someone, was met with, “Fuck Batman,” and a peace sign selfie, like it was some sort of strange battle cry. Bruce had been so taken aback he didn’t even know what the hell to say, and his staring had made the person he’d just saved so uncomfortable he’d run away from the vigilante with a cry of, “It’s just a j-joke, man, lighten up!”

Bruce had initially chalked that up to some idiot with something to prove, but the following day, on his way in to Wayne Enterprises, he saw no less than a dozen people in “Fuck Batman” shirts and one of the security guards at the front desk had the audacity to have the coffee mug. Bruce was confused and a little annoyed--

Until he found out the why behind this new media campaign.

“Smokin’ hot,” was the term one of his sons had used to describe Monica, and while Bruce wouldn’t argue that, he would put it a different way. Breath-takingly, strikingly gorgeous, was a more apt descriptor for the internet personality that was turning Bruce’s world upside down. Immediately his agitation over this new slogan subsided then ignited like a spark, flames fanned into lust so potent he had to shift position as he stared at Monica’s picture on the computer in the Batcave. Bruce was not a man who was occupied in carnal pleasures, he had too much on his plate, but he knew enough to indulge if only to keep his body from getting distracted--so it hadn’t been so long that he was just in need of a woman’s touch. No, this was something else entirely and he kept his cerulean eyes locked to Monica’s smiling face on his screen as he basically devoured her. Minutes ticked by then bled into hours as his search history filled up with every available social media page and article about Gotham’s Gossip Girl. An obsession was taking root without his conscious awareness, so that the sun rose with him still in his chair--he missed patrol for the first night in years, too busy was he collecting everything he wanted, no, needed to know about Monica.

Anyone who asked got the same response, “I need to know who she is so I can nip this in the bud. This could get out of hand, fast.” And it sounded logical, even if Jason’s only response to it was continuously, “Fuck Batman.” But Bruce had a different reaction every time he heard the slogan, now.

Would she?

There are downsides to those with rigid discipline, that most don’t want to acknowledge. If they begin to hyper-focus on something nothing can deter them, and they’ll convince themselves they’re doing the right thing because they always do the right thing. Batman doesn’t do wrong, Batman is the beacon, the symbol of justice and what’s right in Gotham City. If he’s set his mind to doing something then it has to be the right call because Batman can’t be anything else.

That was what Bruce told himself when he began stalking Monica.

Bruce just needed to know what sort of woman she was, of course. If she was going to be out here, influencing the work he was doing in their city, then he needed to know so that when the time came to approach her, he knew the best way to do it. It helped that Bruce didn’t examine his habits much more closely, because there was no reason for him to spend every available moment on patrol perched on the building across from hers, watching her through her window as she went about her nightly routines...she was even more breath-taking in person, something Bruce hadn’t prepared himself for. Pictures normally do a person plenty of justice, but the first time Monica unknowingly turned to face him through the window Bruce had to brace himself on the ledge of the roof he was on, fighting the blood pooling low and putting too much strain on his cock in his suit. He’d actually grunted at the pressure, his mind racing with thoughts that weren’t exactly what one might expect from Gotham’s hero. What was he supposed to do, when she had lips like that? His mouth ran dry with the imagining of what she tasted like, and as she’d turned and walked away from the window he was left just hopelessly staring, while Duke called his name over the radio comm repeatedly.

Bruce had called up an old fling that same night, buried himself deep in something familiar, but he had to keep his eyes closed so he could imagine it was Monica’s legs wrapped around his waist. He’d kept his hand over the other woman’s mouth so she couldn’t speak and ruin the illusion, and in the end Bruce could only come when he thought of Monica’s voice in his ear, calling him Daddy, begging to be filled. He’d tossed the condom away with a scowl after it was done, irritated that he’d wasted himself when Monica should be full and happy, sated and sleepy in his bed. He got up to shower, callously tossing over his broad shoulder that the other woman should see herself out. The only one allowed in his bed was across the city and Bruce didn’t get a wink of sleep that night.

That was when he knew this had nothing to do with lust and this was not something he could just “get over” or get out of his system. Bruce spent the hours he was at work chasing alerts and updates from her social media profiles (he’d signed up for every platform she was on using an anonymous username so he could follow her easily) and his patrols always took him by her place so he could see her. Thanks to her videos and podcasts that he played over the Batmobile’s speakers and screens he was haunted by her voice, and Bruce was losing himself to a firestorm of obsession that he felt was justified. She called him out, drew him out of the shadows with two simple words, and she had to answer for it. She had to answer for what she’s done, bringing the Bat to his knees. This was unacceptable, how could she continue to be so unaffected by him when he couldn’t close his eyes without seeing her smile? He hated anyone touching him anymore because he had no idea what she felt like. Any woman stupid enough to try it on with him was met with a harsh glare and a reprimand, because if it wasn’t Monica it wasn’t good enough. Bruce was at his wit’s end and one night, tonight, the line was cut and the glass shattered, so that he climbed through her window and forced her to face her fear.

Monica opened her mouth to say something, but her teeth clicked together out of chattering nerves when Batman inclined his head slightly down; she couldn’t see his eyes behind the cowl but she knew he was staring at her mouth. Gotham’s Hero was unbelievably tall and looked carved from marble, and Monica swallowed thickly as her eyes drifted down from that square-cut chin to watch the muscles coil and ripple beneath the suit she’d once thought looked dramatic and ridiculous. There was some question as to whether or not the Batman’s muscles were real or etched into his suit but she could now confirm...it was all the man. The suit had nothing to do with his physique, it was simply molded to fit what was unfairly perfect and almost inhumanly so. He moved, a single ripple of power like a jungle cat and she retreated, his prey and fully aware of it as her back bumped against the wall.

“Say it.”

The voice that spoke was not what she expected Batman to sound like; she’d expected a voice that was rough, unpolished, but his baritone slid over her skin like velvet rope, binding even as she ached to hear it again.

“W-What?” Monica’s whisper caught at his thundering heart and his gloved fingers cinched with the desperate need to bruise, to claim what was trembling before him. He slowly unclenched his hand, flattening it on the wall beside her head. She was so petite he had to bend his spine to get in close but he would have broken it just to close the distance between them.

He stopped a hair’s width from her lips. “Say your little catchphrase. I’ve had to hear it for weeks. I want to hear it from the source, now.”

Monica’s throat ran dry as she fought to swallow. He was...trying to intimidate her and she shouldn’t have been surprised by that, it was Batman after all and he could stop some criminals before they even committed a crime just by his presence alone. She hated that it was working, her body responding to his close proximity and that voice. His breath was ghosting across her lips, and a part of her wanted to close the distance and kiss him. That damn cowl kept her from being able to read him but she had the distinct feeling even if she could see his face she wouldn’t be able to tell what he wanted. The problem was...she knew exactly what he was talking about.

“L-Look,” Monica brought her hands up, trying to hide their trembling as she settled them against his chest--and her knees nearly buckled. The wall of muscle she felt beneath his suit sent a rush of liquid heat pooling between her thighs and she clenched her bare legs, all the sudden too aware of the T-shirt and panties that constituted her pajamas. “It was j-just a joke. Obviously I appreciate w-what you do for Gotham. But if you t-think you’re going to intimidate me by showing up in the m-middle of the night, you’re in for--”

Bruce couldn’t stand it any longer and his lips crashed down on hers, taking advantage of her talking to split her lips with his seeking, hungry tongue. She tasted cloying, not unlike sweet red wine that passed his time at charity events, and he pushed her further, harder back against the wall so she couldn’t escape him. He was staunch in his no killing policy but even Bruce had to admit to himself if someone interrupted him kissing Monica in this moment he’d seriously consider rethinking his position--he could not release her mouth. Her trembling fingers pushed weakly at his chest but he didn’t miss the way her hips raised and met his lower half and he broke the kiss just to groan at the friction between them. His gloved fingers buried in her hair, forcing her head back against the wall as he drank from her lips like a dying man, his other hand gripping her hip hard enough to bruise so she would stop trying to put space between them. There’d been too much space between them these past few weeks and he wouldn’t stand for it, now. She was shaking in his embrace and he met her fear with his strength, showing her exactly what Batman was capable of. He held her up, forced her to him eagerly and he didn’t care if that was how he came across. Composure was everything to Batman, but the man beneath the cowl was suffering at the hands of this petite woman who had Gotham wrapped around her finger--Gotham’s Hero was no exception to that.

Monica could hardly believe Batman, the Batman was kissing her. And god, could he ever kiss. Her nails skidded against the armor over his chest and her fingers slipped up to his powerful throat until the tips of her fingers were caressing his jaw, feeling the ghost of a 5 o’clock shadow. His chin, his jaw were so square she couldn’t help imagining it between her thighs and she stifled a moan against his mouth--he heard it and chased it, growling out his displeasure that she would try to keep it from him. Monica was helpless as she offered up another keening whine, one he greedily swallowed as his hand slid from her hip to cup her ass, gripping her with obvious possession she didn’t know what to do with. There was more than just lust and sexual tension in this but without the knowledge of how long Batman had been investigating her, watching her, Monica could only follow where he led. With one arm he lifted her and pressed her back against the wall; her legs wrapped around his waist and he made a deep noise of approval as she was opened up for him. Monica’s cheeks tinted in the darkness at the slick feel of her thighs spreading; he’d know how much she was enjoying his kiss as he ground against her, but she quickly lost that thought at the impressive bulge that pushed right against her clit. Her breath slammed from her lungs at the implications of what he would, what he could do to her and as his tongue caressed hers she could only tighten her arms around his broad shoulders knowing she couldn’t entirely fight this.

Bruce told himself it would matter if Monica fought him, of course he’d never take advantage of an innocent girl, but he buried the echoing truth that he was out of control beneath the sweet sound of Monica’s moans and those keening little noises she made. Those sounds would haunt him, chase him like her skirt tails during the waking hours and he knew without even having to be inside her that this would not be the only time he’d have to have her. Whatever was happening here, it was just the beginning. Who could blame him? Bruce sacrificed so much for this city; so much of his time and his resources, his own Family had bled and died for this city, so if this was Gotham offering up a gift in exchange he was going to take it with both hands. His gloved fingers slid from her hair, slamming into the wall beside her head as he felt her heat slide over his engorged cock again. Christ, she was killing him. He hadn’t intended to fuck her tonight, he just wanted to see her, to talk to her; he was going out of his mind with the distance between them but now that he was here, he couldn’t stop himself. It was akin to dropping a starved man at a table with his favorite food; one bite wasn’t enough to satisfy and even after kissing Monica to the point she had to beg or she’d pass out he knew it wasn’t enough. He released her gasping mouth and as her head tipped back against the wall, dragging air into those starved lungs, he attacked her throat.

“P-Please, B-Batman--”

“No,” Bruce accented his words with the bite of perfect white teeth against the curve of her throat. “Those aren’t the words I want to hear.”

Monica knew what he wanted but she couldn’t get the words out. It was one thing to jokingly caps lock it with her followers, or even playfully chant it on-air with her podcast guests, but when the Batman had her pinned to her bedroom wall, his tongue doing something wickedly sinful against the pulse in her throat, well, she couldn’t say it.

“If you don’t say it,” he warned, “you’re going to do it.”

Monica pushed her hips more insistently against him, felt his body’s responding shudder and found her body had accepted that long before her mind had. She was so wet she was sticky with need, staining the front of Batman’s suit and she would have apologized or been mortified if she could think beyond Bruce suckling at the tender skin of her throat.

Bruce could feel her dripping down the front of him and he ground against her, using the wall as leverage when all he wanted was to bury his impressive length so deep she screamed. He just couldn’t release her throat to make good on his promise, not yet, not when he was bruising the skin and leaving a claiming mark behind that she wouldn’t be able to hide. His hand slipped from the wall to cup the opposite side of her throat, pushing her deeper, harder into him as his strong fingers kneaded the supple flesh of her ass. He wanted his gloves off, but again couldn’t stop to remove them, his teeth sampling skin so sharply she cried out and he ached to feel her fingers in his dark hair. Beneath his cowl Bruce’s eyes fluttered shut; he was going to fuck her, claim her, fill her, yes because he couldn’t leave her without doing so, but this could only be the beginning. He wouldn’t be able to sleep, to live his life peacefully until he had all of her, in every way he could. Bruce deserved that, he was owed that, because he was convinced this was his reward for all he’d sacrificed. No one ever touched the Batman, much less the man behind the mask, but Monica was so far beneath his skin he’d never get her out of his system and he finally released her bruised throat with a groan of desperate need.

“My gloves,” he managed between clenched teeth, and Monica responded immediately as he offered one hand to her, then shifted her slight weight to offer her his other. She tugged them free and was immediately rewarded with the calloused grip of his fingers as one cupped her ass, the other making short work of the front of Batman’s suit.

Her eyes widened as the moonlight cast a long, thick shadow as Batman’s impressive cock slipped from his suit and he made no other move but to slide it up the crease of her thigh. That same hand pulled her panties to the side, exposing her fully to his covetous intrusion. “W-Wait, don’t you need--”

Protection? There was no protection to be had, not when Bruce had set his mind to having her, all of her. Monica’s head was thrown back with a stunned, pained squeal as Bruce split her tight cunt with the thick girth of his dripping cock. He groaned, his head falling to rest above hers so that she was wholly, fully trapped against the wall and his unforgiving frame, his one arm hooked around her back, his other struggling to keep him braced against the wall. He had to clench his jaw as he felt her shift to accommodate him; she was so small, so tight he was going out of his mind. He’d never had any woman grip him so tightly, to the point he wasn’t certain he could move and Bruce had nothing if he didn’t have control. His fingers cinched against her waist as her choked sob of pleasure-pain ran down his spine like her fingernails. She was killing him, squeezing him so tightly, her sweet voice raking over raw nerves until he was certain he was losing his mind with want. The weeks he’d spent stalking her had all led up to this moment but there was no preparing him for what it felt like inside her; he bottomed out and her thighs gripped his hips as if to stop him from moving but what choice did he had? He had to have her. He’d die if he didn’t.

Monica couldn’t stay quiet, not when she was so full. She’d never been filled like this before and she was terrified that as soon as this was over, she’d be left feeling empty. It had her matching Batman’s desperation with her own, her arms tightening over his broad shoulders and he didn’t let her down; he trapped her further against the wall, his other arm circling her back to press her closer. She lifted her head, staring up into his masked face and even without seeing his eyes she knew he was staring at her.

Bruce couldn’t take his eyes off her. Lit by the moon and so full of him there was no room for anything else, she stole his breath away. His chest was heaving with the exertion it took not to raw her, but he wanted desperately to. She arched against him and just like that, he gave himself away that he couldnt’ deny her; he was drawing back only to thrust up once, one solid, deep thrust and she cried out. He devoured her with his eyes alone, wanting to commit this moment to memory, to hold him over until the next time--and there would be a next time. She slid over him hot, wet, sinfully tight and he lost himself to a deep, hard rhythm that had her toes curling and her spine arching to accommodate him because he was so thick, so deep she knew she’d never get him out again. He closed the distance between them, searing her with a kiss that she struggled to keep with his cock buried so deep she couldn’t uncurl her toes. Her walls were stretched to their limits, her cunt dripping off him onto the floor as his strong fingers gripped and kneaded the supple, biteable flesh of her ass--he’d have to get to that next time, leaving marks in intimate places so she’d be too shy to show anyone else. Bruce may not have the rights to claim her but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to. Anyone trying to move in on his woman would find themselves scared off by the Batman, and he would have no shame about doing it.

Anything, absolutely anything would be acceptable to do to be able to have her. He’d never felt anything like this in his life, the wet heat that was searing him like a brand so that his body was secondary to the ever-increasing thud of his heart. Bruce kept his lips pressed to hers, taking long, drugging kisses as her breathing matched his own frantic pace, his hips snapping into hers with desperate need to fill her; it had been the only thing on his mind for weeks and to be so close was shredding his rigid control. This was bad, she was bad for him, like a killswitch to control he’d spend decades honing into a weapon all on it’s own but what was he to do? He wasn’t strong enough to let her go, not now that he’d had a taste of her. His tongue split her lips and he swallowed her rising cry, feeling her body clenching around him and he grunted in response. He wanted to tell her, not so tight, he wouldn’t last and he wanted nothing more but for this to last, but he couldn’t get the words out. He was going up in flames right alongside her, driven to running down his climax because she was doing nothing to stop hers.

“I-I’m, I’m--”

“I know, beautiful, I know,” Bruce spoke against her mouth, “be a good girl and cum for me.”

Monica’s body tensed, her spine arching to the point of pain as she gave in to him and he followed her, pinning her against the wall as his hips snapped up once, twice, as if trying to get himself deeper and deeper with each roll of their shared orgasm. He spilled so deeply inside her she felt tears prick the corners of her eyes; she was so full, her fingers grasping at his broad shoulders as he kept their bodies locked tightly together so that not a single drop spilled from between her thighs.

Bruce was near convinced he died and this was some form of heaven earned for years of sacrifice; there was no way this was real, that she was real. His body, for the first time he could feasibly remember, felt satisfied. His cock twitched, still buried so deeply inside her, and he drew in a shuddering breath with the realization he would eventually have to set her down and face the reality that she had no idea who he was...but that wouldn’t stop this. It couldn’t change the course of what he’d begun, tonight. It didn’t matter if this time got her pregnant or not. He knew who she was, where she lived, and the tracker he’d placed inside her phone case before she’d even known he was there would allow him an even more intimate look into her life until she was ready to let him all the way in. Was it wrong? Probably. But Bruce had gotten a taste of something he could not live without, and that does...strange things to even the sanest of individuals.

Besides, Monica should have been careful what she wished for when she uttered those two little words--

Fuck Batman, indeed.