Pitter Patter

‘Nothing to be afraid of Y/N!’ 

You jumped at the sound of Oswald as he chuckled, beckoning you over. ‘Vengeance here ain’t gonna hurt ya! He’s here on official business!‘

Your eyes remained glued to the crystal blue eyes that stood out against the darkness of the cowl, glazed and almost stunned as they roamed your face. In a matter of seconds (or was it minutes?) you finally found feeling in your legs to move once more, giving Oswald a brief smile as you lay the tray down and removed his drink. 

If he recognised you, you couldn’t tell. Batman remained silent, unmoving, just watching as Oswald bundled up the money and placed those stupid coloured packets of powder on the tray in return. As quickly as you entered, you left the room. 

Rushing back to the bar, you let the tray fall to the bar top before retreating into the ladies room, making sure it was empty before gasping, leaning against the counter. 

It had been sometime since you had seen Bruce, let alone the Batman. 

He had told you about this ‘vengeance’ he wanted to place upon Gotham. Not too long after the end of your relationship, the vigilante the city called Batman appeared, and you had a hunch of who it was beyond the mask. 

It had broken your heart when he called things off between the two of you. Having grown up together you’d always shared a strong bond, the same mission to bring about change within Gotham. You even stayed at his side when his parents died when no one else would (besides Alfred of course). 

But you knew he struggled with loss, it was unimaginable, and even though his methods of coping were - extreme to say the least - but with all that you thought he’d see how much care you had to give him-

You shook your head, quickly releasing the taps, dabbing some cool water to your cheeks, glancing up at your reflection. Now was not the time, and neither was this the place for any of that. You needed to focus. 

With one last deep breath, you turned on your heel and returned to work. 

Travelling through the streets of Gotham was never safe at any hour, but one does what they have to do to survive. And it just happened to be the night that a bunch of guys hanging around the front of your apartment. Just perfect! 

You quickly paid the taxi driver before slowly making your way towards the familiar building. Quietly, you weaved your way past, ignoring them as they whistled and called after you. That was until you felt a sharp tug on your arm, immediately cringing at the intense smell of alcohol on his breath. 

‘Looks like we have ourselves a little bird boys! You lost your way honey?’

‘No in fact I was just on my way into my apartment so if you don’t mind-’ A gasp forced itself from your lips as you slammed against the man’s chest, his face inches from your own. 

‘Hey hey hey what’s your hurry doll? Stay with us for a little while! We haven’t felt the-gentle touch of a woman for some time now ...’ 

His fingers had barely touched your cheek before you pulled away, slamming your head against his, sending him flying back into his friends. 

‘You fucking bitch!’ 

Lights blurred your vision as you shook your head, only able to throw a decent punch into a guy coming your way before a firm shove sent you straight to the ground. 

You raised your head weakly as one of them pulled out a knife, a chill running through your veins as he twirled and weaved the blade between his fingertips.

Suddenly a large swarm of black slammed down in front of you, an eruption of shouts and screams disturbing the night. 

Struggling to your feet, you turned as Batman stood over the men that now lay unconscious. He glanced towards you, almost gliding as he came to stand in front of you. 

‘Are you alright?’ 

You nodded, eyes glancing wildly towards the men then back to him. He was watching you carefully, turning to look up and down the street. 

‘We shouldn’t talk here. Get inside I’ll meet you up on the roof.’

Without waiting for your answer, the whistle of his grappling hook released before he disappeared out of sight. You rushed up the stairs into your apartment building, taking the elevator up all the way to the roof. Exiting you found his silhouette facing the city, like a demon overlooking its prey. 

Even when you made your way to his side, he remained quiet. Finally he turned to you, taking you in once more. 

‘It’s been a long time,’ You said, breaking the tense silence that surrounded the two of you. 

You stuttered as his gloved hand caressed your forehead over the new bump that was forming. You stood frozen as his hand glided down face, down your cheek, down you arm before holding the tips of your fingertips, examining the damage. 

‘You have to be more careful Y/N, I don’t like seeing you hurt.’

His voice had deepened since you’d last been with him, and though many would say he was nothing but empty shell, you could hear his voice riddled with worry. And it wedged that knife just a little bit deeper into your heart. 

As he continued scanning your body for injuries, you couldn’t help but watch him. The sheer glaze of tiredness over his eyes, the rigidness of his large stature. Some would call him a monster, and yet here he was, treating you with such gentleness as one would with the fragility of glass. 

‘How long have you been working at the Iceberg Lounge?’

His question withdrew you from your thoughts, blinking momentarily to find him staring down at you curiously. 

‘A couple of months now. What were you doing there tonight?’

‘Working on a case.’

‘The Mayor’s death? Does it connect to the club?’

He ignored your question. ‘And you’re working at the lounge for more than just the job. Falcone I’m guessing? Could never let it go, could you?’ 

You gave him a smirk, crossing your arms. 

‘Says the one dressing as a bat and fighting crime in Gotham every night!’ 

The corner of his lip rose before he returned to his cold demeanour. 

‘Be careful Y/N, I don’t want you getting hurt and caught up in all of this.’ 

You rolled your eyes. 

‘You can’t stop me from going after Falcone even if you wanted to. If anything I can provide you with more information! I doubt Oswald or any of the guys will like you snooping around anymore than you have already.’ 

He grunted, looking back out towards the city where the bat signal burned through the darkened clouds that filled the night. You sighed, beginning to make your way back to the elevator when he called your name.

‘It-It’s always been you ...’

Your heart leapt. 

You didn’t have to ask what he meant when he said that. The overwhelming feeling to rush to him and embrace him came to mind briefly. But instead, you gave him a smile. 

‘Don’t be a stranger Bruce.’ 

Giving the briefest of nods, he dropped from the roof, disappearing into the shadows of the night. 

masterlist - robert pattinson masterlist

Head thrown back in wanton pleasure, you're lost in the sea of his bed. What bit of your body isn't cloaked by Bruce's naked form is caressed by sheets with a thread count too high to quantify. Very rarely does he allow you in his home. Today must've been an exceptionally good one for him. Or maybe the loneliness began eating him away.

“You're so good to me,” you hear him mutter. Unsure where his face is buried, lust has stolen your eyes in a tight squeeze. In the black of the room, all you hear is that soft melancholic voice of his praising you. It's all-encompassing. “All mine.”

When he hits that spot inside you that makes you fall into the void, you're pleading to him.

Yes. All yours.

Then they're the times where he mars your body in horrendous hues.

“Fuck me,” you beg. He's being stingy. Withholding the grace of allowing you to come.

“Please,” he adds, taking you by your neck. His hand clenches tight around your throat. “I'm listening.”

“Fuck me,” you repeat in a pitiful fashion. Voice straight from the siphon. “Please.”

His eyes are two black holes - impenetrable and unfathomably deep. Bruce smiles. He's consumed in gruesome desire. “Are you afraid of me, sweetheart?”

“No.”

“Your pulse betrays you.”

His fingers reach between your legs, reveling in just how dripping you are. How fast you coat his digits and he hasn't fully touched you. It's light as feathers and still your whine and rock against his hand like a whore. You need the relief. Will do just about anything for it.

“Bruce, please-”

“Are you afraid of me,” he asks again. He throws you away like he's used you all up and you bore him. “This time be truthful.”

What's in this for him? There's no chance to ask. Not when he's breathing his anger at you to say it.

“You're scaring me,” you heave. You'll have to pray for forgiveness, but this makes you all the wetter. Playing into whatever catharsis his mind carves. You'll be the brunt of his self-hatred. “I'm afraid.”

The world spirals you onto your knees in a violent spin. You're eating carpet and scraping your poor shins as Bruce contorts your body just how he enjoys it. A particularly brutal slap against your ass, one that catches your pussy in a perfectly aimed assault, it makes you cry out a ragged breath.

It hurts so bad. It feels so good.

It's tense when he rips inside of you. You're clenching when he snaps inside you. Hot, tight, and making the filthiest of noises. Bruce remains relentless in his thrusts. Never-ending and hard enough to make you claw against the floor.

“Fuck, Bruce,” you squeak pitifully.

“Be good,” he rasps, fingers gripping leaving hate marks that will turn rotten hues of plum and ochre. “Stop moving and take it.

His teeth are hard on whatever piece of skin he can collect against the fangs of canines. You're nothing but shivering flesh, giving in to him every piece of the way.

He collects what he needs from you.