#bruce waynex x reader

[persephone-is-here-omg]

Scars.

Pairing: Bruce Wayne/Reader.

Warnings: Smut. Fingering, mentions of blood and scars.

Word Count: 2258.

Rating: 18+.

Masterlist.

Yes, I am back on my Bruce Wayne shit.

He’s holding his side when you come into the office, your eyes follow the line of his arm and you tilt your head, the bright red stain of blood visible as Bruce peels his hand off from his side “Stitches” His voice is a gruff groan, low and deep “Had to do them myself, Alfred wasn’t available”

You nod calmly and watch as he starts to take his jacket off “Where’s the kit?”

Bruce points to the door at the far left corner of his office “Cabinet under the sink” His voice is deep and low. You hear the groan, again, as you go into the bathroom to get the kit, you’ve done this several times, it always leaves you off balance, makes it hard to concentrate afterwards, but you try to play it cool. He doesn’t need to know the effect this has on you, the effect he has on you. 

You look at him over the rim of your glasses and tsk loudly “That is such a nice shirt and now is ruined” You shake your head and set the small plastic box beside him on the desk he’s leaning against, the blood is bright red and warm enough to feel its heat through the barrier of your latex gloves, you don’t ask if Bruce is ready for you to start, the assortment of scars, big and small all over his torso tells you he is. You clean the blood and start to remove the rest of the old stitches “Usually you do a better job than this” You chide him and smirk, amused at the guttural sound that comes from deep within his chest. One of his hands grips your waist tightly as you start and you raise your eyes to his face for a short second.

“Is fine” Bruce grunts, his eyes fixed on your hands, following the practiced and methodical movements. You look at his jaw for a moment, see how he grits his teeth “I’m used to it” He grips the edge of the desk tighter and his knuckles turn white.

“I won’t think you’re any less of a badass if you admit it hurts” You smirk again and take the new needle.

“I’m used to it” Bruce repeats, a rough edge to his voice, so removed from the charming billionaire from the news and social pages. Closer to who he really is, when he is not trying to charm the pants off of Gotham with a smile.

You work on his stitches slowly, methodically. Eyes fixed on the task at hand and when you finish you clean it again and cover it with gauze, remove your gloves and, only then, you let your eyes wander over his chest and abdomen. Most of the scars are small and almost imperceptible, but others are big and jarred, marking the skin here and there, and there, too. You drag your fingers over the one right under the spot you just stitched, it has a curved shape “There are so many” You muse in a whisper and Bruce wraps his hand around your wrist, stopping you from wandering onto another patch of scarred skin. You lift your eyes to meet Bruce’s blue icy ones, look at him through your lashes and over the rim of your glasses “I’m sorry” You say, barely above a whisper, his hand is still holding your wrist firmly and you look back at his hand around your wrist, how big it looks “I probably should get you a different shirt, B. You have a meeting later today”

“I know and don’t call me that” Bruce growls, hand tightening just a tad around your wrist.

You chuckle and tug on your wrist but his grip tightens more, just this side of uncomfortable, he hates being called B, but you love calling him that. Love watching how he struggles to stay polite, as he always does, and you lift your eyebrows in defiance and refuse to say the words he wants to hear you say ‘I’m sorry, Bruce. Won’t happen again, Bruce’ Because you know it will happen again.

You move your free hand and trace another small scar on his abdomen, watch as his muscles twitch under your fingers “What are you doing?” Bruce tugs on your hand and you step forward, standing right between his spread thighs, your fingers are still on the pale, warm skin, nails softly scraping over the scarred tissue and the twitch happens again. 

You notice how close you are when your thighs collide with the edge of the desk, this is probably the closest you have been to Bruce and you force yourself to keep a steady breathing, to not let him know just how nervous you are. 

You’re waiting for Bruce to move your hands away from his body, after all, he is a man of many walls, high and thick, there to keep him away from everyone else much like the manor sits outside Gotham, part of it but apart from it, physical touch with Bruce is another wall. But Bruce surprises you, he doesn’t push you away as you expect, not this time.

His hand moves slowly, almost as if he expects you to stop him,  “This is the only one I know you have” Up the slit in your skirt, high and towards the inside of your thigh, fabric moving upwards as he finds the thin line of scarred skin.

“Punchline didn’t appreciate when I told her she’s a school shooter with tits and a clown get up” You shrug, but his fingers are warm on your skin and you lick your lips, oral fixation kicking into overdrive as your heart races away.

“Had to patch you up in the car” Bruce continues, fingers still wrapped around your wrist and still caressing the thin scar in your thigh “I tried to… Not leave a scar, but Alfred is much better at this than me”

You swallow and lean in “Is ok… I kinda like it” Your faces are so close right now you can smell the mint in his breath and the scent on his cologne, you place your hand on his side and lean in even closer, lips hovering right in front of Bruce. He closes the space between the two of you, he lets your wrist go and places it loosely around your neck instead.

You still for a moment and let your breath escape you slowly, stealing yourself, then meet Bruce right in the middle, kiss him back and let the warm, heady feeling course through you, extend from your belly to your limbs. His hand around your neck goes from loose to firm, not really squeezing but strong enough that it allows Bruce to set the pace, his pace. As always. 

His fingers caress your scar again and a shiver runs down your back, goosebumps break all over your skin and he breaks the kiss, ice blue eyes set on your parted lips, fingers moving away from your scar and upwards, dragging the fabric of your skirt with them as they near your panty line. You open your mouth, but whatever smartass comment you wanted to make dies before the thought even takes form inside your brain as Bruce brushes his fingers over the elastic of your panties, he snaps it against your skin and you bite your lip, flinching at the sting.

Bruce’s smirk is… You have seen it before, when he knows he’s right about something, when he figures something out just in time. He snaps the elastic against your skin again and deftly pulls your panties to the side and you plead with your eyes, unable to talk, afraid that making a sound will ruin this moment that you had told yourself you didn’t want, but deep down you knew you did. One of his fingers trails between your lips, from your slit and bumps over your clit making you gasp and hold onto Bruce’s sides tightly.

“Ask me for it” Bruce says, his voice lands straight on your pussy, makes you clench around nothing, squirm in his tight grasp “Ask for it” He repeats and stares at you, makes you sure your eyes are fixed on his.

Your mouth opens and closes, you lick your lips, feeling them dry and chapped, then open your mouth again “Please” You whisper, your voice faint and small “Please, B- Bruce”

His hand is still holding your neck firmly and Bruce kisses your lips again, groans as he slips a finger inside you and your pussy immediately clenches around it “I… It’s been a while” You mutter and want to cover your face with your hands, but it feels as if you would float away if you let go of his sides. He growls against your lips and bites your lower one, hard enough for the sting to make you moan, dig your nails into his exposed skin.

“Please, Bruce… Just do it already” You say breathless, clinging tightly to his sides, lips itching to explore the expanse of chest, covering the skin with kisses and bites.

Bruce curls his finger, you close your eyes, your mouth hangs open but no sounds comes out and he leans in, sucks your lower lip into his mouth, teeth dragging over it and adds a second finger, your legs feel almost weak “You’re so tight” He gruffs out, bright blue eyes intense and unflinching as he starts thrusting his fingers, his thumb presses into your clit and you gasp, knees almost buckling as a lightning bolt of pleasure courses through your body and sets your skin on fire.

Your breathing is shaky but you kiss him again, move one of your hands from his side down to his thigh, nails dragging against the warm skin, the soft wool of his trousers, your nails dig into the muscle of Bruce’s thighs when he starts moving his fingers faster, curls them just the right way and presses into that spot that makes your vision go white. You cup his cock over his pants, he’s hard, painfully so and hisses as you squeeze around him slightly, move your hand up and down the length of him, he growls and your walls tighten around his fingers again “I can’t stop thinking about you” Bruce admits and his words send shivers down your spine, his words are aking to him laying claim over you, your hips buck into his hand and Bruce’s eyes flash darkly “That’s it” He says.

You kiss him one more time, all tongue and teeth this one, bite down on his lower lip until you hear him wince and let go, watch intently how he licks his lip and feel him let go of your neck just to drag his thumb over your lips until you open your mouth and suck on it, wide eyes fixed on his own as you do. Bruce’s fingers double his efforts, he moves them faster and curls them in just the right way, enough to make the feeling more intense at each thrust and curl of his fingers, sending you higher and higher and higher still, his thumb circling and flicking your clit at the same pace.

You whimper and moan, struggling to keep the volume low, you close your lips around his thumb again as you spiral down into your orgasm, barely able to stay upright of how intense it is, your legs tremble and Bruce wraps his arm around your waist tight, kisses you and swallows every sound that comes from your mouth, bites your lip until you whimper and can taste blood. His fingers fuck you through your orgasm, slowing down as you come back up to the surface, the nails of the hand still on his side dig on the exposed skin again and you pant, resting your forehead on his shoulder, he caresses your hair as you look back at him and then down to where his fingers disappear inside you. Watch as he pulls his fingers free of your pussy and brings them up to your lips, his intent clear.

You open your mouth and suck on his fingers, drag your tongue between his fingers, twirl it around them, moan softly at the taste of yourself on his skin “Fuck” You mumble under your breath and around your fingers, know you still have work to do and he still has a meeting to attend, but close your eyes and suck on his fingers again. Bruce rewards you with a growl, low and guttural “I don’t want to do this here. I want to do this right. Take my time” He says and kisses your lips one more time “You deserve better than a desk, so stop giving me those eyes. Or I won’t be able to stop”

“Maybe… Maybe I don’t want you to stop” You counter, still breathless.

“But is what I want” Bruce says, all threatening vibes deep voice “Because I need to ruin you for every other man” The last sentence makes you shiver and you understand why he can’t do that here. He probably could, but is obvious he’d rather not, and you nod.

“That sounds promising, B” You feel bolder now, less overwhelmed, more focused and decided to find out what he means by ruin you.

Bruce keeps his eyes on you as he fixes your panties, placing them back where they should be, and then tugs your skirt down, making sure you look presentable “I’ll expect to see you tonight at the manor”