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weixuldo · 22 hours ago

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Knowing Me, Knowing You

Bruce Wayne/Batman x Surgeon!Reader

Chapter 3: A Little Out of Place

Series Masterlist

A/N: playboy Bruce is back baby, tbh idk how galas really work so just bear w me :3

Getting invited to one of the most prestigious galas in Gotham isn’t something you though would be happening to you, but here you are

CW: surprisingly none

Wc: 4.1k

Life seemed to slow down after the night of the assault; you still went to work as usual but now you moved with much more caution, less assured.

The operating room became the only place you could truly focus, any other time you were thinking about how quickly you could have been killed- how everything you had worked for could just be gone in an instant.

One thing you still couldn’t shake was how the Bat knew where you were; where you lived.

Has he been watching you? He asked about Bruce Wayne’s files too, was there something about your patient you were being kept in the dark about?

After a long day of surgeries, it was finally time for you to grab a coffee downstairs. You shove on your coat and grab your bag before locking your office. The elevator ride is relaxing as you allow yourself a moment to close your tired eyes.

Once the doors slide open, you head for the cafe. They were closing up for the day but one of the barista’s had saved a pot for any staff members who were just getting off shift; thank god for that.

The comforting aroma fills your senses as you pour yourself a cup as you let out a long yawn. Somewhere behind you someone calls your name.

It was your boss, the chief of surgery. He’s an older guy, average height, balding, and a bit of a beer belly. His name is Albert but most of the staff just call him “Al”; upon first glance he just looks like another arrogant old man, but he’s actually quite a kind person. He just has the typical hardened Gothamite exterior like everyone else.

“Hey Al, what’s up?” you ask, stirring some creamer into your cup.

He politely declines the offer of coffee from the younger guy behind the counter before turning back to you.

“Hey kid, how’ve you been?” he asks, making small talk.

You nod your head as you sip your drink, “pretty good” you lie, not wanting to get into a long conversation right now.

“Well I’m glad I ran into you, cause I’ve got a question for ya” he responds, leaning on the counter.

“Mhm?” you return, hoping he’s not asking you to pick up another shift.

“You have any plans on Friday?”

You unconsciously arch your brow and shake your head, “No?”.

He pulls out a fancily embellished envelope from his coat pocket and hands it to you.

“Got invited to this charity gala on friday but the wife and I have a little getaway planned, thought I’d offer it to you. Don’t have many other staff members I think deserve it” he jokes with a hearty chuckle.

You look over the invitation skeptically before agreeing, “why not, I’ve literally got nothing better to do”.

“That’s the spirit, Kid! Now, it's black tie so make sure you got something nice to wear. And Oh! Don’t forget, by being there you're not only representing the hospital, you’re also representing me” he adds as if you didn’t already know that.

“Of course Al, I’ll be on my very best behavior- scout’s honor” you joke, holding up your free hand.

“I know I could trust ya, Kiddo! Make sure not to drink too much of their complementary champagne!” he laughs as he pats you on the back before disappearing down the corridor.

You look back down to the invitation in your hand and curiously open the envelope, the words on the invitation are golden in an almost illegible cursive. You can make out the time, attire, and location, but if someone were to ask you who is hosting or the main benefactors, you’d have no clue.

Looks like you’ve got some shopping to do.

_________________________________

The week flew by and all of a sudden, here you are standing in front of your large mirror checking to see if your dress looks ok. It's not like you don't wear dresses, it's just that you never wear fancy dresses (really no reason to).

Smooth silk seemed out of place; the dress was quite beautiful, though. You made sure to get a high quality piece after your boss texted you two more times, reminding you that you needed to be a pristine representation of the hospital, him, and blah blah blah.

The color was a dark blue that you chose to match with silver jewelry and heels. The waist was pretty tight but damn, you looked good.

Turning in the mirror one last time, you suddenly felt a pit in your stomach- you had never been to one of these things and pretty much everyone there had to be a pro…

Quickly you felt yourself getting warm, oh shit- you actually had no one there to guide you, you’re going completely stag. What if you’re painfully awkward? What if you make an insensitive comment? What if your jokes don't land?!

Ok, OK! Maybe having a few drinks when you get there will give you some liquid courage…

In the most embarrassing turn of events, you forget that you need a ride there (because based on the amount you hope to drink, you definitely will not be ok to drive after). So you do the only thing you can think of, call an Uber.

The only driver available on such short notice is this guy driving a beat down Honda that oddly smells like pancakes, that’ll have to do.

He’s a bit younger than you and seems pretty interested as to why you’re so dressed up.

“I got invited to this gala last minute” you say, trying to find the source of the pancake smell.

“Oh the big charity ball! I know all of Gotham’s elite go there- Wait, you said you were invited last minute?” he pipes up as if he recalled some off hand fact.

“Yea?”

“Oh my God, were you invited by Bruce Wayne?” oh, he’s really interested.

“What?” How did he even come up with that?

“Well the papers have all been talking about how his last fling and him split and he had to find someone quick!” he’s a total fanboy.

Scrunching your face you respond, “Hell no, I’m not one of his little escapades. Plus don’t you think I’d be riffing with him if he invited me?”.

Damn, maybe that was a little too harsh.

“Oh, yea… I guess I just thought you kinda seem like the type he’d go for”.

Was that a compliment or an insult? Whatever, you were almost there, the sky was illuminated with the grandiose entrance lights.

“Wait, can you drop me off over there” you point to a block away from the event.

“Uh, I can just drop you at the entranc-”

“No, no- the curb is fine, thank you” you smile, leaving no room for negotiation.

Ok maybe you aren’t being the nicest you could be but your nerves were going insane and the mention of Bruce made you even more jittery.

“Thank you so much” you say as you hand the guy a $20.

He drives off and you’re left to collect your bearings as you head towards the venue.

__________________

The ballroom is insanely overwhelming; socialites decorated in extravagant jewelry, fancy drink towers, live orchestra, and a cacophony of loud chatter.

Well damn, maybe you didn’t think this through- making small talk really isn’t your strong suit and you don’t run in any of the circles the event is for.

A young waitress walks by with a platter of thinly stemmed champagne glasses and you swiftly snatch one up as she passes.

Before you can even register what you’re doing, you’ve already downed about two thirds of the glass.

Ok, maybe this was a mistake; maybe you should just go home-

A familiar voice calls your name from behind you. Oh God, please be him…

You turn and are met with the all too familiar Bruce Wayne, his blue eyes wander from your exposed shoulders to your stunned face.

“Mr. Wayne” you sigh, a little too obviously relieved to see him.

He chuckles, tilting his head slightly, “Bruce”.

“Pardon?”

“Please. You can call me Bruce” he responds with a small smile.

Your words catch in your throat for a moment about to protest but you realise you aren’t at work and he’s not your patient.

“Yes sir- I-I mean, Bruce” you speak rather flustered.

His lips angle into a small smirk as he scans your reddening face, “You seem much less composed than usual, Doctor”.

“Haha, very funny. Well as you can imagine, this isn’t really my usual scene” you narrow your eyes, he’s obviously having a field day with your jittery aura.

“Yea, I didn’t expect to see you here tonight- but it’s quite the pleasant surprise” he smiles before looking over your figure once more.

“I definitely expected to see you here tonight” you respond, of course he’d be here, he’s the richest man in the city and it's a charity event.

“Ah, are you stalking me, Doctor?” Bruce asks, a confident look gracing his handsome features.

“You know, contrary to popular belief, you aren’t the only factor in my life” you tease as you find your footing (finally).

His bright eyes don’t break contact with you as you take another sip of your drink.

“How did you find me in here?”- “You look absolutely stunning by the way”.

Your words clash and suddenly your heart is beating all the faster. Bruce, for the first time ever, seems to blush a little too.

The tall man clears his throat and chooses to answer your question, “I noticed you when you walked in solo, most of the time people come in pairs”.

“I don’t think it’s that uncommon to come stag… I mean you’re not here with anyone” you say.

Bruce’s face changes but before he can respond you hear another voice calling his name.

“Bruuce! Brucie, where are you? Bru- Oh! There you are, I thought you said you were going to get us drinks!” a redhead girl comes up to the two of you and grabs on to Bruce’s nicely ironed suit sleeve.

He clears his throat and looks at you with an emotion you can’t quite place.

“Oh my! That dress is just stunning on you, where did you get it?” the bubbly woman asks you once she realizes you are also there.

You’re about to answer but Bruce interrupts, “Shelly, this is the woman who does my surgeries, and this…” he motions to “Shelly” with a thinly pressed smile.

“…is Shelly, she’s-”

“Winner of Gotham’s next top model” she exclaims enthusiastically.

“Right. Nice to meet you Shelly.” you smile.

“Aww you too, I was just looking for Brucie, because I want to go dance. Hope you don’t mind!”

Before you can even respond she's dragging him away, leaving you awkwardly standing there looking like an idiot. Of course he’s here with a literal fucking supermodel.

You stick around for a while, having enough alcohol in your system to be able to feel like a functioning human. Small talk has and always will be the bane of your existence, but you did meet a pretty cool lady who happened to be a council woman.

“Yes, yes, It seems like he’s all the city talks about these days- The Batman” a woman in a red dress exclaims dramatically.

“I do find it a bit odd that a grown man is masquerading around town in a bat costume, but you know, my kids love him” the council woman responds with a smile.

“Well you know he beats up poor people” another woman chimes in, making you scrunch your nose.

“I just don’t think that’s true” you speak up, a frown on your face.

“Pardon?”

“Well, I’ve seen him in action. I don’t think he’d just go around harming innocent people, especially not after he saved my life” you added.

The women around you gasped and began to bombard you with questions.

“What happened?”, “Is he really as intimidating as people say?”, “How big was he?”, “Does he actually throw bats at people?”.

You chug the rest of your glass before gearing up to answer them

__________________________

Once 11:00 comes around you decide that you’ve done your duty being here and that it’s time to go home, get into comfy clothes, and doom scroll.

The valet lot is pretty busy as a lot of the older crowd is heading back home too. In your time throwing back champagne flutes you forgot that you don’t have a ride. Shit.

You groan before stepping to the side to pull up Uber on your phone- God, this is so embarrassing.

“Mam? What’s your key tag?” the young valet boy asks you expectantly.

Startled, you look around before pointing at yourself (guess you weren’t far enough out the way).

Before you could awkwardly explain that you were calling an Uber, a strong hand rests on your shoulder making you gasp.

“She doesn’t have the tag, it's with me”.

It's Bruce.

“Ah! Mr. Wayne, of course, we’ll have your vehicle right away!” the boy scurries back to his post and says something hushed to the other worker.

You didn’t know whether to thank him for saving you from an awkward interaction or to be annoyed at him for leaving you in the middle of a gala that he knew you were uncomfortable at. Though the more you looked at him, you were leaning towards the latter.

“I’ve been looking for you all night, where did you go?” he asks, his brows slightly furrowed.

You scoff, he was definitely not looking for you because after your initial greeting, you didn’t see him the rest of the night.

“Oh have you now?” you taunt, your cheeks still warm from your buzz.

He looks over your features; eyes drifting from your eyes, to your blushed cheeks, and finally to your glossed lips.

“Yea” it comes out low and rough, eyes still trained on your lips.

A feeling you don’t want to name shoots itself down to your core. He’s too good at this shit.

“What about your supermodel girlfriend” you say back, sounding a bit more peeved than you intended.

“Well for starters, she is not my girlfriend and second, she went home with this broker guy” he answers flatly.

Oh so he’s just taking you back because his date bailed on him. Great.

“Oh that sucks, sorry to hear that Bruce” you feign pity.

“Well thanks for getting me out of that stitch, I wouldn’t have really liked to announce I was ordering an Uber from the fanciest venue in Gotham City” you laugh before patting Bruce’s arm.

“But I really should get going” you say as you head towards the corner you were dropped off at earlier. But before you get too far, Bruce is calling your name and suddenly his hand is gently grasping your upper arm.

“Wait- Won’t you come with me?” he asks, almost confused that you’d rather take a stranger's car.

“Nah, I wouldn’t want to inconvenien-”

“You’re not.” There's no room to protest.

You sigh, “Bruce, I don’t want to be one of your little-”

“Mr. Wayne!” the boy calls and Bruce’s sleek black sports car is pulled up right next to the curb.

He turns his attention back to you and gives an almost pleading look, “At least let me take you home, I know how Gotham gets at night”.

You sign and agree, taking his hand as he leads you to the passenger side.

Once you are in the low seat, your eyes meet his again, he’s staring at you intently as he slowly raises your hand to his mouth, giving your knuckles a soft kiss.

Your breath catches for the third time tonight. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was actually you, but you feel something warm deep in your core.

Just as soon as you gain your bearings, he’s already slid into his seat and revving the powerful engine. You give him your address before he jets away from the venue. His face is more relaxed, more natural, as you look over at him.

He has a stunning side profile; strong jaw, straight nose, beautiful eyes and long lashes. How did he get so lucky?

“You’re staring” he says with a smirk.

“Oh, I didn’t realize” you tried to play it cool.

He chuckles.

The car goes silent for a moment and you debate asking him about the number he gave you.

“I meant what I said earlier” he says, making you turn to him.

His left hand is on the wheel as his right reaches towards your face, brushing a strand of stray hair from your face, “You look stunning tonight”.

Shying from his touch, you can only quietly laugh, “do you say that to all of the girls that sit in this seat?”.

He exhales through his nose and tilts his head slightly, “you really think I’m a womanizer, huh?”.

Now that was hilarious, you couldn't help but laugh, “Of course I do, Bruce- so does most of the city”.

He frowns at your statement, making you feel a bit bad for being so harsh; it was just frustrating, wanting him so bad but knowing that it wasn’t in your best interest to give in.

“I know how it may seem, but I am not-”

Was he really trying to argue with you on this? The alcohol chose to give you a rush of liquid courage as you combat him.

“Bruce, you had a literal supermodel on your arm tonight and now you’re taking me home? I have a PhD, I’m not stupid” you say, turning your body towards him.

He goes silent, eyes trained on the road in front of him. The only sound is the pitter patter of the forming rainfall and the rumble of his tires as you nervously fidget with the fabric of your dress; Fuck- you just made weird, you really shouldn’t have said tha-

“Why didn't you call?” His voice is soft, almost sad.

“I-” you begin, before rolling your bottom lip in between your teeth as you think of the best thing to say.

“I thought it was just a joke- or, I don’t know, I thought you were just being a flirt” you admit, suddenly feeling a pang of regret.

He hums in response before slowly moving his right arm to rest on the center console.

“I’ve been sending you chocolates for years, don’t you think if it were ‘just for fun’ that I would have left you my number a long time ago?” his eyes drift to yours, the blue irises suddenly feeling like a never ending ocean.

“Bruce..”

Before you know it, you’re parking on the curb near your apartment building; Bruce shifts into park and turns off the car.

“I just want you to know my interest is genuine. I’m not expecting you to say anything, so you don’t have to-”

He’s shut up by your lips against his. For a split second he hesitates, making sure you were actually doing what he thought you were. His silk tie is clenched in your left hand as your other brushes against his cheek, drawing him closer.

The passion he emits is unmatched, he kisses you as if you were the only woman in the world; it's not sloppy or rushed, instead it is deep, slow, and incredibly personal. The way his hands rest on your neck, his large thumbs gently running along your jaw.

No one had ever made you feel so wanted, so needed, from just a kiss.

Thunder rumbles ahead and the kiss is broken as Bruce looks out the window to the dark sky.

“We should go inside” you offer, watching sparks of lightning flash across the sky.

He agrees, telling you to wait for him to open your door since you’re on the side that’s open to the road. What a gentleman.

Once the two of you are on the sidewalk he takes your hand and spins you into his chest with a light chuckle. The light rain collects on your hair and lashes as you turn to face him; Bruce is wearing the largest smile you have ever seen on him- he looks perfect.

You can’t help but place your hands on his face, making him look down at you. Soon his own hands find solace on your body, one on your waist and the other on you hip; he pulls you closer to himself before joining your lips together once more. This one feels more desperate, like he had been praying for it.

You pull away once more, the rain beginning to pick up, “We really should go inside, Bruce”.

His eyes are soft as he smiles again, “Lead the way, beautiful”.

The stairs are dampened with tracked-in rain from the other residents of the building- shit- you’re in some pretty tall heels and would rather not break your leg. Bruce notices your dilemma and promptly arrives behind you, “May I?” he asks, arms out, waiting for the ‘ok’ to pick you up.

“Oh Bruce, you don’t have to do that-” before you finish your sentence, he’s already scooped you into his strong arms.

“What floor?” he asks, ascending the winding staircase.

“Seven” you blush into his chest, “You really don’t have to carry me, I don’t wa-”.

“Don’t worry about it, It’s not a problem” he assures you with a sincere look.

“Ok” you squeak, your stomach doing flips.

After a moment the two of you arrive at your door and he places you down gently before standing back to his full height. Instead of making out again, you give him a light kiss on the cheek, thanking him, before fumbling with your keys to unlock your door.

“You want to come in?” you ask, once your door is fully open.

“I’d love to”.

___________________________

Bruce’s large frame looks very out of place in your cramped apartment, it's a sight you never thought you’d ever see, but you’re sure glad it happened.

What a scene this is, Bruce Wayne, famed prince of Gotham- holding you so close to his chest, you think you might crack a rib. His hands rake through your hair as he cradles your head to his lips; you swear you heard him moan.

Your own hands explore his torso and getting dangerously close to his belt. Were you really about to throw all of your discipline and ideas of Bruce out the window? Yes.

“The rain is bad, you should stay tonight” you breathe through the kisses.

He hums before taking a step back to admire you; tousled hair, glossy eyes, and perfect body all backlit by the city’s lights shining through your window. Though, his face changes once something seemingly dawns on him. He’s backing up, less composed, no longer focused on you.

“Bruce?” you call quietly.

No, no, no… Please no.

“I’m terribly sorry, I- I think I have to go” He stumbles over his words a bit, something you had never seen.

There it was. How could you be so naive? Of course he was just toying with you- how did you fall for that?

“It’s just- I remembered that I-”

“Just go Bruce.” you say, a frown finding a place on your face.

“I’m so sorr-”

“Please, Just go.”

Tears threaten to fall as you stand in the middle of your kitchen, the heat of the moment turning cold, the alcohol wearing off, and embarrassment creeping in.

“I’ll contact you- we’ll talk about this” he says, sounding genuine (but it’s probably just rehearsed), before rushing out.

You’re left there just blinking-not able to get out another word- attempting to process the past hour’s events.

What’s the point of making up an excuse about something if he didn’t even get to the part where the two of you hook up? Wasn’t making excuses more of an ‘after the guy gets what he wants’ type of thing?

A deep pit of dread forms in your stomach; humiliation, anger, sadness, and guilt rush through your mind faster than you can decide which one is the most prominent feeling.

How fucking stupid are you?

The rain is pouring much harder than before as you lazily unzip your dress, allowing it to pile at your feet in an expensive puddle. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and cant help but sigh; you aren’t a supermodel- how could you have ever believed Bruce’s, ‘too good to be true’, words? You had been so disciplined for years.

You change into some comfy clothes before taking a seat on the low couch, looking over the city’s dim landscape. But there’s something illuminating the sky- Bright lights slice through the sheen of heavy rainfall; an unwavering beacon of hope. Batman’s signal.

A small smile graces your tired features as you recall your rescuer. He was dark and intimidating and yet so comforting… At least someone was looking out for the people of Gotham.

a/n: trust, bruce feels like shit and broods the whole patrol. But Breh leaving u high n dry when he’s the one who’s been pining all night is crazy work.

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eternallyhauntingthehouseoflove · 10 months ago

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Bruce Wayne fucked his partners through the mattress—and it depended on who and why. If you know he’s Batman, then he’d fuck for stress relief, to uncoil the sickening knot in his belly. However, if you’re unaware of his nighttime activities and believe you’d just lucked up meeting Bruce Wayne, then he’d fuck for ego. He’s got a point to prove: all those years as a recluse hadn’t dulled his ability to grant a lady a good time; that the stories of his youthful adventures are true. (Though his ego bleeds over into Batman as well since he wonders if he’s too old to still be the Dark Knight. If he’s lost his edge).

Bruce’s stamina is insane. He’d have you spread on your belly while he drove his cock into you. One hand enclosed around your throat, the other encircling your waist, and his lips grazing over your ear. Warm gusts of air caressing your cheek with each huff and grunt. The faint scent of his cologne lingering within the atmosphere, though it had been toppled by the aroma of sweat and sex. “Fuck,” he gritted out,” so tight f’me, doll. Only for me. Mine, aren’t you?” There was pride in being the one to undo Bruce Wayne, to make him cuss and grunt like a caveman, to draw out his Gotham accent. He was usually so put-together and driven.

Time warped and melted whenever Bruce had you beneath him. Despite his age, (don’t let him hear that) he could fuck for hours, content to drive his cum back into your hole until he came again. In fact, he enjoyed the slickness. There was something about keeping you beneath him that soothed the territorial monster caged within him like Mr. Hyde. Rarely could you lure the possessive, emerald eyed, envious beast out; Bruce was old and had dealt with his fair share of women seeking an emotional response. But with the perfect concoction of circumstances could you shatter the manacles binding the dominating, jealous, spiteful side of him—and it was wonderful.

Dick Grayson (Dixon’s version) preferred to let his lover work for it. There was a tantalizing element to gazing at his partner while she straddled him, and attempted to sink down into his cock. Dick wasn’t girth-y like Jason or Bruce (nor as unshaven). No, Dick was slim and long—and pretty. Dick was shaven and trimmed, smooth and hairless if he could help it. He never liked to offer up unshaven goods; he thought it was rude.

“God, you. . . you ride like a pro,” he breathed out, nigh gasping as though he’d run a race beside Usain Bolt. A sheen of sweated coated his toned physique, and a scarlet blush left a fiery trail from his cheeks down to his neck. “Don’t stop till I say.” Dick is more selfish in bed than Jason. Unlike Jason, Dick knows he’s cute—pretty, even. He’s confident both in himself and his ability to be selfish and still make you cum. . . hard. He won’t hesitate to assume control if he’s not liking your rhythm, or if he just wants to be a little shit and knock your orgasm off kilter. “Oh, were you going to cum? Sorry. Didn’t notice.”

Speaking of orgasms, Dick cums beautifully, even when he’d rather be described as ‘’manly’’ and handsome. He couldn’t restrain the tremble of his muscular thighs, or quell the furnace roaring inside his belly, or freeze the stars bursting behind the paleness of his eyelids. “I know, pretty baby. I know. Tight, aren’t I? Let it out for me,” you cooed, caressing his sweat-slick, inky black curls. Dick nodded quick and desperately, coal black lashes falling over his oceanic eyes. “Yes. Yes. That’s it. Gonna cum again. Just keep going.” The power he’d stolen returned with a vengeance. He’d gone limp beneath you. Fucked out, his breaths tremulous and stuttered. Naturally, Dick’s palms found purchase upon your breasts, pinching and flicking your nipples before he exerted the last of his strength to lean forward and suckle one into his mouth.

(There’s hints of a mommy kink if you squint hard enough).

Jason Todd loved to see his partner deep-throat his cock. It’s a personal pleasure of his, the one time he allows himself to be selfish during sex. He’s not sure why it’s fascinating to him. Perhaps the sheer primality of watching you struggle to swallow his thickness intrigues him, excites him, causes the hairs on his forearms to stand at attention and the nerves within his body to buzz like a million bees trapped beneath his skin.“That’s right, baby, keep going. Till I see tears,” he murmured, as his large hands slithered up into your nape and tightened in your hair.” Show me how much you love me, baby.”

“What a beauty.” Jason’s chocolate smeared irises tipped backward, his slender hips bucking upward into the warm cavern of your throat, his cock spewing viscous ropes of pearlescent cum. Jason’s frame fell slack against the sofa. Sated. Only you could loosen the tautness in his shoulders like a ball of yarn. Boy, did he adore you.” I hope you can go all night. Cuz I got some steam I been needin’ t’ blow off.”

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mostly-imagines · 9 months ago

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Sugar on the Rim vol. II

bruce wayne x afab!reader

aka the billionaires new friend

part one

warnings: heavily implied that reader is a virgin, age gap (bruce is older than reader), smut, oral fem!receiving, nervous but enthusiastically consenting reader

You’d tried to calm your nerves but they couldn’t be helped.

You’re anxious about everything, all of it. What he wants you to do, what he’s expecting you do, whether it’ll hurt, whether you’re ready.

You think you trust Bruce, but you also know that these things are different for men and women. You don’t necessarily expect that he’ll have a mind for what you’ll need, but honestly, neither do you. You don’t know what to do to make this easier for yourself—you don’t know what to do at all.

You bought the lingerie, you’ve got it on under your clothes and it feels like a costume. You can’t tell if that aids or worsens the anxiety.

You’re fidgeting with the hem of your skirt and you wish you could quit it, you’re radiating enough nervous energy as it is, you don’t need to be sending him visual cues on top of it.

Bruce holds your free hand in his as he guides you through the manor, you think it’s a different section than you’ve seen before. His hand engulfs yours unfairly as he leads, but the touch of his skin is so warm and inviting that you can’t tell if your hand is still shaking under it. If it is, he pretends not to notice.

He guides you up the stairs and into a corridor and then another before you arrive at a set of double doors. You’ve never seen double doors on the inside of a house before.

He lets you in ahead of him, and you have a distinct thought that you’re glad he can’t see the look of awe on your face as you walk in. His bedroom has an entire living room inside of it, and altogether it’s bigger than your whole apartment. A maroon couch and matching chairs surround a grand fireplace at the front of the room and the resulting glow from the active embers has the area shrouded in a warm light ahead of the shadows filling the rest.

You glance past the seating at his bed; large and proud. It’s definitely bigger than a king sized, with an overhead canopy and streams of dark burgundy curtains draping down from the corners. There’s another set of closed double doors past the bed, you imagine leading to the bathroom.

The end of the room displays a large window seat that looks like it’s never been used, and vast tinted windows. You look up to find the ceiling higher than you’ve ever seen in a bedroom with a very expensive chandelier hanging over it all.

He takes your arm, steering you out of your wonderment and leads you towards the couch rather than the bed, gesturing for you to sit down with him. You do, quietly glad when he positions himself so that you’re close to each other but not pressed right up against you. He’s able to relax his body more than you’re able to fake it on yourself, and you think your thoughts must be vibrating out of you by now.

One hand comes to rest on your thigh as his other nudges your cheek towards him. “Hey, nothing’s happening right now. No need to be nervous.”

You nod blankly, but your thoughts are running wild with everything that you very much are nervous about.

He takes your hand in his, rubbing circles with his thumb.

“You’ve got to relax,” he coos, “Remember what I said?”

You take a breath, “You’re not going to throw me in the deep end.”

“Exactly,” he murmurs, kissing your forehead. “Just wanna make you feel good, right?”

You nod, easing your posture.

He looks you in the eye, “You gonna let me?”

You hum, nodding again.

“Good girl,” he purrs, pulling away.

You quickly find that the distance is not at all what you want, and you decide to push forward—as forward as you can—sitting up again to peel your jacket off. He watches you move with a look in his eyes, you take it for intrigue but it may just as well be something akin to pride. Pride in you? He’s openly flirted, kissed you, and straight up propositioned you for sex—but sure, he’s proud of you for taking your jacket off.

Your nerves transition into insecurity before you can catch them, and you’re starting to feel a little stupid, like a child playing pretend.

You watch tentatively as he tilts his head at you, running his own assessments of your actions.

“Will you come sit on my lap?” he asks you after a moment.

You suddenly become acutely aware of the amount of air in your lungs. This feels like a big request and you’re not even sure how to take his meaning. Does he want you to sit sideways? Your back to his front? Or fully straddle him?

He wants whatever you want, he’d said. What do you want?

You glance down at his thighs, covered by fabric more expensive than you can imagine. Positive confirmation rings through your head immediately, willing you to push yourself forward a little more.

You reposition yourself over him, straddling his lap in spite of your nerves.

Again, he looks pleased. Happy even. One of his hands comes to stroke soothing patterns across your lower back, the other resting on your waist.

He makes sure to catch your gaze, “You’ll tell me if you want to stop.”

He follows when your eyes stray, “Yes?”

“Yes.”

He places a tender kiss on your cheekbone, “How did shopping go?”

“Um, good. It was good. One of the sales girls helped me,” your breath is shaky as he kisses your jawline.

“Yeah? Tell me about it.”

“I, uh, I just went to this little boutique up on third street,” he places another kiss on the column of your throat as you talk. “Um, it took longer than I thought it would. There were so many choices.”

His hands come up to soothe over your ribs, pulling you a little closer as they do. He hums for you to keep talking, his kisses continuing to lower until they’re down to your collarbone, though they remain relatively chaste.

“I—I didn’t really know what to look for,” you admit, breath shaky as you exhale.

“But you like it?”

“Yeah, I—I do.”

He hums, smiling against your skin. His fingers inch under the seam of your shirt, caressing your waist. “Can I take this off?”

You nod timidly, trying not to seem so on edge with anticipation. You’re not confident that he can’t see right through you.

He presses another chaste kiss to your neck upon receival of the permission, and your shirt begins to come off slowly, his hands skimming every new bit of skin revealed. As he pulls it over your head, he glances down at the baby pink bralette you’d picked out for yourself.

He groans quietly as he takes in the sight, “Oh, pretty girl. Beautiful girl,” He noses at your chest, leaving little kisses where his lips make contact with your skin, “Look at you. Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Your stomach flutters as his hair tickles your cheek. His hands roam up your sides, stopping to stroke placid circles along the sides of your breasts.

His touch makes its way around your back, expertly undoing your bra clasp without a second thought. Your bra hangs forward a bit off your shoulders, but he leaves the work of entirely removing it to you. And you do, with more confidence than you’d imagined yourself mustering.

He immediately shows his appreciation, kissing and caressing your chest with lover-like admiration. Your head falls back involuntarily as he noses at your soft skin.

He’s breathing heavy when he pulls back, humming low and deep before lifting you up off his lap to stand. The sudden shift has you a bit thrown off, working to catch up as he kneels down in front of you and repeats his earlier process with your skirt—kissing your thighs and tugging the fabric down bit by bit.

When it’s discarded on the floor you stand only left in your underwear, the lace practically illuminated against your skin.

He looks up at you from his place on the floor and smiles as he takes in the sight of your body. His hands find your hips as he asks you, “Has anyone ever seen you like this before?”

You hesitate for half a second before answering truthfully.

His smile grows, “No, you’re a good girl, aren’t you?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer before he’s nodding, “Yeah, I know.”

As he rises to stand he scoops you up by the back of your thighs and lifts you in the air with no discernable effort. Now at face level with him, you get a bit bolder and lean in to kiss him. He kisses you back, pleased, beginning to walk the two of you over towards the bed.

He sets you down gently atop the soft mattress, kisses pushing you backwards to lie back on the bed. He scoops your wrists up and leisurely moves your arms up above your head. His grip is benign as he releases one hand in favor of holding your jaw. Your kiss is deep and controlled on his part, but in a way that makes you feel light in the head. You like the cloudy-sensation very much.

After a while, he pulls back to look at you with clouded eyes.

He practically purrs, “You’re such a kind girl. So sweet to everyone, all the time. Will you let me be sweet to you?”

Your breath is shaky as you nod, attempts at hiding your anticipation failing.

He nods back at you with a faux-sympathy across his face. “Let me hear you say it.”

You force air into your lungs, giving you the willpower to speak the words. “Will you touch me? Please?”

The corners of his lips turn up, “Of course, sweet girl.”

He nips at your jaw as his hands travel down, petting the inside of your thighs with a touch so feather light it almost tickles.

Your knee jerks inward towards his hand, your body desperately seeking out more of this new sensation. He obliges, tracing his touch back up, up, up until his hand dips under the lace trim of your panties, skimming over your clit. Your hips flinch back away from him momentarily in surprise, only to press back forward a second later.

He actually laughs at the action, like it’s endearing. You feel a little silly for it, but you’re not given much time to dwell as he persists, brushing against you with a bit more pressure.

He tilts his head, watching your expression carefully with a remarkably pleased look on his own face. “How’s that, sweet girl?”

You nod, beside yourself. “Feels good,” you whimper. “Feels really good..”

You don’t necessarily mean to, but your hips grind up against his touch, your body too mesmerized with the sensation to remember to be embarrassed.

He’s certainly not complaining about it though, his quiet coos encouraging you to chase the feeling.

He lets you grind up against his hand, taking in the needy look on your face with contentment.

“Poor girl,” he tuts. “Just need somebody to take care of you, huh?”

That makes your cheeks burn, but your attention finds itself more concerned with the urge to squeeze your thighs together.

You whine when he pulls his hand back out of your underwear, only for him to stand resolute in his actions.

“Not yet, sweet thing,” he hums, pressing you back down to the bed with a light but firm touch when you try to sit up.

He hushes you gently, murmuring for you to be patient as he shifts his position over you.

He starts to move down your body, leaving kisses in his wake. The sensation of his lips tracing down your stomach has you feeling butterflies.

By the time he reaches your waistline you’re borderline dizzy from the anticipation, squeezing your legs together in an attempt to alleviate the ache.

He pauses there for a moment, torturously, and noses at the seam of your panties. A whine from you has him chuckling and finally moving to where you need him.

He kisses your clit over your underwear and you’re fighting thoughts of embarrassment over how sure you are he can taste how wet you are over the fabric.

It doesn’t seem to be enough for him though, as he tugs your panties down slowly, kissing your thighs as he goes.

Bruce’s hands hold onto your waist as he eats you out, holding you in place with an easy grip.

You squirm against the feel of his tongue and you can’t quite figure out what to do with your hands. You almost wish he’d made you keep them above your head but really you’re not sure you’d be able to keep it together if he had. You’re not sure you’re keeping it together now.

He groans against your pussy, and one of your hands flies to grip his hair without permission from your brain. If you’re being honest with yourself though, your brain isn’t really the one calling the shots anymore.

You gasp when he licks a bold stripe, “Bruce—”

He groans again, briefly breaking away from you. “Oh, say that again.”

You sigh out, “Bruce, please.”

He makes a pleased hum. “Good girl,” he murmurs before diving back in.

He complies with your pleas generously, giving you more. He’s gradual but resolute as he inserts two fingers into you, giving you the time to adjust. But he’d evidently done a very thorough job prepping you for it, you’re so wet that the initial entry doesn’t sting like you’d expected. No, rather the first thing you register is closer to pleasure. A lot closer.

He begins to pump in and out of you at he continues to suck at your clit, and somewhere during you have a distinct thought of “oh this is it.”

You let out a little gasp and for once, you break out of your own head and just relish in the way his fingers curl inside you.

The way your thighs squeeze around him as you come, doesn’t hinder him one bit, only has him applying his ministrations with more intent. It doesn’t take long for the trembling of your body to give way to full on shaking, your body stuttering beneath him.

He continues working at you the entire way through your orgasm, until you’re flinching from overstimulation.

He gives you one more lick before looking up at you with hooded eyes. “Y’taste sweet too, you know that?”

You can feel the blood rush to your cheeks as he starts to move back up to face-level, kissing the high point of your cheekbone.

He pulls down on your bottom lip, your slick wet against your mouth.

You open without question, a clouding urge to please him the only thing running through your mind.

He grumbles a low, pleased sound as you do, moving his hand only to provide room for him to kiss you again.

He sits back up over you and starts unbuttoning his shirt and you realize only now that he’s still fully dressed.

He glances down to his belt as he undoes the buttons.

“Will you help me out, sweet girl?”

You blink a couple times before registering the request, still overwhelmed by how quickly and skillfully he’d made you come.

You struggle a bit to push yourself up into a sitting position, but he supports you by your waist, nipping along your jaw as encouragement.

Your hands shake as you undo the clasp, and while you’re still very much eager, if not moreso, you’re suddenly confronted with the very real possibility that you’re about to have your limits pushed. He ate you out and did a damn good job, stands to reason that he’d want you to return the favor.

So it takes you by surprise when he’s nudging you back against the pillows, removing his pants himself.

He keeps you occupied with an intense kiss as he does, and the distraction so smooth it’s almost like it’s rehearsed.

You follow his lead easily, though surprised by his lack of desire to get his fill too.

He drapes himself over you nicely, his size easily dwarfing you out. He’s quick to block your chin from tilting down, gently bringing your face back up to meet his.

He shakes his head lightly, murmuring, “Don’t worry about that. I got you.”

You are worried about it, but you trust Bruce, you know you do now.

You feel the weight of his cock against your stomach, at this exact moment, feeling like not much more than a daunting task.

“S’alright, sweet girl,” he lulls, brushing your hair back. “Okay?”

As heavy as the simple question is, you don’t need to think about it before you’re nodding and moving your hand to hold onto his bicep.

He peppers kisses all over your face as he starts to push in, effectively starting to distract you from the pain of the stretch. He hushes your whines soothingly and kneads at your waist with confident hands.

Your arms lock around his shoulders on instinct, your eyes squeezing shut as you try to convince yourself he’s almost all the way in, but you know you’ve got aways to go.

He pauses halfway, imploring you to open your eyes so he can check up on you properly.

“Talk to me, sweetheart,” he softly urges.

You will yourself to blink up at him and try to take on the challenge of both him and his gaze. Surely, an impossible task.

But you manage shaky eye contact that occasionally gives way to glancing down at his lips.

It doesn’t feel good yet, but it only makes you more eager to keep going.

“I’m okay,” you nod, taking a breath. “You can keep going.”

He waits to find that reassurance in your eyes before he continues to push in, bestowing you a deep kiss in reward for your bravery.

Once he’s nearly bottomed out he waits a moment, then begins to rock in and out slowly, letting you get used to a starter of the sensation.

He brushes your hair back, weaving through the strands. “There we go,” he coos as you look down between you. “Doing so good.”

Your gasp is louder than they had been before, and closer to a sigh now.

He’s fucking you gently, with a decorum that exceeds what you’d earlier told yourself you were stupid for hoping for.

It doesn’t take long at all for his movement to start to feel really good and your grip around his shoulders comes around to a different kind of intensity.

He noses against your jaw, applying kisses whenever convenient. “‘S that feel good, sweet girl? Hm?”

He hits a particularly deep spot in you immediately after and it makes you borderline squeak. He huffs out a laugh that’s nothing short of affectionate.

“Yeah?”

He then attacks that spot with extra intention, hitting it absolutely expertly every time. He speeds up a little, lips latched onto your neck as he fucks you nice and deep.

He drops a hand down between you and starts rubbing circles onto your clit with a pace that makes you want to scream.

You can’t help the moan you release when he teeths at your neck, clearly aiming to drive you crazy. But damn if he isn’t going about it the right way.

His circles pick up pace and you can be sure you’re leaving nail marks on his back. He seems to only get more encouraged by your sounds, working you closer and closer to the edge with every whimper.

He finally lets you over after a minute of shamelessly relishing in your moans, himself following close after.

He continues moving in and out of you until you’ve both completely finished, slowly coming to a stop.

You get a moment to catch your breath before he pulls out delicately. You don’t even realize he’s moved before he’s got his boxers back on and is halfway to the bathroom.

You’re a little alarmed by the sudden shift in proximity, though you guess that’s the playboy experience, isn’t it? After a second you hear water running and assume he’s taking a shower.

You push yourself to sit up fully, minding your achy thighs, and swing your legs over the side of the bed. You glance at the foot of the bed where your underwear lies, then back over by the couch where the rest of your clothes lay discarded. You briefly contemplate how quickly you can get your clothes back on when the bathroom doors open again.

You glance up at Bruce, dazed, who looks surprised himself to see you sitting up. As he makes his way back to the bed you notice the supplies he has in tow and your brain begins to slowly start turning its gears again.

You don’t realize the glass of water in his hand is for you until he’s pushed it into your palm.

His other hand carries a wet wash cloth that you, again, aren’t able to register the purpose for until it’s in action.

“Drink,” he tells you as he spreads your knees apart gently, wiping away the mess between your legs with a notable amount of compassion for your sensitivity.

You do, gulping a few as he finishes, tossing the rag in a hamper before setting your glass down on the side table.

Your eyes return to the end of the bed and you nearly decide to get up, but he’s still standing so close to you, you’re not sure this is the right time.

You seem caught halfway between decisions now, you know you do. You’d honestly preferred when you thought he’d just ditched you for a shower because at least then this part wouldn’t be so awkward.

He watches you closely as you deliberate and seems to draw a conclusion about your hesitation rather quickly. His brow pinches as he processes, tilting his head at you.

“You’ve got to be joking,” he says, bewildered. “Right?”

“I—” you falter, looking to the couch and back to him again. “No?”

He stares at you for a moment with an expression you can’t define.

“Lay down.”

You don’t have a second to process before he’s climbing back in bed too, pulling you down to lay your head on the pillow.

He pulls the covers over you and splays an arm over your waist, clearly firm in his decision for you to stay.

Your eyes are heavy and his bed is so comfortable, it’s difficult for you to even consider either of you wanting you to leave now.

Maybe you’ll just sleep for a little while, get some of your energy back.

The way he traces soft patterns across your stomach certainly encourages the idea and doesn’t give you much power to resist.

You let your eyes flutter shut to the feather-light touch and listen to the steady deepness of his breaths.

Well, this isn’t so bad either.

🐲 reblogging is an ancient art form, only the strong may master it 🐲

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streetlamp-amber · 1 year ago

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never ending night

bruce wayne x femwife!reader

word count: 1.7k | divider by @saradika | requests are open!

CW: pregnancy, pure fluff NOTES: hello hi i’m ailís and i’ve been meaning to start a blog where i can post some one shots that i’ve been thinking of as a way to motivate myself to finally write down my ideas so this is it. i’ll be double posting my stuff on ao3 (which you can find in my bio) and will eventually make a masterlist as well as a navigation post with a list of fandoms/characters i write for. also, english isn’t my first language.

It was close to three in the morning when Bruce finally joined you in bed after a long night of patrolling and fighting bottom of the barrel criminals all night. He showered in the bathroom on the first floor of the manor to avoid making too much noise and waking you up, but when he finally walked in your shared bedroom, you were already awake, sitting up against the headboard.

“Darling, what are you doing still up?” Bruce asked you as he reached his side of the bed.

The room was dark par for the moonlight filtering through the gap between the curtains, meaning your husband had yet to notice the state you were in.

“Dick had a nightmare,” you answered, voice barely above a whisper due to how tired you were. “It took me two hours to get him to fall back asleep and when I finally came back here, this little one started kickboxing me and keeping me awake for another hour,” you continued rubbing your round belly in hopes of soothing your baby to finally catch some sleep.

“I’m sorry I wasn't here to help,” Bruce apologised, planting a kiss on your temple as he held you close to his body.

“It’s alright, Gotham needs you,” you dismissed, not at all angry.

“Still, you’re six months pregnant. You’re growing our child inside your body, you need all the rest you can get,” he softly argued. “I would've come home earlier but all the amateur criminals came out tonight.”

“Bruce, it’s fine,” you brought your hand up to his cheek and he leaned his head into your touch. “You’ve already been cutting your patrols shorter since we found out about the baby. As long as you keep coming back home to us, alive, then I’m not mad.”

Not knowing what to say – his gratefulness for having someone so accepting of his duty as Batman was almost overwhelming, even after all those years – Bruce kissed your palm while staring at you with the same look full of love that he has been sporting since the first time he met you six years ago.

“How’d I get so lucky to fall in love with the most understanding and selfless person I know?” He asked while grabbing your hand on his cheek, wrapping his fingers around yours and squeezing them gently.

“Now that’s a lie,” you rebutted, a loving smile on your lips, lowering your joined hands on the bed. “You’re more selfless than I am. You’re the most selfless man in the world.”

“Let’s not start this never ending argument again,” Bruce chuckled, now his turn to hold your face as he brought you in for a kiss.

You happily sighed against his lips, the feeling of home that overtook you every time you tasted them was a nice welcome in this interminable night. But the kiss was cut short as you felt your baby kick again and you let your head fall back as you groaned.

“She’s still kicking?” Bruce asked you, he couldn't see the movements under your skin due to the darkness of the room and your hand on your belly.

“We don't know it's a she,” you reminded him instead of answering. You had both decided to wait until the birth to know the gender.

“And I’m telling you, I know it's a girl,” your husband repeated for what could be the hundredth time.

You also secretly hoped it was a girl, but Dick really wanted a little brother. Bruce and you were still in the process of warming him up to the idea of a little sister and it was slowly starting to work.

“As long as she doesn't come in my room,” your eight year old son had said last week, with his arms crossed over his chest and a pout on his lips.

“I doubt she’ll be doing that for the first few years, chum,” Bruce reassured him, fighting off a slightly amused grin.

“And the baby will have its own room with its own toys,” you added.

“Will I still be able to play with the baby?” Dick asked after a moment, uncrossing his arms and a hopeful look filling up his blue eyes.

“Of course you will, bubs,” you said, your fingers threading through his black hair that fell over his forehead.

“But only with her toys at first, some of yours are not suited for a baby,” Bruce pointed out, ever the overprotective father.

Bruce had lowered himself down under the blanket so he could be laying head levelled with your belly, his hand now replacing yours over the bump.

“Hey trouble,” he whispered to your child and the baby kicked again, making him smile lovingly at the movement he felt under his hand. “You shouldn't be awake this late at night, you know.”

“You're one to talk,” you commented, tone almost reprimanding.

“She doesn't know that,” Bruce looked up at you as he defended himself before his gaze fell back on your belly. “Mommy is really tired,” he continued talking to your baby, his hand now rubbing soothingly over your round stomach, “and she needs her rest to do all the work so you can come out all healthy and beautiful. Well, you're definitely gonna be the most beautiful baby if you end up looking like your mother, but that's not the point.”

You smiled at the cheesy comment and your fingers found their place in Bruce’s hair, brushing through it and nails occasionally scratching his scalp.

“Your brother Dick can't wait for you to come around,” he carried on. “Said he will teach you all sorts of acrobatic tricks once you know how to walk. And he asked Alfred if he could help paint the nursery when we finally decide on a colour.”

“And I keep telling you we should do soft green,” you argued.

“I’m not changing my mind from primrose pink,” he told you with a sly grin.

“The room won’t be pink, even if it’s a girl. And that’s final,” you firmly said. Your husband will not be winning this one argument, no sir.

Bruce sighed, rolling his eyes before focusing back on your belly. “I hope you’re not as stubborn as your mother,” he whispered to the baby, as if he was having a private conversation with them and that you weren’t there. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s one of the many reasons why I fell in love with her, but I won’t be able to say no to you even when I have to, so it would save me a lot of reprimanding from Mommy if you’re not as tenacious as her.”

You smiled to yourself as you continued listening to your husband talk to your unborn child as you threaded your fingers through his hair, enjoying the softness it had after a shower. Bruce usually gelled his hair to appear more professional when he was working in the day, and then it would get all mixed up with his sweat under his cowl when he was working as Batman. When he would come back to you after the day was over, you would refuse to touch his hair until he had showered, the texture of the gel and sweat too gross on your fingers for you to ignore.

As Bruce continued talking to your baby, his voice started lulling the two of you to sleep. The baby hadn’t kicked in over almost ten minutes now, and the peace you had waited for so long to arrive made you aware of how heavy your eyelids were. You slowly lowered yourself down the bed, getting in a comfortable position with Bruce’s help where you could finally lay your head on your pillow and it didn’t take long for sleep to catch up on you.

At the sound of your soft, barely audible snores, Bruce turned his head away from your bump to find you asleep with your free hand raised next to your head on your pillow, the other one still tangled in his hair.

He planted a soft kiss on the exposed skin of your belly, eyes closed as he took a moment to absorb the fact that a baby that was half you and half him would be joining your world in a little more than three months. Bruce wasn't known to cry, the only time you ever saw him cry was as you walked down the aisle at your wedding, but tonight, a lonesome tear rolled down his cheek and fell on your stomach, where your child was growing, because Bruce never believed he would ever get to experience again the amount of love he hadn't felt since he was eight years old.

As he observed you, sleeping soundly with his child coming to life inside you, after you comforted Dick back to sleep, Bruce, for a moment, felt overwhelmed by all the love in his life. When he became Batman, he crossed out the idea of ever having a family (other than Alfred), of settling down with someone he loved and who loved him back.

But somehow, the universe put you on his path, as a miracle or a guardian angel or simply as an anchor to life outside of Batman, he didn't know. You walked into his home, into his life, to remind him that he, Bruce Wayne, was also deserving of love, of family, of happiness. Then Dick came along, rather unexpectedly but still no less welcomed, and Bruce started entertaining the idea of having children with you. He definitely wasn't opposed to it, but it wasn't something he wanted to jump right into, especially with Dick having just entered your lives. You were both young, he in his early thirties and you in your late twenties, you could allow yourselves a couple of years just the three of you (four with Alfred) before expanding the family.

So it was rather shocking when two months after you and Bruce had officially adopted Dick that you found out you were pregnant. It both took you by surprise but after talking through it together, you couldn't be happier. And the two of you haven't stopped being happy about this new little addition ever since.

Bruce rose up from his position next to your belly, your limp hand fell from his head as he did so, and he laid on the bed next to you. He delicately kissed your forehead, then your nose before falling back on his pillow and whispered “I love you” as he curled around your body, his hand resting on your belly as he fell asleep.

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ashlovesfood · 1 month ago

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after bruce got you pregnant, your body started to transition.

in the best way he could say, you were looking so fucking sexy, head to toe. your body was getting used to growing a baby inside your womb, making your hormones help along. you stomach swelled, the bump sending bruce straight to heaven.

but god, your breasts were the best of all. you were starting to feel your boobs get larger, expand with milk for the baby.

you didn't realize how much pregnancy took a toll on your body, you were constantly sore from carrying another human being in you and you focused so much on the babies safety that you could barely take a look at yourself. when you walked past the mirror, you stopped and looked at your top. your top was soaked through, the damp circles on your shirt making you realize.

lactation, the body goes through a hormone shift which helps the body produce milk. but the baby hasn't popped out yet.. you were conflicted, squeezing the flesh as more milk seeped out of your nipples. bruce just had to walk in at that moment.

"you're lactating, need some help with that bun?" he was right behind you, rubbing your tummy as he placed a kiss on your temple. his lips brushed along your ear, placing gentle kisses along your shoulder as your hands guided him. "help me out, brucey.."

he lifted your top up, revealing the swollen peaks that leaked with milk. the sight of you just made him hard, his lower half grinding against your ass. bruce rubbed your nipples between his fingers, using his thumb to stimulate your areola.

"oh- sensitive! 'm more sensitive than usual bruce..." you arched along his front, leaning your head against his shoulder. the creamy liquid dripped along your tits, streaks of milk running along your torso as bruce continued to play with you.

"my special baby. lets take this to the bed, yea?" bruce grabbed your hand and guided you towards the bedroom, gently pressing you against the bed. his mouth latched onto the hard peaks, drinking the golden liquid that came from you. "don't- suck so hard.. ngh." bruce was stimulating your other nipple with his hand, squeezing the tip.

your milk was shooting out like a fountain, the white liquid exploding out. it dripped on the sheets, the floor, your body, making you look perfect in his eyes.

bruce rubbed along your pussy, using his palm to feel your clit. you were barely holding on, clinging onto his shoulders as he relentlessly touched you. "ah- nhooo! cominggguh!" your panties became wet, your breasts emptied all of its milk out into bruces mouth. he came in his pants.

"did so good for me baby." bruce rubbed your head, picking your limp body up as he went towards the shower. looks like he got his fill <3

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fear-is-truth · 6 months ago

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# SUGAR DADDY! BRUCE WAYNE — hc

synopsis — your life as bruce wayne’s sugar baby warnings — suggestive. mdni a/n — if law school doesn’t work out… this is my dream career lol (exclusively bruce wayne)

he’s strict about keeping things low-profile. no selfies, no pictures together, and definitely no talking to anyone about your arrangement. but when it’s just the two of you, behind closed doors, though, his edges softened—not soft soft, of course, but as close as bruce wayne could ever get.

bruce is every inch the gentleman when he’s out with you—always placing his hand on the small of your back when guiding you through a crowd or escorting you to his car, a subtle but firm gesture that says, you’re mine, and i’m looking after you. he opens doors for you without fail, pulls out your chair at restaurants, and always walks on the street side of the sidewalk, even if it means switching places mid-walk. if you’re wearing heels, he keeps a steadying hand at your waist when you go down stairs.

even in private, he’s super thoughtful—draping a blanket over you when you’re curled up on the couch, pressing a kiss to your temple as he passes by.

bruce isn’t overly affectionate in public, but in private, he’s tactile and tender. he’ll pull you onto his lap while he works at his desk, one arm wrapped around your waist as his free hand taps at his keyboard. “just stay here,” he’ll say when you try to move. “you’re not distracting me.” though the way his lips find your neck every few minutes says otherwise.

bruce values your mind as much as your beauty, and he shows it in the way he engages you. whether you’re discussing a book, a piece of art, or the nuances of history, he listens with genuine interest. when he occasionally challenges your points, it’s never in that dismissive, mansplaining tone that most self-assured men use—it’s thoughtful and designed to draw out your best arguments.

he’s particular about keeping things convenient for you, so he’s arranged for you to have access to one of his apartments in the city. it’s fully furnished, with a stocked fridge, top-of-the-line security, and a walk-in closet he keeps replenishing with new outfits.

bruce’s love language is acts of service and quality time, but his wealth makes gift-giving his default.

has alfred handle all the logistics of getting you the best: tickets to exclusive shows, reservations at restaurants you didn’t even know existed, and private shopping appointments where he foots the bill without a batting an eye.

sends you on luxurious trips during your breaks—paris, tokyo, the maldives. you’re not sure how he pulls it off without anyone finding out, but bruce wayne always has his ways.

he pays attention to your interests and hobbies, subtly encouraging you to indulge. if you mention liking a certain author, musician or a brand, you’ll find their newest release or collection waiting for you the next day.

leaves his black card with you whenever he has to leave on business. “buy yourself something nice,” he says like you don’t already have everything you could possibly want.

bruce has an almost masochistic appreciation for how deeply you affect him. when you tease him. the first time you call him daddy, it’s in that girlish, playful tone, meant to test how far he’d let you get away with. bruce freezes for a millisecond, his face carefully blank, but the dark glint in his eyes gives him away. he exhales slowly, but the extra time he spends adjusting his cufflinks is a tell—you’ve gotten under his skin.

has a love-hate relationship with the short, tight skirts you wear around him. on one hand, he can’t deny how much they drive him mad, how his eyes inevitably linger on the curve of your ass, like he’s entertaining the idea of ripping the skirt off. on the other hand, he hates the idea of anyone else seeing you like that. he’ll chide you in that authoritative tone of his, maybe even smacking your pert ass for extra emphasis (when in private)

despite the chastising, the next day, he’ll gift you a collection of couture skirts and dresses that fit his exacting standards—form-fitting but elegant, sexy but understated. if you insist on being a distraction, you’ll do it his way.

he loves when you wear his clothes—especially his shirts. seeing you in something oversized and smelling faintly of sex and his cologne drives him insane. but he also loves taking it off you.

he’s not above making you jealous, though it’s very rare. if he senses you’ve been a little too independent lately, he’ll let a socialite or two flirt with him at a party just to see your reaction. when you glare at him from across the room, he’ll flash that infuriatingly charming smile and mouth, “come here.” the second you’re alone, he’ll have you pressed tightly against the wall. “you know there’s no one else for me,” he mutters between hot kisses. “but i like seeing you fight for it.”

has an infuriating habit of teasing you in public, keeping you just on the edge of propriety. he’ll whisper filthy things in your ear during a black-tie gala, his hand resting on your thigh under the table. “be good for me,” his thumb grazes discreetly beneath the hem of your dress, and when your cheeks heat up, he just smirks and kisses the spot beneath your ear.

the car rides are his favourite indulgence. he tells the chauffeur to take the long way home, windows darkened, privacy partition up, while fucking you in every position possible.

has a weakness for seeing you in pieces he’s chosen himself. the delicate lace, silk, and satin he picks out always feel indulgent, tailored to fit your body and his preferences. he leaves boxes for you to find, with a note in his neat handwriting: this one tonight

he buys you diamond necklaces and earrings so extravagant they could rival museum pieces. every time, he insists you model them for him—alone, in the privacy of his bedroom. “just the necklace,” he’ll say with a smirk, his tone leaving no room for argument. the sight of you standing there, bare except for the glittering gems, leaves him utterly speechless. and then he’ll step closer, eyes trailing over the diamonds on your neck before his hands wander elsewhere.

sometimes, when he’s feeling particularly indulgent, bruce will forgo sleep altogether just to spend the night making love with you.

he’s a perfectionist in every aspect of his life, including the bedroom. he’s meticulous about learning what makes you tick, and takes immense pride in knowing your body better than you do. precisely which spots make you gasp, which areas make you arch your back. steady and precise, he’s always tuning in to your reactions. he doesn’t rush, taking his time to explore, kiss, and touch in a way that makes you feel completely cared for.

he can go for hours, but he’s patient, too. enjoying the process as much as the end result—taking his time to kiss, to touch, to indulge in every inch of your body.

bruce is insatiable, but he’s also deeply considerate. though he’s always hungry for you, there’s never a moment where he isn’t attuned to your needs, making sure you’re enjoying yourself, always ready to slow down or adjust if you need him to.

loves leaving marks on your body, but he’s careful about where—always hidden, tiny traces of his presence on your skin that only he gets to see.

still, when he notices you wince as you shift in your seat, he puts on a somewhat sheepish expression, offering a murmured, “sorry about that.” but you can see the faint smirk gracing his lips, the flicker of pride in his eyes. it’s all a front—he’s anything but apologetic.

he watches you drift off in his arms, your breathing steady and soft, the rise and fall of your chest lulling him into a rare moment of peace. his lips brush against your bare shoulder, the small gesture as fleeting as the thought that follows—he doesn’t deserve you—but he’s selfish enough to keep you anyway.

tagging — @suumaer

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ilianasbruce · 1 month ago

Text

“Something in the air.”

word count: 5,400

summary: it was either an illness or love in the air — and maybe both in your husband.

warning: +18 content with a plot. minors do not interact, please.

notes: well, hello, hello!!! ♡ i’m back with a piece that I hope i could contribute to Bruce’s early husband years with a little bit of adventures of his. i’ve been re-watching Batman: Caped Crusader (2024) since yesterday and maybe, maybe, i’d write my next piece based on the series. don’t know, but thank you so much for you support!!! see ya’, guys later!!! ♡♡ if you’ve any prompts or ideas, please be my guest and come to my ask-aways!! ♡ ♡

“What are you doing?”

You murmured as you pressed your cheek to his upper back, arms circling his waist. He had been busy for the whole day in the cave, working on a case about nauseous people in Gotham for the last two weeks. Few people got infected with some cells from the air during Christmas Eve at first, with bizarre symptoms and with the incredibly petrifying results. Then, suddenly it spread like a wildfire and the pus-covered bodies and yellow-like skin color on the poor people of Gotham started to multiply day by day. There was no indicator of what or who had caused that but Bruce couldn't let his city suffer like that.

“Working.” he muttered as his contemplative blue eyes stayed on the screen of Batcomputer. “Why are you still awake?” he continued.

“Wanted to see you.” you retorted with a small sigh through your lips. It had been a few times during the day that you’d seen him throughout the whole two weeks.

It was either a morning kiss before he left the warm bed of yours or an afternoon glimpse bypassing each other or a whisper of his ‘Go to sleep.’ when you were trying to stay awake to see him a little bit of time. Nothing more than those.

You and Alfred were trying to have an effect on the process — his day and night working schedule since the infection had started. Keep him at least sleeping or eating since Bruce was too concentrated on his city to think or care about. Poor Gordon was sending his Bat-Signal for him to appear as much as he could. Constant patrolling and the first week of investigation led Batman to be busy with the enigma about the cells that caused the sickness all over Gotham.

He was constantly telling you not to come down the cave. The main reason was that he did not want you to catch something from him. Maybe some amount of partitions would be on his suit and he couldn't risk it. As a man of science, before he slipped into bed, Bruce had to take a double shower — with water and alcohol to prevent any cell. Thus, he was taking extra caution for you.

“I told you not to come down here.” he said matter-of-factly.

“I missed you.”

He smirked but not out of amusement. “I’m at home all the time.”

That husband of yours had a habit of accepting that being at home meant you shouldn't miss him. You huffed, still pressing your cheek to his black shirt. “That isn’t a reason for not missing you.”

His eyes found the curved numbers of the clock on the screen. “I’ll be in bed after a few hours. Go to bed.”

Liar.

Alfred had to drag him to bed every single night — technically every morning. Since Bruce was prohibiting you from coming to see him, you were always bound to sleep the night without him. And Alfred was good at his job, with years of experience in knowing his son to take the reins into his hands. You’d usually find Bruce’s form nuzzling you as he slept when you woke up.

You wished you could stay in the cave but you knew better. You reluctantly kissed the part you pressed your cheek on and unwrapped your arms from him. He could’ve sensed your distaste (as he always did when you were upset), turned his head to you.

“I’ll see you later, sweetheart.”

“Alright.”

But before you moved, he grabbed your hand to pull you to him. He placed one hand on your waist, the other palm on your neck as he pulled you in for a kiss. He kissed you lovingly, in a way of saying he meant his words.

He would see you later truthfully.

A few seconds of kissing you ended up with his “Go to bed, baby.” murmur. You nodded your head, marked by his lips, and unwillingly left the cave for your room. You knew his responsibilities and you supported him no matter what, but when Gotham had him more than you did, as if he belonged to her, (not to you) it upset you. She had all of his mind and body as if he was not a human being. That was what worried you also.

The next few weeks passed in chaos. Gotham was inflicted. Even the criminals were infected with to do something, thus the crime rate was significantly below. Nevertheless, the city was a nest of pus-covered illness. You did see them on TV or when you had permission to be in the cave for fifteen minutes. You were horrified as well as the whole of Gotham. It was obvious that this was planned by whoever released them into the city, but Bruce had other thoughts about that.

The freezing January days weren’t helping, either — not to the city or Batman. The heavy snow-covered streets of the city and on some days snowstorms had you apprehensive and tense about Bruce. Alfred made sure to feed him with the nutritional foods to keep him intact as he promised but you were scared.

“Come to bed early.” you, on one night, said to him. He was searching for an article on the Batcomputer.

“I can't.” he said, his focus on the screen.

“I am scared that you’ll catch the disease. Either the infection or the cold.” you reasoned. He did not make any remark on your words.

“I am scared, Bruce.”

And your fears became true, unfortunately. Well, he just caught a cold but still; it made you apprehensive. You were trying to keep him in bed at least for a few more hours after his usual short sleep schedule, but to no avail. He was just headstrong about the situation of Gotham, running to the cave as soon as he was awake. That led to an argument between you. You two quarreled and he gave you a cold shoulder from then on.

Bruce had a habit of staying silent instead of arguing with you. He knew his potential — knew his quarrels with Alfred and how he sometimes left him speechless with his harshness. And he knew all too well to shut his mouth before saying any word to you. He loved you and he wasn’t stupid enough to hurt you.

As you were irritated with him, he just gave you a nonchalant stare and then continued with his daily sickness-covered activities. No lie, you were annoyed with his action but you did not push more, because you loved him, too. It was almost a terrible month in Gotham that left everything in chaos, including your home.

You were watching him as much as you could, sometimes waking up earlier than him to see his condition. The first few days of his cold-catching passed with a light fever but he was good. Then, it affected his throat. He did not have a fever anymore — after one week of his sickness — but his throat was sore. Other than that his immune system response was expectedly good. You’d sleep in your bed naturally, even though he was sick. It was your anger that compelled him to the bed of yours, because you couldn't let him get out of your sight. You did not care about catching a cold, you didn’t want to play by his rules anymore.

You needed to switch on the bedside lamp, since the curtains were drawn every night, lighting up the room. He was sometimes disheveled in his slumber, sometimes comfortable; it was different every morning. You’d press your warm hand to his forehead to see if he had an extra warmth. When you were sure that he was good, you’d switch off the light and cuddle him until he woke up. It did not matter that he was still quiet with you, you still missed your husband. He was probably being quiet for not to push your worries about Gotham and Batman up and keep you safe until everything was promising. After everything was normal again, he’d gladly come back to you with his zeal.

You’d sleepily count the mintues, knew the exact time when he woke up before leaving the bed in silence. Sometimes, he’d catch your sleep-filled but longing eyes, looking up at him from your pillow. He’d keep his composure, grab his robe, and head to the bathroom while you'd watch his form. Sometimes, you were asleep after counting the minutes, unaware of his lips on your temple — a softest kiss — and him leaving the bed. You’d wake up to the empty bed. Either way, you were counting the days of the misery to end.

Well, it did end on the earliest week of February. A few days ago before January ended, you were informed by the news that the city was safe to leave the Manor. You were stunned by the things you heard from Alfred but you could finally breathe in peace.

Three of you.

None of you were allowed to leave the Manor — it was decided by Bruce after the early weeks of infection. Only on the vital conditions Alfred or Bruce himself was the exception — for grocery shopping, for instance. You knew every point and curve of the Manor now, after wandering its halls.

The chaos must have ceased completely so that you were now allowed to leave the Manor. You were elated by the news, but you would be more elated if you saw your husband.

“Where is he then?” you asked Alfred, as you followed him. “Master Bruce has left for a few hours to check the city, madam. Would you like some tea?”

That husband of yours.

That night you tried to stay awake in your bed because you were withered without him. Almost one and a half month passed in the dreadful slowness; the foolish tension between you and him addition to that. You missed your Bruce overly.

Unfortunately, your usual bedtime hour and warm quilts were enough to put you to sleep before Bruce came. The last thing you remembered was that your eyelids were heavy under the dim light of your bedside lamp.

When you woke up the next morning, your bed was empty again. He must have woken early as his habit. You left your bed with great excitement to see your husband after all the days and tension. You were sure that he was in the cave or a little chance of eating breakfast in the dining room (he usually ate with you there or he ate in the cave alone). But when you heard the news that he left for Wayne Tech, you were disappointed.

Truly.

Alfred saw the expression on you and he was dissatisfied with the scene, too. He tried to lighten your mood, but to no avail. Your zeal was smudged. You spent the day in the Manor, reading or playing chess against yourself, counting the hours until he would be at home. You did not just miss him, that was not the whole reason why you were disappointed, but you were also worried about his health. He was still sick with a sore throat and he was refusing you to give you a word about his health for the past weeks after the quarrel. Just the small words of “I’m fine.” or “I can handle that.” were on his lips and a nonchalant look was in his eyes. You did not know what was going on in his head, but you did not like it.

So, when you woke up from the nap you took on the sofa in the reading room, your feet took you to the kitchen. Your mind was still filled with sleep as you walked through the corridors. But you walked into the scene of Bruce’s back towards you as he listened to Alfred. He must have sensed your presence so he looked back at you from his shoulder, his blue eyes finding yours.

You two stared at each other for a few seconds, before he turned his attention to Alfred. And you… well, you were silent when you walked to one of the chairs.

“Oh, I see you’re awake, madam. Would you like to eat dinner?”

Alfred was always kind to acknowledge you and your daily routine — and the tension between you and Bruce.

“No, Alfred, thank you.” you answered in a quiet tone of voice but your eyes stared daggers at Bruce as you were sitting. He seemed to be aware of your gaze, but he did not cast you a single glance. You were now both irritated and hurt by his act, unaware of his reason. A few minutes of Alfred’s dialogue about something trivial for you and the sound of a dish clinking, Bruce finally murmured something in return to him. Then added a “I’ll be at the cave.” as he turned to leave.

A silence took over the kitchen, except for the sound of the plates. You knew exactly why he was speaking in a low tone since his voice was altered slightly by his throat. Oh, you knew you should go and make a hell out of his ridiculous sore throat, but you knew better. You just gave Alfred a knowing stare of your anger and he immediately nodded.

“Do not worry, madam. We are making progress on that.”

A few days later, Alfred really did make progress on Bruce’s damaged throat but the tension between you two was still piercing. You were either seeing each other in the silent and glacial February mornings — two of you still under the quilts, catching each other’s eyes blurred by sleep. But before you made a motion, he was already leaving the bed. That would leave you quiet through the whole day around him. You did not understand why he was still doing that; the damned city was almost cured after the infection, and it was absurd that he was still giving you a headache. So, he kept being quiet and you kept being quiet, too. It continued until the earliest hours of one morning after a few days.

You woke up to the darkness of your shared bedroom. It was too dark, both from the winter season and Alfred’s curtain-drawing habit. It must be early, you thought because you were still sleepy and nuzzled to your pillow. However, you were not the only one who was nuzzled.

You felt Bruce’s sturdy body pressed against yours from behind as he slept in peace. His arms were on either side of your body, his face against your temple. He was asleep, you could tell from his steady breathing and softest snores, on you. You sighed at the sensation of the moment, savoring the sweetness of it because you did miss him and your mornings together. You tried to prolong the feeling, bask in the feeling of him. Who would know when you’d gone back to your normal days again? But the warmth of his body was too much for you at the moment, scorching you under the quilts you two shared which was the reason why you were awake in the first place.

You tried to get some space from his body, at least some air to hit your skin. But it was futile. He was holding you as if you could be a dream, wrapped around you with his arms and legs that were tangled up with you. You were drowsy already; unable to have the power to gain some space. Yet, you tried to do something under him.

“What are you doing?” he muttered sleepily. Before waking him up or maybe he was slightly awake, you never knew, you attempted to unwrap him from yourself. It was unsuccessful. You tried to utter something before he tightened his arms around you.

“It is too warm..” you murmured to your pillow. He kissed your temple before saying anything. “Is it?” he breathed out to your skin. Then he drew a few warm kisses on your skin, from your temple to your left cheek, your jaw, and the skin of your throat before pressing his nose to your neck. He stayed there for a few minutes, breathing your scent.

“Bruce,” you sighed in need of some fresh air on your skin.

“Hm?”

“You are so warm.” you said. “You are, too.” he replied with a yawn. You smiled sheepishly on your pillow.

“I did not mean that way.” you retorted. But you understood he knew what you meant since he sighed as he let you go. He loosened his arms around you and lay on his back, one arm still on your waist. You sighed in pleasure as you finally found some air after his resignation, whispering a ‘thank you.’ to the dark covered room.

You two stayed quiet for a long period of time. You thought he was asleep again since he was breathing steadily as he did when he slept peacefully. You were saddened by the thought since you thought you had his attention again. But it was silent again. You did not blame him since he needed sleep and rest. Thus, you turned to his side and did what you always did — pressed your face against his shoulder. But to your wonder, you found him tightening his arm around your waist.

“Hi,” you murmured barely. He got his face closer to yours before kissing your hair.

“Hi.” he whispered back. Your hand went up to his face, trying to find his cheek in the dark. But it instead found his messy hair. You dived your fingers through them, started to slightly playing with them. You two were quiet for a few minutes before you spoke.

“Why are you awake?” you murmured to the darkness and his warm skin. “Why are you awake?” he muttered back.

“Couldn’t sleep.” you said in honesty. His earliest morning — hell, you did not even know if it was morning or still night. You just woke up to the suffocating warmth of his body. — nuzzling made you miss your usual, sweet Bruce in your sleep-blurred mind and heart. He just hummed to your words.

You did not know what to speak about and your fingers were curling the lock of his hair, causing your eyes to close. But Bruce must have sensed that he took your hand into his and started to kiss your fingers. That made you puzzled but you knew what his motives were in the next mintues.

“I missed you,” he muttered to your knuckles. You murmured back without any hesitation. “I missed you, too.”

That must encourage him well enough to let your hand go on his shoulder and incline you back against the sheets. When his lips found yours in a sweet kiss, you were so glad that he was not asleep.

You two kissed for quite a while — some of them left you breathless, some of them were light with his hand on your bare thighs. You pulled him by his hair to your lips again and again, sighing in pleasure on his lips. He had made your wishes true by kissing you more to the point you were drunk on him.

When he pressed his lazy kisses to your cheeks or your jaw next while his fingers played with the waistband of your panties, you were quiet. The only sounds heard by you two were his lips on your skin or the soft ruffling of the sheets. Bruce made sure to wake you up more with his soft bites on your throat, which made you tug his dark hair between your fingers to the back to halt his teeth. That made him laugh with a ‘Too much?’ of his baritone, morning (or whatever time of the night) voice.

He kissed the skin where he bit and came back to your lips. “Do you want to take the lead?” he asked you. You answered him with your kisses. You had missed him dearly and you did not even hesitate when the words left his lips. Your kisses were rushed and needy compared to his. You kissed him as much as you wanted which led you to feel his action of altering the position of yours.

You found yourself on him, him on his back and your face hovering over his with your hips in his hands. You couldn't see his gorgeous blue eyes until his hand suddenly went from your hip to the bedside lamp. The sudden flicker of light made you close your eyes and then open them with a few flutters of your lashes. When your eyes adjusted to the light with your creased brows, you saw his face finally. He was looking up at you with his exhausted but focused gaze. When he realized that you adjusted to the light, he gave you a small curve of a smile and a whisper of “Something got your tongue?”.

You stared at him for a few seconds before your eyes found the digital alarm clock. It was 04:13. It all made sense why you were tired when you woke up. When your eyes found his again, he wasn't smiling anymore but gazing up at you in an unreadable expression (he was actually adoring you but you were dazzled to notice it).

“Do you want me to take over?” he asked you. You shook your head as a ‘no’ and leaned on to kiss him. God, why was he inclined to the idea of having sex as soon as he woke up, you never knew. But the fact that it was the first thing he had in his mind in the darkness was enough for you.

As you kissed him with idleness and neediness, one of his hands found your soft things, covered with your cotton, white panties. He grazed his fingertips on your skin with great pleasure, slightly guiding them to open for his next move as you were breathless from kissing him. His other hand was already in your hair, his fingers threading through it. You broke the kiss with a soft moan when he pressed you to his bulge — he pulled you back to his lips through your hair, causing you to melt into him. But it was slightly challenging when he was hard and you were sensitive in your morning body.

You did not wish to stop kissing him, but you were weakly balancing yourself in his arms. You sighed in pleasure as you withdrew your kisses. He looked into your eyes with a hazy look, questioning you silently.

“I want to kiss you but,” you told him in a complaining tone, not even finishing your sentence. That earned you a smile on his handsome face. “Can't be in the position?” he asked you as he pulled you slightly to himself.

“Yes.”

He kissed you one more time and then, he whispered. “Let me, baby.” he said as he pushed his body with his elbows to the headboard with you on him. He fixed his part, got himself in a sitting position as you ended up straddling him. He pulled you back to his lips with a “Good enough?”.

You answered him by kissing him as your hands found his shoulders. You two made out until it was breathless for you. He broke the fervent kisses of yours by slipping his fingers through your panties, earning a soft moan from you. He pecked your lips with his words.

“Will you-”

“No,” you answered him, interrupting him quietly. “I just want you.”

He was not expecting that honestly, and after your yearning, he did not have any other question. When you started to catch his lips again, you let him slip your panties from your legs, letting them fall on the floor. Then your camisole afterwards followed by his deft fingers, leaving your bare chest for his eyes. In exchange, you let your fingers free his throbbing cock from his boxers. When Bruce had you where you two wanted to be, he helped you to straddle his hips to take him fully.

You gripped his shoulders when you started to take him. But without a good stretch, it took some time for you. Your soft moans were against Bruce’s mouth as he kissed you while you had him to yourself.

“Shit,” he muttered to your lips when you took him fully, your viscous walls wrapping him utterly. You just pressed your face to his throat at the feeling, the rich thickness of his cock. He kissed your hair before muttering to you.

“Are you alright, baby?”

“Mhm.” you hummed. He dipped his face close to your ear while his hands found your thighs.

“Yeah?” he kissed the sweet spot below your ear. “Do you want me to help?” he went on with his words. You just shook your head as a ‘yes’, pressing your cheek to the crook of his neck. He muttered an ‘Okay.’ and helped you to move. The first few thrusts were overwhelming and left you with moans and creased brows against his skin. But his groan against your ear and words of desperation eased the whole process.

“Fuck, can we do this until morning?”

Oh, when you got used to his thickness in you? It felt so good. So sweet, perfect, and left you yearning for more. As if you were made just right for him as he was made for you.

When it started to feel good enough, you withdrew your face from the curve of his neck. He caught your lips immediately. But it was not easy to kiss when you were almost breathless with soft moans against him. His hands were gripping your thighs slightly as you rode him. It could be easy if you let him stretch you out first, but you missed him so much that you wanted only him.

Bruce could see the clumsy attempts of you and he nuzzled to your face before speaking. “Do you want me to take over?”

You nodded at him with your sweet “Yes, p-please.”

He kissed your lips briefly, then helped you to take him out of your cunt. You sighed at the emptiness in disappointment, but as soon as you lay down, he was on you in seconds. But before he slipped where he belonged, he opened the drawer of bedstand. He took the usual condom packet out of it, then opened it hastily for not to waste any time.

“I don't want to come out of you,” he told you before capturing your lips when he was between your thighs. When he entered you again, the feeling was so sweet for both of you. He hooked your legs around his waist and your hands were around his neck, started to thrust your scorching pussy. She was wrapped around him too perfectly that his thick brows were creased in pleasure.

“Damn,” he muttered against your lips. “It had been one fucking month since I touched you.”

It really had been and you had no idea how he was pent up. That was the reason why he was throbbing just by kissing you and your warm body against his. Bruce started with his usual steady and gentle pace for not to overwhelm you. Then, he found his pace slightly faster.

You were a breathtaking mess under him. Your hair was slightly messy, cheeks flushed by your earlier position, and your eyes were closed, preventing Bruce from seeing your gorgeous eyes as he thrust into you. He was too good at fucking you so right. Never missing any spot, any angle you wanted to see the stars. Just against your expensive sheets, under the quilts in the slightly dim bedroom.

He was balancing his body with his elbows on either side of your ribs, one hand on your hip and the other under your pillow, caging you in. You were always touch-starved of each other and you managed to fix the issue during the sex. That was the reason why you were always wishing to stay close to each other.

You felt Bruce’s wet kisses on your neck, nestling after every thrust he gave to you. He had missed you very much, as much as you missed him. After that tension and the case in Gotham had him starved for you and your pussy. He pressed and sucked whatever skin he could reach on your bare shoulders or chest, with the equal pleasure he was having from your tight walls around his cock.

He fucked you so perfectly at the five in the morning — as if either of you cared the hour, hitting every single spot with an effortless skill.

When you told him with broken sentence that it was too much for you, his hand on your hip went to your clit for the stimulate you. Oh, it felt too overwhelming for you that you couldn't fully remember where you let go and see the stars. But after your first-ever climax, you thought he could be coming, too. But, no.

Bruce continued with his thrusts, solemnly focused on you. He did not care about starting all over and getting you to the finishing point one more time. A few more fervent kisses, and his sped up pace made your toes curl again. Your forehead was against his neck, nails digging into his skin on the back of his shoulders as he dived into you again and again, until you called him with a broken voice.

He kissed your ear before having you finish again. You were so relished in the feeling of your orgasm and he saw it with his bare, hazy eyes. The delight on your face was the reason he tried to try something again but he couldn't do it anymore. He was already holding himself back with great effort since the beginning. You just remembered from your heavy-lidded gaze that he came with gritted teeth between your arms.

You two were breathless, gasping from the pressure and sweetness. You just held him right in your arms, while he was nuzzling your neck. For a long time, you stayed like that, catching your breath. You were playing with his dark, sweaty locks curled on the ends of his neck while he was snuggled to you.

He kissed your neck before raising his head and looking at you with his yearning eyes. “I missed you.” he muttered to your lips before stealing a kiss from you. Then, pressed his forehead against yours with his closed eyes.

“Missed you more.” you murmured back. You wanted to guide him to sleep. But he did not want to sleep; not for now. He sweetly caught your lips in a kiss, hovering over you again. He kissed you until you pushed him slightly to breathe. He smiled down at you sheepishly, his blue eyes filled with a lovely glint.

“Your throat,” you muttered to him the words that had been running through your head for day and night. “How is it?” you asked more.

Your flustered cheeks and worry in your eyes made him laugh. He leaned on to kiss your cheek or the skin of your face as he resumed his genuine delight.

“Baby, we just,” he murmured to your cheek, “We just had sex and I thought we could have it again, but you are worried about my throat?”

He saw your furrowed brows and stopped laughing. “I am good,” he said truthfully, with a kiss on your temple. “I’ve said that to you earlier.”

But you both knew he was just telling a white lie earlier. Well, it was your turn to create a fuss to make him learn but he pressed an apology to your lips. “I’m sorry. I won’t let it happen again.”

“You worried me-”

“I’m sorry, baby, so sorry.” he pressed another kiss to intoxicate you with him. “Won’t do it again.”

Truthfully, Bruce was not good with vulnerability or apologizing. Maybe he could be good, if he wasn't stabbed in the back in his younger years for letting his guard down, or gave his care unconditionally. But, you weren’t a renegade to him and it still struggled him to realize that. So, when you looked at him with a pang in your eyes to tell him he did no good, he only did what he was good at.

Loving you with his lips and body.

He sealed your lips with his needy kisses, getting you drunk on him as he was between your thighs. Because he couldn't handle the thought of wounding you or letting you down when you were the rarest thing in his hands. Thus, when he had your attention again, you just let him.

thank you so much for reading! ♡

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x reader smut #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne smut #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x batmom #batman x reader #batman x reader smut #batman x you #batman smut #batman x batmom #batman and batmom as newlyweds!!!#bruce wayne x fem!reader #batman x fem!reader

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ahqkas · 7 months ago

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“MILLION DOLLAR MAN — bruce wayne.

PAIRING! bruce wayne 𝒙 fem!reader SYNOPSIS! bruce met you through a dating app (his sons’ doing, really) and the temptation to invite you over for christmas is getting harder to resist WORD COUNT! 3.6k WARNINGS / TAGS! fluff, bruce is literally down bad for reader in this one, unedited + lmk if found! NOTES! for nat & based on this req. , header bellow belongs to @/v6que © ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

BRUCE WAYNE AVOIDED RELATIONSHIPS LIKE A SOLDIER DODGING BULLETS, each attempt adding yet another layer to the armor he wore daily. He didn’t need them, the women, or so he told himself. They entered his life easily — at his own charity galas, where one pretty bird thought she could get a kiss from him by the end of the night. Female admirers who ate up his charming smiles and sharp eyes seemed to flock around him at all times. And those countless girls who were lured in by the Wayne name, the status, the wealth.

And Bruce gave them the attention they craved from him.

The women served their purpose as brief districtions, companions who helped him maintain his public image, but none of them really mattered to him.

They kept the colder side of his bed warm, but never his heart.

It wasn’t that Bruce didn’t want love — some part of him did, but that part was buried under the weight of Batman. Allowing himself to lose the walls around him and find an attachment in a woman wasn't something his alter ego was okay with, not with the way he’d been living. And another part convinced him that his duties as Gotham’s protector, with all his scars and wounds, didn’t make him a possible object for such things. Love and vigilantism didn’t mingle together well.

Maybe that’s why his own sons and personal butler teamed up on him. Batman was a hero to many, but with how much it damaged Bruce’s internal beliefs, it would ruin him soon enough.

It started as something innocent (but it seemed the wolf was clothed in sheep’s wool): Dick, his oldest, had teased him about his non-existent love life during a training session in the Batcave.

The large space was full with flickering lights coming from the monitors and grunts from the fighting men. Sweat filled the air, masculine and strong, but that only indicated to the hard work they were doing. Training wasn’t easy, they liked to train with the maximum intensity ( it was kinda needed, too ) and it showed. From their damp hair and glistening skin to the rippling muscles underneath their clothes.

“You know, Bruce,” his son started when he blocked yet another strike coming from the man in question. A puff of air left his mouth upon the attack. Not fair. “for someone who spends his nights saving people, you sure are terrible at saving yourself from eternal loneliness.”

Bruce delivered another jab, this one directed straight at Dick’s weak point. “Not now, Dick.”

But his son was nothing if not persistent and he always got what he wanted, whether it was with or without serious consequences. “I’m serious. When was the last time you went on a date? And don’t try to tell me you had one on your arm during the last charity event. That doesn’t count.”

Both of them fully knew Bruce’s arm candies were way more interested in his name and money than in his heart and soul. The truth made his jaw muscles tighten at the realization.

“My personal life is irrelevant to my work.”

Dick took the opportunity and circled the older man like a predator catching the prey’s scent of blood. A sweet weakness, that one. He’d be stupid if he didn’t take the chance. “Is it though? I mean, sure, you’re great at taking down supervillains and brooding on top of high rooftops, but even Batman needs a little action sometimes. The different kind of action, of course. Or are you planning to spend the rest of your life married to the job?”

Bruce swiped his right leg toward Dick’s shins, trying to take him down like he was the said supervillain but the acrobat jumped right on time, avoiding Bruce’s attempt with a grin on his face.

He landed on his feet and crossed his arms at his chest, leaning the weight of his body against one leg. The playfulness disappeared from both his voice and expression and instead, seriousness graced him whole. “Seriously, Bruce, even Alfred’s worried. He brought it up the other day while we were decorating the tree. Something about how the manor feels colder than usual this year.”

“The heating system is fine.”

With Jason gone, it was the truth. His second son had this strange relationship with all the members of the family. Off and on. Off and on. No one truly knew where they stood in Jason’s eyes but he made the effort and showed up on Christmas Eve the other year upon receiving Alfred’s invitation.

Bruce doubted he would show up two years in a row.

“That’s not what he meant, and you know it,” Dick pressed, and effectively added more salt into Bruce’s wounds. It stung and it fucking hurt. As much as Batman was ruthless, it didn’t mean the man under the mask was resistant against the pain his life brought. “You’re not getting any younger, B. It wouldn’t kill you to let someone in. And I don’t mean us. Try to meet someone who isn’t friendly with a criminal record.”

The older man could only stare helplessly at the other. Those words his son, partner, spoke were loud, crawling their way into his mind and much to his dismay, his heart as well.

Before he could voice his dismissal, a younger voice called out. It was familiar in a way family tended to be.

“You are wasting your breath, Grayson. Father has neither the time nor the inclination to entertain your nonsense,” his youngest son declared into the space of Batcave, his voice ringing out and echoing every single word. The blood son, Damian Wayne.

The father didn’t even flinch, just let out a deep sigh through his nose. It was as usual between those two, always bickering from Damian’s side and teasing remarks from Dick’s. You could mistake the blood running through their system as one, if not for the physical differences. They were brothers in all but red.

“Damian,” Dick started in that lecturing tone he’d always seemed to use with the younger boy, “when was the last time you saw Bruce here even try to have a social life?”

Damian rolled his eyes, the green disappearing behind his eyelids before they reappeared, rougher than they were. “The so called ‘social life’ you’re referring to consists of women who barely last through dinner. Why would he waste his energy on distractions when Gotham requires his full attention?”

“Because even Batman needs a break. You know, normal human things? Like dating, smiling, not dying alone in this cave surrounded by bats?”

“If Father is content with his choices, who are you to meddle? Unlike you, he does not require constant companionship to validate his existence.”

“Ouch,” Dick put his palm against his heart in a mocking manner, feigning hurt as his lips formed a pout. “You’ve got a real gift for the Christmas spirit, don’t you?”

The younger son narrowed his eyes at his supposed brother. The constant bickering was almost normal in their lives so far, and nothing seemed to be changing any time soon. He had to learn how to live with the excuse of a brother, although he started to form a light liking towards him. He wasn’t so bad. “I only speak the truth,” his green irises flicked to Bruce. “Though it is peculiar he tolerates your interference. Perhaps even Father has realized how pathetic his current romantic life—or lack thereof—appears.”

The object of the conversation let out another sigh, this one loud enough for the boys to hear. Their gazes snapped toward Bruce with accusingly great speed.

“If you two are done debating my personal life, there’s actual work to be done.”

He missed the glance his oldest threw at the youngest. He missed the look filled with amusement and a plan that was already brewing. He missed the nod they gave each other, although Dick’s was more pronounced and determined.

The next few hours were spent creating Bruce’s dating app profile.

The final result was the definition of real sugar daddy vibes. Every detail had been debated (mostly argued over though) and thought through, so to say the boys were satisfied with it was an understatement. The oldest prided in the work, saying how it would get so many women to reply which would eventually lead to the right one. The middle one Dick and Damian (only Dick) dragged into the activity beamed up once the profile was set while the youngest scoffed and scowled during the entire process.

During the next evening, the boys showed the main man his new account.

Bruce was left speechless upon seeing the bright screen flash before his eyes. Not a single word was muttered as he watched his boys showing him the app and explaining how exactly it worked (he’d never used a dating app before all this so bear with him). The main photo on the profile was a candid one of him, the one Cass had taken on a sunny day in the Wayne Manor gardern. He was dressed in a crisp white shirt, the long sleeves rolled up past his elbows as the muscles of his forearms bulged up. The faintest smile tugged at the corner of his lips, the sunlight casting shadows across his sharp features and Bruce had to admit they chose a good photo.

It wasn’t intimidating, but it wasn’t exactly friendly as well. The good old middle.

The boys knew he was convinced to give it a try when he waved them off with a deep sigh slipping past his lips.

The game was on.

It was past the midnight when he lied in his bed, propped against one too many pillows and wondered why he was still scrolling through the damned dating app. It was late—far past the time he should have been out on patrol, but Red Hood and Red Robin got it covered for him.

Bruce wasn’t looking for anything specific, really. If he were honest, this whole situation felt out of place for him. Swiping through the profiles was more like an exercise for his thumb.

First was Madison K. Her profile opened with flashy colors that immediately put Bruce into a doubtful situation. Were all these women going to be like this? Madison was beautiful and her looks screamed professionalism: her makeup was done flawlessly, adorning her bright eyes and full lips. She looked like she belonged on a cover for a fashion magazine, not a dating app. Her bio made his thumb swipe left.

‘Manifesting my best life. CEO of my own happiness. Looking for someone who’s successful, ambitious, and knows how to treat me like a queen.’

The next account’s bio made him grimace and swipe left once again.

‘Looking for someone who can keep me living the dream. If you’re successful, generous, and ready to spoil me, let’s talk.”

At this point, Bruce was ready to delete the dating app his boys set up and enjoy the rest of his night. Most of the profiles he swiped through were simply bland to him. Nothing felt genuine. Right. It was safe to say he was losing the hope Dick had set in him earlier in the evening. Until he stumbled upon your profile.

The account stood out among the others—simple, elegant, but with a certain amount of warmth that seemed genuine. Bruce’s heart skipped a beat once he scrolled further and came across your photo. The picture showed you in a cozy cafe, the one Steph adored so much for their cinnamon roll buns. A soft smile danced on your pretty face, highlighting the curve of your cheeks as you looked off to the side. You captured Bruce in a way the others didn’t.

You looked like a fawn surrounded by hungry wolves. You were admirable while they were craving wealth and status. Two different sides of a coin, but Bruce had already known his pick.

Your bio was sincere, a sight the man liked to see.

‘I enjoy the little moments — finding beauty in the simple things. I believe in kindness, and I’m looking for someone who values honesty and a deep conversation.’

His mind flicked briefly toward the countless hours he spends in the cave, surrounded by work and worries. You seemed like the one who could understand the balance between the quiet and the loud, someone who could exist in both of his worlds without losing that spark you held in your gaze.

Before he could overthink it, Bruce clicked on the “message” button.

Once the screen of your non-existent chat appeared, his mind went blank and all he was capable of was to stare mindlessly at the phone. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, but no words came to him. What did one say to someone like you? He wasn’t used to thinking ahead when it came to women. This was a new field. And he couldn’t screw up.

Finally, his fingers moved before his mind could think of whatever embarrassing thing it was capable of.

> Hey, I noticed your profile and wanted to reach out. There’s something about your words that struck a chord with me. I’d like to know more about you.

And that’s how the two of you started your relationship, or whatever you could call it. Neither of you voiced it as official, but that was okay. He hadn’t expected to feel this way, not so soon. And yet it came at him, crashing like a large wave of emotions every time you were around. You changed everything for him.

Your conversations became the highlight of his days.

His ears perked up every single time without a fail when he heard the soft ‘ping!’ of the notification, already convinced it was from you (and it 98 percent was). Whether it was early in the morning before he started working in the chaotic Wayne Enterprises or late at night when the Batcave was quiet and felt at peace. You were always there with him.

You were thoughtful, generous, and refreshingly kind. You asked him questions that no one else dared to: what he wanted from life, what made him happy, what kept him awake at night. You didn’t flinch at his silence. You didn’t push him to give answers he wasn’t ready to share. You understood him in a way only a few people did.

Piece by piece, he let you into his world — not that part filled with constant danger and threats, but that part that longed for something real.

By the time Christmas approached, Bruce was sure of one thing: he wanted you in his life.

The holiday was just around the corner, filling the air with joy and gratitude as it always did. The snow was blanketing the streets with white powder, and although many people were complaining about the cold, it had its charm.

Christmas had always been about family for Bruce, about gathering around the tree and full table with the people who mattered most. It was lonely at first, after the death of his parents, but over the years, Alfred had made it work. The table was always full of tasty food the kids adored and presents Bruce knew would make them more than happy were neatly waiting for them every morning after Christmas Eve.

This year though, Bruce wanted it to be a little different. He wanted you to be part of it.

You might actually fit into the chaos of the Wayne family — the teasing and playful banters between you, Dick, and Tim would be absolute gold to hear. You probably even could handle Damian’s wit which was something his father would like to see. He could picture you smiling, holding back your own remarks. The idea of you sitting beside him at the long dining table, sharing their traditions, made his chest feel warm in a way he wasn’t used to.

That night, he sent you a message.

> Are you free on Christmas Eve?

Your response came in quickly, as it always did. Bruce’s heart thumped against the bones of his ribs.

> I am. Why?

He hesitated for a bit, overthinking his decision.

> I’d like you to join me for dinner. It’s a family thing but I’d really like for you to be there.

> Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude.

> You wouldn’t be intruding.

Bruce could picture the light frown between your brows and a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. You often did it unconsciously, never knowing how pretty you looked this way. But even as he pictured your face, a part of him was growing more nervous about the situation. Would you agree to an event this serious? Spend Christmas with him. And his family. Or were you coming up with excuses right now? He wouldn’t blame you.

> Then I’d love to come.

His heart skipped a beat and that night, Bruce went to bed feeling a little lighter than he usually did.

Snow blanketed the long driveway leading up to Wayne Manor and for once, Bruce wasn’t thinking about the pressure of Batman or the chaos the boys would definitely stir up tonight. His attention was entirely focused on the one making your way towards him. He stood just outside the grand entrance, dressed in a dark, perfectly tailored suit that fit him like a glove. The soft crunch of tires on the white powder alerted him to your arrival, and as your car pulled up, Bruce started to feel the nervousness. He adjusted his tie with a single hand.

When you stepped out, his breath caught.

You were breathtakingly beautiful. Dressed in an inky black that hugged your figure in all the right places, the fabric shimmered under the outdoor lights of the mansion. The smile you gave him when your eyes met melted all the nerves that had been harboring in his system. He was finally calm and composed, for what seemed like the first time in the evening.

“You’re early,” Bruce pointed out softly when you walked up the stairs to meet him in front of the door, and his eyes sparkled with little stars at the sight of you. How did he get so lucky? “You look stunning, by the way.”

“I didn’t want to keep you waiting. And thank you. You clean up well, too, Bruce.”

Your gaze held a playful edge in it as you accepted his hand, locking your palm around his bulging biceps and squeezing warmly. The touch added the missing piece of the puzzle Bruce was trying to solve while his cheeks warmed a rosy pink under your influence without any hesitation. The gesture felt natural, like it always belonged there.

The two of you approached the doors of the manor in a shared silence, although it didn’t feel a bit awkward. You took a moment to take in the place. It was like something out of your childhood dreams — tall, arched windows glowing with the soft light of a dozen garlands lining the entryway. The faint hum of holiday music and the occasional sound of laughter echoed through the manor.

It was Bruce’s home.

“Do you always go this big for Christmas?” you voiced a question that's been sitting on your mind since the moment you saw the large Christmas tree from the entryway to Bruce’s living room. Decorated with lots of ornaments, it looked lovely, accompanied by a heap of presents.

“Alfred insists,” admitting with a soft chuckle, Bruce rubbed the nape of his neck as he led you deeper into his home. “And the boys like the holidays. I want them to have the best.”

The scent of pine and cinnamon enveloped your senses the further you moved. The sounds grew louder, too. You awe made him feel lighter somehow. The dining room at Wayne Manor was nothing short of spectacular this night, with the long mahogany table adorned with a dozen of flickering candles and plates of food that looked like it belonged in a holiday spread for a cookbook.

You were sitting beside Bruce (he kind of insisted anyway), your hand occasionally brushing against his. He helped you settle into the chair which earned a teasing glance from Dick. Speaking of his oldest son, he was sitting across from you with an easy grin that told you some questions would come your way sooner or later. Tim was at Dick’s right, while Damian occupied the chair from the other side of his father.

The evening was more than successful in your opinion. Steph asked you about your favorite literature, while Tim quizzed you on trivia about Gotham (which you surprisingly got all right). Damian, after much persistence from Dick, shared a story about his latest art project, though he kept glancing at you as if trying to gauge your reaction.

Through it all, Bruce remained by your side.

When the night finally came to an end, and everyone drifted to their own space of the manor, Bruce walked you to the entrance with a gentle hand against the small of your back.

“Thank you,” his gaze met yours as he handed you your coat, effortlessly helping you slip your arms into the sleeves. “For coming tonight. For putting up with them.”

You gifted him with the most precious kind of a present; your smile, smaller hands reaching up to adjust the collar of his dark suit. “Of course. They’re wonderful, Bruce. I enjoyed myself tonight.”

For a man who othen found himself at loss for words when it came to talking in emotions, Bruce found himself smiling softly with his heart feeling lighter than it had in years. Because for the first time, Christmas didn’t feel like an obligation. It felt like a new beginning.

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eternalslover · 1 year ago

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WHY IS THERE NO WRITING FOR HIM

GUYS, IT'S LITERALLY SUPERMAN HAS NO ONE EVER SEEN SMALLVILLE?! IM GOING CRAZY BECAUSE THERE IS LITERALLY NOTHING, NOT EVEN CRUMBS

PLS SOMEONE WRITE FOR HIM I WILL TAKE ANYTHING, FLUFF, ANGST, SMUT, HEADCANONS, DRABBLES, FULL ON FICS ANYTHING PLS, HES SO POOKIE

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notsodelirious · 2 months ago

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Sleep Tight

synopsis: a good night’s sleep is important but Bruce also had needs

notes: NFSW MDNI, reader had tits and a v but nothing else is gendered (reader can be ftm if you want)

tags: somno (cnc), fingering (reader receiving), p in v, Bruce being a little shit at aftercare (but he’s there), about 1.2k words

here’s my masterlist for more <3

•─────⋅☾⊱♰⊰☽⋅─────•

Bruce would fuck you while you slept.

It was hot and the perfect arrangement—Bruce felt bad waking you up at the dead of night when he came back from patrol just have sex, but he craved you so deeply, he needed it.

You offered to simply let him do it while you slept.

He was hesitant at first, not that you had been too surprised—it wasn’t wrong, you gave him full permission but he got in his own head about it; you couldn’t tell him to stop, give him a safeword when you were asleep after all. It was just how he was.

He did eventually say yes though.

Ecstatic, you fell asleep along in Bruce’s king sized bed, resting easy while Batman roamed the streets of Gotham.

The next morning, you woke to your boyfriend snoring beside you and a pussy full of cum.

Cleaning yourself out in the shower to the thought of him fucking your limp body was enough to make you orgasm.

So it became routine.

And tonight was no different.

You fell asleep far before Bruce returned—you always did, there was a non-zero chance of you staying up until ass o’clock just to see him before conking out when you had work in the morning.

You were too deep in sleep to notice as the door creaked open or how Bruce padded in silently, hair wet from his post-patrol shower, dressed in a simple t-shirt and sweatpants.

His step faltered when he saw you buried under the covers, sleeping peacefully on your back. He stepped forward, brushing his knuckles against your cheek, almost smiling when you sighed, subconsciously leaning towards his touch.

He tugged the covers back to reveal the rest of you, sleeping in nothing but a pair of his shorts. He began to pull them off slowly, watching your face for any movement as he slid the fabric down your legs and past your feet before folding them and placing it on the floor by your bedside.

His movements weren’t rushed as he took hold of your knees, parting your legs to reveal your plush folds between them, his cock leaking in his briefs at the sight of you.

He palmed himself with one hand, to ease the pressure in his underwear, the other brushing across your slit, parting your lips to watch your tight hole flutter around nothing.

He swore under his breath, taking in the sight for just a moment longer before he pushed his thumb against your opening, but didn’t slip it in—he watched as your folds dampened, responding to his touch even in your sleep.

He ran his fingers along your sex, feeling beneath his fingertips as you grew wetter before he finally pushed his fingers in, stretching you a little to comfortably slip his dick into you. He paused when you sighed and shifted a little, but didn’t wake, not even with his fingers up your tight pussy.

He pulled away to bring his sweatpants down just enough to release his cock, standing hard and throbbing—he sunk into you, sighing softly, slow and controlled as to not accidentally wake you.

He began rolling his hips slowly, gentle enough to not rock the bed, your soft walls enveloping him and refusing to let go as he pulled out.

You made soft sound in your sleep; he just hushed you softly as he reached up to cup your tit, kneading it gently. He couldn’t help but love how soft and pliant you were as you slept on, your body responding to him, pussy drooling all over the sheets, but you remained limp.

He sighed softly as he shifted your leg, pushing his dick just a little bit deeper into you, the tip of his cock gently kissing your cervix as he pressed in before dragging his cock out, watching your folds glisten in the pale moonlight.

He had barely been paying attention, loosing himself to the warmth of your body, the way your cunt subconsciously tried to suck him back in, carving a space out for himself inside you as the stress of the night rolled of his shoulder—he didn’t notice you stir until you whined quietly.

“Bruce?” you mumbled as you slowly came to, blinking away the dryness in your eyes as you moaned and shivered—you were already dripping and you hadn’t even been awake for it. “A-ah, Bruce-” Your brain hadn’t fully caught up to the situation, not as you felt your breath hitch and the heat in your stomach coil.

You tried to reorient yourself, bringing your legs closer together to mitigate the feeling but Bruce just held them open with gentle hands, leaning down as he watched his cock disappear into your wet slit.

“Shh, sweetheart,” he said softly, leaning down to begin fucking you a little harder, caution falling out the window now that you were waking. Your head fell back as you closed your eyes, not quite alert enough to understand how you were being overwhelmed. But you were warm and full, your brain already fucked out. “Being so good for me. Just like that, baby.”

You keened as you let him fuck you into the mattress, ass rippling as his slammed his hips into yours, the pain doing little to wake you up, only blurring your vision with tears. You mumbled his name like a prayer, as he kissed your face, stumbled rubbing against the soft of your neck, your jaw.

You moaned loudly as you tensed, babbling softly about being close.

“Gonna cum already, baby?” he said as he felt you tighten and arch your back, legs trembling, weak as you tried to push yourself up to meet his cock.

Your answer muffled behind your lips as you moan, too overwhelmed to do anything but nod.

“Cum for me then.”

You obliged, coming all over Bruce’s cock as he continues to fuck you, groaning praises and degradations in your ear as he held you down and stretched your walls with his cock, despite the sensitive pussy.

He followed close after, pulling out and jerking his cock a couple of times to cum across your stomach, painting your skin a pearlescent white. He held you, sitting back on his haunches as he admired the sight beneath him, your chest softly heaving as you panted for air, dazed eyes looking up at him.

He kissed your hip before pulling away proper, leaving you shivering and weak, too voiceless to call after him. You felt too raw to be left alone, adrenaline drop bringing tears to your eyes as you try not to sob.

You only panic for so long before he’s back with a warm, damp, rag, cleaning the cum and stickiness from your skin before helping you under the covers.

You manage to catch his sleeve before he can disappear again, staring up with large pleading eyes—you knew he wasn’t one for affection but in that very moment, you needed him.

“Let me undress,” he said softly, an unspoken promise before he tugged away from your weak grip. You didn’t let him out of your sight, not as he shed his post-shower clothes and set a water bottle on the bedside table for you.

He slipped into your arms without hesitation as you opened the duvet for him, pulling him close to you, letting him rest his head on your chest, his warm body pressing against you.

“Better?” he asked softly, to which you simply hummed. He kissed your neck before wrapping his hands around your waist. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

“Love you,” you mumbled as you squeezed him, your body already falling asleep again after such a sudden awakening. You heard his silence, the pause in his breathing, before his shoulders dropped and he settled against you properly.

“Me too, sweetheart.”

•─────⋅☾⊱♰⊰☽⋅─────•

I have nothing to say for myself, I just like somno as a concept—requests are still closed but here’s my masterlist again

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vvvchu · 7 days ago

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⋆. 𐙚 ˚ Poor Little Rich Boy.

(He doesn't know how to flirt, but he wants you to touch him forever.)

He doesn’t talk.

Not because he’s rude.

He just... doesn’t know how.

You met him through mutual charity work, and at first you thought he didn’t like you. Cold stares, stiff posture, barely made eye contact. But then—one day—you caught him staring at your hands.

Just... staring.

And when you asked him why, he blushed violently and muttered:

“You have very elegant fingers...”

That's how it started.

Bruce is painfully shy.

But not in a boyish, bubbly way.

No—he’s haunted. Like he’s afraid of the sound of his own voice. Every word he speaks is calculated. Precise. Like he’s been trained to never let emotion slip.

But when you call him baby—

When you ruffle his hair, tease his ears, kiss the corner of his jaw?

He shatters.

You find out he’s a virgin by accident.

Well—sort of.

You suspect it. He’s awkward around women. Stares at your thighs like he’s never seen them before. Once got hard just from holding your hand too long.

You finally ask.

“Bruce… have you ever…?”

(You watch his throat bob.)

“No.”

“…Not even head?”

“I don’t… think I could handle that. I’d embarrass myself.”

You almost pounce.

When it finally happens?

He’s shaking.

Lying under you, shirt off, panting, eyes wide with fear and awe as you straddle him.

“You don’t have to be nervous, baby.”

“I-I’m not nervous about you, I’m—nervous you’ll hate me. That I’ll… come too fast. Or say something weird. Or—”

You shut him up with a kiss.

You kiss him so slowly, fingers stroking his trembling arms, and whisper:

“You’re doing perfect. You’re the prettiest boy I’ve ever seen.”

You go slow.

He’s so sensitive.

You rub his cock over his boxers and he whines.

Like a whimper. Broken. Desperate. His eyes are red. His lips are bitten pink. He doesn’t know where to put his hands.

So you guide him.

Let him feel your breasts. Let him touch your hips. Let him bury his face in your neck while you grind on him.

“It’s okay, baby. You can moan. You don’t have to be quiet with me.”

When you take him in your mouth?

He gasps.

Loud. Like it hurts.

His thighs jerk. His back arches. He cries.

Literally—fucking tears roll down his cheeks because he’s never felt anything like it.

“P-please, I can’t… it’s too much—!”

You suck him until he grabs your wrist in panic, begging:

“Please—slow down—I’ll cum—I don’t wanna cum yet—I want to be inside you, please—”

And when you finally sink down on him?

He stops breathing.

His hands grip your hips like he’ll float away. His eyes roll back. He moans your name like it’s the first word he ever said.

“You feel like heaven.”

You ride him slow. Make him look at you. Praise him. Touch his cheek. Kiss him as he trembles under you, totally wrecked and overwhelmed.

He keeps whispering,

“You’re so warm… you’re so soft… I didn’t know… it felt like this…”

And then:

“I love you.”

He cums fast.

You expected that.

But he’s so embarrassed, he tries to sit up and apologize, until you press your fingers to his lips and say:

“No. You did so good. You were perfect. And we’re not done, baby.”

You ride him again. Slow. Then harder.

Until he begs.

“Please… don’t stop… I want to make you feel good… I’ll do anything…”

After?

He won’t let go.

Lies on your chest, face buried in your skin, breathing slow, whispering things he’s too afraid to say out loud in the light of day.

“I don’t think I ever want anyone else to touch me again.”

“You make me feel safe.”

“I want to fall asleep inside you.”

#۫ ִ ࿔ 𝑫𝐂 #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne x fem!reader #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne smut #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne fanfiction #batman x reader #batman x you #batman smut #batman x fem!reader #dc x reader

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babeitaintme · 1 month ago

Note

a little request please: friend vs boyfriend vs fiancé vs husband Bruce drabble/hc’s? like how he would be in each role & progress in a relationship- tysm!!!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥❀࿐TO LOVE SOMEBODY THE WAY I LOVE YOU (bruce wayne x reader) your love story♡

thank you for your request lovebug! i got carried away lol. reader’s gender is not specified but it was written partially with a fem!reader in mind. i took some creative liberty and did my best to make a mix of hc and drabble, i hope it’s okay :)

⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔:･･°❀⋆.ೃ

BEFORE HE FELL; could it be love

♡ ̆̈✧˚ ⋆｡˚BRUCE WAYNE was a man of pure mystery. an enigmatic combination of wealth, excellence, and eloquence personified. it came as a shock to everyone (including yourself) when you, the socialite known for being carefree and letting loose, found yourself in the frequently close company of bruce wayne.

♡ ̆̈✧˚ ⋆｡˚the way you guys met was something purely comical. it was in the midst of a social event you found yourself attending with a business partner of yours, a night full of networking and socializing that left you exhausted. you were reaching for your fourth champagne flute of the night when you bumped into a man whose chest felt as though it was seemingly made of bricks, sending the fizzy liquid all across the front of your dress. you two opened your mouths to apologize at the same time, talking over each other in a way that made you laugh wholeheartedly.

♡ ̆̈✧˚ ⋆｡˚it was after that night that bruce learned your name and “mysteriously” appeared at the management building of the company your father owned, inviting you to coffee with him during your lunch break.

♡ ̆̈✧˚ ⋆｡˚your friendship quickly blossomed from there. you two provided a safe and judgement free place for one another. bruce relished in the way you brought out a side of him that he felt he had to keep tucked away in order to pursue his double life; you accepted him for who he was and didn’t hold him to any obscene expectation. he was just bruce. similarly, you appreciated the way bruce took you and your thoughts seriously. he was always willing to listen to you and give feedback—no matter how silly the situation may be

♡ ̆̈✧˚ ⋆｡˚your mutualistic dynamic that relied primarily on you guys’ ability to listen to each other, met many late night conversations either at hole-in-the-wall restaurants where you wouldn’t be spotted or through phone calls whenever bruce was free

♡ ̆̈✧˚ ⋆｡˚as friends, bruce kept the bridge between you and his secret life far and strong. not because he didn’t trust you or care about you, but because he wanted to keep both of you safe and he didn’t want your perception of him to change

♡ ̆̈✧˚ ⋆｡˚this meant accepting that for large portions of the day you wouldn’t hear from him and learning to not ask questions when he disappears for days at a time and tiredly responds with “just a business trip” when you ask where he’s been

♡ ̆̈✧˚ ⋆｡˚being friends with him also means becoming acquainted with alfred. after your first few visits to the manor you quickly assume the role of being alfred’s taste tester for any desserts he makes. it isn’t long before bruce begins bringing you a new tray of scones or brownies whenever he sees you, each container labeled with a sticky note from alfred (though he’d never admit it, bruce began asking alfred for the recipes of your favorites and learning to make them himself)

♡ ̆̈✧˚ ⋆｡˚in all, bruce thoroughly enjoys having you around and although he tries his best to keep you at arms length, there’s no avoiding how naturally you fit into his life

♡ ̆̈✧˚ ⋆｡˚it’s shy of a year into your friendship that he decides there’s no avoiding the fact that he has feelings for you. and he can tell that you’re realizing something similar

♡ ̆̈✧˚ ⋆｡˚it’s in the way he catches himself staring at you in a new light as you ramble on about some gossip you heard from your secretary. all of a sudden he’s noticing the way your smile lines crinkle when you speak, the way you use your hands to emphasize your words when you’re passionate about something, the subtle redness the dresses your cheeks whenever he makes a teasing comment, or the way you smile with all of your teeth when he recalls something you’d mentioned days prior——he’s a goner!

♡ ̆̈✧˚ ⋆｡˚the back and forth with his emotions leaves him feeling like a lovesick teenager

♡ ̆̈✧˚ ⋆｡˚it takes a month and a half before he finally confesses. it isn’t in a ceremonial manner like he feels you deserved, but instead it happens organically

♡ ̆̈✧˚ ⋆｡˚you’re laying flush against him on the couch in front of his grand fireplace when he finds himself lost in the beauty of your face glowing in the partially lit room. the words fall out of his mouth instantly—in a speech worded so beautifully that you don’t even let him finish before you kiss to shut him up.

FALLING DEEPER; in love

♡ ̆̈✧˚ ⋆｡˚BRUCE WAYNE is everything you’ve ever dreamed of in a boyfriend

♡ ̆̈✧˚ ⋆｡˚he was attentive, caring and did his best to make time for you two despite his busy schedule

♡ ̆̈✧˚ ⋆｡˚100% the boyfriend who plans every date and insures you never have to worry about a single thing in preparation. he spares no expense in buying you an outfit for the occasion, picking you up in his nicest vehicle, and of course handling the hefty bill for whatever excursion you find yourself on

♡ ̆̈✧˚ ⋆｡˚he tries his best to keep your relationship out of the spotlight, but definitely doesn’t attempt to hide you. however, it doesn’t require a flashy introduction as a couple for it to become known. people talk and every member of your high society inner circle had been waiting for you two to finally figure out the obvious feelings you shared

♡ ̆̈✧˚ ⋆｡˚he’s definitely the kind of boyfriend that sends you frequent texts asking “have you ate today?” or “have you drank water today? i told you living off of coffee and energy drinks isn’t sustainable.” of course your response each time he asks is unsatisfactory so you become used to receiving deliveries of your favorite takeout to your office on busy days, a new stanley tumbler in your favorite color to encourage a higher water intake, and a fridge full of meal prep courtesy of alfred

♡ ̆̈✧˚ ⋆｡˚i see bruce getting along perfectly in a yapper x listener bf dynamic. you love to fill him in on the whirlwind of drama that unfolds in your office and he loves nothing more than listening to your sweet voice while he works. you can’t count the amount of times you’ve been sat in his lap, going on and on about something your coworker told you, while bruce finished up paperwork at his desk. drumming his finger against your hip as he did so. you’d get bashful all of sudden, stopping to ask him if he was still listening (you never wanted to annoy him), to which he’d respond with a soft hum or “of course darling”

♡ ̆̈✧˚ ⋆｡˚being bruce’s partner meant breaking down more of that tough exterior and seeing the side of him he felt was better kept hidden. you had already broken through as his close friend, but it becomes more apparent in your relationship. trust is something that bruce values highly in his romantic relationships. and with everything you do, even in the mundane things, bruce realizes that you’re beyond deserving of his trust and willing to be his confidant

♡ ̆̈✧˚ ⋆｡˚because of this, it’s during this early chapter of your romance that bruce reveals his double life to you. much to his appreciation, you don’t make a fuss about it and instead confess how much it means to you that he felt comfortable sharing something of that nature with him. this of course results in a long makeout session

♡ ̆̈✧˚ ⋆｡˚on the topic of trust and kisses, i feel that you guys wouldn’t have sex until you’re a few months into your relationship. bruce views sex with you as the ultimate display of intimacy and affection. he doesn’t want to fuck you, he wants to make love to you. his touch isn’t fast or rough, but rather slow and intentional. he wants his love for you to show through everything that he does.

♡ ̆̈✧˚ ⋆｡˚bruce is also a protective boyfriend. not in a toxic or controlling way, but in a “i just want you to be safe” way. you guys share locations, you never forget to update him whenever you go out alone or when you make it home on late nights, and he also is sure to set up your home with the best security system the city offers. he isn’t smothering you, but he couldn’t imagine you getting hurt in his absence. you don’t mind it, you can tell it’s his way of showing how much he cares

♡ ̆̈✧˚ ⋆｡˚In all, bruce wayne is a beautiful boyfriend towards you that’s wants nothing more than what’s best for you!

A PROMISE OF FOREVER; an undeniable love

♡ ̆̈✧˚ ⋆｡˚BRUCE WAYNE had never been more nervous in his life. and that wasn’t an exaggeration or overstatement. in fact, it may very well be an understatement

♡ ̆̈✧˚ ⋆｡˚the usual calm and relaxed expression that graced his face whenever he was in your presence was gone. instead, it was replaced with furrowed brows and a nervous heat that rose up the back of his neck and dusted his face with a light blush. he swears he even felt a bead of sweat trickle down his forehead

♡ ̆̈✧˚ ⋆｡˚he followed close behind you, his pinky finger interlinked with yours as though he was making a promise, as you led him across a beach in santorini. it was a sight to behold. your hair was blown about by the evening breeze, the hem of your dress dragging across the white sand, and your voice echoing slightly due to the emptiness of the beach (thanks to bruce pulling a few strings). you were blissfully unaware of what was about to unfold

♡ ̆̈✧˚ ⋆｡˚suddenly, bruce stopped in his tracks. you followed suit and turned to face him with a playfully quizzical look. “what are you up to, hun?” you asked. without a word, bruce dropped to his left knee and took your hand in his.

♡ ̆̈✧˚ ⋆｡˚ “For the past few years, I’ve had the honor of experiencing something I never thought life had in store for me. I’ve learned what it feels like to be truly loved, cared for, and appreciated—even during the hardest moments, when I didn’t feel worthy of it,” he pauses to take in your awestruck smile, “You’ve been my safe place, my rock, for as long as I’ve been blessed to know you. I honestly can’t imagine a world where you’re not by my side, keeping me grounded, strong, and hopeful. I want to spend the rest of my life loving you, and being loved by you.” he finishes his speech with a hopeful laugh as he reaches into his pocket to pull out your ring. “so, will you marry me?”

♡ ̆̈✧˚ ⋆｡˚you shouted yes so loud that you’re sure the entire ocean could hear you.

IN SICKNESS AND IN HEALTH; forever in love

♡ ̆̈✧˚ ⋆｡˚BRUCE WAYNE as your husband exceeds any and all expectations

♡ ̆̈✧˚ ⋆｡˚shortly after your engagement you moved into his lavish manor and he wasted no time making it as welcoming as possible. ordering the skin care/hygiene items he knew you loved in bulk so that your shared bathroom was always stocked, giving you your own walk-in closet to accommodate your spending habits, and allowing you to decorate as you pleased

♡ ̆̈✧˚ ⋆｡˚you two fell into the domestic life fairly smoothly

♡ ̆̈✧˚ ⋆｡˚it felt as though it was second nature for you two to have your lives so closely intertwined.

♡ ̆̈✧˚ ⋆｡˚he’s definitely the type of husband that shows his loves through acts of service. you don’t even have to say anything before you notice the once empty bottle of your favorite perfume is replaced, or when you realize that the bookshelf in your shared bedroom is suddenly filled with the rest of a series you’d been meaning to finish. you bring it up to him and he’ll downplay it, shrugging and simply telling you that all that matters to him is that you’re happy.

♡ ̆̈✧˚ ⋆｡˚it became routine for you to wake up to light kisses across your jawline before he left the warmth of your bed in the early hours of the morning, hug & kiss him goodbye before you leave to run errands around lunchtime, and share a late night dinner by candlelight when he was finally relieved from his duties

♡ ̆̈✧˚ ⋆｡˚it may not be perfect for everyone, but it worked for you two and bruce loved how perfectly things flowed with you

♡ ̆̈✧˚ ⋆｡˚i imagine bruce to be a D1 pillow talker, especially in you guys’ honeymoon stage

♡ ̆̈✧˚ ⋆｡˚he’s looking at you with the softest expression ever as he admires your features in the moonlight shifting through the windows. you reach your hand up to caress his cheek, rubbing your thumb back and forth against his stubble. he rests his hand on top of yours before whispering, “i’m so damn glad you spilled that drink”

⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔:･･°❀⋆.ೃ

feel free to leave any comments :)

#cress writings⋆.ೃ࿔*:･#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne #bruce wayne fluff #batman x reader #dc fanfic #bruce wayne x fem!reader #bruce wayne x you #batman x fem!reader #dc comics

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fromdove · 2 months ago

Text

ㅤㅤ ⁞ 𝓑RUCE 𝓦AYNE

ㅤㅤㅤ𝓦HEN 𝓗E'S 𝓘N 𝓛OVE 𝓗EADCANONS !

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ୨୧

— bruce wayne when he's in love hcs ᵎᵎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

— bruce wayne x fem!reader ᵎᵎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

∿　　 . `💭` ㆍ

ok so. bruce. yeah. bruce in love. god. where do we even BEGIN??

⤷ first of all. he doesn’t even know it’s love at first. he thinks it’s concern. which is hilarious. like babe why are you “concerned” that i didn’t text you back for two hours. why are you staring at my location dot like it’s a bomb countdown. why are you outside my building like “you didn’t seem okay.” no, mr bat. that’s called caring. welcome to it

⤷ once he knows he loves you, once it clicks, it’s game over. like. you’ve won. you’ve captured the flag and the bat and the emotionally unavailable man behind the mask. the batcomputer has been updated to prioritise your location. alfred knows your coffee order. and lucius has seen probably your selfies by accident.

⤷ he does grand gestures to make your life easier. he will clear your schedule with a level of quiet power that would make an oligarch weep. he will pull strings you didn’t know existed just so you have an extra day off to rest. you ask how it happened. he just shrugs. says, “someone owed me a favor.” you’re afraid to ask who.

⤷ you try to have a normal night. a cute little stay-in date. movie. popcorn. fuzzy blanket. and he’s like “do you prefer 4K UHD or IMAX formatting??"

⤷ are you dating bruce wayne or being placed under 24/7 romantic surveillance. jury's out. you say “i’m kinda hungry” and 90 seconds later he’s got a reservation at the most soul-crushingly exclusive rooftop in gotham. your heel breaks and suddenly lucius is designing ergonomic stilettos. this man hears “i like daisies” and your apartment now looks like the florists’ union exploded. you cough once and suddenly there's a team of private physicians on standby and your apartment has a retinal scanner. you're like “i’m just going to target” and he’s like “take the reinforced car. with a panic button. and body armor. just in case.” JUST IN CASE WHAT, BRUCE. BLACK FRIDAY??

⤷ you’ll say something dumb like “what if ducks wore pants” and he’ll go all stoic like “ducks don’t have a pelvis structure conducive to that.” and you’re like. ok batman. thank you for that.

⤷ he’s so in love but so terrible at processing it. like he can literally track six mob families at once and somehow still be baffled when you say “i like spending time with you.” he stares. blinks. blue screen. rebooting…

⤷ and god. the possessiveness. like in a batman way. like someone breathes in your direction and he’s already memorizing their dental structure for potential breakage. “i don’t get jealous.” ok. sure. “i simply don't trust their intentions.” uh huh. oh. oh okay. stop being good at this???

⤷ when you fight?? oh boy. it’s a showdown. the emotional cold war. he says something sharp. you throw it back with fire. he’s like “i see you’re being emotional.” and you’re like “i see you’re being a jackass.” doors slam. hours pass. he shows up at your door at 2am with flowers. and a bag. “i brought you jewelry.” REAL FUCKING DIAMONDS. you melt. he wins. he always wins. he hates that he always wins. and then he apologizes. like fr this time. “i was... imprecise. and inconsiderate. i regret that.” you forgive him but you also throw a pillow at him. he cant work well knowing u fought and ur mad at him

⤷ “we have plans tonight. dress practically.” practically for what, bruce. you’re like “can we go to a museum?” and he’s like “i’ve arranged a private after-hours tour with the curator and secured the rooftop for dinner.” and you’re like 😭 i just wanted to see the dinosaurs. can we atleast get pizza. please.

⤷ he’s so awkward when he wants affection. like. he doesn’t ask. he just stands there. near you. like a confused statue. you’re watching tv and he’s lurking in the hallway. not saying anything. not moving. just. present. and when you finally go “do you want a hug??” he’s like “i wouldn’t object.” wouldn’t object. wow.

⤷ he kisses your wrist. not your hand. your wrist. where the pulse is. and it’s so tender you actually forget how to function. he does it like it’s a routine. like muscle memory. like that’s where your lifeline is and he wants to remind you he’s always right there. always.

⤷ he’s like “i cross-referenced your schedule and added buffer time between tasks to reduce burnout.” you’re like “thanks dad.” and he just. blinks. “i’m not your father.” IT WAS A JOKE. I SWEAR TO GOD.

⤷ you get used to the long stares and the over-prepared dates and the sudden security upgrades. you get used to him showing up at 3am because he “heard a rumor about increased gang activity near your block.” (before you moved in with him)

⤷ he won't let you pay for anything. ever. even a coffee. even gum. even when you try to trick him. he will venmo the bodega guy. you will be carrying a tote bag and he’ll grab it and hold it. he insists. he insists. bruce is not casual. about anything. he’s intense. obviously. like. duh. he’s not gonna be normal. about anything, least of all you.

⤷ you’ll be standing next to him at a gala and your heel will start hurting and he’ll murmur, dead serious, “i’ll buy the brand and shut it down.” like. ??? bruce. be normal. please.

(he’s never normal.)

⤷ “i’m not controlling, i’m just ensuring your safety” like ok bro why is there a tracker in my earring

⤷ also he doesn’t like attention. but he likes when you give it to him. likes when you fix his tie. likes when you straighten his cufflinks. likes when you get in his space just to annoy him and he goes “what do you want” dude ur batman figure it out?? tf??

⤷ he's obsessed with your safety. the man just appears. like you didn’t invite him. no one invited him. but you’re walking home and boom. there he is. in the shadows. bro shows up on a fire escape in full batsy costume like “hey” you’ll be like “how did you know where i was” and he’ll blink. once. slow. he’s like “i’m batman.” ok??????? um???????/ did u need something??? police help

⤷ he stares. jesus christtt. always with the staring. like you’ll be brushing your hair or pouring cereal or literally breathing. and he’s just. gazing. contemplative. like he’s solving a goddamn mystery. you’re like “what.” and he says “you’re very…important to me.” and you’re like ??? what does that mean ??? hello ???

⤷ he lets you touch the batsuit once. you make fun of him for it and he gets genuinely offended. but then you kiss him and say “thanks for protecting me batman” and bro almost combusts

⤷ he doesn’t smile a lot. like. ever. except you. you make him smile. and not just smirk smile. like. actual. real. warm smile.

⤷ bruce wayne = terrible texting. like. atrocious. he doesnt like texting. hes too old fashioned istg. he texts like a military directive. “ETA: 3 minutes.” “Location secure.” “Status update?” and then when you send him a heart emoji he replies “❤️ acknowledged.” what does that even mean. you say “did you see that video i sent” and he’s like “i don’t open links from unverified sources, you shouldn't either.” you say “you’re cute” and he just replies with a question mark. like. have you ever spoken to a woman

⤷ he’s TOUCHY but only in this obsessive hyper-controlled way. like hand on the small of your back when you walk into a room. always checking your pulse with his fingers during cuddles like it’s about affection but also science. forehead touches at 3am. wrapping you in his coat even when he’s freezing. “you’re colder than me.” bruce your lips are practically blue. please

⤷ he’s not good with words. but when he does say stuff. it’s always weirdly profound. like you’ll be eating fries in bed (YOUR idea ofc) and he’ll just go. “i never thought i’d have this.” and you’re like. what. fast food? a mattress? my socks??? eating fries in your bed?????? and he’s like “no. peace.” (well yes to the eating fries in bed ... never done that in his life before.. but he wants to try and express his feelings. just let him) and then after he says that you have to go cry in the bathroom for five minutes. oh. ok then. love. i guess.

⤷ you give him the password to your phone. you make him laugh. you keep bandaids in your purse for him. idk what that would do for a gunshot wound but its bat themed bandaids so. he makes you feel safe. like real safe. like apocalypse safe. like kingdom come safe. like ride-or-die safe.

⤷ he’s so tired. all the time. but he never says no when you ask him to stay. even if he’s bruised. even if he’s busy. he’ll sit on your floor in a $20,000 suit and listen to you talk about your weird coworker (who he'll definitely deal with)

⤷ he’s an observer. and not in a creepy way. in the “i’m making sure you’re safe and sound” way. also. like when you’re talking, he’ll catch the little things you don’t say out loud, the way you bite your lip when you’re nervous, or how your hands fiddle with your sleeves when you’re cold. he remembers. every. little. detail.

⤷ speaking of him being an observer, he memorizes everything you say. you mention one time that your mom used to get you those dumb lemon lollipops and three days later they’re in his desk drawer. you joke about wanting a tiara and he deadass bids on one in a silent charity auction and doesn’t tell you. you just find it one day on your nightstand and he’s like. “it’s nothing.” IT’S LITERALLY DIAMONDS???????//?/?

⤷ you make him laugh. maybe not loudly. but it happens. sometimes he’ll chuckle and press his face to your neck and whisper something dry and you’ll cackle and he’ll look at you like you hung the stars specifically for him to stare at from his penthouse window while sipping on a whiskey and thinking about a sense of moral responsibility that’s eaten most of his joy

⤷ he doesn't let anyone else drive you home. ever. unless he's If he’s Batman-ing, then he'll hire a TRUSTED driver that he's done a full background check on (so thoroughly it’s scary). but when he can, he's always there. silent. gloved hands. tired eyes. he's had a long night. he's seen too much. but you're there. and that’s the only thing that makes any of it feel remotely survivable.

⤷ he doesn’t trust people. like at all. like he has backup plans for his backup plans. but he trusts you. like. fully. quietly. deeply. like if you say “i want to move to paris and work in a bookstore” he’ll say “alright. give me a week.” and he’ll find a bookstore. and a brownstone. and a plane. and he’ll go with you. he proves time and time again how much he loves you. again and again. and again.

⤷ he doesn’t fall easily. he doesn’t even stumble. he calculates proximity. projects detachment. he walks around with that stupid little batman jaw and his trillion-dollar trauma and thinks he’s above emotions. thinks love is a vulnerability. a liability. a risk factor. thinks he can out-strategize intimacy like it’s a hostile takeover. ok sir. ok gotham’s most emotionally repressed man. ok batboy (emo depressed edition). until you. oh my god. until YOU.

⤷ suddenly he's looking at your face like it's an encrypted file he can’t crack. HE'S SUPPOSED TO BE BATMAN FOR CHRIST SAKE. what is this??? suddenly he's pulling up in that bulletproof matte black vehicle he calls a car just to drive you three blocks and “make sure you get home safe”. just say you want me to have all your babies?

⤷ he is SOOOOOOOO subtle about it. and by subtle i mean unhinged. he's like "i don’t care." and then buys the company you said your co-worker works at because he thought they were flirting with you. you mentioned liking cats once? now there’s one on his lap.

⤷ oh em gee. you’ll be standing in line for coffee. like a person. and he’ll be behind you. close. closer. hand on your waist like someone might try to steal you and he wants to make sure they know he invented violence. he trained with those damn tibetan monks.

⤷ bros looking down at you like you hold some secret nuclear code. and the cure to....idk world hunger or something. ur his god. he's ur guardian angel that does what he's told. what YOUUU tell him. he folds every time. acts like he's annoyed but like shut up we know you're going to do what i say anyways 🙄🙄🙄 me strong guy me batman blah blah blah

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makeyoumine69 · 2 months ago

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SUGAR (commission)

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Husband!Bruce Wayne x Wife!Fem!Reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: Bruce can't help himself, and goes down on you right in the dressing room of one of the best boutiques in Gotham City. Just like that.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: NSFW, porn with feelings, fluff, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, body worship, sweet dirty talk, pet names, kinda semi-public stuff, established relationships, minor praise kink, Bruce wants to drink his wife dry (he's a very insatiable man).

𝐀/𝐍: I'm so glad I can finally post it! Many thanks to the person who commissioned it! Hope you enjoy it! Please follow my writing community or my side-blog to know when I update!💕

𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐑𝐄𝐂: Robin Schulz — Sugar🍬(this song broke me a bit :D)

Small, barely perceptible wet noises came from behind the curtain of the dressing room, and you couldn't even imagine that your husband was capable of doing something so debauched in one of downtown's finest boutiques. But Bruce Wayne never ceased to amaze you with sudden ventures like this, and you didn't really try to protest, nor did you want to.

"Aaahh–mmhmm–Bruce," you gasped shakily, clinging to the smooth wall behind you, one of your legs draped over his strong shoulder as his slightly flushed face was buried in your pulsing heat. "They'd hear us!"

The man couldn't hold back a low, almost sinister chuckle that was completely unusual for his soft and plush temperament. "Not if you keep that pretty mouth shut," Bruce's grip on your hip tightened, holding you open for him—his greedy mouth, to be exact—while his other hand was busy cupping the soft mound of your ass. "But since you're always such a good girl for me, I shouldn't worry. Am I right, sugar?"

With that, Bruce swiped his warm tongue along your swollen clit before sucking it in and holding it there for a while until he felt your thighs tremble beneath his fingertips. "Gosh–feels s-so good–too good," you arched your back and leaned into his face, needing more friction but still restraining yourself from actually grinding against his strong tongue. "Please–ohhh–Bruce..."

Bruce's muffled groan sent vibrations right into the nerve bundle beneath your tender flesh, where he showered every inch with soft, almost teasing kisses until he spread your slippery folds to plunge his tongue into your tight pussy, sending your mind into another dimension where the only known language was the language of pleasure.

"You're so sweet, darling," he hummed between licks, nips and sucklings. Lifting his eyes to you, Bruce nuzzled the inside of your hip, peppering it with small pecks and using his hands to clear the way to your breasts, pulling down the top of your dress and thanking God you'd chosen the strapless model. "I can't stop myself."

He literally couldn't; he was already so pussy drunk and addicted to the taste of you that even a short pause could stir a ravenous hunger in him—a raging thirst to drink you dry until you fell apart right in his arms—and Bruce was more than ready to fuck you through your orgasm with his tongue. Being the doting husband that he was, his wife's body was like a shrine that he loved to worship as if his life depended on it.

"Bruce," you closed your eyes and tangled your trembling fingers in his thick hair, almost scraping his scalp, but he didn't flinch or stop, his mouth latched onto your little bud, toying with it, using his teeth from time to time when he knew it was needed to light you up even more. "That's too much–fuck–yes–mhmm!"

No matter how hard you squirmed in his arms, he would not stop—his lips, chin and half of his neck were already covered with your flavor, giving them a soft glistening layer—the man wanted more, he was simply obsessed with his wife making such obscene noises. So Bruce decided to add more to this dirty cacophony, lapping at your soaked cunt with the most lewd and squishing sounds possible, not even caring about the poor stylists waiting patiently outside the dressing room.

With a light smooch just above the hood of your clit, Bruce darted his elegant fingers along your ribs, going higher to rub your hard nipples simultaneously, watching from the corner of his smoldering eyes the way your body twitched and burned for him—it was the most fascinated reaction he could imagine, a reaction he couldn't get enough of every time he saw you like this.

"God, look at ya," he murmured mostly to himself, panting and licking the taste of you from his glazed lips. "So beautiful–so hot–so mine."

You smiled with your eyes still closed, your hands wandering around the wall, then his shoulders, then the back of his head again—you were already so dizzy, your legs about to give way, and your husband the only anchor here.

As he always had been and would be.

"I love you," you managed to purr softly between your strained lips—dry from the adrenaline rushing through your blood system—your heavy lidded eyes barely able to see his face, but you knew he was smug and proud and as fucking adorable as only he could look with your cum smeared all over his face. "But my parents will kill us if we're late!"

"Sounds like a challenge."

"Huh?"

At first you didn't really get it, but as you watched his cheeky smile widen, as his long fingers slid down your torso until he used both thumbs to rub your tight pussy lips with calculated precision, the gravity of his words hit you only now.

"Just watch me, sugar," he crooned without breaking eye contact; even when he pressed his tongue flat along your oozing slit, Bruce didn't look away, and neither did you. "Let me see you," another wet kiss landed on your throbbing clit, causing your inner muscles to clench around nothing. "Let me feel you."

Knowing that it would be so hard for you to make eye contact with him when you were one step away from reaching your high, you brought a finger to your mouth to nip at it. "You–ask too much! Oh–fuck."

Not him, using his fingers in that disarming way! Two at a time, until his phalanges were completely inside and only his knuckles were visible. Damn it, why was this man so perfect? So perfect that practically every move he made was designed to give you pleasure, and it was so powerful that it rippled through every little fiber of your body. Giving you that cosmic feeling of being so loved and desired.

Lost in his own wicked game, Bruce was feasting on you like a wild animal, his eyes closed and his faultless nose poking at your clit every time he shook his head, while his deft digits slipped in and out of your inner channel, which was literally about to snap if he kept fingering you like this for a while longer.

"I'm–" you hiccupped, putting a hand over your mouth to suppress all the nasty whimpers that were about to burst out; the building, knotted tension in your core becoming more and more unbearable, as if the chains surrounding your body were finally about to break. "Fuck–gonna cum–Bruce!"

"C'mon, sugar," he spurred you on, pumping his fingers harder into your dripping pussy with the dirtiest squelching echoing through the stuffy space of the small dressing room. "Show me how much you love me!"

Dear Lord.

Every time, every damn time, he knew exactly what to say or how to look at you to send you over the brink. And you really tried to keep staring into his eyes, even when you felt the ground disappearing beneath your feet from the shocking sensation that cut through your body like a huge and hot tidal wave. Mesmerized, your husband couldn't take his eyes off your trembling body, your breasts bouncing with every tremor, your pussy clenching around his fingers that he should be pulling back, but he wanted to make this moment last as long as possible.

Shivering and gasping, your lips parted in a silent cry of bliss, you slumped back, almost folding in two, your nails clawing at the polished material of the wall, now warm and slick with your sweat. To finalize this 'secret' act of depravity, Bruce collected every ounce of your pleasure, not feeling the slightest bit embarrassed.

"Gorgeous,'" he mused, pulling his fingers out at last, ignoring the mild pain of exhaustion as he took them into his mouth, one by one, to suck out your taste, almost moaning in the process. "If we are really late for dinner, you can blame me. I doubt your family can be angry with me for even five minutes."

Panting, your eyelashes a bit lumpy, you slowly came to your senses, though the orgasmic aftershocks were still there. "Oh, you definitely don't know them well."

Bruce chuckled and put on his most charming smile, as if he was already rehearsing for the upcoming dinner with your parents. "But I know myself pretty well."

Leisurely, without any signs of fatigue, as if things like that were something casual, your husband got up and stepped closer to help you adjust your dress and your damp underwear, which was probably destined to be thrown into the nearest garbage can.

"I think we should pick out another dress for you," Bruce considered, frowning his thick eyebrows at your awkward attempt to straight the hem of your skirt which was stuck to your slightly perspiring skin. "But we'll buy this one, too."

You followed the direction of his attentive gaze to the bottom of your dress to see a rather large, dark stain right where the hem had bunched up between your legs at the very beginning of this crazy and spontaneous lips-on-lips fuck session.

"Yeah, it looks like it."

And then the two of you burst into a hearty laugh, but unlike him, you didn't really know what to do when you left the dressing room and saw the shop assistants giving you sideways glances. Well, at least now you had something to reminisce about during your parents' boring talks about politics, business, and other things your husband could easily handle.

He was a hero, after all.

Thank you for the reading!🖤 [MAIN M-LIST]🪓[BRUCE WAYNE M-LIST]🪓[KO-FI]

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne/you #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne/reader #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne smut #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne x fem!reader #batman x you #batman x reader #batman x y/n #batman x fem!reader #batman/you #batman/reader #dc smut #batman imagine #batman smut #batman x batmom #bruce wayne

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streetlamp-amber · 1 year ago

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can we just stay in bed? (18+)

bruce wayne x femwife!reader

word count: 2.8k | divider by @cafekitsune | requests are open!

CW: smut (MDNI), p in v sex, oral (fem receiving), soft sex NOTES: i usually don’t write soft smut like this so i don’t really know if i’m 100% satisfied with this or not but i still wanted to share, let me know your thoughts :)

The joyful singing of the birds in the forest surrounding Wayne Manor could be heard from miles away as the sun was rising over the treetops, marking the beginning of a new day in Gotham. A lone ray of sunshine made its way through the gap between the two curtains hung over the window of you and Bruce's bedroom, illuminating the darkness with a soft golden glow.

Today was Saturday, meaning you didn't have work waiting for you or school to drive Dick and Jason to. The only plan on the schedule this morning was to sleep in, even for Alfred.

But your husband had other plans.

Bruce woke up on his own, his body was now used to being up early to make sure the boys had completed all of their homework before dropping them off at school. He was laying on his back with your head nestled in the crook of his neck, your hot breath fanning over his skin at a gentle rhythm while your arm and leg were hooked around him, keeping your body flushed against his. A grateful, satisfied smile formed on Bruce’s lips as he hugged you closer to him and pressed a kiss on the top of your head. He loved waking up with you in his arms, it was his favourite part of the day – when all his worries about Gotham were still dormant in the back of his mind, when he could bask in the peacefulness of the morning with your steady breathing reminding him how lucky he was that you were so much of a hothead, you had him pull over on the side of the road to reprimand his reckless driving when he almost rear ended your car. He remembered that day like it was yesterday, because your anger and your indifference to his celebrity status had already caught his heart right then and there, the fact that you were breathtakingly beautiful was only a plus. Six years had passed since then and Bruce had tried his best to remain on your good side in that time, but it happened sometimes that you let out your anger on him – like when he let Dick patrol with him for the first time. He found that he was still as captivated and enamoured with you as he was when the two of you first met, you’re just so hot when you’re angry, he can’t help it.

Overcome with the love he held for you, Bruce started peppering soft, barely-there kisses on your cheek, your nose, your jaw and your neck, moving you to lay on your back as he did so for him to have better access to your skin. His gentle touches pulled you out of your slumber and you stretched out your limbs, your husband never relenting with his affections.

“Good morning, my love,” Bruce whispered in between kisses on your throat.

You giggled, the softness of his lips tickling you. “Good morning,” you replied, wrapping your arms around his neck while his held you tight under your back. You turned your head to glance at the digital clock on your bedside table, noticing the time displayed in red light. “Isn’t it too early to be awake on a Saturday morning?”

“What time is it?” Bruce asked as he comfortably laid on you, his face now resting in the crook of your neck.

“Ten past seven,” you answered, your hands finding their way to your husband’s hair. Your fingers threaded through his soft waves and you felt him hum in satisfaction against you.

“I’m not sleepy anymore,” he weakly argued, eyes closing as your scent comforted him.

“Bruce, I can literally feel your breathing slowing down like it does when you fall asleep,” you chuckled.

“Then we should do something to stay awake and enjoy these minutes of peace we have that are oh so rare,” Bruce suggested with an impish tone.

“Mhm,” you hummed in agreement, “we haven't made blueberry waffles in quite some time.”

Bruce rolled his eyes and stood up above you, trapping you under his body with his elbows resting on both sides of your head. “Can we just stay in bed?” He asked, his crooked grin on his lips as he leaned down, brushing the tip of your nose with his.

“And do what?” You feigned innocence, but your husband knew you too well – he had known you for more than six years after all, he liked to think he knew you more than he knew himself – and the mischievousness in your eyes didn't go past him.

“I have a few ideas in mind,” Bruce said before claiming your lips with his. You breathed a sigh of relief that he absorbed and he placed himself in between your legs.

He stood up after a minute for the both of you to get some air and teasingly tugged at the hem of your shirt (which really was one of his old Princeton shirts from his university days). “I think it's not fair I’m the only one who's bare chest,” he said, raising the shirt just above your bellybutton.

“I think you make a compelling argument, Mr. Wayne,” you playfully agreed then removed said shirt, throwing it on the floor.

Bruce didn’t waste any second, immediately peppering your chest with kisses the moment your skin was freed from your clothes. You relaxed into your pillow, enjoying the attention your husband was giving to every inch of your body. He took his time to savour your taste and you let him. There was no rushing this morning, only the two of you in your bubble of love where time and the outside world didn’t exist.

He nipped his teeth all over your chest, leaving soft bite marks in his trail, and sucked on your nipples, his hand massaging your boob his mouth wasn’t currently attached to.

“Bruce…” You mewled after he spent five minutes on each of your breasts, only now beginning his slow descent down your stomach. Ten minutes of working you up had you now very impatient and wanting for more.

“Patience, my love,” Bruce said against your skin, getting closer to where you needed him most. “We’re taking it slow this morning, we’ve got all the time in the world.”

“Mmm, I know of two certain boys who will be knocking at our door in less than an hour to see if you’re awake so you can watch the morning cartoons with them,” you argued, raising up your hips when he started leaving kisses on the inside of your right thigh.

“That won’t be a problem,” your husband reassured you before claiming your clit in his mouth, making you squeal in surprise. “Good thing I had the walls of our bedroom soundproofed,” he paused his sucking on your bundle of nerves to tease you with a grin on his shiny lips.

You glared at him, unamused, which made him chuckle at your cute face and he quickly kissed your thigh before going back to his previous task. He lapped the slick in between your folds like a man who had spent fourteen days in the desert and was drinking water for the first time. His tongue teased your entrance before diving in, grunting in pleasure when your hips bucked up closer to him, making his nose brush against your clit. Bruce could never get tired of you, of your taste, of the sounds you made because of him. It spurred him on and for the time being, his only purpose in life was to satisfy you.

He couldn’t even begin to explain the control you had over him, the way you guided him through this life like a lighthouse in a storm. He was putty in your hands, has been ever since the two of you met, and he knew very well how lost he would be without you. Yeah, he would be financially secured thanks to his family, but in every other aspect of his life, even as Batman, he wouldn’t be who he was today without you. And Bruce, who had never really been good at vocally expressing his feelings, would let you know how thankful he was to have you in his life the way he knew best: by pleasuring you to completion like no other person ever has before because no one has taken the time to learn every single reaction of your body like he had.

“Bruce…” you whined as your hand tugged at his hair. You needed more, you needed more than just his tongue inside of you so you pulled him up by the head, bringing him to your level, and attached your lips to his, tasting yourself on him, while your legs wound around his waist. You felt his hard cock brushing against your center through the fabric of his boxers and jolted at the slight pressure applied on your clitoris.

The two of you slowly and messily made out, Bruce’s right hand holding your cheek and his left one clutching onto your hip. Your hands had found their way to the waistband of his boxers, trying to pull them down to get what you wanted. Bruce helped you, his left hand leaving your hip to remove the only item of clothing still on, his mouth never detaching from yours as he did so.

Once fully nude, Bruce retracted from you, standing on his knees before dipping his fingers between your folds to gather some of your wetness and rub it over his dick. You watched him with anticipation, the sight before you something you could never get tired of. Your husband was straight out of a dream and, still to this day, you’d pinch yourself sometimes to make sure you were awake, that this was your life.

That somehow, Bruce Wayne fell in love with you.

But he was also so different from how he presented himself to the media, to the public, that sometimes you forgot you married the Bruce Wayne, heir to the powerful Wayne family, prince of Gotham. To you, he was just your silly husband who was incredibly hot and put everybody else before him.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when Bruce brushed the tip of his cock against the lips of your pussy. “I hope I’m not too much of a bore, darling,” he said, a teasing undertone lacing his words.

“No, just admiring the view and how lucky I am that my husband is so damn hot,” you replied playfully though there were no lies to your answer.

“Clearly you haven’t looked at yourself in the mirror lately babe because I’m the lucky one,” Bruce told you, his eyes confidently holding yours to show how truthful he was. He lined himself with your entrance, his stare never leaving your face so that he could drink in your expressions when he sheathed himself to the hilt inside you.

The two of you groaned in pleasure and Bruce took a moment to bask in your warmth, his eyes roaming all over you.

“Especially when you look so goddamn gorgeous with my cock inside you,” he added onto his previous comment, making you roll your eyes at the machoness of his words.

“Shut up and start moving already,” you chuckled.

“As you wish, my darling,” he leaned down to kiss you again and started rolling his hips to a slow, steady pace.

You wrapped your legs around his waist again while your hands found their place at his nape, scratching his scalp and tugging his hair, making him moan in your mouth. Your tongues danced to the same rhythm as Bruce’s thrusts, the both of you drowning in the feeling of the other.

Sex with Bruce was usually more rapid, more frantic, more bruising, more fiery, and you loved it. You loved how he could make you forget about the gala happening right down the hallway and the handprints he’d unconsciously leave on your hips from his grip. But you also loved when sex with Bruce was languid with no hurry. When one made you forget everything, the other basked you in love and made you feel like you were in a dream.

Bruce’s mouth left yours to trail down your cheek, then your jaw, until it found its place in the crook of your neck. He deposited open mouthed kisses all over your skin, licking it and leaving small nips on it. He easily found the pulse point behind your ear and, knowing you could easily hide that spot, started sucking on it and doubled the pleasure building inside you.

It made your breath hitch and your nails dig in his back muscles, leaving small red crescents on his skin. You felt him smile against your skin, his pride always swelled up to the reactions he was able to pull out of you.

“Mph, you feel so good darling,” Bruce groaned in your ear and kissed it. “You always do.”

“And you make me feel so good baby,” you answered, squeezing your walls around him as you said so.

Bruce’s head appeared in your eyeline again, his famous grin on his lips as his eyes roamed over your face, full of love. “I love you,” he told you.

You were about to say ‘I love you’ back but he didn’t let you, claiming your mouth with his instead to drag you in another make out session. He changed the angle of his hips at the same time and the tip of his dick brushed your G-spot, making you mewl. Bruce’s left hand fell down to the back of your right thigh, gripping it tight as he held it a little higher. It allowed him to go about one more inch further, said spot now being hit with every thrust.

“Oh God, yes,” you freed your mouth from his as your head fell back, your eyes squeezing shut due to the pleasure gradually overtaking your senses.

“Look at me, darling,” Bruce asked you and you obeyed, struggling to keep your eyes open as the two of you held eye contact. “Are you close?”

He knew you were, he knew your body like the back of his hand, but he still asked you the question just to be sure.

You couldn’t answer him. Your mouth was in a permanent ‘o’ shape as breathy moans escaped your lips with every thrust and you were unable to focus for more than one second on how to speak. So you nodded your head yes.

Bruce’s hand that held your thigh let it go to instead dip between your legs, easily finding your clit and rubbing it in circles with just the right amount of pressure. He proudly watched as you unravelled beneath him, your orgasm hitting you with full force. As he helped you ride it out, he reached his own climax and fell over you, but still made sure to not put his entire weight on you, as the two of you caught your breath.

Your husband removed himself from inside you and rolled over to lay next to you on his side so he could face you. “I love you,” he said again, kissing your temple covered with a sheen of sweat.

You turned to face him, your hand reaching to hold his cheek as you replied, “I love you”. You kissed him on the lips, this time short and sweet, and Bruce laid on his back so you could snuggle up against him with your head on his chest.

“You know, we should wash up before the boys come knocking on our door,” you said after a few minutes of peace.

“Can we just stay in bed for another minute?” Bruce childishly whined, his fingers brushing up and down your bare bicep.

“You're such a big baby,” you teased him, chuckling.

“Well sorry I’m a little spent from our early morning activity,” he lightheartedly argued.

“Alright, I’ll make you a deal,” you said, rising on your elbows to look over him. “I’m going to the bathroom and I’ll bring back with me a wet cloth for you to wash yourself and then we can cuddle and maybe go back to sleep until Dick and Jason crash through the door to drag you downstairs and watch cartoons. Sounds like a deal?”

“Sounds like a really good deal to me,” Bruce answered, bringing you down to peck your lips before he rested his hands behind his head. “You should come down to the tower next time we’re looking to make a deal with another company.”

“Nah, I’m perfectly fine with leaving all that work to you,” you pecked his lips once again and stood up from the bed, not bothering to cover yourself up. “I’ll be right back,” you said behind your shoulder as you walked towards the bathroom connected to your room.

Bruce didn’t hear you, too preoccupied with staring at your ass to focus on anything else. God, I’m the luckiest man in all of Gotham, he thought to himself before you disappeared through the door frame.

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