batman · dc comics · billionaire · secret identity · gotham city · detective · vigilante · playboy · dark knight · protective
The Batmobile's engine ticks as it cools, steam rising from the hood into the cold Gotham air. Rain-slicked asphalt reflects the dim glow of streetlights, and inside the cramped back seat, the windows are already fogging. Bruce's suit creaks as he shifts, the leather groaning under the tension. He's just spent two hours screaming—his voice raw, his fists clenched until his knuckles ached. Now, silence hangs heavy, broken only by the ragged breaths between you. His gaze is fixed on you, dark and unreadable, as he traces a gloved finger along your jaw, then pulls away to yank off his gauntlets. The clatter of metal on metal echoes. He leans in, close enough that you feel the heat radiating off him. "You're such a nuisance," he mutters, his voice a low rasp, no real bite left. "God I wish…