Batman Fic - Blog Posts

Thank you for updating a second chance. I read it now and i love it. Also i wanted to ask if someday you can update blood red robin and thomas wayne adventures in grandparenting?

Hi! I'm so glad you enjoyed it! Since I'm working on A Second Chance again, I'll probably update Thomas Wayne's Adventures in Grandparenting as well, since it's side stories from A Second Chance. As for Blood Red Robin, the truth is that I don't know if I'll come back to that fic. I'd like to work on it again some day, and the inspiration for it might come back, so I don't want to abandon it, but I honestly don't know if I'll finish that one. Thanks for the ask!

Update on my Batman fic!

As some of you may know, I wrote a few fics in the Batman fandom before I started writing in the Merlin fandom, including the fic that continues to be my most popular (despite me not updating it for a year and a half 😅).

Well, I finally updated my main Batman fic, "A Second Chance"! If you enjoy Batman fics, can check it out below!

PS: I might post a few of my Batman fic ideas that I never finished on here. So, if you see a sudden flood of Batman stuff from my blog over the next few days, don't be alarmed!

Ok, so you know how Jason looks like he's around 19-20 when he returns, but was dead for like a year before beign resurrected by the pit?

The pit, tecnically talking, makes you younger (apart from stronger and has a healing and reviving factor), Ra's Al Ghul usually uses it for this, to be younger and stronger and to heal injuries,.

So, what if, other than reviving and healing, Jason became younger than when he died when being revived by the pit? It would make his young appearance have more sense

Even more because Dick and Jason have like a 4-5 year old age difference, and when jason return Dick is like in his late 20s (25-30) so Jason should look like he's more than 20years old, but his looks his way younger, so maybe when he was revived the pit made him younger.

Ok, so you know those posts/hadcanons where the batfam has hallucinations about Jason and his ghost, and how sometime this hallucinations continus even after his return (usually fo Dick)?

Well, you know how Jason, when he was Robin (especially at the start), said "Robin is magic" or "Robin gives me magic" or similiar things?

Lazarous pit is technically a magic pit, no? And "Robin" made Jason magic, right? What if the 2 types of magic can't coesist? Lazarous gives anger, suffering memmories and all, and Robin is a "happy" type of magic, so the 2 can't coesist togher in a sole body... So... here to you my headcanon:

There was no ghost before the pit, sometime Bruce and Dick saw the shadow of Jason, like usually people who just lost someone they always have around do, but it dosen't last long...

Talia found and took Jason body and threw it in the pit, Jason revived, stronger, angrier... but something now was missing.... his happines.

That same happiness that left the now angry body returned to Gotham, right after Bruce and Dick kinda of vendetta against Joker and a week after the "shadow" of Jason gone away.

Jason Robin: Hey! Dick: What?! not again, I tought I would't have any more allucinations Jason Robin: ? Jason Robin: Dad! I'm here! Bruce: *starting to cry* Please, no, not again... Jason Robin: *more confused*

Years pass, and finally Jason return, but the little magic ghost never when away, but only Bruce and Dick would see him sometimes

Red Hood: why are you here? I tought that when I died the magic of Robin vanished Jason Robin: nah, not really, I just got expelled because of that stinky greenish pit Red Hood: but still, why are you here? To stop me? because I won't, Joker is still alive, they didn't vengence me Jason Robin: well... that is actually a really long story, it was a long fly, I arrived after that... so I'm not sure of all the details...

After Jason reconciled with the batfam the ghost was still there

Dick in his apartment: Jason returned, why are you still here? Jason Robin: I alredy told you! Robin makes me MAGIC Jason who just broke in to share info with Dick: Hey Dickhead Dick: Jason? why- Jason: hello to you too little me Dick: YOU SEE HIM?!

No one is asking "Why would Bruce Wayne be in a Lexcorp meeting", but I have the answer

Bruce has bought enough stocks of the Lexcorp to be there, and he did for 3 main reasons

He just wants to annoy Lex

He's trying to take from the inside/spy the Lexcorp

JL things like trying to stop Lex from doing bad things by annoying him and making his life difficult

the second one is problably for the most trying to make the Lexcorp a better corporation and trying to kick out Lex and then integrating the Lexcorp under the WE to make it an actual good company

And Tim is just there to have fun and keep Brucie Wayne farcade up, probably

Bruce and Tim: *sitting in a LexCorp meeting*

Lex: Alright everybody, thanks for jumping on this all hands.

Lex: *sees Tim*

Lex: Who is this?

Bruce: Oh, this is my corporate translator. He's here to translate all the corporate jargon into words that I can actually understand.

Lex: Uhh alright. I'm gonna have to align with HR to see if this is—

Bruce, to Tim: What's he saying?

Tim: He's saying he's upset by my presence.

Lex: I'm not upset, okay? I'm simply processing this information into a more digestible way.

Tim: Oh yeah, he's really upset.

Lex: Okay, let's just move forward with the meeting, shall we? So Q1 is in the books and we had a very strong showing. Now, there are certainly some gaps within our processes that we're working strategically in order to align that should help us bridge those gaps in a really efficient way.

Bruce: Translator?

Tim: Q1 wasn't good and management is very upset about it.

Lex: That's not what I said, okay? There are certainly some gaps, but management is working lockstep in order to come up with strategic processes in order to alleviate these areas of deficiency.

Tim: They're planning layoffs.

Lex: No. No. That— I'm not saying that, okay? We're just developing ways to become a much leaner organization.

Tim: It's gonna be twenty-five percent of the organization.

Lex: No!

Yes, but, consider this, Clark can still recognize people eye color, hair color and texture, just not the exact face features.

Batman has a differnt smell than Bruce, maybe because Batman suit it's difficult to clean so its exernal armor kinda smells like blood or Gotham streets and is washed like once a month and it gets dirty again the same night, and Alfred usually cleans like weekly the internal part of the suit. Bruce on the other hand usually smells nice, like the smell of the shampoo or some cologne and the armor blocks the smell of the soap he usually uses.

Plus the clow of the suit has white eyes and the hair is covered, in all of this Clark dosen't know that Batman and Bruce are the same person.

But one day, maybe because Bruce showered in the watchtower with the same soap he usually uses or the suit was just cleaned and still didn't go on patrol before the meeting on the watchtower, Clark recognizes the smell and just as an instict calls Batman Bruce (before the meeting room is full there are like 2 other people, J'onn and Diana, that alredy knows Bruce identity for one reason or another) and right there Clark realize that Batman, is Bruce Wayne

I love identity reveal fanfics, I will never get tired of them, but I would love to see some new spins like; Clark Kent actually has face blindness, yeah turns out Kryptonians use the sense of smell or something. I just think it would be remarkably entertaining to Face-revealed Batman to be having his Dramatic Moment. And Superman is just : ) hello friend <3 absolutely clueless

MDNI

Warnings: arranged marriage au, not proofread, sexual frustration, masturbation (f), fingering, Bruce being neglectful, piv sex, slight intoxication, creampie, pussy eating and wholesome fucking.

Reblogs and comments are appreciated!!

Having Bruce as your husband was almost like a dream come true. Even if the marriage was technically a business deal, you had everything you could dream of.

The shopping sprees with his black card, the ridiculously expensive tasting menus, the most extravagant vacations. You loved it all.

But the only thing which bothered you was the lack of attention from him, to be particular, his lack of sexual interest in you.

Sure, you two had nearly fucked on your honeymoon in Italy. It was a frustrating yet toe curling memory.

The way his mouth had latched onto your nipple after what felt like an eternity of kissing, hov his fingers had disappeared underneath your lace panties to tease your clit. You were practically dripping for him, your brain felt like it was melting as soon as his lips had latched onto your clit, sucking and licking with fervor which was unlike him.

You could feel how hard he was through his shorts. You had been giddy with joy, knowing that he was about to fuck you silly. That was until he received an unavoidable voice call.

You still fumed at the memory of him just leaving you high and wet dry for some stupid business call.

Soon, the frustration took a toll on you. Your self control had been admirable; even you were amazed at how long you'd held off on touching yourself. After one night of drinking a little too much of Montrachet Grand Cru, you'd ended up in your bed with your hands working furiously in between your thighs.

Your whines and whimpers were muffled by the pillow you had buried your face into as you rubbed tight circles around your throbbing clit. The pleasure was a welcome sensation, making your toes curl. You were so lost in your wanton need for pleasure that you had failed to register the sound of footsteps, his footsteps, nearing your room.

The door quietly opened and your husband was met with the sight of you with your legs spread, fingering your cunt like there was no tomorrow while your face was buried in the sea of pillows on your bed.

Bruce froze at the sight, shocked to see you trying to get off in such a desperate state. His cock twitched at the sight of you.

Hesitation was the only thing holding him back from joining you on the bed and fucking you into oblivion. He didn't even know if that was what you wanted.

So he took a chance, he cleared his throat to make you aware of his presence. You snapped out of your haze of self- inflicted pleasure as soon as you heard him. It was as if God had finally answered your desperate, frustrated prayers.

He could see the eagerness in your eyes, the barely hidden joy in them at his presence. Your heart skipped a beat as he slowly climbed into the bed.

His hand slowly took ahold of your chin as his eyes looked into yours, silently asking for your permission. You gave a slight imperceptible nod.

A flicker of relief crossed his face before he leaned in, pressing a soft, tentative kiss to your lips. His touch was gentle at first, almost hesitant, as if savoring the moment before fully giving in. You could feel his lips moving gently against yours as if he was afraid of hurting you.

His tongue could taste the wine you'd drunk, along with the lingering taste of you. His hand moved from your chin to your breasts, gently gliding across them.

He continued to kiss you as his cold fingers found your nipples, twisting and pinching them. When he broke the kiss, both of you were left panting, a string of saliva still connecting your lips.

He started kissing from your neck to your collarbones, licking sucking and savoring the taste of your skin. His mouth moved lower, trailing kisses to your breasts, then your stomach, before finally reaching your mound.

You felt his hot breath ghosting against your cunt as he threw your legs over his shoulders, spreading them slightly farther apart in the process.

He spread your folds apart and licked a tentative stripe from your clit down to your leaking hole, gathering the wetness on his tongue. Your light whimper egged him on.

He started lapping at your cunt, savoring the taste of you, engraving it into his memory. His tongue circled your throbbing clit before latching onto it, suckling as your moans grew louder and more desperate.

The pleasure made your mind go hazy, which in turn made you feel hotter and hotter. Your hips bucked against his face as your peak approached.

You let out a strangled moan of his name as your peak hit you like the waves of a tsunami, your juices dripping down his chin as he rode you through your high.

He pulled his face from between your legs as he sat up; he could still see the burning need in your eyes. His hands made quick work of his trousers and boxers, freeing his hard cock.

Your pupils dilated at the sight of his cock, something which you had wanted for so long. He gripped your hips as he positioned his cock at your dripping entrance.

Slowly, he pushed in, making sure to minimize any pain you might've felt. He started with shallow thrusts, giving you an inch with each movement until he was fully seated within your warm, tight and wet confines.

Both of your pants filled the room as he stilled, trying to catching his breath. He started to fuck you at a hard yet pleasurable pace, his cock bumping against that spongy spot that made your wanton moans grow louder in volume as each second passed.

The electric heat of pleasure made you feel like your spine was melting as his thrusts became more erratic. His fingers found your clit, rubbing it as if his life depended on it.

Your second peak crashed over you, making you scream his name in pleasure as his thrusts grew more erratic -until his hips finally stilled as he came inside you.

Both of you were spent and satisfied. Bruce collapsed beside you, not bothering to pull out his softened cock from inside you.

It was safe to say that your husband had made up for his neglect that night. The evidence of it was clear the next morning in the form of hickeys littering your throat and the limp in your gait.

MDNI

Warnings: arranged marriage au, not proofread, sexual frustration, masturbation (f), fingering, Bruce being neglectful, piv sex, slight intoxication, creampie, pussy eating and wholesome fucking.

Reblogs and comments are appreciated!!

Having Bruce as your husband was almost like a dream come true. Even if the marriage was technically a business deal, you had everything you could dream of.

The shopping sprees with his black card, the ridiculously expensive tasting menus, the most extravagant vacations. You loved it all.

But the only thing which bothered you was the lack of attention from him, to be particular, his lack of sexual interest in you.

Sure, you two had nearly fucked on your honeymoon in Italy. It was a frustrating yet toe curling memory.

The way his mouth had latched onto your nipple after what felt like an eternity of kissing, hov his fingers had disappeared underneath your lace panties to tease your clit. You were practically dripping for him, your brain felt like it was melting as soon as his lips had latched onto your clit, sucking and licking with fervor which was unlike him.

You could feel how hard he was through his shorts. You had been giddy with joy, knowing that he was about to fuck you silly. That was until he received an unavoidable voice call.

You still fumed at the memory of him just leaving you high and wet dry for some stupid business call.

Soon, the frustration took a toll on you. Your self control had been admirable; even you were amazed at how long you'd held off on touching yourself. After one night of drinking a little too much of Montrachet Grand Cru, you'd ended up in your bed with your hands working furiously in between your thighs.

Your whines and whimpers were muffled by the pillow you had buried your face into as you rubbed tight circles around your throbbing clit. The pleasure was a welcome sensation, making your toes curl. You were so lost in your wanton need for pleasure that you had failed to register the sound of footsteps, his footsteps, nearing your room.

The door quietly opened and your husband was met with the sight of you with your legs spread, fingering your cunt like there was no tomorrow while your face was buried in the sea of pillows on your bed.

Bruce froze at the sight, shocked to see you trying to get off in such a desperate state. His cock twitched at the sight of you.

Hesitation was the only thing holding him back from joining you on the bed and fucking you into oblivion. He didn't even know if that was what you wanted.

So he took a chance, he cleared his throat to make you aware of his presence. You snapped out of your haze of self- inflicted pleasure as soon as you heard him. It was as if God had finally answered your desperate, frustrated prayers.

He could see the eagerness in your eyes, the barely hidden joy in them at his presence. Your heart skipped a beat as he slowly climbed into the bed.

His hand slowly took ahold of your chin as his eyes looked into yours, silently asking for your permission. You gave a slight imperceptible nod.

A flicker of relief crossed his face before he leaned in, pressing a soft, tentative kiss to your lips. His touch was gentle at first, almost hesitant, as if savoring the moment before fully giving in. You could feel his lips moving gently against yours as if he was afraid of hurting you.

His tongue could taste the wine you'd drunk, along with the lingering taste of you. His hand moved from your chin to your breasts, gently gliding across them.

He continued to kiss you as his cold fingers found your nipples, twisting and pinching them. When he broke the kiss, both of you were left panting, a string of saliva still connecting your lips.

He started kissing from your neck to your collarbones, licking sucking and savoring the taste of your skin. His mouth moved lower, trailing kisses to your breasts, then your stomach, before finally reaching your mound.

You felt his hot breath ghosting against your cunt as he threw your legs over his shoulders, spreading them slightly farther apart in the process.

He spread your folds apart and licked a tentative stripe from your clit down to your leaking hole, gathering the wetness on his tongue. Your light whimper egged him on.

He started lapping at your cunt, savoring the taste of you, engraving it into his memory. His tongue circled your throbbing clit before latching onto it, suckling as your moans grew louder and more desperate.

The pleasure made your mind go hazy, which in turn made you feel hotter and hotter. Your hips bucked against his face as your peak approached.

You let out a strangled moan of his name as your peak hit you like the waves of a tsunami, your juices dripping down his chin as he rode you through your high.

He pulled his face from between your legs as he sat up; he could still see the burning need in your eyes. His hands made quick work of his trousers and boxers, freeing his hard cock.

Your pupils dilated at the sight of his cock, something which you had wanted for so long. He gripped your hips as he positioned his cock at your dripping entrance.

Slowly, he pushed in, making sure to minimize any pain you might've felt. He started with shallow thrusts, giving you an inch with each movement until he was fully seated within your warm, tight and wet confines.

Both of your pants filled the room as he stilled, trying to catching his breath. He started to fuck you at a hard yet pleasurable pace, his cock bumping against that spongy spot that made your wanton moans grow louder in volume as each second passed.

The electric heat of pleasure made you feel like your spine was melting as his thrusts became more erratic. His fingers found your clit, rubbing it as if his life depended on it.

Your second peak crashed over you, making you scream his name in pleasure as his thrusts grew more erratic -until his hips finally stilled as he came inside you.

Both of you were spent and satisfied. Bruce collapsed beside you, not bothering to pull out his softened cock from inside you.

It was safe to say that your husband had made up for his neglect that night. The evidence of it was clear the next morning in the form of hickeys littering your throat and the limp in your gait.

MDNI

Warnings: arranged marriage au, not proofread, sexual frustration, masturbation (f), fingering, Bruce being neglectful, piv sex, slight intoxication, creampie, pussy eating and wholesome fucking.

Reblogs and comments are appreciated!!

Having Bruce as your husband was almost like a dream come true. Even if the marriage was technically a business deal, you had everything you could dream of.

The shopping sprees with his black card, the ridiculously expensive tasting menus, the most extravagant vacations. You loved it all.

But the only thing which bothered you was the lack of attention from him, to be particular, his lack of sexual interest in you.

Sure, you two had nearly fucked on your honeymoon in Italy. It was a frustrating yet toe curling memory.

The way his mouth had latched onto your nipple after what felt like an eternity of kissing, hov his fingers had disappeared underneath your lace panties to tease your clit. You were practically dripping for him, your brain felt like it was melting as soon as his lips had latched onto your clit, sucking and licking with fervor which was unlike him.

You could feel how hard he was through his shorts. You had been giddy with joy, knowing that he was about to fuck you silly. That was until he received an unavoidable voice call.

You still fumed at the memory of him just leaving you high and wet dry for some stupid business call.

Soon, the frustration took a toll on you. Your self control had been admirable; even you were amazed at how long you'd held off on touching yourself. After one night of drinking a little too much of Montrachet Grand Cru, you'd ended up in your bed with your hands working furiously in between your thighs.

Your whines and whimpers were muffled by the pillow you had buried your face into as you rubbed tight circles around your throbbing clit. The pleasure was a welcome sensation, making your toes curl. You were so lost in your wanton need for pleasure that you had failed to register the sound of footsteps, his footsteps, nearing your room.

The door quietly opened and your husband was met with the sight of you with your legs spread, fingering your cunt like there was no tomorrow while your face was buried in the sea of pillows on your bed.

Bruce froze at the sight, shocked to see you trying to get off in such a desperate state. His cock twitched at the sight of you.

Hesitation was the only thing holding him back from joining you on the bed and fucking you into oblivion. He didn't even know if that was what you wanted.

So he took a chance, he cleared his throat to make you aware of his presence. You snapped out of your haze of self- inflicted pleasure as soon as you heard him. It was as if God had finally answered your desperate, frustrated prayers.

He could see the eagerness in your eyes, the barely hidden joy in them at his presence. Your heart skipped a beat as he slowly climbed into the bed.

His hand slowly took ahold of your chin as his eyes looked into yours, silently asking for your permission. You gave a slight imperceptible nod.

A flicker of relief crossed his face before he leaned in, pressing a soft, tentative kiss to your lips. His touch was gentle at first, almost hesitant, as if savoring the moment before fully giving in. You could feel his lips moving gently against yours as if he was afraid of hurting you.

His tongue could taste the wine you'd drunk, along with the lingering taste of you. His hand moved from your chin to your breasts, gently gliding across them.

He continued to kiss you as his cold fingers found your nipples, twisting and pinching them. When he broke the kiss, both of you were left panting, a string of saliva still connecting your lips.

He started kissing from your neck to your collarbones, licking sucking and savoring the taste of your skin. His mouth moved lower, trailing kisses to your breasts, then your stomach, before finally reaching your mound.

You felt his hot breath ghosting against your cunt as he threw your legs over his shoulders, spreading them slightly farther apart in the process.

He spread your folds apart and licked a tentative stripe from your clit down to your leaking hole, gathering the wetness on his tongue. Your light whimper egged him on.

He started lapping at your cunt, savoring the taste of you, engraving it into his memory. His tongue circled your throbbing clit before latching onto it, suckling as your moans grew louder and more desperate.

The pleasure made your mind go hazy, which in turn made you feel hotter and hotter. Your hips bucked against his face as your peak approached.

You let out a strangled moan of his name as your peak hit you like the waves of a tsunami, your juices dripping down his chin as he rode you through your high.

He pulled his face from between your legs as he sat up; he could still see the burning need in your eyes. His hands made quick work of his trousers and boxers, freeing his hard cock.

Your pupils dilated at the sight of his cock, something which you had wanted for so long. He gripped your hips as he positioned his cock at your dripping entrance.

Slowly, he pushed in, making sure to minimize any pain you might've felt. He started with shallow thrusts, giving you an inch with each movement until he was fully seated within your warm, tight and wet confines.

Both of your pants filled the room as he stilled, trying to catching his breath. He started to fuck you at a hard yet pleasurable pace, his cock bumping against that spongy spot that made your wanton moans grow louder in volume as each second passed.

The electric heat of pleasure made you feel like your spine was melting as his thrusts became more erratic. His fingers found your clit, rubbing it as if his life depended on it.

Your second peak crashed over you, making you scream his name in pleasure as his thrusts grew more erratic -until his hips finally stilled as he came inside you.

Both of you were spent and satisfied. Bruce collapsed beside you, not bothering to pull out his softened cock from inside you.

It was safe to say that your husband had made up for his neglect that night. The evidence of it was clear the next morning in the form of hickeys littering your throat and the limp in your gait.

MDNI

Warnings: arranged marriage au, not proofread, sexual frustration, masturbation (f), fingering, Bruce being neglectful, piv sex, slight intoxication, creampie, pussy eating and wholesome fucking.

Reblogs and comments are appreciated!!

Having Bruce as your husband was almost like a dream come true. Even if the marriage was technically a business deal, you had everything you could dream of.

The shopping sprees with his black card, the ridiculously expensive tasting menus, the most extravagant vacations. You loved it all.

But the only thing which bothered you was the lack of attention from him, to be particular, his lack of sexual interest in you.

Sure, you two had nearly fucked on your honeymoon in Italy. It was a frustrating yet toe curling memory.

The way his mouth had latched onto your nipple after what felt like an eternity of kissing, hov his fingers had disappeared underneath your lace panties to tease your clit. You were practically dripping for him, your brain felt like it was melting as soon as his lips had latched onto your clit, sucking and licking with fervor which was unlike him.

You could feel how hard he was through his shorts. You had been giddy with joy, knowing that he was about to fuck you silly. That was until he received an unavoidable voice call.

You still fumed at the memory of him just leaving you high and wet dry for some stupid business call.

Soon, the frustration took a toll on you. Your self control had been admirable; even you were amazed at how long you'd held off on touching yourself. After one night of drinking a little too much of Montrachet Grand Cru, you'd ended up in your bed with your hands working furiously in between your thighs.

Your whines and whimpers were muffled by the pillow you had buried your face into as you rubbed tight circles around your throbbing clit. The pleasure was a welcome sensation, making your toes curl. You were so lost in your wanton need for pleasure that you had failed to register the sound of footsteps, his footsteps, nearing your room.

The door quietly opened and your husband was met with the sight of you with your legs spread, fingering your cunt like there was no tomorrow while your face was buried in the sea of pillows on your bed.

Bruce froze at the sight, shocked to see you trying to get off in such a desperate state. His cock twitched at the sight of you.

Hesitation was the only thing holding him back from joining you on the bed and fucking you into oblivion. He didn't even know if that was what you wanted.

So he took a chance, he cleared his throat to make you aware of his presence. You snapped out of your haze of self- inflicted pleasure as soon as you heard him. It was as if God had finally answered your desperate, frustrated prayers.

He could see the eagerness in your eyes, the barely hidden joy in them at his presence. Your heart skipped a beat as he slowly climbed into the bed.

His hand slowly took ahold of your chin as his eyes looked into yours, silently asking for your permission. You gave a slight imperceptible nod.

A flicker of relief crossed his face before he leaned in, pressing a soft, tentative kiss to your lips. His touch was gentle at first, almost hesitant, as if savoring the moment before fully giving in. You could feel his lips moving gently against yours as if he was afraid of hurting you.

His tongue could taste the wine you'd drunk, along with the lingering taste of you. His hand moved from your chin to your breasts, gently gliding across them.

He continued to kiss you as his cold fingers found your nipples, twisting and pinching them. When he broke the kiss, both of you were left panting, a string of saliva still connecting your lips.

He started kissing from your neck to your collarbones, licking sucking and savoring the taste of your skin. His mouth moved lower, trailing kisses to your breasts, then your stomach, before finally reaching your mound.

You felt his hot breath ghosting against your cunt as he threw your legs over his shoulders, spreading them slightly farther apart in the process.

He spread your folds apart and licked a tentative stripe from your clit down to your leaking hole, gathering the wetness on his tongue. Your light whimper egged him on.

He started lapping at your cunt, savoring the taste of you, engraving it into his memory. His tongue circled your throbbing clit before latching onto it, suckling as your moans grew louder and more desperate.

The pleasure made your mind go hazy, which in turn made you feel hotter and hotter. Your hips bucked against his face as your peak approached.

You let out a strangled moan of his name as your peak hit you like the waves of a tsunami, your juices dripping down his chin as he rode you through your high.

He pulled his face from between your legs as he sat up; he could still see the burning need in your eyes. His hands made quick work of his trousers and boxers, freeing his hard cock.

Your pupils dilated at the sight of his cock, something which you had wanted for so long. He gripped your hips as he positioned his cock at your dripping entrance.

Slowly, he pushed in, making sure to minimize any pain you might've felt. He started with shallow thrusts, giving you an inch with each movement until he was fully seated within your warm, tight and wet confines.

Both of your pants filled the room as he stilled, trying to catching his breath. He started to fuck you at a hard yet pleasurable pace, his cock bumping against that spongy spot that made your wanton moans grow louder in volume as each second passed.

The electric heat of pleasure made you feel like your spine was melting as his thrusts became more erratic. His fingers found your clit, rubbing it as if his life depended on it.

Your second peak crashed over you, making you scream his name in pleasure as his thrusts grew more erratic -until his hips finally stilled as he came inside you.

Both of you were spent and satisfied. Bruce collapsed beside you, not bothering to pull out his softened cock from inside you.

It was safe to say that your husband had made up for his neglect that night. The evidence of it was clear the next morning in the form of hickeys littering your throat and the limp in your gait.

MDNI

Warnings: arranged marriage au, not proofread, sexual frustration, masturbation (f), fingering, Bruce being neglectful, piv sex, slight intoxication, creampie, pussy eating and wholesome fucking.

Reblogs and comments are appreciated!!

Having Bruce as your husband was almost like a dream come true. Even if the marriage was technically a business deal, you had everything you could dream of.

The shopping sprees with his black card, the ridiculously expensive tasting menus, the most extravagant vacations. You loved it all.

But the only thing which bothered you was the lack of attention from him, to be particular, his lack of sexual interest in you.

Sure, you two had nearly fucked on your honeymoon in Italy. It was a frustrating yet toe curling memory.

The way his mouth had latched onto your nipple after what felt like an eternity of kissing, hov his fingers had disappeared underneath your lace panties to tease your clit. You were practically dripping for him, your brain felt like it was melting as soon as his lips had latched onto your clit, sucking and licking with fervor which was unlike him.

You could feel how hard he was through his shorts. You had been giddy with joy, knowing that he was about to fuck you silly. That was until he received an unavoidable voice call.

You still fumed at the memory of him just leaving you high and wet dry for some stupid business call.

Soon, the frustration took a toll on you. Your self control had been admirable; even you were amazed at how long you'd held off on touching yourself. After one night of drinking a little too much of Montrachet Grand Cru, you'd ended up in your bed with your hands working furiously in between your thighs.

Your whines and whimpers were muffled by the pillow you had buried your face into as you rubbed tight circles around your throbbing clit. The pleasure was a welcome sensation, making your toes curl. You were so lost in your wanton need for pleasure that you had failed to register the sound of footsteps, his footsteps, nearing your room.

The door quietly opened and your husband was met with the sight of you with your legs spread, fingering your cunt like there was no tomorrow while your face was buried in the sea of pillows on your bed.

Bruce froze at the sight, shocked to see you trying to get off in such a desperate state. His cock twitched at the sight of you.

Hesitation was the only thing holding him back from joining you on the bed and fucking you into oblivion. He didn't even know if that was what you wanted.

So he took a chance, he cleared his throat to make you aware of his presence. You snapped out of your haze of self- inflicted pleasure as soon as you heard him. It was as if God had finally answered your desperate, frustrated prayers.

He could see the eagerness in your eyes, the barely hidden joy in them at his presence. Your heart skipped a beat as he slowly climbed into the bed.

His hand slowly took ahold of your chin as his eyes looked into yours, silently asking for your permission. You gave a slight imperceptible nod.

A flicker of relief crossed his face before he leaned in, pressing a soft, tentative kiss to your lips. His touch was gentle at first, almost hesitant, as if savoring the moment before fully giving in. You could feel his lips moving gently against yours as if he was afraid of hurting you.

His tongue could taste the wine you'd drunk, along with the lingering taste of you. His hand moved from your chin to your breasts, gently gliding across them.

He continued to kiss you as his cold fingers found your nipples, twisting and pinching them. When he broke the kiss, both of you were left panting, a string of saliva still connecting your lips.

He started kissing from your neck to your collarbones, licking sucking and savoring the taste of your skin. His mouth moved lower, trailing kisses to your breasts, then your stomach, before finally reaching your mound.

You felt his hot breath ghosting against your cunt as he threw your legs over his shoulders, spreading them slightly farther apart in the process.

He spread your folds apart and licked a tentative stripe from your clit down to your leaking hole, gathering the wetness on his tongue. Your light whimper egged him on.

He started lapping at your cunt, savoring the taste of you, engraving it into his memory. His tongue circled your throbbing clit before latching onto it, suckling as your moans grew louder and more desperate.

The pleasure made your mind go hazy, which in turn made you feel hotter and hotter. Your hips bucked against his face as your peak approached.

You let out a strangled moan of his name as your peak hit you like the waves of a tsunami, your juices dripping down his chin as he rode you through your high.

He pulled his face from between your legs as he sat up; he could still see the burning need in your eyes. His hands made quick work of his trousers and boxers, freeing his hard cock.

Your pupils dilated at the sight of his cock, something which you had wanted for so long. He gripped your hips as he positioned his cock at your dripping entrance.

Slowly, he pushed in, making sure to minimize any pain you might've felt. He started with shallow thrusts, giving you an inch with each movement until he was fully seated within your warm, tight and wet confines.

Both of your pants filled the room as he stilled, trying to catching his breath. He started to fuck you at a hard yet pleasurable pace, his cock bumping against that spongy spot that made your wanton moans grow louder in volume as each second passed.

The electric heat of pleasure made you feel like your spine was melting as his thrusts became more erratic. His fingers found your clit, rubbing it as if his life depended on it.

Your second peak crashed over you, making you scream his name in pleasure as his thrusts grew more erratic -until his hips finally stilled as he came inside you.

Both of you were spent and satisfied. Bruce collapsed beside you, not bothering to pull out his softened cock from inside you.

It was safe to say that your husband had made up for his neglect that night. The evidence of it was clear the next morning in the form of hickeys littering your throat and the limp in your gait.

MANIC.

Bruce Wayne × criminal!Reader.

WARNINGS: OOC!Batman, dubcon, chains, cunnilingus, anal penetration, pussy slapping, toxic fucking, masturbation (f).

A/N: this isn't proofread so there might be grammatical errors. Writer's block hit hard with this one.

Bored. That's all you felt in your cell in Arkham. Everything was so plain. Nothing excited you in here, not even riling up Scarecrow. The only thing that excited you was him.

You loved his visits, he'd bring you real food and you'd only give him the right amount of information required but not too much. You wanted him to come back, he was your only source of entertainment. The only colour in the beige and plain life you had inside Arkham.

You wanted to fuck him too. You couldn't deny how wet you'd gotten before when he used to chase you. Sometimes you'd run into the most predictable places instead of disappearing just so he'd continue the chase.

Sometimes in your cell, you fingerfucked your cunt to the thought of him fucking you in a dirty alleyway, using you like a fleshlight which he'd inevitably throw away.

He visited again on Halloween and you were overjoyed. You looked at him expectantly for your usual Big Mac meal.

"Well? Where is it?"

You couldn't help but demand.

He gave you the usual staredown and then he spoke.

"I have a proposition for you. I want you to ride along with me today, you're the only one who knows where Joker's bunker is."

"What do I get in return?"

You asked.

"You'll see."

He said and so you agreed to his proposition.

The Batmobile was surprisingly comfortable to sit in, regardless of how much it looked like a tank from the outside. You had handcuffs and a bellychain which made you uncomfortable but you decided not to throw a fit, considering what you were going to do.

The raid was a bust and he knew you'd led him to the wrong bunker.

He dragged you back to the Batmobile.

"THIS could've been your ticket to freedom. You're going to pay now."

He sounded so angry and that made you so wet. He was finally going to 'punish' you.

There was a ripping sound as he ripped off your orange Arkham issued pants, your panties followed suit.

He had you bent over his knee.

THWACK

His large gloved hand came down onto your left asscheek, hard. Again on your right. This continued until he got bored.

Your poor ass was red and raw from the spanking and your cunt had drooled all over this knees.

"Insane whore."

He mumbled as he shoved you onto your back.

Soon, his lips were on your cunt and his tongue was fucking in and out of your drenched hole. He made sure to grind the nose of his cowl into your swollen clit, he wasn't going to let you completely enjoy this. Your moans were strangled and you felt like you were going to melt from all the painful pleasure.

You whined as you felt your peak approaching and he completely stilled his tongue. He continued this for a bit until your clit was painfully hard and swollen. He was relishing your pained moans and whines.

He lubed up his fingers with your slick and started working open your tight pucker.

You could tell he was getting impatient, his breathing was erratic and his cock was rock hard.

He quickly opened his zipper and took out his cock. Your mouth went dry as you glanced down at it, the tip looked red and it was leaking copious amounts of pre. He had a few prominent veins at the base of his cock and one running upto his tip. His cock was so heavy, it bent slightly to the left. His balls looked equally heavy, so full of cum.

He lifted up your thighs and positioned his thick tip against your clenched pucker.

"Relax"

He grumbled as he pushed in, knocking the wind out of your lungs. You tried to squirm but he held you down tightly.

Each inch felt agonizing as he slipped into your tight ass, you couldn't help but whimper pathetically. As soon as he was in, he started thrusting into you as hard as he could.

One hand wrapped around your throat to quieten your sobs as he fucked you into painful yet blissful oblivion. His grunts got louder as he neared his climax, his hips snapping into you more erratically.

Soon, he shot his huge load into your ass. You could feel it's feverish heat pumping into your guts. As he pulled out, a few thick globs of his spend leaked out of your gaping asshole. He gave your swollen pussy a hard slap as he tucked himself back into his trousers.

Thankfully, he got you new trousers before dropping you back at Arkham.

You were his little cumdump now and you both knew he was going to use you till you broke.

SCANDAL.

Bruce Wayne × nepo baby!Reader.

Warnings: huge age gap (Bruce is in his late 50s and Reader is 20-22), cunnilingus, semi-public sex (fucking in the hallway), underwear stealing, Bruce and Reader being grossly horny, slight anal, edging, fem!reader.

A/N: Did not proofread, there can be some (or many) grammatical errors.

Wayne Enterprises was in deep shit, the company was financially in ruins to put it simply. So, Bruce had no choice but to get Wayne Enterprises into a contract with the second largest weapons manufacturer, Aethercorp.

Bruce thought it'd be easy because it seemed to be headed by Ronald Aether's airheaded daughter. But to his frustration it wasn't easy at all.

You weren't as airheaded as you portrayed yourself to be. Your company needed the publicity and you decided to take advantage of the contract with Wayne Enterprises and for your own personal gain.

That's how he ended up on a yacht in his good ol' speedos with you in the skimpiest blue bikini he'd ever seen.

It was supposed to be a celebration for the new contract but he knew it was just a ploy for him to finally fuck you after all the subtle teasing.

You had come up to him, holding a bottle of sunscreen."Would you mind getting my back, Mr. Wayne?"

You asked, in that ever-so-polite tone.

His mouth went dry as he wordlessly nodded, grabbing the bottle from your hands.

He was already getting hard, a little too fast for his age. That's how horny you made him.

After he applied the sunscreen, you thanked him and went away. He just wanted to grab you and fuck you just like you wanted but he had a reputation to uphold, he just couldn't afford to be seen in a relationship with a 20 year old.

But all thought went out the window, after dinner, where you had the nerve to palm him over his pants under the table. He'd made up some bullshit excuse and dragged you into the secluded part of the hallway of the yacht.

He didn't care if he anybody could walk in on you two, he was going to fuck you stupid right there and he wouldn't mind it if people knew how slutty you actually were.

"You're just so desperate to fuck me, aren't you?"

He said, his voice gruff with suppressed arousal as he yanked your denim shorts down.

"You've been teasing me since the board meeting, you're a relentless little whore."

He shoved your g-string aside, parting your folds to rub your clit. He does so a bit roughly, making you cry out at first.

Then he dropped to his knees, his tongue eagerly licking a stripe from your leaking hole to your clit. He spends a while down there, eating you out, making you cry out with overwhelming pleasure.

Each time you were about to cum, his tongue would stop, he'd just have it pressed right against your throbbing clit much to your displeasure.

Finally, he had enough. He stood up, roughly bending you over as he freed his throbbing cock from his pants. He entered you in a frenzy as if he was a horny teenager fucking for the first time all over again. You let out a light hiss at the burning stretch of his cock. He was huge, maybe a little too huge.

He started moving after a second, fucking you within an inch of your life. His free hand wandered had down, lightly thumbing at your tight asshole, making you yelp yet again.

After he was done creampieing you, he pocketed your g-string, pulled your shorts back up and dropped you off at your suite.

He'd needed that and he knew you were eager to give it to him as many times as he wanted.

Stepdad!Bruce.

Warnings: stepcest, age gap (reader is 19, Bruce is in his early 40s), nasty fantasies, stealing of underwear, masturbation (f and m), reader being lowkey obsessed w Bruce, daddy issues, voyeurism.

A/N: This is my first smut piece, I hope y'all enjoy!

Bruce had married your mother a year ago. At first, you did not want to interact with him at all. Just avoided him everytime, shut him down anytime he tried to talk to you, barely tolerated him at the dinner table.

But slowly, he kind of managed to break that wall you had put up. You weren't used to a father figure being so nice to you. So kind, thoughtful, helpful. You started to like him.

Soon, you didn't know how or when but that liking turned into something depraved. You wanted to fuck him. Maybe it was your daddy issues making you think like that but you weren't in the mood to psychoanalyse yourself.

Sometimes when you were horny, you fingered yourself, imagining his thick fingers plunging in and out of your drooling hole. You imagined how he'd coo at you, calling you his little slut, how shameless it was for you to want him. He'd have his other arm around your torso, pinning you to his lap, he'd make you orgasm until you'd cry.

Then, your obsession furthered a bit, you started stealing his boxers. You stole the kind of old ones, so he wouldn't notice. You'd wear them and rub your pussy through them. Make yourself squirt into them and then you'd conspicuously drop them off in the laundry hamper to not get caught.

What you didn't know was that sometimes someone would be watching you through that tiny crack in your doorway, jacking off as quietly as possible while you mewl his name in your bed.

awh man not the 2.009 people who voted no ☹️☹️

anyways its called "Gotham Cat Chronicles" AND IT HAS 5 KUDOS?? YIPPEE

❝honeymoon❞

V. sins of the mother.

parts: previously plot: alfred finds yours and bruce's old yearbook. you reminisce on how you lost him... and how he came back to you all those years later. pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: arranged marriage, friends to enemies to (fake) lovers, implied history between reader and bruce, LOTS of angst, eventual fluff, TW for depictions of brief physical child abuse (specifically to the reader), sorry but your fictional mom SUCKS, sweet ending though. words: 3.5k. a/n: I apologize to any british readers for inaccuracies with the whole yearbook thing. from what I gather, the american concept of yearbooks has gotten popular in the uk in the last 14-ish years but if it doesn't make sense, I'm hiding behind the fact that it's a posh boarding school and also- *runs away before I can think of a better excuse*

The rapping at your door is too gentle to be Bruce, and you're proven right when Alfred peeks into your room, "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

Bruce's guest room had steadily become your home over the course of your engagement. You still had your own place, paying the rent in case all of this fell through in one fell swoop (and it would, you couldn't escape the nagging feeling that it would), but you found yourself feeling some semblance of ownership over the tower. You hadn't even gotten the chance to put your desk up before Bruce was offering you his study—his father's study. He insisted it was because you were CEO, like his father. You dared to think it was because he was starting to see you as family.

The tower felt even more yours when Alfred stopped by like this, checking in on you, making sure you wanted him here. You set the papers in your lap to the side with a tired smile, "What's up, Alfred?"

It turns out he was hiding something behind the door. At first, you think it's a folder, perhaps some work that Bruce needed you to do for the company or some files Alfred kept from his time managing Wayne Enterprises. But when he comes round to your bedside, you realize it's a photo album. A yearbook, to be exact.

The green leather is embellished with the sparkling emblem of Silverstone Academy. It makes your heart jump up into your throat, "Where... where'd you find that?"

"After Bruce graduated, he had me put all of his old yearbooks away in storage. Kept this one, though. Would you like to see?" He turns the book to you with a well-meaning smile, and whether he notices your discomfort and chooses to ignore it is... debatable.

Still, your hands reach for it.

The spine crackles, unopened for many years by the looks of it. You thumb through the pages, flipping past pictures of the palatial school grounds and fellow classmates in freshly-pressed regalia. You're about to turn the page on the extracurriculars when Alfred places a hand on the page to stop you, pointing to a rather large group photo, "This was Bruce's favorite, if I recall."

There are rows of you, each one standing on the bleachers of a court, all of you awkward and fourteen and just wanting the whole thing over with. And then there, amongst the rows of smiling teenagers, is Bruce and you.

"Eyes front, students! I will not say this again. We want to look good for our parents, yes? We want them to see how smart and well-behaved you are, yes? Okay, then. Eyes forward. Shoulders back. Smiles on! This is your last chance. There will be no retakes!" Is what your headmaster probably said, but you were far too distracted by Bruce's fingers tugging on the tail of your un-tucked shirt to know for sure.

You bat away his hand but can't suppress the giggle that bubbles out of you. One of your classmates turns to glare, but the heat of it doesn't reach you when Bruce is whispering, "Last one to dining hall does the loser's chores."

"I'm faster than you and you know it."

"Hey, I beat Wilbur in the race on Saturday."

"That's cause Wilbur hit puberty and can't control his body anymore."

Your headmaster's shrill call draws your attention forward, "And three, two..."

You turn and smile. You feel Bruce's eyes still on you. Just as the shutter goes off, Bruce tugs your hand instead. And, even with all your teenage obstinacy wanting to make him work for your attention, make him fight for it, you can't help it.

You turn to look at him and the flash goes off.

"I remember being quite upset with this one," Alfred disperses your memory, gently calling you back to the present, "Bruce always hated taking pictures, but pictures were all I had of him while he was away. But... can't really hate that smile he's giving you, can I?"

You feel breathless at the image of younger Bruce and the look of... adoration he wears. Everyone else is focused on the camera, some eyes closed and some smiles skewed, but Bruce is focused on you and you him. Like you are the only two people in the world. Arguing over chores and who's faster than who. Like best friends.

You don't realize you're holding your breath until your body takes in one big deep inhale for you, "He wouldn't stop bothering me."

"It's funny how we couldn't get you two to talk to each other when you first met, and then years later you were inseparable."

You remembered that. Barely in second grade and being touted around by your parents at galas. You remembered Bruce hiding behind his mother's dress, and your mother guiding you by the scruff to say hello, "British boarding school will do that to you."

Alfred snorts, "I think he just liked that someone was treating him like a person."

You glance up at Alfred's soft expression, fatherly and proud. You've never seen him look any other way with Bruce. "Will you be Bruce's best man?"

Alfred seems to startle at that question, "Oh... well, he hasn't asked, but I suppose I will. Not sure who else he'd ask."

"I don't think he'd want to," you admit, and Alfred looks confused, "ask anyone else, I mean. You're it for him."

Bruce looks just like how you remember his father, but sometimes, when the light hits Alfred's eyes just right (that same color you've come to love and mourn), you think Bruce looks just like him too. You supposed they were always meant to be family, in that inexplicable way.

Alfred watches you for a moment, struck by your statement, and then softens like the teddy bear you know him to be. "And you as well. I'm glad you both found your way back to each other."

You can tell he means it in the heartwarming way, the way you meant it, but it doesn't fill you with warmth. There are no fuzzy feelings in your stomach. There is a whirlpool.

This time, there is no doubt Alfred senses your discomfort. He seizes up. He goes to say something, something no doubt kind and thoughtful, but you beat him to the punch, "Can I keep this? I want to... show it to Bruce later, maybe. Might make him laugh."

Alfred stops in his tracks. Then, as if used to such stonewalling, stands to his full height and begins his trek back to your bedroom door, "'Course you can. I'll see you in the morning. Goodnight."

He waits for your affirmative, then shuts the door behind him.

july, seventeen years ago.

The banging on your door fills you with dread the second you recognize it for what it is.

You are tangled in sheets and limbs—warm limbs, arms and legs and hands wrapped around your body in the witching hour—while the heavy oak door of your dorm room shakes with each knock. You don't know how long they've been knocking, but you fear you have very little time left to answer before you end up in worse trouble than you seemingly already are.

You shove at Bruce and he flounders, half-asleep. He almost doesn't want to let you go until he becomes aware of the banging on the door himself and presses his back to the wall behind your bed, "He snitched."

"He wouldn't! Coulson would never," you grumble, pulling on a hoodie discarded on the floor, too tired to recognize it as Bruce's, "just... get under the bed."

He does as he's told, though he looks rather peeved to do so. You grab the back of your desk chair and twist it out from beneath the door knob, and almost immediately it is thrown open by the headmaster.

Your first feeling is shock. Your second feeling is, undoubtedly, ice cold fear. You never thought you and Bruce would get away with this forever, but to be caught by the headmaster is... way worse than you could've imagined.

Headmaster Collins was a spidery man. What he lacked in muscle, he made up for in menace. His features were all gaunt and shadowy in the dark of your room, and with only the light from the hallway to capture his silhouette.

Before you can speak, he raises a single finger to cut you off, "I will discuss you blocking doors later. You have a guest."

You frown. "I..." You stammer. Even with your hand caught in the cookie jar, you don't yet want to give yourself away. Maybe he had no idea it was Bruce that kept sneaking into your dorm. Perhaps Coulson hadn't divulged that much. You and Bruce had paid him in many ways to keep that part secret above all.

You just make out the narrowing of the headmaster's eyes, "Your mother. She flew in from Gotham. She says she's worried about you."

Your stomach drops. Perhaps Bruce being found under your bed would've been better.

To the headmaster's chagrin, you corral him back out into the hall and shut the door behind you, "What? I wasn't... she didn't..."

"She failed to let us know either. I only received the call minutes ago when she arrived outside. We don't want to keep her waiting, do we?" Now, in the light of the hallway, Headmaster Collins loses some of that menace. He almost looks... just as concerned as you.

He leads you to the library in complete silence.

When you push open one of the double doors, you see there are a few candles lit, the rest of the lights dimmed low, and your mother standing with her back to you in the center of the room.

She doesn't turn around until you hear the door click shut behind you and, just like that, the headmaster has left you to fend for yourself.

Everyone always said you looked just like her. A spitting image, and one day, "if you're lucky", you'd grow up to be just as powerful. As the eldest of your siblings, it was unavoidable. Your fate had been sealed long before you were born.

She opens her mouth to speak and whether out of fear or anger, your next words come tumbling out before she can, "I already know what you're going to say."

She clasps her lips together. Then, after a moment, smiles down at you, "Well, that saves me some breath. Tell me, darling mine: what was I going to say?"

"That you know why I told you so late. And that you're angry with me for not running it by you sooner... so you could be in control of it."

"I was angry eight hours ago. Not anymore. It was almost clever of you."

Almost. A smarter, more clever you wouldn't have run it by her at all. You would've quietly disappeared off to the Waynes' vacation house in Barcelona and, inevitably, when you got the call, you'd have told your mother you wouldn't be back for the rest of summer break.

But she had her claws in you, and try as you might to defy her, you always felt those fingers curling around your conscience, drawing out of you what little truth you aimed to keep to yourself.

"So you flew all this way to yell at me?"

"To join you."

You blanch. "You... can't." There is nothing else you can say. No argument, no temper tantrum. Nothing.

But your mother is smart. The plane ride over would have given her ample time to cancel her duties for the next six weeks, offload them onto someone else because what was more important than joining the future heir of Wayne Enterprises on a summer abroad in Spain? Most people on the board would kill for that kind of opportunity. That kind of favoritism.

She's smart too in that it's only her. You imagined your siblings had been left to the nannies, and if Bruce questioned her presence, she could argue that leaving Alfred to chaperone two teenagers all by himself would be just cruel. Her presence wouldn't tip the scales too far into dangerous territory. In fact, it would be nothing if not practical.

She takes a step toward you, then another, and then another until she is looming over you. Half her face is lit by the fireplace roaring in the corner of the room, casting a shadow on the other side. Like this, she no longer looks like you. She looks something far colder, "You didn't think I'd let you run off to another country and ruin this for our family, did you?"

"What? Wh... ruin what? Bruce is my boyfriend."

"Your boyfriend is Bruce Wayne. There is a very real difference."

You feel your eyebrow twitch at that, "What's your point?"

But your attitude is nasty. Far too nasty for a child. The residual sting of her hand colliding with your cheek nearly sends you back into a chair but you manage to catch yourself after a few steps, staring at the rug beneath you in disbelief.

"My point is," her attitude is much harsher, and as you wipe away the bit of spit that dribbled down your lip, she blocks your view once more, "he is not just another boy, a peer, a boyfriend. Bruce is the heir to the company, and unlike his father, he has no foresight. Under him, this company will crumble. His family's legacy will cease to exist. That is why I am here, darling mine. Why you exist. Legacies must be upheld."

You hiss in pain when she takes you by the chin and forces you to look her dead on. At this angle, you can see her whole face lit up by the fire. Through gritted teeth, you whisper in horror, "What are you asking me?"

"I'm telling you that I'm coming along, or you will not go at all."

Your heart breaks a little more than it already has. This is what you'd thought of all week, what kept you up at night and got you up in the morning. And now your mother was going to ruin it all. A tear slips down your cheek and over your mother's fingers, and she releases you to wipe her hand clean, "Please."

"You would only find some way to make him hate you, and all my hard work for the past twenty-five years would be all for naught."

"Mom."

"I've already let the butler know."

"Please let me have this."

"Tell me you understand." You remain silent, teeth almost chattering from the chill her voice gives you. Her eyes harden, "Tell me you understand why I let you have him at all."

"He's my friend."

"He's your future. Tell me." Another tear rolls down your cheek. Your mother grabs you by the arm and pulls you to her, shaking you as more tears fall. You're doing your damnedest not to sob but you're failing spectacularly, "Tell me!"

"He's my future." You gasp out.

"And why do I allow you to be friends with him?"

"Because..." You blubber, fiercely wiping away the tears, "...to uphold our family legacy."

"And?"

"To keep you on his good side."

"Keep us," she taps your chin with her finger, making you flinch, "us, darling mine. Wayne Enterprises will end with him, but it'll begin again with us. With you. Say it."

"With me."

"So we'll go together. And you will do anything he tells you to. And you will make him very happy because he is not your friend. He is our ticket to owning Gotham City."

You would've done anything Bruce asked of you because you loved him, because you trusted him. The way your mother talked about what he might ask of you made you feel sick to your stomach. She shakes you again, expecting you to say it back.

Your lips part to release a shaky exhale meant to be a word, but behind your mother, you stare past the cracked library door and into the eyes of your best friend. The only word you can get out is, "Bruce?"

Your mother drops you completely. She swings around but the door is shutting before she can catch a glimpse, and you're shoving her out of your way before he can get too far.

You throw the door open and find him rushing back down the hall, a flummoxed headmaster lingering by as you run after Bruce. You shout his name but he doesn't slow for you at all, even as your voice echoes off the old school halls. "Bruce! Bruce, please! Let me explain."

It takes more energy than you have in you to catch up with him, but you eventually slide to a stop in front of him, stopping him before he could ascend the stairs and return to the dorm rooms. You expect to see anger clear on his face, or sadness, betrayal even. Instead, he is cold. He looks right through you.

The emptiness of which he looks at you catches you completely off guard. Anger, you could stomach. But this?

"How much did you hear?"

Those eyes that used to look at you so sweetly hold nothing in them at all. He stares you down as if you should already know.

When he tries to side-step you for the stairs, you grasp desperately for his hand but he yanks away from you like you've burned him, sending you collapsing to your knees against the bottom step, "Bruce, please... I don't feel that way about you. I've never felt that way about you. You... you're my best friend. This is exactly why I shouldn't have told her about the trip, I should've just kept my mouth shut-"

"What trip?"

You look up at him and see a wave of something sharp cross his face before smoothing back over completely. Your mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. He sees the question in you, the thing you fear to ask when it hits you.

Bruce turns his face away from you, "I'll see you in September."

You sit on those steps until sunrise.

The elevator stutters to a stop at cave level, letting you out into Bruce's sanctuary. He's standing at his desk and staring at you, as if he had expected Alfred instead.

"Hey," you start, timidly approaching him with yearbook in hand, "Are you busy?"

He watches you get closer and slowly shakes his head, eyes falling to the book clutched to your chest. They widen some with recognition, a cloudy look overtaking them once you're within arm's length of him. You set the book down on his desk, careful not to disrupt his work. You go to flip open the cover but his hand comes down on the Silverstone emblem, forcing you to draw back your hand in surprise, "Where'd you get this?"

"Alfred kept it." At that, Bruce groans. You gnaw on the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing.

You watch as he slides the book closer to himself, nudging away the files he'd been poring over before you'd arrived, making quiet noises of recognition here and there. When he inevitably lands on the class picture Alfred had shown you, he hesitates. You wait for him to say something, anything, but after a moment of silence, he presses on.

It isn't until he gets to the individual headshots from that year that you notice something odd. On your page, where your headshot and name should be, is a hole cut into the paper. Your heart sinks.

Your mind goes for the worst thing first (that perhaps he had hated you so much that putting away the yearbooks wasn't enough, that he had to cut you out of them too), but Bruce simply traces the neatly cut edges where your face should be.

Then he flips to the page where his picture should be, and his picture is cut out in the same fashion.

You look to Bruce for answers, but his expression is... guarded. He almost looks like he doesn't want to entertain it, almost looks like he's about to tell you to leave him to his work for the rest of the night.

Instead, he pushes the book back to you, "I kept yours in my wallet. I was going to give you mine."

You don't know what to say first, but it finds you in the lull in conversation, "You were going to?"

Bruce's mouth twists in discomfort, still not looking at you. He reaches over and shuts the cover to the book, "I thought... you might tease me about it." For a brief second, he looks at you, "Dunno where they are now."

That brief second is, of course, his tell. It was a shame. Bruce had become such a good liar since he left you on those stairs. He had to have been to get where he is now. And yet, you know in an instant that he's not being honest with you. It feels good this time.