#reader x battinson

[streetlamp-amber]

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.

[meiluu]

Bats

Here's some thoughts about Bruce Wayne, my husband btw

cw: Major fluff

Just imagine being the wife of Bruce Wayne. Not the playboy, or the billionaire, not the philanthropist, but Bruce Wayne. A man who had to grow up at the young age of eight, and later on becoming a young man who spent his time traveling the world. Learning all he could, fighting, languages, anything. A man who sacrifices everything for the ones he loves, hoping that he can protect them from the world that seems hellbent on taking away all the people he holds dear.

Bruce is a man of few words, but each word that leaves those beautiful lips of his has a purpose. Those quiet moments when its just the two of you, cuddled in one of the plush couches in the Wayne manor library. The moonlight flittering in from the tall windows, the crackling of the lit fireplace is the only other noise that accompanies your whispered words of love. Wrapped in his protective embrace, a body that spends nearly every night defending and protecting the innocents of Gotham is here hugging you and gently massaging your back.

You bring a level of solace that Bruce didn't think he would ever have. Given how he accepted the fact that being Batman meant that he could never really have that. Then you came in. It wasn't some massive firework show or falling from the sky. You just... walked in like you were meant to be here all along. The patience, understanding and unwavering love you showed him time and time again had Bruce wondering where you had been all this time. You were so...You.

Bruce is the husband and lover who lets you kiss his countless amount of scars that litter his body that has been sculpted to fight and endure anything that comes its way. A body that held strength in every fiber of muscle and yet he turns to putty within your loving hands. Mind, body and soul, wholly yours.

Bruce had no idea of what he was missing when you weren't in his life and now that he has you, there is nothing on this planet or universe that would ever take you from him.

Bruce is someone who will die for You, and any one of the people he loves.

[manicpixievixen]

Having thoughts of girly/hyperfem/ or just in general bubbly personality reader with these super masculine guys

Like this is so logan (also battinson, Dean winchester, etc)

[bia-wayne-west]

Milk with cookies and bedtime stories [Batmom x Damian Wayne]

Synopsis: It was just a few months ago that Damian was included in the Wayne family. He still didn’t like you, but you tried so hard to make him appreciate you. During a patrol, Damian got hurt and after Alfred took care of the little boy’s wounds, you surprised him with a plate of cookies and a glass of milk.

Characters: Damian Wayne and Reader [YOU]

A/N: I wrote this quickly. Hope you like. In this imagine, Batmom has been married to Bruce since he adopted Dick.

I want to apologize if there are any writing errors. I'm a Brazilian girl and I don't speak fluent English, so I may make some writing mistakes. Feel free to correct me.

I hope you read, like and feel how cute Damian is.

Requests are open

MASTERLIST

You were sitting on the kitchen stool, reading a fashion magazine while you waited for your husband to return from patrol.

Bruce forbade you to stay in the Batcave, as he was afraid that someone would break in and find you, alone and unprotected.

As soon as you felt the ground shake, it meant that the Batcave had opened and that Batman had arrived with his Robin, Red Robin, Red Hood and Nightwing.

You ran to the clock that gave access to the secret entrance to Batcave. The elevator quickly took you to where your children and husband were.

“Hey, my love. You got back before 5am!” You said, running up to Bruce Wayne. He still wore black clothes and was without a mask. Your husband didn’t respond. He was serious and had a worried expression on his face.

“A man dropped Damian from a three-story building .” Bruce said looking at the boy who was sitting next to Alfred.

You finally noticed Damian, whose face was bruised and his leg was bandaged. You walked over to the boy and knelt in front of him.

“I’m fine, Y/N. I fell on top of a car and didn’t break any bones.”

“Damian, darling, are you hurt?” You asked, looking into Bruce’s son’s green eyes.

You smiled, in a motherly way. Damian didn’t consider you a mother, unlike the other three boys who called you ‘mother’ and ‘mommy’ all the time. Your husband’s son only considered you as a stepmother, but that didn’t stop you from taking care of him as if he were your son.

“I’m going to run you a hot bubble bath. After Alfred takes care of you, I think you’ll want to relax in the warm water.”

“Thank you, Y/N, but I’m not your baby.” He said rolling his eyes and turning his face to look at Alfred.

“Damian!” Bruce warned his son. But you smiled at your husband, showing that everything was okay. You left the Batcave, heading back to the mansion to prepare Dami’s bath.

(…)

Damian was already in his room. You were heading to the boy's room, with a tray in your hand.

The clock said 2:32 am, but you were sure the boy hadn't slept yet. The Waynes used to sleep only when the sun came up.

Yout left hand knocked lightly on the wooden door with the boy's initials engraved on it. Ypur ears picked up a “you can come in”, authorizing you to enter Damian’s room.

“I came to see if you were okay, Dami.” You said, entering and closing the door behind your body. Your arms came off the tray on the bed, seeing that the boy was sitting on the mattress. “I brought milk and cookies, this will definitely make you feel better.”

“Why do you do these things, Y/N?” He asked, with a questioning look.

“I didn't understand. Don't you like what I do for you?”

“At first I thought you had a plan to win me over and then you would hate me for being Bruce's biological son.” He said, seeing you take a cookie and offer it to him.

“I would never do that. I love you, Dami, even if you don't like me. These things I do for you are normal motherly actions.”

“My mother didn’t do any of that. She only got cookies when she did something good.” He said, his eyes shining like he was going to cry.

“Oh baby. I know you don't consider me your mother and I don't want to force you into anything, but I want you to know that these things I do are because I love you.” You explained, smiling widely at him and drinking some milk. “Do you know what my mother did for me when I was hurt?”

“No.” He said, while devouring several cookies. “She also gave you cookies and milk?”

“Yes, and she also told me a bedtime story.” You argued, running your hand through the boy's hair. “I'll tell you a story.”

“I’m not four years old, Y/N” He murmured.

“Damian, you’re not old enough to hear a good story before bed.”

“OK. Just don't tell stories about princesses or ponies.”

“Clear. I'm going to tell the story of a boy called Dami. He was so brave and beautiful, he was a strong and fearless boy.” His lips formed a smile as he said the words. Damian's eyes were bright and sweet. “One day, he went to the forest to play with the birds and found a portal to a magical world.”

“Like Narnia?: He asked, completely interested in your story.

“Yes, but without the closet. The magical portal led to a kingdom full of witches, fairies, vampires and any magical creature you can imagine.”

“Even elves?” He questioned you again. Now Damian was lying in bed and you covered him with the blanket.

“Of course, elves can't be missed.” You said. Your heart filled with love and you almost cried when you saw the image of the boy who hated you six months ago totally interested in a bedtime story. “In that kingdom there was a crystal that served as oxygen for all beings there, but a terrible villain broke this crystal and stole its essence, leaving the world without magic.” Damian still had complete fun with your narration. “Then, the queen called Martha went and asked the brave Dami to hunt down the villain and recover the essence of the crystal.”

“And he did this?”

“Yes! Dami took a sword and shield and went out to the magical kingdom in search of the villain. He went to an ancient village in the kingdom called Gothym and met three knights named Grayson, Todd and Drake. They sent Dami to the mountains where he would find the villain.”

“And he found it?”

“He found it, but it was difficult. The villain was hiding in a ruined castle north of Gothym. Dami fought bravely with the villain and defeated him. Dami recovered the essentials of the crystal and in exchange, Queen Martha gave him a personal portal to return to the kingdom as often as he wanted. Dami was a brave hero and defeated the evil villain.” You told the story while running your hand affectionately through the boy's hair. “Did you like the story?”

“Yes, it was the best story anyone told me.”

“I'm glad you liked it, my love. If you want, I can tell you a story every night.”

“Todd would make fun of me if he knew.” He said, looking at you so intently that you knew he was embarrassed for having liked the story.

“I'm gonna tell you a secret. I told Dick, Jason and Tim stories for three years, but they didn't want to.”

“Did you tell Todd bedtime stories?” He asked loudly, as if it were some blasphemy.

“Of course, and he loved them all.”

“So I want to hear stories before bed.”

“I'll love telling you, along with a glass of milk and cookies. Good evening, Dami.” You said getting up from the bed. Your lips found the boy's forehead.

“Good night, mom.” He said, making you look surprised at him. “I can call you mom? Since Dick, Jason, and Tim call you Mom, I thought you might as well.”

“Of course, my dear. You can call me mother and I will call you my son.” Your arms wrapped around the body of the boy, your son. Love seemed to explode in your heart. “Good evening, my dear son.”

“Good nigh, mom.”

You gave Damian one last kiss on his forehead, before picking up the tray and taking it to the kitchen. After washing the dishes, you went to the master suite, the room shared between you and Bruce.

Your husband was lying on the king size bed, waiting for you. After showering and putting on your pajama, you laid down on the bed.

“Damian called me mom.” You said to Bruce, earning a smile from him.

“With bedtime stories, milk and cookies.”

“How did this happen?” He asked, setting aside the iPad he was using to hug you.

[moonwqves]

⋮ 𝐬𝐨 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐡, 𝐬𝐨 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧

───〃★ bruce wayne (batman) x reader.

★ — SUMMARY | shower sex after a night on patrol. ★ — WORD COUNT | 1.2k ★ — WARNINGS | fem!reader ; pwp ; unprotected sex ; mentions of blood/injuries

18+ ONLY MINORS DNI.

most nights when bruce gets back to the manor, you’re still asleep. in the early hours of the morning, just before the sky begins to lighten, he doesn’t expect you to still be awake as he sheds all his gear and trudges his way upstairs.

but some nights you wait up for him, occupying yourself with a book or a new tv series as you sit curled up in your chair in the dark.

he assumes you’re still in bed sleeping soundly and he heads quietly into the bathroom to start cleaning himself up, not noticing that you’re silently watching. he’s known for being stealthy, but tonight you’re the one who’s slipping into the shadows.

his clothes hit the floor piece by piece as he turns the water on and strips bare, the steam from the shower quickly filling the room with heat and fogging up the mirror.

the hot water stings the bloody cuts on his knuckles, and he hisses as he runs his hands beneath the shower stream, watching the blood wash down the drain. they’re just minor scrapes and it’s nothing he isn’t used to by now, but it’s always a chore to take care of himself at the end of the night.

you open the bathroom door just a crack and peek your head inside to call his name, and instantly his head whips around at the noise. droplets of water collect in his eyelashes as he stares at you, his piercing gaze locked with yours as tears of black eyeliner roll down his cheeks, the warm water melting away his dark exterior. he's tired, he's aching and bruised from this routine of difficult nights, but everything disappears the second he sees you.

you pause as he wipes his hand across his eyes, smearing the fading makeup even further before he jerks his head to beckon you to join him, and you quickly start to undress. your clothes slip off, collecting in a pile on the floor next to his as you slide back the glass door and step inside.

your heart races as his eyes silently roam over your figure, streams of water trickling down his toned chest, and you can’t help but study him in return. you reach out to trace your fingers over the old scars that litter his skin, and you note the fresh scratches and cuts he’s earned himself while out in the city tonight.

you start to pull away to grab the soap, but his hand wraps around your wrist and you freeze, looking up at him. you can see the flash of lust in his eyes as he grips you tightly, pulling you closer until you’re standing flush against his body, and the proximity sends a shiver of desire down your spine.

he leans forward to capture your lips, his deep voice groaning out your name as his arms sliding down to sit firmly around your waist. you melt into him, automatically moaning into the kiss, and he greedily swallows your noises until it feels like he’s going to suck the breath right out of your lungs.

he kisses you harder, one hand falling to your hip while the other reaches up to cup your jaw and guide your mouth further into him, his tongue prodding between your lips in a way that makes you feel warm from the inside out.

his hand on your hip travels lower to grope your ass, and he squeezes a little harder when you let out a gasp against his lips, relishing in the responses he’s drawing from you. he starts to move and suddenly you feel the ice cold tile of the shower wall against your back, and you arch away from it instinctively, seeking the warmth of his body.

a large hand grips your thigh and hikes your leg up around his waist, securing your ankle behind the back of his thigh for balance. his pelvis presses between your legs, and you can already feel his cock hardening against your skin.

“bruce,” you whine as you try to rock your hips against him, desperate for the friction he provides.

he doesn’t reply but he lets out a soft noise under his breath, somewhere between a hum and a growl, and he attaches his lips to your neck just below your ear.

he pushes himself into you and you gasp, your heat enveloping his length as you cling to him. your legs tremble as he begins to thrust slowly, your arms wrapping around his neck even tighter. you can feel his biceps flexing around you as he holds you against the wall, supporting nearly all of your weight as he starts to build up his pace. drops of water trickle down your neck and between the valley of your breasts, but it’s hard to tell if it’s from the shower or if it’s sweat.

even after a night of patrol and the physical toll it takes on him, bruce’s stamina far outweighs yours. it only takes minutes before he has you whimpering and clenching around him, struggling to keep up with his relentless pace.

he pulls back to adjust his hips, giving him a better angle to drive his cock into you so that his tip kisses your spot with each stroke. he can tell you’re about to cum when he feels you starting to pull away from him, all the tension in your body building up like a dam about to break as your back arches and you squirm in his grasp.

with one more pointed thrust you come undone, a constant stream of whines pouring from your lips like the shower water pouring down his back. he doesn’t let up until your body goes limp in his arms, fucking you through your orgasm while you can barely keep yourself standing up straight.

suddenly he swoops in and presses his lips to your mouth once again, his perfect pace slipping and becoming more and more erratic, and you know he’s close behind. with your leg behind him you pull him closer, giving him just enough extra leverage to bury himself inside you as deep as he can go before his release slams into him.

his grip on your hips is almost bruising as he keeps you held tightly against him, letting out low, deep groans as he spills into you. warmth floods your stomach and you exhale a shaky whimper as you start to come down from the dizzying effects of your high.

just before you feel your leg starting to cramp up he pulls back, slipping out of you but keeping his arms still firmly around you to keep you supported. he tilts his head down to study you, secretly preening at the fucked-out look on your face. he looks much worse off, his cuts and scrapes still forming scabs and the black makeup streaked across his cheeks, but he’s still more concerned about you than himself.

he gives you a moment to stand on your own, and he smirks when you immediately reach again for the soap and start to scrub at his body with a loofah.

he lets you pamper him for now, because he knows neither of you will be getting any sleep until dawn.

© moonwqves 2024. do not repost or translate. ── ⊹ ˙ . 𖥻 want to join my taglist? send an ask!

if you enjoyed reading, please reblog or let me know in a comment or an ask! feedback helps so much with motivation and gives me energy to continue writing :)

a/n: this is my first time posting outside of my main fandom, but it was a lot of fun to write && i am really excited to continue writing new things!! i hope you enjoy, please interact (reblog, comment, ask) if you liked it!

[devilfic]

you know what. I think battinson is such an enthusiastic kisser

both his kisses with selina were kind of this dreamy, almost out-of-body experience where selina had him under her spell and he was just sort of helplessly in love with her so he could do naught but follow her lead,,, but I like imagining what it'd be like if HE initiated kissing his partner

like there's the more confident bruce, a few more years into being batman bruce, where he leans in during a lull of good conversation and he's smiling and suave and controlled but like. bruce in year 2? bruce fresh off selina and realizing he could maybe make time for a relationship? realizing how much he missed being touched? somebody call animal control cause this bat is in heat

before he leans in, he watches you like you'll disappear. his eyes are wide open!! he doesn't want to miss a thing!!! I think he's more likely to grab for your waist instead of going for your face or something.... I think he bubbles with the desire to touch you so bad and he just wants to feel you against all of him, and I think he can't help being a manhandler,,, he needs to move you just so because like he cannot let you slip from his fingers when he's aching to kiss you so bad

he doesn't make a lot of noise when he kisses but he breathes Heavy. I think once he's kind of really winded that's when he starts whimpering really low in his throat... nothing too crazy... little grunts and whines but they're so quiet. if he's kissing you and gets disturbed tho I do think he will full on groan and groan LOUD and it's both funny and super attractive because his face screws up in this petulant little scowl like. can't you see he's busy

he 100% leans fully into it which is a lot because he's a BIG man. he's going to have to push you up against something every single time because he is chasing you every time you part for air, almost mindless and eyes half-lidded as he mouths at you. he's so into it that I can guarantee it's gotten you two kicked out of a gala or two when people inevitably find him devouring you in a dark corner or a hallway you both assumed to be empty

if you wear lipstick/gloss he is not wiping that shit off either oh my goooood. don't let me think about you leaving marks all over his face and him proudly walking out into a swarm of paparazzi just. cheeky

it's really hard to just give this man a quick, chaste kiss. everything has to last at least a minute with him. it's why he literally cannot kiss you when he's busy because it'll be a minute and then five and then he's behind on work (oh no..... so sad.... anyway) because he's got you laid on the nearest surface sucking bruises into your neck

bruce will kiss any part of you but I think he's just so obsessed with your lips that it's where he inevitably fixates each time. it is so so hard to kiss him anywhere else because he will be like wow nice. kiss from my lovely partner. not on my lips tho.... and when he turns around for a kiss on the lips you can't just refuse! he's got such kissable lips and oh this is a time loop that never ends isn't it

[sadesluvr]

By Your Side

Sometimes you don't realise how much Bruce needs you.

A/N: Title based off the song by Sade! The Sade/Nirvana song choice is just to show your different personalities...We love needy, loverboy Bruce :3 Minors/Ageless blogs DNI!

Word count: 2.6K

“Master Bruce is in his usual spot, I���m sure you’re aware.” 

“I know... Thank you, Alfred. Take care of him for me. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” 

“I’ve been doing this for years. You go and have fun...And might I say you look stunning as ever, Miss.” 

You flashed Alfred another smile, kissing his cheek before you left in search of your boyfriend – Bruce Wayne, and The Batman himself. From the moment you’d began dating, Alfred had been nothing but kind to you, to the point that you saw him as a father in-law rather than your boyfriend's butler. Granted, it was easy for him to trust you; you’d been in all the same circles as the Wayne’s growing up and had even gone to school with the boy himself, hence a mutual understanding of what each other needed. 

Bruce wasn’t that much of a public figure; you kept your relationship hidden (as much as possible). Wayne Enterprises sometimes needed good PR; you were more than happy to step in. Yes, there was a business side, but there was also a lot of love, and it was perhaps that innate trust and understanding that propelled the man to reveal his identity to you. You hadn’t run, screamed, questioned or cried: merely accepted and moved on. 

Tonight was one of those nights; a charity gala was to be held, and somebody needed to make a public appearance.  

You’d been into the Batcave many times. It wasn’t your favourite place in the building; it was a little cold and lacked the classic feel of the Gothic architecture in the main tower, but you found yourself strangely comfortable in it. Probably because it was Bruce’s space, and you felt like you knew him on a deeper level. 

Goosebumps peppered your skin as you entered the floor, heels making a distinct clicking sound as you walked in, stopping halfway. As always, the man was glued to his screen, and you thought it best not to disturb him. No matter how nice you looked. 

“I’m heading out. The chauffeur’s going to be here in twenty.” 

Bruce pursed his lips, slowly withdrawing his gaze from the screen to glance up at you, his brows furrowing slightly as he gave you a once over. Even with the hair in his face, you could tell that there was a flurry of emotions within his wet blue eyes; disappointment, annoyance...intrigue.  

“...Tonight? Why?” he said, his voice soft and shaky. 

“Because I have to,” you sighed, a small smile on your face as you shifted your weight. Bruce was far from being a child, but sometimes he walked the line between being an eight-year-old, and an angsty teenager, something that you were more than understanding about given his life circumstances. “It’s for charity. I’m also going on your behalf.” 

He seemed uncomfortable at this; blinking as he diverted his gaze back to his screen, eyes roaming the pixelated words and images absentmindedly before turning back to you, jaw tight and ticking. 

“It’s not safe.” 

“Alfred took care of all the transport,” you said matter-of-factly. “There’ll be lots of people there. I couldn’t get kidnapped if I tried.” 

Bruce didn’t laugh. You should’ve anticipated that. 

Sighing, there was a distant smile on your face as you got closer, placing your hand on his own and giving it a small squeeze. His hands were a little cold and slightly calloused, and you tenderly rubbed his knuckles with your thumb, careful not to agitate him with your rings.  

“Would you feel better if you drove me?”  

“I know what you’re doing,” he said, his voice stern, but his. “Not tonight. If people know you’re with me it only makes you more of a target.” 

Removing your hands from his own, you took a deep breath and sighed, swiping your tongue over your bottom lip in frustration. God knew you loved Bruce, but God also knew he was stubborn; way too stubborn for his own good. The rational side of you knew that it was because of his trauma, but in the moment you didn’t feel like coddling him. 

Great, now you’d ruined your makeup.  

You were going to fix it, and then you were going to the gala.  

“That’s too bad, Bruce.”  Was all you said before you disappeared, spinning on your heels as you strutted out of the room without as much as giving him a second glance.

You could feel his impenetrable gaze on your back as you did, either cursing you out in his mind, fantasising about you, or somewhere in between. The lighting of the Batcave was perhaps a little too dim to see the entirety of your dress anyway. 

Strolling into the bathroom, you switched on the light before taking a glimpse at yourself in the mirror. There were hints of condensation along the mirror and bath tiles from the shower you'd taken earlier, the faint smell of your oils and body lotions sticking to the fibres of the hand towel.  

You picked up a cloth and hastily wiped at the glass, just enough so that you could see your face and the outline of your body. Gently, you ran your fingers over your hips and waist, trying desperately to smooth out the material before you rummaged in your makeup bag, pulling out the liner and running it over your lips. The precision in which you performed the ritual told you that you were perhaps more interested in the aesthetics of it all, rather than the actual charity itself.  

It was a transaction really – and in truth you had the same mindset as all the other rich Gothamites. You may have been dating the heir to the Wayne throne, but were an ambassador first, and that meant appearances had to be made. It kept the business happy, and Bruce too, leaving him free to do his vigilante shit as much as he pleased. 

Once you were happy with how you looked, you gave yourself a once over, contemplating whether you should go for another spritz of perfume, only to be interrupted by Bruce himself. He’d poked his head inside the doorway, watching your motions from behind.  

Catching his eye in the mirror, you relaxed your shoulders and spun to lean against the edge of the sink. He took that as a sign to come in, closing the door behind him with two fingers as he did, glassy eyes roaming your body before focusing on your face. The muggy air of the bathroom seemed to catch up with him instantly; his black strands frizzy and unbridled, some clinging to his forehead in the process.  

To an outsider, one would’ve never been able to tell that this was a happy, healthy couple – friends from the same tax bracket – let alone Bruce Wayne, one of the richest men in the city. He was wearing one of his muted t-shirts with sweatpants to match, and looked a little spent, stubble around his chin and bags under his eyes; whilst you were dressed as if you were ready to walk a fashion show in Milan. 

But you were fine with it. In fact, you rather liked it. 

“Are you here to apologise?” you said matter-of-factly, smirking as you folded your arms over your chest. 

“That’s a nice dress,” Bruce said, ignoring your statement. “Where’d you get it?” 

“I bought it. It was on auction.” 

“Why didn’t you let me pay for it?” 

“Because if I told you what it was for, I wouldn’t be wearing it now.” 

Bruce hummed, nodding his head as he diverted his gaze before looking back at you. He took a step, outstretching his hand to run his fingers along the fabric, tracing the shape of your body as he did. The act, though small, sent a chill down your spine, as if you were being touched by him for the first time.

He always seemed to have a way with his actions; they were gentle and somewhat apprehensive, but they always had intent. Your eyes fluttered shut as he buried his face in your neck, his hairs tickling your bare skin as he eventually pulled you into a hug. Momentarily, you remained still, listening as his breaths steadied before you touched him back, wrapping your hands around his waist. 

There was a soft whistle that came from his nose as he embraced the scent of your perfume, and soon his pout became an imperceptible smile – to you, at least, who was faced away from the mirror. You always managed to bring him a sense of comfort; a grounding reality to the mania of his double life. 

His grip on the small of your back tightened as he spoke into your ear, voice somewhat muffled. 

“I need you...” he crooned. “Stay.” 

“Bruce...” you sighed. “The driver --” 

“Forget about him,” Bruce insisted, maintaining his grip on you as he angled his head to look at you. His pink lips were wet and parted, and his eyes were wide. “Stay with me. Please.” 

Perhaps it was the lighting, but he seemed less grumpy and instead soft, almost like a boy who didn’t want to be left on his first day of school. Sighing, you scanned his features as you cupped his cheek in your hand, feeling the eagerness to step out in front of the cameras and into a grand hall filled with socialites indescribably slip away.

Admittedly, even though you spent a lot of time in the tower, you’d hardly seen Bruce over the past few weeks – whilst you worked tirelessly through the day with PR reps and funders, he did the same at night; in his own way, of course.  

You were used to it, and it was a relatively peaceful routine, but sometimes you wondered if tonight was your chance to switch roles; for you to be the woman in black, and for him to ponder about what was happening outside. 

You didn’t want to hurt him. That was never the intention. 

Rubbing your thumb over his skin, you pursed your lips before pulling him into a gentle kiss, with the man holding your waist in place with his hands, legs and pelvis trapping you between the sink and his body.

Despite your mini dispute, you were immediately in sync, lips intertwined as they danced against each other whilst Bruce’s hands made their way up to the zipper behind you. Skilfully, he tugged at the material, watching as the fabric slowly split apart, undressing you until you were left in your underwear; chest practically bare other than some pasties glued to your nipples. 

You cast your gaze to the floor as the dress pooled around your ankles, unable to have a chance at mourning the night you were supposed to have as Bruce cupped your chin between his index finger and thumb, angling your head to look at him. 

“Beautiful.”  

He said simply, his blue eyes scanning your features before he began to kiss you again, his lips making their way down your neck and along your collarbone. You laced your fingers in his dark strands, biting your lip as you felt his erection against your bare thigh before tugging at his shirt. He twitched, his resistance coming from the scars that adorned his back; some from your own doing, but most from his nights of vigilante work.  

“It’s ok, Bruce,” you said sweetly, squirming against the ceramic. “I want to see you too.” 

He cast his gaze to the floor before softly exhaling, peeling off his shirt and discarding it on the floor next to your dress.

Running your fingertips up his spine, you let out a soft moan as he cupped your breasts, his hands uncontrolled as he felt his way along your body, eventually sliding down to your folds and slipping a finger in. He prodded and poked, gently pulling you apart as you coated his fingers with your juices, his lips still on your skin as he began to jerk against you, grinding his erection on your lower torso. 

Instinctively, you snaked your hand inside of his sweatpants, giving his clothed cock a few languid strokes before pulling them down by the waistband. Groping at your ass, Bruce lifted you off the sink and onto the adjoining counter, hastily aligning himself with your entrance.  

“Bruce...I’m sorry. Forgive me?” you whispered, shutting your eyes as his wet tip prodded at your entrance. It was a rather misplaced, emotional message for such a sexually charged moment, but you found it necessary. Here; with his face in your hands and your bodies just about to become one, there wasn’t a better moment. Coherent words seemed to evade the both of you, but the message was clear – you were by each other's side, always. He knew you were one of the few people who got him, understood him; really, and you knew that deep down, he was just scared. 

You were willing to work through that. 

It was bliss when he entered you. He’d gone in raw, cock stretching you so perfectly and making you feel whole. He let out a heavy sigh as he savoured the feeling before beginning to roll his hips, murmuring into your neck as he held onto your legs, making sure they stayed apart.  

Jostling about, your calves struck the cabinets below ever so slightly as he found a comfortable pace. His breath was hot against your own clammy skin, and he smelt faintly of leather and sweat…which only turned you on more. 

Bruce groaned your name, his breaths laboured and ragged as he motioned his hips in and out of you, pelvis colliding with your thighs and producing an obscene slapping sound. He gripped onto your waist, angling your hips so that he could take more of you, desperate to consume you in any way he could. He didn’t want to let go – he couldn’t – your love was just too strong, too womanly to lose hold of. 

To some it made him weak, but he felt it gave him balance. 

“God…” you whispered, clasping his face in your hands, forcing him to watch you come undone. “Don’t stop…” Bruce’s eyes were half lidded, occasionally flickering down to the small gap that joined the two of you, hypnotised by the way you covered his pink cock in a shiny sheen, with the sex organ virtually disappearing in you. 

He nodded, lips wet and parted as you pushed hair from his face, allowing for you to take in his features at his most vulnerable. Even though the room had become steamy, and the lights were slightly obscured, Bruce was as handsome as ever. His usually clenched jaw hung free, and the dark circles around his eyes didn’t look so depressing. 

There was just something about intimacy that changed the way you see people. 

“B-Bruce…” you crooned, locking your legs around him as you noticed his thrusts becoming sloppier. “Cum inside me…Please.” 

He wasn’t going to say no to you, nor was he planning to pull out anyway, especially not tonight. He called your name once more before he began to pant, blue eyes locking with your own as he came inside of you, ropes of his seed filling your pussy to the brim. He was pent up, so desperate that you wondered if his protectiveness earlier on in the night had just been because he was horny. 

“I love you…” he whispered, twitching as he came down from his high. “You know that?” 

“I do.” You nodded sincerely, words evading you as your chests fell against the others’, still entangled in each-others arms as your eyelids fluttered shut, momentarily focusing on the others’ breaths and gentle caresses on bare skin. 

You didn’t care about the dress, or the gala, or the fact that you were going to have to run out for Plan B in the morning – simply the fact that it had been the first time he’d directly said ‘I love you’. 

Bruce knew he meant it with all his heart.

[scarlet2007]

⊹ ₊˚꒷꒦︶⊹ Late night talks ₊︶꒷꒦︶

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

Pairing: Batman x reader / Bruce Wayne x reader.

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

Summary: After accidentally mistaking Batman as a criminal and spraying him with pepper spray, you both have seemed to form a friendship.

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

Warnings: Pepper spray, mention of Gotham being dangerous.

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

Word count: 1.5k

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

[ Masterlist ]

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

Bruce has no idea how he got himself into this situation. Or rather... This habit.

It all started on that faithful night.

Walking alone at night in Gotham was like an one way ticket to heaven. A death wish, as some may say.

You sighed, looking around anxiously as you tried to walk as fast as you could. Every flicker of the night light, every random sound was making you jump in terror. You were half convinced that this was going to be your last day on earth.

You were just about to walk past an alley when you saw a shadowy figure stand menacingly at the entrance. The lights were flickering as the lamp above seemed to be surviving off of the happiness of the citizens of Gotham. Obviously, there wasn't much life left in it.

Red alarms started to go off in your head as the figure slowly started to move towards you. The heavy sound of its boot hitting the ground, the sound of your quickened heartbeat, the sound of the pained hissed that left the shadowy figure- Wait... Pained hiss?

It was only then you realised that you had sprayed the shadowy figure, Batman, with the pepper spray you were clutching while walking.

You gasped, staring at Batman in shock. He was hissing at the sudden attack, one of his eye half opened as he stared directly at you.

'I am so dead.'

Your eyes were wide before you shakingly reached into your purse, pulling out a small water bottle as you handed it to him, "I am so sorry! I thought you were some... Some criminal! Oh my- Splash this in your eyes! I am so sorry!" Half of the words sounded like nonsense due to how fast you were speaking.

He reluctaningly grabbed the water, splashing some water into his eyes as the affect of the spray started to subdue.

For a minute or two, nobody said anything as you both just stared at each other.

"What are you doing outside at this hour?"

"I am so sorry!"

Both of you decided to speak at the same time, which made none of you understand what the other person said.

"Come again?"

"I didn't hear-"

And it happened again.

"Speak."

"I am sorry-"

And again.

Finally, Batman seemed to have enough of it as he just stared at you broodingly, making you shut your mouth from fear.

"Why are you out at such an hour?"

You paused at his question, looking at him sheepishly, "Uh... Nightshift..."

Your answer made him raise an eyebrow which you didn't see because of his mask, "You shouldn't walk alone in the streets of Gotham with only a pepper spray as a weapon."

You nodded, looking at the ground as you suddenly felt like a child getting scolded by your parent.

Batman sighed as he stared at your figure, he can't just let you walk around at such an hour. Especially when it looked like you had the survival skills of a limbless cockroach.

"I will walk you home. Lead the way."

And that's how everything started.

"You haven't been paying attention to what I have been yapping about, have you?" You deadpanned, staring at him as he spaced out.

This made Batman blink, coming out of his chain of thoughts as he stared at the bowl of cereal you passed to him.

"Eat."

He blinked again, glancing at you in slight confusion before he started to eat.

He doesn't remember how this became a... Thing. It started out as occasionally walking you home from your nightshifts, then it shifted to him being injured after a rather brutal fight with a criminal near your apartment complex which made you usher him to your house for some patching up and now it has become a habit of Batman to swing by your window every once in a while, whenever he knew you would be awake or knew you had a day off.

You have come out of your shell fully, and now he knows you as the sassy and playful girl he once saved instead of the scared and timided girl.

"Eat up! You look like you have been starving since the dark ages, Mr. Dark knight." He let out an amused grunt at your words, rolling his eyes as he ate the cereal.

It was a comical scene, having him sit in your kitchen in his Batsuit while you lectured him about his poor eating habits in your pastel night gown.

You were an amusing person, a dramatic display of playfulness and sarcasm was always expected from you. Batman has seemed to grow fond of you and your shared time spent together over the past few months as he found himself looking forward to these meet-ups.

He has heard it all, from how much you dislike your job to how much you loved visiting animal sanctuaries to how you once crashed your friend's bicycle into different objects all under 15 minutes.

All these little stories would make him smile slightly while he worked in his Batcave. Alfred has heard all about you as well, the butler seemed to have grown fond of you as well despite never meeting you.

He glanced at you, watching you move around the kitchen as you washed the dishes. A thought passed through his mind.

He could help you.

Imagining him, Batman, helping you wash the dishes in his Batsuit. That would certainly be something you would die laughing at.

He shook his head slightly at the thought, focusing on eating the cereal you had given him.

"So, when are you going to leave your shitty job?" That made you look at him, slightly taken aback by his sudden question.

"Oh... Um... When I find a job that pays the same or more...?"

There it was again. The same answer you always give him. At first, he used to get irritated by your answer but now he understands your point. He knows the financial struggle you have gone through as a child, which has made you very anxious about having no job. All his attempts to help you fell on deaf ears as you firmly stated that you do not want money from your struggling vigilante friend.

He still has no idea why you think he is a struggling vigilante.

Does he look broke to you?

He sighed, glancing at the clock as he saw what time it was. The sun was about to rise.

"Do you have a day-off tomorrow or another night shift?"

You looked up from the dishes, glancing at him, "I have a day-off."

He nodded, walking up the sink to wash his bowl as you stepped aside to make space for him.

This is starting to feel oddly domestic.

"You should head to bed then." This earned a giggle from you as you looked at him with an amused expression.

"Aww, are you worried about my health?" You cooed jokingly as you leaned against the counter.

"You work at odd hours. From 8 pm till 3:45 am, it has to be one of the most ridiculous work hours I have ever heard of." He mumbled, scrubbing the bowl as he pretended to be annoyed at your playful behaviour.

You hummed, nodding your head in agreement before a small yawn escaped you, making Batman give you a 'I told you so' look behind his mask.

"See? You should head to bed." He grumbled, drying the bowl before putting it in its place.

"Alright, alright, I'll head to bed. Just make sure that whenever you leave, you close the window." He nodded as he watched you walked towards your bedroom, stretching as you glanced back at him.

He still has no idea how this has become something so normal to both of you that you just let him stay in your house while you sleep and he knows exactly where the bowl goes in the cupboard.

Bruce sighed as he flipped through the documents and files of the new Wayne enterprise project, his eyes narrowed as the sunlight from outside was starting to bother him. He could almost feel a headache coming in.

It has been weeks since he last saw you, he has been busy with his duties as a vigilante and the owner of the Wayne enterprise to the point he could barely find the time to visit you. Thankfully, you have left your old job for good so he knows that you are at least not walking around the dangerous streets of Gotham at night.

But he still can't help but feel worried about your financial state, to the point that he has voiced it out to Alfred a few times.

He sighed again, glancing at the door as he heard a knock.

"Come in!"

His eyes widened as he stared as you walked in, his new secretary.

Suddenly, everything makes sense. Alfred suddenly pestering him to appoint a new secretary, Alfred going out of his way to personal find him a new secretary. Everything is starting to make sense.

'That cunning old man...'

[anitalenia]

𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒃𝒐𝒏𝒚 𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒓 .𖥔 ݁ ˖

𝒃𝒂𝒍𝒆!𝒃𝒂𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒙 𝒘𝒊𝒇𝒆!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 ₊˚⊹ ᰔ 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘶𝘴𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱, 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘳𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮. ₊ ⊹ ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐗𝐔𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 ✧˚ ༘

— 𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖐𝖘 ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ 𝘥𝘤 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 | 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

˚☽˚｡⋆ 𝑩𝒓𝒖𝒄𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅𝒏’𝒕 𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒑. The silence was too loud and his room was too cold — his arms and torso were left bare to freeze thanks to you (he was too much of a gentleman to snatch the blanket off you anyway). The heavy rain smacked into his windows pointedly and purposefully; with every loud drop it made his lip twitch in annoyance.

The air was sharp and frosted, it burned his nose when he breathed in too deeply and it made him wonder if Alfred forgot to turn the heat on — better yet if you turned it off, knowing you hated to fall asleep too warm and Alfred was too meticulous and thorough to forget to turn it off at all.

It was dingy and dismal, dark and dreary just as Bruce preferred it to be, so little going on for him to be so awake and agitated but yet… maybe that was just it. The silence, the boredom, the macabre sense of monotony on an unfamiliarly quiet Saturday night — so little going on it was driving him mad.

Bruce stared up at the ceiling with his arms laid out on his shirtless stomach, restless but tired. His limbs were sore and heavy, his body bruised and battered, yet his dark eyes couldn’t help but flicker over to his window ever so often when he thought about what was on the other side of it — the source of his calamity.

He’d stare through the droplets of water at the blurred kaleidoscope of lights as they shone onto his floor, not eagerly per say just habitually; Bruce seldom ever saw a peaceful night in, so unaccustomed with the sweet domesticity of crawling under the covers at 10:30 pm and kissing your lover goodnight — he was usually so busy, for Gotham never slept and crime never seemed to stop.

No, Bruce couldn’t sleep; his thoughts a morbid mess of batman-esque obligation that made it impossible to close his eyes.

You were a different matter entirely as Bruce turned his head to look at you; snuggled up on your side of the large bed with his thick, black comforter surrounding you, breathing gently on the muscle of his shoulder and sleeping soundly, beautifully.

His pretty little wife.

His eyes looked over the sharp shadows of your sleeping beauty. From your wispy eyelashes, to your cute little nose, to your softly parted lips, a soft smile adorning the corner of his mouth as he did — he couldn’t help it.

Your hair was frizzy and tangled messily around your head, your soft breaths ever so often stuttered with an adorable snore but Bruce couldn’t help but think how beautiful you looked anyway as he raked his eyes over your face fondly.

As he did he realized how grateful he was that you didn’t need to worry yourself with the things that he did; you were too innocent for the cruelty of Gotham City, too pure and divine; an angel wrapped in wicked tapestry.

Even now, in your pale white pajamas on black silken sheets you looked too fragile for them, like they could wrap their shadowy arms around you and swallow you whole — just as the city could so easily do if he wasn’t there to protect you.

If Batman wasn’t there to save you.

I don’t care, Bruce. I love you anyway.

That’s what you’d always say when Bruce would settle down in bed beside you with a heavy sigh and whisper why do you stay?, on those long nights when he’d come home brutally battered and fatigued. After a night of being heavily reminded to the real dangers waiting just outside his door like a pack of feral dogs and how easily they could ensnare you in their jaws.

I don’t care. I love you.

He loved you too, he really very did.

With that final thought, Bruce was still caught staring at you with a soft look of love on his face when you gently fluttered your eyes open, your body sensing his awareness before your mind could.

He watched patiently as you groggily looked around before eventually meeting his gaze, his eyes getting even softer at the adorable look of confusion on your face.

Your eyes tiredly looked back up at him despite the darkness surrounding you two, able to see his frowned lips and dark eyes clearly, “Bruce? Why are you still awake?”

Your voice was raspy and tired, a small yawn following your statement that made pity tear at his heart for waking you up.

Bruce ran his hazel eyes over your face some more before he responded, unable to stop cherishing you.

“Couldn’t sleep.” He simply responded, voice low and intimate, words spoken in the bare space between his lips and yours.

You settled into your silken pillow with a small huff, eyes focused more on Bruce’s face now as the grogginess gradually melted away and your vision became clearer — the silence and rain thrumming calmly around you. It wasn’t a normal night in Gotham City without the rain.

“Well, did you try?” You teased just as quietly as he, smiling a little at the chuckle he gave you in response.

“Yes, of course I tried. It clearly didn’t go as planned.” Bruce mumbled back with a faint snicker, speaking just loud enough so you can hear him over the rain pattering on the windows, a small smile now quirked on his sharp lips.

You hummed in acknowledgment, eyes looking between his, knowing Bruce well enough to know when he was lying.

“I don’t really believe you. What’s keeping you awake?” You sighed with furrowed brows, resting your head right next to his bare shoulder to look up at him better — maybe if you pouted in that cute way he liked he’d tell you honestly.

Bruce faltered at that, looking down at you with a heavy heart; he couldn’t possibly tell you that he felt guilty laying in bed with you when he should’ve been out there, out there protecting those who needed him. But the fact of the matter, one he couldn’t argue with, was that you needed him as well.

He couldn’t possibly tell you how conflicted he really was but probably shouldn’t have been; two parts of him sharing the same mind and body but each with entirely different obligations — the irreconcilable duality that was he.

One part of him was Bruce Wayne; millionaire, orphan, husband, you needed that side of him, you deserved to have him for at least one night. But he was also Batman, and Gotham always needed him.

He was haunted with a classic case of Jekyll and Hyde but instead of one side lusting for murderous intent his alter ego longed for rightful justice in the grandest city of injustice. Batman was the only one who could live harmoniously in the dark, the only one capable of doing the things he did. It was an enervative dichotomous life of matrimonial duties and moral obligation.

There were two men sharing the same halves of the same soul and Bruce couldn’t decide which heart to listen to without making the other one feel guilty.

“Just work stuff, honey. It’s nothing you need to worry about, trust me.” Bruce dismissed after a short moment, shaking his head gently with a reassuring smile on his thin lips — like that could convince you of anything.

You narrowed your eyes at him slightly, registering the slight blue bags under his eyes and the crippled fault in his smile, all small clues of his devious, well-intentioned deception.

“Which work stuff?” You prodded carefully, raising a brow at him as suspicions already began to brew in the back of your mind as to what he was really referring.

Bruce chuckled again at that, loving your caring and inquisitive nature any day but wishing you’d just drop it already. He really couldn’t bear weighing any of the pressure he carried on your delicate shoulders, fearing you’d crumble under the weight of it.

“Really, it’s…” Bruce looked back up at the ceiling in indecision, searching for the right words, “it’s nothing I can’t handle, okay?” He looked back down at you with confidence, his voice firmer than before but still softly spoken to get his point across.

You narrowed your eyes at him with that, knowing it was a response you fully expected but were still annoyed to hear.

You were aware that he was lying to you but also aware that he wouldn’t tell you no matter how much you begged him; he never liked to tell you anything about his Batman related problems and it greatly frustrated you for some reason.

As his wife didn’t you deserve to know at least something? You were fully aware of what you were getting yourself into when you agreed to his long awaited proposal. After all, you didn’t just marry Bruce Wayne but you married Batman as well… you could handle the truth even if he didn’t seem to think so.

You sighed anyway, unable to mask your irritation towards him for keeping you in the dark. Your lack of sleep didn’t help the influx of annoyance either.

You took your head off his warm shoulder and went to turn around away from him, your fatigue easily irritating you more than usual.

Bruce licked his lips and sighed, having already disappointed you in an attempt to protect you; a small price to pay if it meant your pretty little head wasn’t clogged with constant, pained disquietude like his was.

“Fine, don’t tell me.” You muttered more to yourself than anything, fussing with the blanket you had wrapped yourself in during your slumber and now seemed to be stuck in.

Before you could fully turn around though Bruce laid a warm, consoling hand on your forearm that made you pause, “Hey, hey, wait.”

You lingered a moment at the feel of it before turning back around to face him, expression a little more sour than before — tired and impatient.

Bruce felt guilt swirl in his stomach at the look on your face, knowing he was disappointing you but also knowing it was for the best.

He kept the hand on your arm, leaning up and wrapping it around your back to bring you into his chest, his other arm going behind your neck and tucking you into his side like you were his most precious doll — you were of course.

You didn’t fight him even if you wanted to, enjoying the warmth he provided and the safety you subconsciously sought out snuck tight in between his arms.

“Bruce.” You grumbled anyway as you settled against him, his arm releasing you for a moment to pick the blanket up and over his waist so there was nothing separating you two from each other.

You felt hard plains of muscle underneath you when he did, a flustered pinkness appearing on your cheeks, then slowly crept in hot embarrassment at the fact that your husband’s carefully structured body that you’ve seen many many times still managed to make you shy.

You melted into his side, albeit a bit stiffly as you were still annoyed with him and wanted to blatantly show it, your arms stubbornly slotted against your chest to separate yourself from laying completely on his.

When Bruce was done adjusting the blanket, the bed moving as he did, he settled still and looked down at you with those kind eyes of his you loved so much, the ones that always flustered you when you stared back into them for too long.

The arm behind your neck pushed you closer to him while he took his right hand and wrapped it around your chin, his palm so warm and big against your jaw that you couldn’t help but sigh in submission.

Bruce gently forced you to look up at him, his eyes staring down at you softly but earnestly.

“Alright, hey, don’t be like that with me. If there was something I thought you really needed to know I’d tell you. Otherwise, it’s best I keep that side of myself as private from you as possible. I hate the thought of you being in danger because of me, because I exposed you to that side of myself you didn’t need to see.” Bruce whispered genuinely, minty breath fanning over your nose as you stared up at him, seemingly calm now and even just a little regretful for being so upset with him in the first place.

“Just give it a rest honey, alright? I promise you, it’s nothing you need to worry about. Do I ever go back on my promises, hmm?” He said sweetly, looking down at you with insistent but loving eyes in the expectation of you responding.

You paused for a moment as you registered his words, still curious to know what he was really thinking about because you just couldn’t help it. You worried for him, wished he’d be more open with you so you could help him in whatever way you could. However, you also didn’t want to stress him out any more than he already was either, your mind picturing all the purple bruises littering his beautiful body pitifully.

So, you just shook your head like a scolded child, “No… you don’t.” You’d have to bite your tongue for now, pouting up at him cutely — Bruce was just too sweet to argue with sometimes and he knew it.

Bruce gave you a charming smile, gray shadow washed over the angles of his straight nose and narrow cheeks. His brown hair was more unkempt than usual, wavy tendrils of it fallen around his face. He looked so handsome, more tranquil this way, as he leaned down and gave you a peck on the forehead, a sweet hum sounding in the back of his throat.

“That’s my girl.”

You sighed happily, giving in to him completely now and wrapping an arm around his chest so you could burrow against him; he wrapped his arm around you tighter instinctually, enjoying the feel of you against him as he looked up at the ceiling in content.

Nothing was better than being with you, so much so that Batman himself felt satiated from his lonely perch in the back of Bruce’s mind.

You stared out the large, arched window on his wall for a few quiet moments, watching as the rain quickly fell down the glass one by one as Bruce softly traced his textured fingertips along the spine of your back.

“It always rains, you ever notice that?” You murmured tiredly against his skin, in a daze from the tingling sensation on your skin as he caressed your back in gentle, loving touches.

Bruce looked away from you a moment when you spoke to spare the window a disinterested glance, “What? You don’t like the rain, Mrs. Wayne?” He teased you, his spirits higher than before as he looked back down at you even if you couldn’t see, his nose filled with the sweet smelling shampoo you used — coconut and vanilla.

You smiled a little — you loved when he called you that.

“Well of course you do. You’re Batman, you’re supposed to like depressing things.” You spoke with a smile, only teasing him as your eyes drifted shut from the comfort of his body against yours, muscles melting against the black sheets nestled between his own.

Bruce chucked at that, his hand ceasing its calming motion, “oh, is that right?”

You hummed with an amused smile on your lips, nodding your head, “mmhmm, yes sir.”

Bruce scoffed playfully at that, looking down at you with a fond playfulness in his eyes before gently taking his muscled arm out from underneath your head.

You lifted your head up curiously to look at him, wishing for the moment to not be disturbed, only to be gently rolled over so that Bruce was laid on top of you and you were now sunken into the inky black abyss of cushions beneath him. Your lips parted in a slight gasp, staring up at him with those beautiful eyes he loved so much in surprise.

“Now now, Mrs. Wayne, don’t go calling me that unless you plan on doing something about it, it’s in bad taste.”

You giggled at that, a joyous and twinkling sound that made Bruce tense up, his eyes darting towards your lips and his heart quickening in his chest. You always had such an effect on him even if you didn’t know it.

“How ‘bout you do something about it then?” You whispered up to him sensually, voice low and playful. You could feel the air surrounding the little bubble you two found yourselves in change heavily as you ran your hands softly over his midsection, his light skin cold and soft, muscles hard and firm as you traced your fingers delicately over each individual ab until Bruce was twitching at the feeling.

He glanced down at your hands hotly, already worked up from your minuscule touches alone, his skin tingling from the sensation as a familiar heat started to twirl in his lower tummy.

He looked back down at you, eyes more hooded now but just as eagerly as rain pounded on the windows somewhere in the background — you couldn’t focus on anything but the sound of his warm breaths and the gradual throbbing between your own legs.

“Yeah? Would you like if I did something about it, Mrs. Wayne?” Your husband mumbled huskily, a teasing smirk on his lips as he lowered down closer until his face was just above yours, his big arms pressed into the pillow on each side of your head so you were surrounded by him.

He could see the way you inhaled at the name, felt the way your nails dug into his skin for a subtle, fleeting moment. He always knew all the right ways to turn you on, knew all the right words to say to make you melt in his hands like warm syrup — you were certainly just as sweet.

You stared up at your husband with heavy breaths, mouth watering for a taste of him, eyes blown black with love and unabashed want as he sat in the reflection of your irises. Your skin felt hot and your thighs tightened around his waist, arms aimlessly tracing the ridges of muscle that coated Bruce’s front; it was in an innocently naive way now, so unaware of how badly it was affecting Bruce himself as your initial confidence dwindled down to need.

You impatiently waited for him to make a move, give into the desire you both so clearly felt as your eyes ran over his shirtless body and perfect face in the mean time. With every exhale of breath out of his mouth you found yourself inhaling it back in, breathing his air and smelling of Bruce’s aftershave, Bruce’s shampoo, it was all just Bruce, Bruce, Bruce.

He had completely overwhelmed your senses with his smell, his presence, his very existence and it was making it hard to think clearly — only he plagued your thoughts so much it made your fingertips buzz to feel more of him.

It was in moments like these where the sheer size of Bruce was brought to your attention; he was much more muscular than you, all sharp edges and ridges of pure muscle and destruction that could destroy anything he put his hands on.

It was ironic to you, how those same hands that broke bones were the same hands that caressed your skin in the softest of touches, in the softest of ways, irrevocably incapable of breaking you.

Bruce believed he was all carnal ruination — hands made to break and fists made to destroy. He believed he had a dark side in him he couldn’t control, that Batman was the outlet for all the frustration he felt towards the injustices of the city and how easily it corrupted the lightest of souls. He believed he was made to hurt, to cause ruin — a reason why he never took a single human soul no matter how rotten it was.

But you believed he didn’t give himself enough credit, which is exactly why moments like these were so important to remind him.

You swallowed nervously now as you looked back into his eyes, your fingers faltering in their movement as they stilled on the angles of his hips, right outside the tight band of his black sweatpants.

“Yes, Mr. Wayne, that’s exactly what I want.” You whispered back up to him in a velvety soft tone, eyes looking at his pink lips and then flickering back up between his hazel irises lustfully; the look in them was too intense for you to handle but you sufficed, your heart thrumming passionately under your skin at the attention.

Bruce almost melted at the name, just as affected by the title as you were, lowering his face down until his nose was touching yours, his lips hovering right above your own.

“That’s my girl…” Bruce breathed thickly against your lips, his eyes flickering to your mouth as yours did the same to his, your mouth salivating for a taste of him.

A silent beat passed as you both just stayed in that position, locked into each other’s loving gazes and gentle touches, his lips just a whisper away from yours screaming to have you, to taste you. It was intimate and warm, quiet, your body feeling fuzzy and alight with something similar to deep admiration and not so far from a deep, shared love for each other.

There was no playfulness about it now.

It was then, when the tension had sizzled into flame did Bruce finally lean down and kiss you, his lips soft and cold, so contrasting from the warmth he sought in yours as the rain pattered on the windows and your angelic essence drowned him further into the depths of you.

You moaned softly, feeling relief flood through you as your hands gripped his hips for some sort of anchor off the clouds you seemed to be floating on. Bruce kissed you lovingly, a characteristic act of tenderness as he found his own needy noises hum in the back of his throat.

It was sweet and slow, lips careful and gentle against each other between delicate sighs and hums. He tasted of peppermint and the faint drawl of bourbon, his tongue damping your lips and your shared saliva wet on your mouths.

He seperated from you just for a short moment, your lips feeling the loss but not for too long before he was on you once more with a fervor, tongue molding between your lips forcefully and sucking yours into the warmth of his mouth.

You whined at the sudden confidence within him, lips barely moving against his as he took control of your movements and gave you no other option but to take what he gave you — his lips and his tongue tangling with yours messily as sensual rumbles sounded deep from within in his chest.

He brought a hand down from the pillow and intertwined it in your hair, tangling his thick fingers into your roots and pulling hard enough to arouse you further. It made your back arch and lips part in a salacious gasp.

Bruce found himself unable to part from your delectable taste for long, taking that moment to reconnect his damp lips to the skin between your chin and shoulder. He forced your head back as he kissed your neck, the cold air hitting every damp spot in a pleasurable tingling sensation that had your nails digging into his abs.

“Bruce…” You sighed oh so sweetly in a distracted state of mind, just wanting to say his name and have him hear how good he was making you feel with his simple kisses alone — a feat he always accomplished anytime he did.

The praise didn’t fall on deaf ears but he was too preoccupied with the sound of your heavy breaths and whines to really pay attention, too love drunk on the smoothness of your skin falling over his tongue as he licked his way down to your collarbone. He released his grip on your hair and his hands made idle work in caressing their way down your body to the hem of your white pajama top.

His hands were eager, so familiar on the curves of your body as they slid back up to your chest, hands big and desperate as they tightly gripped your bosom for a fleeting moment that had you moaning at the sting — he was handsy, unable to get enough of you and the way your body perfectly slotted between the strength and ridges of his hands.

His cock was already hard in his slacks, poking against your thigh absentmindedly as his hands dug into the center of your top and adamantly ripped it right down the middle. The buttons flew over the bed and your tits spilled out of the ripped material in a gorgeous ripple of flesh that had Bruce groaning at the sight.

“So beautiful, so gorgeous, just fucking perfect…” He mumbled in a lustful daze, more to himself as a factual observation, his hands now gripping your waist, eager mouth leaning down and making quick work to lap at your chest in the way he knew you liked.

You giggled dreamily at that, feeling fluttery and lightheaded at the praise, body warm and melting like a cube of butter on top of his silk bed sheets. He was always capable of making you melt with just a few loving words and caresses, another one of his talents.

Your hands had found their way into his thick hair, massaging at the loose strands when you decided it was impossible to stay still from the buzzing running through your pores.

Your pussy throbbed in your pajama shorts, painfully so, stomach in tight knots at the sparks shooting down to your core from his ministrations.

He found himself enthralled by the feeling of your tit in his mouth, fervently sucking on the skin there as his hands gripped into your waist so tight in a subconsciously possessive hold so you could never leave. Maybe it was the semblance of Batman himself leaking out from under tight fingertips, a degree of fierce protection in the way he held you underneath him, unable to be taken or destroyed by the same evil he fought almost every night.

You were here with him, with him and all of his burdens for the rest of your lives.

“So gorgeous…”

Bruce was lost in the pleasure you helplessly moaned in his ears, feeling his own mutual desire swirling in his tummy and thrumming through his skin that made every touch feel like fire, every kiss an ember from the flame until you and him were intertwined ash lost in the black smoke.

He loved you, his pretty wife, always so supportive and forgiving in the moments he definitely didn’t deserve it.

He picked his head up, panting and lips wet, your chest littered in pink marks and damp with his spit as Bruce licked his lips, hungry for more already.

You looked at him in all his glory, admiringly, just as enamored with him as he was with you as your warm hands slid down to his cheeks. Your own were flushed pink and feverish, breath warm and heavy as you lovingly ran your palm over his sharp cheekbone. His skin was soft, smooth and tepid under your dainty fingertips.

You gently caressed the faint purple of a bruise with your thumb, right in the hollow of his eye.

Bruce leaned into the tender action for a spared moment of comfort, his eyes hooded and twinkling in the dark as he breathed heavily against your lips. He kept finding himself absent in the presence of your beauty, staring at your face and your lips and being so thankful he had you at all.

“So beautiful…” He breathed gingerly, eyes looking over your face like he was seeing you for the first time — no, he was selfish in his blatant admiration of your magnificence, his heart throbbing almost painfully in his love for you as he watched the soft corners of your mouth twist into a shy smile at your devotees idolatrous attention.

He leaned down after a fond moment of your thumb tracing his cheekbone, after he was satisfied with his generous intake of your prettiness. He pecked an affectionate kiss on your smiling lips before dipping his head down and laying several kisses to your neck once more.

You bit your lip at the sensitive feeling, closing your eyes, lost in the feel of him, as he pampered you with doting kisses all the way down to your ribcage, his hands now playing with the hem of your shorts but not too boldly as to take them off quite yet.

“You’re everything, you know that? I could never imagine my life without you… you’re perfect, so perfect.” He rubbed your stomach adoringly, “Your body is perfect, so beautiful, I can’t believe you ever married me…” He mumbled in that rough voice of his, vulnerable in the night, in the moment when you couldn’t see him all the way clearly but he could see all of you just fine.

You could feel another smile playing on your lips — not that it had even left — the heavy sensation of happy tears casting a light sheen over your eyes. He was the perfect one, he was the gorgeous and beautiful counterpart of you that didn’t seem to realize his own value. You only wished you had the poetic spark in yourself that he had, then you’d be able to voice it properly. Still, his praise made your heart swell as he took your left hand and kissed the diamond ring on your finger amorously.

“Oh, Bruce…” You spoke in a hushed manner, voice wobbling from the overwhelming infatuation you had for the man, so thankful and grateful for such a man as wonderful as he. In your eyes the sudden romance had come out of nowhere, but it was still greatly appreciated as it caused your voice to thicken with the downpour of love it had spiked.

He looked into your eyes as he warmly kissed your palm, lips quirked slightly, eliciting another tender hearted smile from you. He then let you settle your hands back on his shoulders as he slotted himself between your hips, the affectionate moment lingering in the air as you pet his wide shoulders.

You were laid on your back, smooth thighs spread to accommodate his size between them, pajama top ripped down the middle in fragmented material hanging off your shoulders, your tits pooled on your chest and wet with his kisses. Your hair was tangled, fanned around your head, lips pink and plushy from all his salacious kisses, your eyes glittering erotically bright.

Despite that, you were not uncomfortable to be so exposed to him, exposed in a way you’d only ever be with him. You knew he would never judge you nor your body, that he loved you and all your freckles and scars and all the blemishes you considered imperfections — he loved them all. The only part of you not seen were covered by the shorts Bruce was already eager to take off.

You were beautiful to him, ethereal even, just as he said you were an angel, something divine and pure, a holy deity completely out of this world that transcended the mortal plane he was bound to, letting his lowly lips and hands cherish your merciful soul and body. Just oh so perfect.

“I love you…” You whispered, pathetically cute, down to him, a whisper wafting into his ears soft and fragile as if you were scared he wouldn’t say it back — he’d say it everyday for a thousand years if he had the blessing of living that long with you. Your nails dug into his shoulders, pulsing with need, as you smiled down at him sweetly.

“I love you more, Mrs. Wayne… I love you more…” He breathed hotly against your stomach, already leaning down and peppering sugarcoated kisses along your pelvis, so much closer to where you really needed him that the throbbing had become unbearably intense, wetness soaking your inner thighs and cream colored shorts. You felt your body shiver at the title once more.

You swallowed shakily as Bruce moved down, his daft fingers hooking into the band of your shorts and gently shoving them down to your knees as his longing lips reached the band of your lavender laced panties.

Your thighs tightened around his head as cool air hit your wet center, your body sensitive and pulsing heavy notes of desire straight into your pussy that made it hard to keep your head up and eyes open.

You just needed him, needed him and his expert mouth to bring you some sort of relief. Your toes were curled already, pussy clenching around nothing and spewing out clear juices that only damped your underwear further. You tangled your fingers into his hair heatedly, resisting the urge to shove his head down where you really wanted him.

Bruce swallowed hungrily, staring at your panty-clad pussy with dark eyes. He could smell your sweetness on his nose, the rain pattering on the windows still and the room still dark as sin but he could see his heaven clear as day, hypnotized by the patch of wetness in your panties, molded to the shape of your pussy lips and begging to be ripped apart.

His eyes flickered up to you, feeling your grabby fingers tangled in his hair as your thighs tensed back and forth around his neck.

Your head was barely held up, eyes hooded and sparkling with a form of lustful desperation as you stared down at him. Your chest bobbing up and down heavily and your skin radiant and smooth, the city lights from his window blurredly reflected in the fat of your cheeks. You already looked destroyed, like he had just fucked your brains out yet he really hadn’t done a thing.

“Bruce, come on…” You whined in a delicate plea when he made no movement further, hands barely pulling his hair but it was hard enough for his skin to prickle in pleasure, a hiss leaving his lips, just hard enough to get your message across.

He snickered at that, lips shiny and jaw chiseled, his face so sharp yet soft at the same time. His beauty greatly perplexed you for how could a mere mortal be so fucking handsome? He was though, he was strong and big and riddled with scars and imperfections yet the accumulation of all those little faults are what made him flawless.

Bruce himself felt the throbs of impatience nestled in his stomach, burrowed in his heart, buzzing at his fingertips, as he looked down at your pussy once more just inches from his mouth, both wet and watering for the other.

“Be patient, honey. I just wanna look at ‘cha first. You’re so pretty, dripping wet for me…” He had the audacity to murmur in that cocky voice of his, yet simultaneously genuine and stunned at the observation as his hands rubbed your thighs, being sure to heartily press into the tissue in that way he knew you liked.

You couldn’t help but pull his hair some more, bursting at the seams for some sort of pleasure you feared it would boil over and you’d explode. You felt frustration settle through your veins once more like molten lava, your skin tensing and thighs aching from their tight grip around his neck.

“Bruce, no more teasing, please? Just please…” You moaned and whined like a stubborn girl, voice thick with need and painful yearning that made his cock twitch in his pants. You almost sounded broken, voice fragmented with a certain torment only his mouth and fingers could appease.

He licked his lips, feeling desire swell in his lower tummy at the state of you — already so incapable of any thought but the memory of his cock inside you, the feeling of his fingers drilling into your tight hole as he spat and licked on your sensitive clit. It was all you could think about, all you could picture in your mind as your head laid back on the pillows and you scooted down the bed until your pussy was right in his face.

The blanket had long since been forgotten, bunched around his hips and aiding as a nice cushion for his abdomen hunched over the end of the bed.

Bruce felt himself chuckle huskily at your shameless neediness, his big hands stopping on your plush inner thighs as he settled down between your legs on the soft mattress, getting himself comfortable for you.

You breathed heavily, eyes closed as you laid back on the silken pillow with your face crumbled so cutely. He was such a tease even when he was meant to be sweet, even when he was insistent on being a good husband who doted on his wife whenever he could — you guessed growing up rich gave him that arrogant edge.

Your stomach was knotted so tight, your skin hot and shivering for some sort of touch as your fingers dug themselves into the roots of his damp, brown hair. You needed him so bad, but your pussy needed him worse.

You felt your thighs tickle as Bruce lightly traced the pads of his fingers down, down, down until he was at the crook of your inner thigh, his right hand digging into the flesh of your leg like he himself couldn’t hold back from you anymore.

Bruce didn’t bother voicing any teasing quips or dirty statements, knowing you were so out of it you wouldn’t listen to him anyway. Every fiber of your being was hooked on his touches, hyper aware of the spots his fingers trickled across, eager for some degree of pleasure that would make this painful waiting period worth it.

He swallowed down the salvia pooling in his throat, so hungry for a taste of you, starved almost. His index finger hooked into your panties and delicately pushed them out of the way until they were bunched in the crook of your thigh. His eyes were met with your soaking wet slit in all its glory.

White, creamy arousal stuck to your panties and dripped down your pulsing hole into the crack of your ass, sheer white beads of cum dribbled down your needy hole that would escape his tongue before he even got a proper taste of you yet.

The cool air made you whine behind closed lips, your voice high pitched and desperate now, your fingers tighter in his hair as your hips subtly bucked forward. The beautiful noises you were making made Bruce’s jaw clench.

You were glistening, shiny with arousal and the strings of impenitent want, evidence of your desire and love for him as he found himself inhaling the scent of you once more.

You smelt so good. He found himself groaning at the musky sweetness, his finger still hooked around the crotch of your panties as his other hand tightly gripped your thigh — you moaned softly at the pressure, sure that there would be the faint yellow bruises of his adoring fingerprints pressed into your skin tomorrow. A charming reminder of the evening when they blossomed.

You felt your core clench once more, thighs tensing up as wetness shone in his greedy irises.

Bruce was unable to wait any longer, his mouth salivating and his eyes blown black as he pressed his tongue into your wet hole and licked a bold stripe all the way up to your buzzing clit, the taste of your arousal pooled on his tongue and already dripping down the sharp corners of his mouth.

You couldn’t stop the loud moan from echoing in the room, euphoric sounding as sweet sparks went off all over your skin at the long awaited contact. Your fingers tightly anchored themselves in Bruce’s hair as his tongue went up and down your folds, gathering as much of your wetness in his mouth as he could.

His hands swiftly dug themselves into your hips to hold you down once you started writhing in his hold. His tongue forcefully circled your clit in sharp wet strokes, deep rumbled moans escaping his chest that vibrated the sensitivity of it and only made more wetness gush out of you and soak his chin.

You tasted so good, so fucking good; he wanted nothing more than to be drowned in your essence, choking on everything you gave him until his belly was full and even then he wouldn’t be satisfied, he’d never be satisfied. He was like a monster, chasing every little drop of cum that pebbled out of your clenching hole with a forked tongue, greedy and carnivorous like you were the only nectar he ever wanted to taste again.

His tongue lapped your pussy once more as you gasped, back arched and toes clenched as he thrusted his tongue into you over and over, wet and messily as your juices shimmered on his cheeks and lips.

No, he decided, the beast within him would never be tamed.

You bucked away from his mouth in a pathetic attempt to free yourself from the overwhelming pleasure, but Bruce held you down with his strong arms, staring up at you with furrowed brows of concentration as his lips molded over your puffy clit once more, swollen from need and his relentless licking.

He was nothing if not devoted, devoted to your elegance, to your holy figure and endless love as he lapped at you desperately, his tongue swirling your clit as the fabric of your panties tickled his nose. He couldn’t get enough, pushing deeper and harder until your wetness was messily smeared on his mouth and face, eating more and tasting more until his entire being was smothered with your cum inside and out.

“Bruce, o-oh my god!” You squealed wantonly, one hand now gripping the black sheets between tight fingers as your other hand remained in his hair, following the movements of his head as he went up and down, side to side until not an inch of you wasn’t covered in his salvia.

He breathed hotly against you, his eyes closed as he savored the feel of you in his mouth and trickling down his throat. He couldn’t think of anything else, couldn’t listen to reason as all he could focus on was you and your cum, tasting you, licking you, having you in every sense of the word. No one could tear him away from you, not now, not when he was so close to having you cum in his mouth and reaching his final purpose.

You were so close, you could feel it in your tummy. Your hole clenching around his tongue as he went back and forth from your clit and your soaked hole, wanting to pleasure you but simultaneously wanting to taste you for his own pleasure.

Your toes curled, stomach tightened, hands gripping the sheets as your mouth flew open in sporadic moans and gasps, tears prickling the corners of your eyes as your thighs squeezed around Bruce so tight you’d fear he’d never surface from between your legs again.

He wouldn’t have a problem with that.

Bruce picked his head up only high enough to talk, lips dripping and almost incoherent as he mumbled deeply into the wet folds of your pussy like he couldn’t bear to part, “You gonna cum for me, baby? Come on, Mrs. Wayne, make me proud, cum in my mouth.” As he voiced this his one hand crept down and slyly inserted themselves into the tight confine of your warmth, his index and middle fingers pushing inside you, so long and so big it made you cry out.

It was wet and warm, your juices slapping against his knuckles as he circled his fingers inside you, pushing on the spot he knew he was supposed to as his mouth eagerly returned to your clit. He looked up at you, eyes dark and heavy as he stared at your tits jiggling with every thrash of your hips, every arch of your back and every gasp out of your pretty, dampened lips.

He groaned into you at the sight, feeling his cock achingly hard in his pants as he sucked your clit into the warmth of his mouth and refused to let go, tongue prodding the area skillfully and harshly. He wasn’t going to stop this time, not until you were creaming around his fingers and leaking down his neck.

The air was so thick and stuffy that you couldn’t help but pant fervently, your body prickled with pleasure and overwhelming sensations that made it hard to focus on anything but his fingers inside you, long and lithe, slipping in and out as the sounds of your wetness clouded your ears and muffled your moans.

Bruce himself was lost in you, tongue and lips a glistening mess as they lapped and circled and sucked every part of your pussy exposed to him, it felt so good it stung — he was groaning into you softly, pleasure building in his tummy and rumbling through his mouth to your already so sensitive clit.

It was then, just a few short moments after his fingers wormed their way inside your tight walls, just a few short moments after he sucked your clit into his mouth did you feel your stomach relax, thighs squeeze around his head so hard he felt himself go dizzy.

“Ahh, O-oh my god, Bruce!” You moaned so blissfully, so sweetly, as your juices squirted onto his chin and his fingers squelched inside you.

Bruce moaned at the feeling, fingers gently sliding out of your clenching hole so his tongue could catch all the cum pouring out. You whimpered at the feeling of his mouth still on you, lapping at your hole like a dehydrated villager kneeling at a prosperous fountain, your skin pasty and so so hot.

He lapped at your pussy a few more times, up and down, ensuring he got his fill for the evening as faint tremors wracked your body in the aftershocks of his giving nature. You were flat on the bed now, belly sore from the tightness it held for so long, legs limp and body spent as you panted gently, heart throbbing in your ears.

You managed to lazily caress his sweaty hair though as Bruce surfaced from between your legs, face glistening and lips sore and pink. He looked manic, hair pulled and tangled and messily scattered on his face yet he seemed to be glowing at the same time, like he had never felt so alive and it made you want to giggle.

He sniffled, looking up at you with an impish grin, the taste of you lingering in his mouth and staining his nose. His hands fondly massaged your shaking thighs, noting your wrecked appearance and tired eyes, your sweaty skin flushed and warm.

He couldn’t help it as he glanced down at the mess he made, your slippery wet folds and the large patch of wetness staining his sheets.

“Mrs. Wayne, pardon my brashness of course,” He said almost sarcastically, breathless and rugged, an amused smile quirked on his lips as he leaned forward and embraced your hand with his, “but you taste utterly divine.”

⋆˚࿔ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ @little-miss-chaoss — I hope it’s okay I tagged you, you said you wanted to be tagged in everything 😭🙌🏻

[stargirlfics]

IRON

got a request awhile back for Battinson + pussy eating and l couldn’t resist!

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, size/strength kink, slight exhibitionism, reader is a bit of a brat! smut: oral (reader receiving), manual restraints, praise kink, body worship, mask kink

Word Count: 2.5k

One could hardly say it was your fault. 

Bruce had left you here, in the Tower, all by your lonesome. You couldn’t be to blame, it was simple as that.

Though you didn’t protest his departure (you knew how important his work for the city was, how he’d answer that beacon shining high in Gotham’s stormy skies whenever it appeared) you also couldn’t help but sulk and pout about missing him. 

He could be out there all night and as selfish and indulgent as it was, you had plans, ones that involved as minimal amount of clothing as possible and his lips on yours, these desires being something you had started to tell him when it became clear he was needed in the city tonight instead. 

You could only hope the slight pinching grip of his hands on your waist as he left you with a tender kiss to your cheek meant he wouldn’t forget about your needs. 

It was raining now, just a little under a steady downpour and time seemed to move entirely too slow, barely an hour having passed with your next glance at the large grandfather clock in the foyer.  

Huffing a sigh, you wandered over to the bookshelves lining the alcoves in Wayne Tower’s main room, browsing amongst a few of your favorite novels that had found a new home here before you were pulling one off the shelf and snagging an old throw blanket, heading downstairs to Bruce’s hidden workspace to curl up in your usual spot and wait for his return. 

Funny, how casual this felt, like it was any other weekend night but most people in Gotham weren’t waiting up for the vigilante they called a lover to come home were they? And yet it was exactly where you wanted to be. 

For better or worse you were tied to Bruce and therefore tied to The Batman, swiftly coming to fall for both, to want both and all of who Bruce is, even when he made you worry. 

He promised both you and Alfred that he’d be careful and did every time he went out but he knew you would worry anyways, neither of you asking the other to change, loving each other too much to ask of it. 

Somehow you fashioned another fitting piece to the ever shifting puzzle that was Bruce Wayne and you weren’t going to trade it for the world.

The descent below ground brought a change in temperature, cool chilly air sweeping across your skin once you stepped onto the expanse of the abandoned terminus.

But the familiarity of it and the blanket draped over your shoulders was doing a fine job at keeping you warm, and the sleeping bats hanging above you were a fond presence with how much time you spent down here now. 

You were right at home.

Curled up on the sofa tucked into one of the spare corners in the workspace you chewed at the nail of your thumb, finding that the novel you’d chosen wasn’t helping your antsy, increasingly needy mood. 

The novel bordered on erotic and it made you squirm, heat creeping up from your chest to settle in your cheeks, your thighs pressing together without thought.

Mind wandering, dreaming of a steamy kiss, of being scooped up by him and made to feel good, the ache in your core finally being sated. 

You kept reading into the midnight hour, eventually unable to stop thinking of the details, his towering form, large, strong, and sure hands that gripped and held you so sweetly, so tightly, and how good it felt to be taken apart by him too. 

Bruce was unassuming like that, shy and reserved, awkward even, until he wasn’t, making it a point to discover all the ways he could fluster you, make you whine, and beg for him again and again. 

He was good at it too, had gotten especially skilled with that smart and stubborn mouth of his, and tonight, that’s what you wanted most. 

Wanted to grind yourself against his lips, his tongue, your clit bumping against his nose until your brain went quiet and all you could feel was the pulsing of the pleasure he loved giving you.  

Distracted by your fantasies you almost missed the soft whirring of the terminus gate opening, the book dropping closed in your lap when you realized he was back. 

It was late in the night now, it had been hours but you never felt more energized, letting the blanket pool around your middle as you watched the sleek black muscle car roll in, streaked with rain, the rumble from its engine reverberating against your chest in thrilling comfort. 

You stood up then, stretching out your limbs, a sly smirk threatening to stay on your lips as you watched Bruce step out of the car, his inky black cape draped around him, cowl shiny with moisture, and oh those eyes, shrouded in painted on shadows, his gaze finding yours immediately. 

“Thought you might be in bed by now,” his voice gruff but gentle as he spoke to you, a tone reserved especially for you.

“I considered it but thought waiting up for you here would be a lot better,” an innocent sigh left your lips while you busied yourself with folding the blanket, turning your back towards him, putting a nice little tilt and bend to your hips when you leaned over. 

The heavy footfall of his boots coming closer sent another thrill running up your spine, “Indeed it is, missed me that much, hm?”

Bruce was indulging your antics, always one to entertain your moods, your fantasies, wired on the adrenaline of his late night work in the streets, it made for such a potent mixture and you were delighted. 

“Mhm, cause someone’s skills were needed elsewhere, I had to make due all by myself,” you feigned a pout, trying to hide your smile when you spotted the briefest widening of his eyes at your words. 

He took another step towards you but you skirted away, dodging his hulking figure, the plated armor of his Bat suit still a little intimidating to you, your core clenching around nothing at the thought of being handled by those hands clad in Batman’s gloves, to feel his strength, the brute force in his biceps and forearms, pinning you down to do what he pleased with you. 

It’s all you could think about. 

Maybe it was the heightened level of your desire that made you feel a little bolder tonight, more eager to tease, to get under his ever-so-stoic skin, because you were making your way over to the car now, your hand trailing over its frame, walking, swaying almost till you were standing at the hood of the car, facing Bruce again who’s eyes were fixated on you. 

No words needed to be said as you smiled sweetly, your hands falling to your sides, tracing the edges of the satin slip dress hugging your body, fingers slipping under the hem, dragging it up your thighs a little. 

Chest tightening at his steady, measured steps toward you, one of your hands coming down to swipe over your inner thighs, touching yourself before he could reach you all the way, a giggle slipping out when you heard him grumble in frustration. 

It wasn’t often that you leaned into your brattier tendencies, but tonight, you were in that kind of mood, something sparking low in your tummy seeing him in the cowl, the suit making him appear bigger, taller, and underneath that you knew he had the strength to carry all that gear, to move and fight in it and it made you feel so much smaller in comparison, finding a thrill in pushing buttons. 

“Move your hand, baby.” his command came gently, a warning in itself of sorts, telling you he was going easy on you, giving you a chance to behave. 

Any other night you would have yielded, knowing just how good he could give it to you when you listened to him, but tonight you wanted the less inhibited side of him so instead, you kept your hand between your thighs, fingers finding slick skin with ease. 

“You have to wait your turn, sir,” you flicked your eyes up towards his playfully, heart jumping into your throat at his expression, the tick of his jaw. 

Bruce was pressed against you now, hands moving up to cage you against his chest, your breaths heavier, already losing the battle. 

It was so easy for him to break your tough girl act, knowing full well you were just as desperate as he was, knowing your weak spots and using them to his advantage.

Like now, for instance, using your distracted state to catch you off guard, his hands finding your waist and lifting, placing you up onto the warm, wet hood of his car, a delighted squeak filling the air as he lay you back. 

You were dough in his hands, shaped by the roll and press of his fingers, the weight of them making you whine as he pushed your legs apart, all but growling at your lack of underwear. 

The sight of him settling between your thighs, his body over yours filling your entire field of vision unlocked something for you, your heart beating wildly at the feeling of the suit again your skin, cool droplets of water landing on from the ears of his cowl as he lowered his head to your ribs. 

His lips were warm as they kissed down your torso, his hands keeping your thighs spread out for him, open so his mouth had a clear path to travel down, your breath hitching the lower his mouth went. 

A needy whine slipped out when he stalled, just hovering over where you wanted him most, his huff of laughter making you squirm from sensitivity. 

“Look who can’t wait their turn now…you’re lucky I’m in a generous mood.” Bruce chuckled lowly, catching you by surprise and making you ache for more. 

“Please-oh!” you weren’t too proud to beg, his mouth finally touching down on puffy folds.

The move turned your plea into a moan, hands jerking, slipping on the rain droplets now soaking your dress, grasping anything for purchase as your hips rocked with his movements. 

Curses and half stifled moans filled the air as he buried his face into your heat, his tongue lapping and swirling around your clit, moving further down to taste you properly. 

Your muscles ache from the strain of flexing against him, your body chasing the sensations he was giving you, the building pressure in your abdomen, the way he groans against your pussy, drinking you down, it all made your brain hazy in the best way. 

“Taste so fucking good…fuck.” the words left his lips with ease, finding them easier to come by when he was under the suit, when he was most himself. 

Trembling hands of yours creep down to grasp at his own hands still keeping your thighs held apart wide, and then move down, timidly tugging his head closer, crying out at the change in pressure, all your nerves tingling. 

Something about only being able to catch glimpses of his eyes, the sharp edge of his jawline as he ate you out, and the rest covered by the mask made you open up for him further, your desires reaching no end. 

Your hands pushed at his arms until he caught your wrists, holding them back with one hand, pinning them to your tummy, leaving you panting, unable to help but grind yourself against the patterned flick and swirl of his tongue. 

The added thrill of being so exposed, though this was a private space, how open it seemed, made you feel on display, another wave of heat flooding your body. 

Goosebumps travel down your arms as the cool brush of his free hand caresses your frame, grabbing dewy flesh, feeling your breasts, your waist underneath his grip, loving how you molded to his touch, how perfect you were in his arms. 

He could spend all night like this, making you feel good, pulling those high pitched whines and gasps from your throat, making your thighs tremble like they were doing now. It’s all he could think of, all he could do. 

“Please, please, keep going, yes!” more whimpers fall prettily, your body turning soft and pliant under the sweet pressure of his lips, the way his tongue sweetly nudges inside you, licking your essence, building you up higher and higher. 

Every now and then he’ll slow it down, teasing you just a little for his own self indulgent reasons before heeding your heady whimpers for more, building you back up again, enjoying the way you seemed to drip from his tongue, how he could make such a mess of you. 

He knows you’re close, can tell by the way you flutter around his tongue, can feel the frenzied aching in your limbs as it begins to happen. 

“Come on, let go. Now. Let me feel you,” the assertion in his tone left no room to argue, the gruff, grit out encouragement giving you the final push you needed.

Your orgasm reaches you quickly as his tongue returns to your clit, dragging out the sensations, making you shake even more, almost exhausted by the force of it. 

What a sight this must be, being spread out so sinfully and all for him, something Bruce intended to savor, the fact that you were all his, that rough exterior shedding a little more easily now that he knew he’d given you what you needed. 

His lips were still leaving kisses on your throbbing clit and sensitive inner thighs, staying close, bright eyes peering into yours, wanting the close contact to go on a little longer. 

That was just fine by you, he could have whatever he wanted with the way he just made you feel, and still, amusement twinkling for just a moment in his eyes at seeing you struggle to catch your breath. 

Pushed up onto your elbows now you peer down, cheeks burning again at seeing just how messy you’d become, rain and your arousal damp on your inner thighs, shining around Bruce’s lips and chin.

“God…that was so good, thank you, baby,” your praise and gratitude were soft spoken, holding all the usual affection you had for him, none of your earlier antics remaining. 

You watched him smirk at your content sighs, pulling the cowl off with ease, a practiced move that was second nature now. 

It wasn’t fair that he could look so handsome, rain soaked and hair disheveled, black paint still smudged around his eyes too but it was a look that fit him well and had much too strong an effect on you, feeling the muscles of your thighs jump once more. 

“Anytime. I’m always ready to straighten out that attitude for you, beautiful. Just say the word.” 

Maybe it was the unmistakable glint in his eye or the way he spoke to you then that had you laying back against the car again, trying to hold back whimpers and giggles when he followed close after you, wanting, no needing another taste, needing to see you fall apart again. 

“Think you can be a good girl and keep those legs open for me?” 

“Mhm, just don’t want you to stop, please.” 

“Never…have to make up for all those hours I was gone, right.” 

You shared his sly little smile and lay back for him once more, the searing kisses unleashed upon your still tingling skin dragging you back under, right where you wanted to be, under the skillful fangs of The Bat himself.

————

A/N: Well it had to be done! Cause I can’t be told otherwise, Rob’s Batman eats it like a starved man and I will stand by that! Period! Lol thank you for reading this fun little fic, lemme know what you think! Any and all thirsty comments welcome! 🖤

some tags, no pressure! @flamingdisputes @littlekidsteve @eupheme @saradika @allaboardthereadingrailroad @yelenas-lova @tarrenterror25 @moreofem @squidlywiddly87

[brightjimini]

Caught making out

Bruce Wayne x reader

Blurb

A/N: omg yes you are seeing this right. I WROTE AGAIN. Literally almost a year ago but. I slowly want to write again. After seeing Blue beetle and my battinson obsession coming back. I felt inspired. Hope my writing has gotten better. Enjoy.

-

The uncomfortable feeling of the side of the table against your thighs was easily ignored. Warm big hands ran over your back. Lips pressed against yours. His light stubble scratching your face slightly. 

“Bruce” You tried to mumble against his lips. Tried. 

Because the moment you went down to his cave after you had woken up to a cold bed, you had gone downstairs to see what he was doing. Clearly, he was trying to make that up in some type of way. Seeing him shirtless, tinkering with some new gadget for his suit, warmed your heart when you came down to the basement. And before you knew it he had you on the table kissing you like it was his last day on earth. You had wanted to warn him. You knew Alfred was always up when Bruce was awake. But the fear of getting caught by Alfred disappeared from your mind the moment one of his hands went under your shirt. 

Shivering, you pulled lightly at his soft hair that was between your fingers. He groaned and pressed his body even closer against yours. The kisses became more passionate. You could hear something, but it did not register fully. 

A loud cough broke the spell between you and Bruce. You both pulled away with a gasp. Eyes widening like a deer caught in headlights. Cheeks heating up. His hand disappeared from underneath your shirt. Bruce's broad shoulders blocked Alfred's figure, but you did not need to see him to hear the humor in his voice, but also reminding you of a father that caught his son. 

“Breakfast is ready, Master Bruce.” You did not know how you were going to face him again.

-

More to come

[streetlamp-amber]

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.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

say yes

kinktober, day twenty-one

a/n: ...i personally wouldn't mind becoming mrs. wayne.......

warnings: bruce wayne (pattinson) x fiancé!reader, smut, established relationship, possessiveness, oral, cock worship, dirty talk

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist | kinktober 2023

With the newly ring adorned hand softly wrapped around your fiancé’s girth, tender gaze locked on his, you littered his throbbing length with sweet, sloppy kisses.

Pecks fluttering down towards the base, you dipped further down and drooled over his heavy sack. Mouth gently agape as he watched you in awe, one of his hands then drifted it way down to yours, dreamily brushing his fingertip over the jewel. 

“Say it again,” he breathed as your lips teased their way back up to the dewy head, “say yes,” staring at you as if you were a deity at his feet, “tell me that you’re all mine.”

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[elletheactualmenace]

Showers and Soft Touches

Pairing: Bruce Wayne(battinson) x fem!reader

Summary: Someone joins you in the shower, and just some cute Bruce moments.

Warnings: Non-sexual nudity, suggestive, slightly ooc Bruce, shower sharing,

Word Count: 1.2k

a/n: This has been sitting in my drafts for forever so here I am finally posting it. I based some of the hair part on my own hair, so I’m so so sorry if it’s not the same as your routine!! Hope you enjoy this cute domestic fanfic.

You turn the faucet almost as far to the left as possible. The shower head sprouts out a patch of cold water before the temperature evens out and the water begins to heat. As steam begins to fill your master bathroom you reach out your hand to inspect the water. It's perfect. Just how you like it.

You step into the shower slowly making sure not to slip, before running your body under the water. Immediately your body loses its tension, and your muscles practically moan under the pressure of the hot water.

You reach for your shampoo slowly, wanting the relaxation to last as long as possible. You pour the liquid onto your hand and watch it slowly seep back into the bottle when you pull your hand up ever so slightly. You click the lid closed and place it back in its home. You begin to lather your hair, taking care to scrub until there is an abundance of suds coated through your hair.

Before you can wash out your now clean hair you feel a pair of arms wrap under your uplifted arms and around your torso. You jump at the sudden cold temperature of the hands against your warm skin. A head finds a resting spot on your shoulder, and you turn to see Bruce. His eyes closed and a content sound came from his throat.

You lower your arms so you can hug him back, or your version, rest your arms along his. Bruce doesn’t seem to mind your soapy hands. He just opens his eyes to meet yours. You lean in and kiss his cheek. The coldness of his skin is a stark contrast to yours. Your lips tingle at the feeling, and they linger longer than they should. 

Bruce takes a step back letting the water hit his back. He seems to instantly relax, but to a stranger it would have gone unnoticed. 

“Here, let me.” Bruce hums out softly, his low gravelly voice reverberating into your back. He unwraps his arms form around you and takes your hair in his hands. He gently leans your head back to rinse out the suds of soap from your hair. He’s careful to make sure he shields your eyes from the soap.

When the shampoo is all out Bruce takes hold of your bottle of conditioner, the expensive one he got for you. He lathers his hands with the creamy substance and gently runs his fingers through the knots in your hair. You breathe a sigh of content at his soft ministrations. And he smiles softly.

“Feel good?” He asks slowly, the corner of his lips lifted in a smirk.

“Yeah, especially when I’m not doing it.” You breathe out smiling. And he leans in kissing your cheek before continuing.

After your hair is lathered with conditioner, you reach to take hold of the bar of soap resting near Bruce’s and your razors. Out of the corner of your eye you see Bruce pouring shampoo on his hair before scrubbing it into his scalp.

You wash your body thoroughly, taking time to make sure you leave no skin untouched by the soap. Bruce rinses out his hair before quickly finishing up his routine. You follow suit, washing out your hair, then continuing with your hair routine.

By the time you wrap a towel around your body Bruce is already standing by the mirror and sink, ruffling out the water from his hair with a smaller towel. His towel hangs low on his hips, showing off his prominent v line. Your eyes slowly travel up his toned torso, to his pecks, his shoulder, and finally to his eyes, which are embarrassingly already on you.

Your face heats up as you look down, you adjust your towel awkwardly. Bruce just smiles gently walking over to you. You look up as he approaches you, his eyes catching yours.

“Sorry.” You whisper uncomfortably.

“Its okay,” he says with a tender look in his eyes. You turn your attention towards the floor embarrassment seeping from you. When he doesn’t move after a minute, still holding his gaze on you and your face you look up into his eyes again.

“What?” You asked with a small smile, eyebrows scrunching. “Do I still have soap on me?” You ask, inspecting your shoulders and bare legs. Bruce hesitantly places his hand on your cheek making you look up at him again.

“Just think…you're adorable.” He whispers lovingly but shyly to you. You push him away playfully, trying to hide the fact that his words sent butterflies to your stomach and a giddy feeling to your heart.

You walk towards the door motioning for him to follow, and he does.

As you step out of the large doors to your bathroom you are greeted with fresh clothes on your king size bed. You hear Bruce’s feet pad over to the corner of the room closest to the large windows. There is shuffling before the crackling of a needle tip hitting a vinyl is heard throughout the room. La vie en rose performed by Édith Piaf fills your ears. 

You turn to see Bruce starting your vinyl player, he looks at you with soft eyes. He leans against the wall near the window and you turn again to the bed. You let your towel fall to the floor as you reach for your underwear.

You can hear Bruce's quiet footsteps once again, walking towards you as your underwear just about reaches your thighs. You feel his large warm hands touch yours from behind you. Both of your hands are now situated on your underwear. He pulls them the rest of the way up for you. His hands then move up to caress the curve of your waist with a soft feathery touch.

You turn, bare chest meeting bare chest. You look up into his deep steel blue eyes finding nothing but warmth hidden under the surface. He wraps his arms around your middle pulling you closer to his broad chest. Following suit you reach up on your toes to wrap your arms around his bare neck. His damp hair prickles your wrists, hair slightly dripping down. But it doesn’t bother you.

You rest your cheek on his collarbone, letting his breathing and beating heart lull your eyes shut. As he shifts you in his arms your nipples perk at the moment. He hums softly into your hair and it vibrates through both of you. 

“Could stay like this forever,” you softly say into his skin. His grip on you tightens as your soft lips meet his scared chest. You still keep your body close to him as you leave a soft trail of kisses up his neck and finally to his pink lips.

He holds you there, his lips tenderly moving with yours. The tingle of his lips on yours sends whimpers up your throat. You part your lips to let his warm mouth explore yours. Your fingertips brush through his hair tugging slightly when you feel his tongue brush along yours. Bruce’s lips are so warm you never want to pull away. His arms caress your sides and back gently moving along your drying skin with love.

When you too finally do part your hands travel down to his chest so you can get a good look at his face.

“I love you darling.” You say quietly, and he sighs with a smile.

”Love you too.” He whispers softly, letting his body sway with yours to the music radiating from the corner.

This. This is what you loved most in the world.

[sideeve]

⋆୨୧ he’s at your window

→ ⋆୨୧ ; bruce wayne , the playboy multimillionaire , was still smitten over you

→ 🩰 ; ex-boyfriend!bruce , bruce masturbates while watching the reader get naked , stalker!bruce , i don’t know what this is , reader’s skin tone . hair type/color . or looks are not described

“master bruce! you’ve been replaying the same clip the whole day, just go see her already.” alfred scolds bruce. he was right. and it’s been happening longer than a day. maybe even longer than a week. he still missed you.

“you know she doesn’t want to see me anymore, alfred.” he replays the video again.

it was a clip of you and bruce dancing together at a met gala. you had given him your biggest and prettiest smile ever. he had his special contacts in at the time, recording every single second.

if only he could relive that moment. just one more time. “the more you watch it, the worse your obsession will get.” alfred turns off the screen. “go see her.”

bruce watched you from a roof of a building across from yours, watching your every move. he felt a tent in his pants grew higher as he watched you drop your robe from your body.

“fuck.”

you poured the lotion on your hand and rubbing them together, massaging your breasts. bruce’s hand flies to his crotch, palming himself.

your hands glide down your body, stopping at your inner thighs. he unbuttoned his pants, pulling them and his boxers down to his ankles.

he could see the headlines already.

‘ bruce wayne relieving himself while stalking a woman. ’

‘ is bruce wayne a creep? ’

he really didn’t care who saw him right now.

he needed to relieve some tension.

he wrapped his hand around his shaft, slowly stroking himself. he wanted to tease himself. wanted to see how long he could last while watching you.

at one point, he almost finished. you had bent over to apply the lotion on your legs, your cunt saying hello to him. you knew what you were doing, he thought. he grunts as his hand moved faster.

if only his hand was yours.

“fuck.” white strings spew from his pink sensitive tip, covering his hand. his eye rolled back as he finally gave into his release. he “cleaned” himself off, quickly pulling his pants up in embarrassment.

did he really just do that?

divider by ;; @v6que

[xmalereader]

— Endless Pt. 1 —

Bruce Wayne x Endless! Male Reader

☆ — MASTERLIST — ☆

SUMMARY: The endless family is made up of 7 children, so why is their an 8th? Reader is the black sheep of the family with no purpose to fulfill the human realm. He spends his days locked away in the Dreaming where he stays under his brothers watch. It wasn’t until one of Dreams new nightmares escapes the realm and starts causing problems in the Waking, giving reader a chance to show that he can be helpful in his family by tracking down his brothers nightmare, not knowing what awaits him.

WARNINGS/CONTENT: Angst, slow burn, MDNI 18+, language, endless family, dream trying to be a good brother, mentions of abuse, black sheep, self esteem problems, mentions of death, family secrets, friends to lovers, post riddler chaos, mentions of new villains, foreshadowing, reader and Bruce balancing each other out, Gotham is shit, slight kissing, trauma mentioned, OC nightmare, non-canon works.

WC: 5k

TAGS: @circusdexxter @lordzachariah0-0 @apolo1808 @i-cant-sleep615 @kayden1 @boylicious143 @h-ib @kik1010 @toxic90sboy @multifandomsimp69 @moththesadmage @stalker0

NOTES: Finally! After a very long break I’m finally getting back into writing again! I will mainly be focusing on my series that I’ve been planning for quiet awhile and really want to focus on this Endless series that I’ve had in mind for months. I’ll try my best to update as much as possible since each chapter will be between 5k-8k words or longer in order to have fewer chapters, but other than that, here is the first part and thank you for being patient on my writing!

Blinding - Florence And The Machine

The Endless had 8 children, each with a purpose in life.

Destiny with the purpose of defining all that is, Death was destined to put the universe to rest, Dream with the creation of stories and imagination, Destruction with the power of not only destroying but of making and producing, Desire with the purpose of wanting and lust along with their twin Despair who is the personification of despair and hope, and Delirium who can create realities and manipulate the human mind.

They all had an important purpose.

All but one.

The eighth child was the youngest of them all, having been born eons later after Delirium resulting in the last sibling of the Endless family. His siblings figured that he would have a purpose just like them only to have none. The last sibling wasn’t special nor was he given a proper name that would fit his so called ‘purpose’ instead both Father Time and Mother Night left their last child in the hands of their other children.

He expected his brothers and sisters to help him find a purpose that brought balance to the human realm, but neither sibling was much help. The twins simply teased him, mocking his existence while the others grew to busy in their own duties to give him the attention he needs, a few of his other siblings were busy searching for the ‘Prodigal’ who had left his duty many years ago and was being searched in order to restore balance again.

The youngest Endless could only watch from the sidelines holding onto hope that he too, would have a purpose of his own.

As he was passed around from sibling to sibling he spent most of his time in their realms watching their work and staying in line from overstepping into their duties. He spent most of his time in Dreams realm feeling his heart warm in joy when he walked through his brothers creation. The creation of stories and imagination was a powerful thing for many humans something that his brother found joy in doing.

There were times that he spent his time in his brothers library, hidden behind many rows of books, watching from the corners as his brother speaks with Lucian and Marvin. No matter how long he spends in this dreaming he never had the chance to actually create a bond with his brother, growing afraid each time he approached him when returning a book or when trying to ask a simple question about his creations.

Delirium was technically the baby in the family before he came into the picture and Dream already struggled with creating a bond with his sister and he didn’t want to get in the way of their bond. He spent years without knowing his duty that he’s grown used to being an outsider from his siblings, spending his ‘family’ dinners alone in Dreams realm, trying to stay out of their business as much as possible.

Even if his sister, Death, tired to convince him to join them for dinner he’d refuse and continue on with his day. What was the purpose of him being there? He can’t stand their whispers of pity, so why even bother.

He felt like a burden to his own family, so instead of trying to fit in he’d slowly pushed himself out of the picture and allowing them to have the spotlight while he stood out the frame. There were times that wished to disappear like his brother, Destruction. He didn’t know much about him and the others didn’t talk about him, not because they hated him, but because of the pain it brought them when reminded of their brother leaving without a word, abandoning his duty and hiding from the world.

When wandering around Dreams library he had found a book hidden deep in the shelves that contained a photo of his brother, Destruction. He looked older than the others and with a rugged expression on his face, having facial hair on his face and perhaps a grumpy like exterior. He kept the image of his brother in mind before putting the book back where it belongs in order to keep his brother, Dream from knowing his findings.

“A nightmare has escaped.”

He was doing his usual routine, hiding in the library and nose buried in a book before his ears perk at the sound of the ravens worried tone when landing near Lucians desk and letting her know about the situation.

“Does Lord Morpheus know about this?” Lucian had asked while she looked through the new plans of the realm, showing very little interest towards the situation since she had no control over dreams and nightmares.

The raven, Matthew tilts his head to the side. “He does—“

“Then I don’t see what this has to do with me.”

“It’s that new nightmare.” Said Matthew, voice laced with worry and concern.

His words causes Y/n to look up from his book, eyes widening when hearing Matthew. He knew what nightmare he was referring to and knew how messy the situation can turn out if a nightmare were to abandon its duties. Dream always kept an eye on his dreams and nightmares and had been making changes in his realm, more like improvements. He had been changing his nightmares into dreams and leaving him with time to make new nightmares for the dreamers, having created one that lurks on your deepest fears named Pitch.

Y/n never liked the nightmare when first meeting him, his tall structure and sharp yellow eyes always made him shiver and whenever he was alone the nightmare always found him.

“Pitch is nothing but problems.” Sighed Lucian while removing her glasses.

Matthew lets out a small sound of understanding. “He reminds me of the Corinthian in some way.”

The name was familiar to Y/n, having heard about him and the troubles he’s brought into Dreams realm the nightmare was so bad that Dream had to destroy his creation and store him away. His brother had claimed that he will restore the Corinthian again, one day when he deemed the time right.

Y/n doesn’t stay longer to listen to their conversation and closes his book, leaving it on the table and standing from where he sat. He doesn’t spare the librarian and raven a glance, having grown used to their silent glances when his presence is made known, leaving the library and making his way towards his brothers chambers where he finds him pacing around the room while reading a book in hand. He’s noticed the stack of books scattered on the floor with different names from many dreamers.

He can’t help but raise a brow at his brothers mess, but doesn’t point it out when approaching him.

“I suppose you are busy?”

Dream doesn’t look away from his book and keeps pacing. “I am always busy.” His voice echos back before stopping mid pace to look over to Y/n who stood a good distance from the other Endless. Dream looks at him up and down before asking. “Is there something you need?” He’d usually brush off anyone’s needs and focus on himself, but after his imprisonment of 100 years and spending more time around humans he’s grown to change.

Showing some compassion for once.

The younger endless stares at Dream and then down at the books that surround them both. He wants to jump in and help his brother with finding his missing nightmare to be able to do something for once. “I heard that Pitch left the realm.” He starts, noticing the slight frown appear on his brothers face which makes him bite the inside of his cheek in a nervous manner.

“I can help with finding him?” He finally asks.

Dream shuts his book which causes Y/n to flinch and avoid his brothers eyes, looking away nervously after asking. He would expect his brother to be upset for wanting to step in and provide assistance to his mistake when it was his duty to fix the problem and not Y/n’s.

But his brothers words surprise him. “I’d appreciate the help.”

Y/n’s eyebrows raise in surprise when he’s accepted to help, nodding slowly as he takes a few steps closer and a bit hesitant on what to do. “What are you looking for in these books?” He asks and bends down to pick one up, reading the name of the dreamer before flipping it open and skimming through the pages.

“Pitch lurks on fear. Since I no longer have my ruby, I am unable to find my nightmares and must doing things a bit differently.” Dream being to explain as he walks over to the other side of the room to toss the book he was currently reading on top of another pile. Y/n guessed that it’s the finished books he’s read. “If I wish to find Pitch I have to find out which dreamers are most likely to be targeted by him.”

Y/n looks back at the stack of books with wide eyes. “You’re trying to locate a dreamer who could possibly lure Pitch in?” He says in disbelief and turns back to Dream. “That could take hours or days, all dreamers have nightmares so Pitch could be going after anyone.” He sets the book down and steps back to stare at the different piles, reading off names and trying to figure out his brothers outrageous system of locating his missing nightmare.

Dream lets out a dry chuckle when hearing his little brothers worries and shakes his head. “Then,” he walks over to Y/n and hands him a book. “Lets get started.” The little Endless can only mentally groan as he takes the thick book in hand and watched Dream get back to his own reading.

The room falls into a comfortable silence as the two read for what felt like hours. The sound of flipping pages echoed in the throne room and the placement thud of the book beings piled up as the continued their reading. As much as he enjoyed spending time in his brothers library he was slowly growing tired of reading dreamers lives and how they spent their time in the dreaming realm when sleeping. Even though he doesn’t have a purpose he’s starting to realize that being a Dream lord wouldn’t be for him.

It wasn’t until he breaks out into a yawn that it gets the Dream lords attention, eyes glancing up from his book and towards his brother who was half asleep at this point. Dream sighs through his nose and closed his book, setting it aside from where he sat on the steps. “You're tired, get some sleep.”

Y/n snaps his head up and shakes his head at Dreams words. “I’m fine I can keep going.” He waves him off and tries to concentrate on the book o his lap, but Dream had quickly taken the book from him and closed it. “I can tell when someone doesn’t sleep.” His voice is low as he towers over Y/n who sits on the floor and sighs to himself, rubbing his eyes and nodding his head slowly. “Okay, I’ll get some sleep.” He mumbled in return as he stands from where he sat.

Even though he wanted to help Dream in finding Pitch he’d need to get some rest if he wishes to keep going. When letting Dream know that he will head off to his room and get some proper rest for the night he makes sure to sneak at least one book back to his bedroom in order to keep helping out of his brother sight and not get into any trouble.

He holds the book against his chest when leaving his throne room and down a different hall in his castle. He yawns again when reaching his own bedroom, its big and spacious when entering a few books are on the shelf and small little valuables are sitting near the balcony not having a lot since he spent most of his time in the Dreaming with his brother.

He tossed the book on his bed and falls face first into his pillow, moaning tiredly and closing his eyes for a few seconds, letting his body relax against the soft blankets and pillows. The silence wakes him back up, opening his eyes and glancing over to the book he had snuck into his room.

It was surprisingly thin and the binding is all black, getting his attention as he sits up and turns around to lie on his back. He grabs the book and holds it up, reading the name on the front cover.

“Bruce Wayne…” He whispers the name to himself and flips the cover open, starting at the beginning like every other book he’s read. He knows he’s suppose to be sleeping or else his brother will use his sand on him, but he can’t help but grow eager to continue helping his brother, to be able to do something for once as he reads the book in hand.

He’s nodding off little by little and trying to concentrate on the words on the pages, shaking the sleep away and sighing as he adjusts his sleeping position and groans before flipping to the next page only to freeze, his eyes full of confusion as he sits up, fully awake as he stares down at blank pages. He’s never seen something like this in the books, finding half of the pages blank.

The mans life ends in nightmares, but the blank pages had to mean something. He quickly pulls the blankets back and slips out of bed, rushing out of his room and holding the book in hand as he heads back to his brothers throne room to ask him about the strange book.

“Dream—?”

“Aren’t you suppose to be sleeping?” Dream cuts in and slams his book shut, setting it aside onto a pile. The time that Y/n spent reading had resulted in the shift of books, having less around the throne room since his brother had finished reading a few on his own. Before Y/n can ask about the blank pages in the book his brother had approached him and takes his wrist in hand, dragging him back to his room.

“Wait—!”

“I’ve told you many times that you are to be asleep, unlike me you need the rest since your body isn’t adjusted to the dreaming realm quiet yet.” He began to explain, disregarding Y/n’s protests as he’s dragged back to his room. “But Dream—!?”

“Enough talk.” They make it back to his room where Dream shoves him back into bed and takes the book from his grip, setting it aside and ignoring the title of the book since he was focused on Y/n.

“But the book!” said Y/n as he reached out to grab it only for Dream to push him back into bed.

“You can tell me about it tomorrow, now you sleep.” He doesn’t give Y/n the chance to speak again as he uses his sand on his little brother, watching as he yawns and his eyes slowly flutter closed.

—

Y/n doesn’t dream.

He knows that his own brother does since its apart of him, but Y/n never had dreams or nightmares. He always wondered if it was because he wasn’t an Endless like his siblings with a purpose in the human realm. His siblings had dreams, but never spoke about them. Dream had their books with their dreams and nightmares written locked away from prying hands, he never read their books in order to keep the privacy and respect, never lurking in their dreams to see what they think of when sleeping. He made a rule to never do such thing, but Dream was surprised when his little brothers book wasn’t on the shelf.

He had given it time since he was still young, but after eons, nothing.

That’s why Y/n had woken up without feeling anything, falling asleep in darkness and waking up as if nothing ever happened. He’d stare at the ceiling of his room, quiet and still as he thinks about last nights discoveries. He turns to his left where his brother had left the book. He would have expected Dream to take it back instead of leaving it in his room.

He takes the book into his hands again and reads the name to himself once more. His fingers opening the book as he flips through the empty pages in hopes of finding new words only to find nothing, ending in the same way as last night.

“You can’t be dead.” He says to himself when closing the book, he’s seen how their story is written before death comes for them. It always ends with a dream before their story reaches an end, but Bruce’s didn’t have that and it made him question it.

He holds the book in hand when leaving his room, heading off to see his brother only to find the throne room empty when arriving. The books that were scattered around were gone, leaving the place empty and clean. He decides to check the library, perhaps he could find his brother there if the books were all cleaned up.

Only, he doesn’t find his brother there other than Lucian.

“Lucian, have you seen Dream?” He speaks up softly towards the librarian as she organized a few books and puts them in their designated space in the shelves. She looks up from her work and sighs. “Lord Morpheus had to attend a family dinner.” She responds back which makes Y/n’s heart race at the statement, forgetting that family dinners were every few years.

He was always invited but rarely went since he didn’t want to deal with the usual conversations.

“Found your purpose yet?”

“Still staying with Dream?”

“Why even have another endless when you can’t figure out why you are here.”

The past conversation makes him shudder, hating the feeling of being different.

Lucian can easily see the sadness hidden behind Y/n’s eyes as if showing that he’s fine when deep down inside he was hurting.

“I was curious about something,” He began to say, holding the book under his arm. “have you ever dealt with a dreamers dreams not showing in their books?”

Lucian raises a brow at his question. “Lack of dreams?”

Y/n shakes his head. “More like, disappearing from the human realm when they aren’t really dead?” He winced at his own question, unsure if he was making sense towards the librarian.

“Oh,” Lucian gives him a look of surprise. “Well, we once dealt with a boy who went missing in the dreaming. We couldn’t find him in his books and it looked like he had disappeared from the world.” She explains while shelving books. “Turns out that a nightmare was keeping him hidden, using their power and work to hide the boy from the real world. A way of escaping reality and hiding in the dreaming.”

Y/n takes in her words, glancing down at the book he had. Thinking that perhaps this Bruce is suffering from nightmares, making him easy bait for Pitch. He isn’t sure if he’s right or wrong, but he knows he should let his brother know since its an urgent matter due to pitch leaving his duties and causing a problem to his brother.

“Thank you, Lucian.” He leaves the book on the table and quickly leaves the library. He doesn’t usually attend family dinners, but perhaps this once he can make an appearance only to let Dream know about his discoveries and then leave. His siblings always took turns in hosting dinners, sharing each others realms for a short period of time together.

Last dinner took place in Deaths realm, today it’s Destiny’s.

In order to enter his brothers realm he’d have to ask permission, but since its a family dinner he doesn’t need to ask. He’s only been in Destiny’s realm a few times, liking his garden that he walked through in order to make it to the clear opening where a dining table is set and finds his siblings conversing amongst each other.

He always felt nervous around his other siblings. He’s known them for eons, but he didn’t really know them. He only saw them as his siblings who took care of him when he was a child, but as time went by and he continued to age things had changed between them.

“Look who decided to join us.”

Desires voice floats through the air as he looks over to his sibling, giving them a small nod of acknowledgment. “Desire.”

“Endless.” They said back.

Y/n mentally flinched at the name. He’s Endless, but Endless of what?

“That’s a surprise, you usually don’t come to these dinners.” They continued on, taunting him with a sly grin on their face. “Oh!” They gasp out. “Are you here to tell us that you’ve finally found a purpose or did you just come to ruin the dinner?” They and Despair laugh at their comment which leaves Y/n quiet.

“That’s enough.” Dream cuts in, stopping his siblings mocking. Desire clicks their tongue and rolls their eyes when their fun is ruined.

Dream looks over to Y/n. “Are you here to join us?”

He doesn’t know what to say, his mind feels fuzzy and can hear his heart racing in his ears. His eyes glancing over to the twins who murmured to each other, his eyes then shift over to Death who looks at him with eyes full of pity and concern—he hated that look. His brother Destiny didn’t even look at him and and Delirium was lost in her own world.

It wasn’t until his eyes land on the empty chair across from Dream. He’s confused at first, asking himself why they would have a chair for him. “Oh…”

There was 7 seats, one for each sibling.

The seventh wasn’t for him. It was for his missing brother, Destruction.

He’s now realized had he’s never had a seat amongst them.

“Y/n?”

Dreams voice pulls him out of his thoughts, looking back at his brother and noticed the small hint of concern in his voice.

“Is something wrong?”

Y/n gives his brother a fake smile. “It’s nothing.”

He doesn’t stay much longer and turns his back, leaving his brothers garden and heading back to the Dreaming where he belonged. Did he really belong to the dreaming? Dream was only being a kind brother and letting him stay in his realm until he’s found his purpose but its been eons and he still hasn’t figured out what kind of endless he is. Thinking about it makes him feel like a burden, having bothered his brother for years not asking himself if Dream has perhaps grown tired of having him around.

He found beauty in his brothers work always amazed by his creations and ideas that he can’t help but think that he’s a mistake wandering around his brothers creation.

“You are just Endless.”

Dream of the Endless.

Death of the Endless.

Desire of the Endless.

They all had a name, but him.

“How can I know who I am…” He whispers in the emptiness of his room, staring at the pile of books that he had left forgotten in his room only to remember last nights book.

“Bruce Wayne.”

He may not be someone who can lead him to Pitch, but he could be a start. He’s curious to know why his book ended in blank pages, waiting to be filled with words. Even if he was wrong at least it was an excuse for him to leave the realm to perhaps find himself something out in the Waking.

Y/n had seen the Waking and had very little interactions with mortals, but perhaps he’ll get the chance to know them at a better level. There isn’t much for him to take other than a notebook with notes regarding his brothers dreams and nightmares and his time here in the dreaming. His room never had anything valuable only a simple bed and a few books, nothing else.

He flips the book open and reads his last page.

“Gotham City.”