My main blog is @rebeccared96. I reblog pictures and posts of the NSFW stuff I like. Currently, this sideblog is filled with reblogged posts on Venom, tentacles, porn GIFs, and more.
Hereâs to monsters whoâll pin you down, ruin you right, and make you beg for more. Hope your holidayâs full of claws, teeth, and all the sinful fun your filthy hearts need.
Stay hot, stay dirty, and keep those fantasies wildâyou deserve it. đ
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Summary: Jason's girlfriend is quiet during sex. He has no problem with it until Roy teases him over it and now hes determined to get you to moan loudly
Notes: I don't usually write smut so bare with me please! I hope you enjoy and its not cringy lol if you do enjoy please reblog and comment i get way too excited to see what yall think! Kisses đ
If you celebrate Thanksgiving, happy Thanksgiving! If youre seeing family I hope it goes smoothly for you and if youre celebrating solo I hope you have such a fun time âĽď¸
Jason never thought twice about you being quiet during sex. You were quietâ not silent, not emotionless, just shy. You were soft. And he loved the Breath hitching, fingers clenching, thighs trembling. He could feel everything you felt, even if you didnât moan like someone in a cheap Gotham porno.
It never bothered him.
At least it didnt until Roy opened his damn mouth.
They were cleaning guns in the garage when Roy snorted, âMan, does she even like it? Youâre quieter than a nunâs class when you twoââ
Jason threw a wrench at him. Roy dodged it, cackling.
âBro, Iâm just saying! Girlâs quieter than a library. You must be doing something wrong.â
Jason hated that all he did was punch Roy for talking about you like that. He hated how the words stuck with him. How they followed him home. How they echoed in his head the next time you kissed him and tugged him toward the bedroom.
So now?
Now Jason is on a fucking mission.
To hear you moan. Loudly. Preferably loud enough to make Roy eat his damn words. Maybe loud enough to make the neighbors file a noise complaint.
He starts subtle the first night. Kissing you deeper, kissinf you slower. Touching you like heâs reading you, cataloging every micro-reaction. Youâre already panting lightly, lashes fluttering.
âYâknow,â he murmurs against your throat, âIâve been thinking about something.â Your breath sticks in your chest. âhm?â
âYou've been hold back.â His mouth drags hotly along your neck. âYou always sound like youâre trying to not make a sound.â
Your fingers tighten in his hair. âJasonâŚâ
âI want the real thing,â he whispers.
Not angry. Not demanding. Hungry.
You donât answer; but you donât have to. Your body gives him all the permission he needs.
He gets bolder the next time. And the next.
He learns you moan when he kisses your spine. That you whimper when he bites your shoulder. That you gasp loudest when he praises you, voice low and rough like heâs losing his mind over you.
But he wants more.
So one night, with you under him â hair a mess, lips parted and swollen, eyes completely clouded overâhe cages your wrists above your head and leans close enough that you feel every word against your mouth.
âBaby,â he rasps, âI want you to let go. I want everyone to know how good I make you feel. God i need it doll.â
You shiver. âi-I canât. Itâs embarrassing.â
Jasonâs expression softens, then darkens in the hottest way. âEmbarrassing?â He kisses you slow, deep, filthy. âSweetheart, your sounds are the best thing Iâve ever heard.â
His hand slips between your thighs, teasing, tempting, controlling.
âYou wanna know what embarrasses me?â he whispers. âThat Roy thinks I canât get you to make a single noise. That Roy thinks I don't know how to make my girl feel good.â he growled after saying the words out loud.
Your breath catches â louder this time. He grins.
âThere it is,â he murmurs, proud and turned on as hell. âGive me more angel. â
It becomes a game, a game that he loves.
Jason finds every sound your body makes. Every trigger. Every angle. Every word that pulls a noise out of you even when you try to smother it with your hand â which he always grabs and pins away.
âNo hiding,â he tells you. âI want it all.â
And the first time you really lose it â a loud, helpless moan drawn out of you by a combination of praise, his hands, and his cock hitting you just right â Jason freezes.
Not in shock but in absolute triumph.
âThatâs it,â he breathes, almost moaning himself. âFuuuuuck baby, thatâs what I want. You're fucking beautiful when youâre not holding back.â He couldn't control his hips as he continued thrust into you until you both exploded.
Youâre flushed, shaky, trying to catch your breath. Jason kisses you everywhere â cheeks, throat, chest â like heâs worshipping the noise you just made.
âYou know what this means?â he murmurs against your ear. You blink at him, dazed. âW-what?â
He smirks, wicked.
âIâm calling Roy. Right. Now.â
You smack his chest. He laughs, drops the phone, and goes right back to finding ways to make you moan even louder;; purely for âresearch.â
And maybe its for bragging rights. But mostly its because Jason Todd is now completely addicted to every single sound you make.
âcontent warnings!â jason in his late 50s, fem!afab!reader in early 30s, reader and jason are gym buddies teehee, bit of a slow build up, BREEDING KINK, MATING PRESS!, overstimulation, titty suckin, squirting, praise praise praise praise, jason's got a bit of a confidence problem, reader is flirty and confident
can we talk about dilf!jason todd? im going to talk about dilf!jason todd.
letâs talk about dilf!jason todd. weâve all seen him. the silver strands that seem to speckle like stars in his undercut, the stern perpetual frown, the crowâs feet whenever he squints slightly, and oh god, the perpetual 5 oâclock shadow. no matter the lingering looks cast by people who walk past him on the street, no matter the batting eyelashes, no matter the amount of flirting will get him to understand that he is attractive.
what is there to be attracted to him anyway? heâd always argue with that same rationale with dick every time. heâs well into his 50âs, heâs nearing his 60âs, and heâs not exactly built like most men his age. sure, heâs still muscled and maintaining himself, but heâs got a bit of a belly that tells everyone heâs never going to lay off on sweet treats.
being a personal trainer at the gym, one of his favourite parts is learning about people.
youâre a little less than half his age, a gorgeous specimen of a human being who doesnât look a day over your late 20's. jasonâs already memorised your schedule like the back of his hand.
youâll come in on tuesdays, thursdays, saturdays and sundays. never during peak hours or days. you do an upper/lower split for your workout, throwing in some core and cardio workouts scattered throughout the week. and more often than not, heâd catch himself sneaking glances when his client is taking a break, or in between his own sets.
youâve noticed him. of course you have! who wouldnât notice the hulking, almost brooding man living off of his pension who sometimes stares at you instead of doing his workouts?
youâre the one who actually approached him with some small talk. you had asked him to spot you one day after a while of doing nothing but sneaking glances at each other or smiling when passing by during your workouts. now, you've got a habit of just asking him to spot you when you really just want him to watch you.
then came the flirtatious banter. god, youâve got a smart mouth on you.
âyâknow, iâm old enough to be your father.â jason cocks an eyebrow when you take a rest between sets. heâs helping you out with your upper body day and heâd be lying if he said he hadnât let his eyes wander over your body while youâre focusing.
you lean back and tilt your head to the side questioningly. you like to do this, heâs noticed. youâll pause, youâll let your gaze travel from his face to his body, and when your eyes meet his, youâll cock an eyebrow upward.
âthat doesnât seem to stop you from checking me out, though.â the corners of your lips quirk into a smirk.
jason can't tell if it's cockiness or confidence but it doesn't matter to him anymore. he's fallen hook, line, and sinkerâand he wants more.
a friendship had naturally blossomed between the both of you. you exchanged numbers with him. sometimes, you'd do workouts together, then go out for lunch or dinner afterwards before he drops you home. hell, he even went helmet shopping with you since he doesn't own any vehicle but a bike.
when you started to see someone, you'd communicated this to him. he looked almost disappointed when you did but you dismissed it as a trick of the light in the dark. there's a small squeeze in your chest when you told him you'll be spending a little less time with him.
you don't really know how or why, but you find yourself comparing this guy to jason a lot. you'll compare how jason opens your doors for you while he doesn't; how jason will respectfully place his hand on the small on your back in crowded spaces while he doesn't; how jason will carry heavy items for you even though you can bench press twice the weight.
"then why not go to your buff gym daddy then?" your best friend states the obvious, like telling you the sky is blue, and that spring has sprung.
"he's not a buff gym daddy." you throw a pillow at them, but you know they have a point. you can always count on your best friend for snapping you back to your senses. it doesn't take you long to break it off with the guy and come running back into jason's arms.
to your merit, you really tried to play it cool, but jason notices just how chipper you are. he notices how you're standing closer to him, leaning into his proximity way more than you should when he's teaching you the right form and posture for a new machine that just got installed a couple of weeks ago.
he definitely notices when you're hesitant to step into your apartment even though the keys are in your hand and he's right there watching you. confused, he calls out your nameâa soft, gentle caress hidden in the low baritone of his voice.
"yeah, i'm doing this." you announce with a resolute nod. his brows pinch to a frown slightly. fuck, he looks so good with this stupid compression shirt and his stupid fucking basketball shorts. it's a ridiculous combination when you throw in his leather jacket and his badass, hunky biker appearance, but you've very quickly learned that you're hopelessly attracted to it.
"do what, sweetheart?" the pet name slips without him intending to, and it's the same reason you're jumping his bones.
it's a messy clash of teeth and limbs within the first few seconds, but you find your rhythm and so does he. you're both stumbling through your door until he's pinning you to the back of it. one hand clicks the lock while the other wraps around your throat. jason doesn't use any pressure, just rests his palm on the base while he searches your eyes for any hesitation.
"are you sure about this?" his voice comes in the ghost of a whisper over your lips.
"i want you so fuckin' bad, old man." you're both laughing at your breathless response but it dissolves so quickly when he kisses you again. this time, it's soft and gentle, like he's memorising the feel of your lips against his.
your hands loop around his neck to pull him closer to you. his hands find purchase on your hips, his touches growing bolder as he gives you a gentle squeeze.
then somehow heâs in your bed with his hands cupping the back of your knees and pushing them close to your chest while he drives his aching cock in and out of your drooling cunt. your moans ricochet off the walls of your apartment, in time with his steady rhythm. every time he goes this deep, your eyes roll back and you're going limp underneath him.
"that's it, baby. y'wanted this old man's cock, didn't cha?" jason grunts lowly. your warm cunt is sucking him in every time he pulls back out. you've no idea how many times he's made you cum alreadyâyou're so overstimulated that all you can think of is how good his cock feels pounding hard and deep inside of you. "squeezin' my fuckin' cock like you want me to breed you and give me more kids."
now that made you clench tighter around him.
"yeah?" he easily adjusts your position to spread your legs apart so he can see your tits bounce for him. he leans down to catch a nipple and start sucking harshly around your pert bud. he gets another cry out of you, your legs and thighs shaking around him as he fucks you through yet another orgasm. your eyes roll back and he's quick to gently take your jaw to guide your gaze back to him. "y'sound so fuckin' pretty for me when you sing, baby. you hear that? you hear how wet you get for me, pretty?"
you nod dumbly, because you can. you can hear how wet you are. you can hear the sloshing of your slick, the juices mixing with your cum that's dripping down the fat of his balls, the puckered hole of your ass, and down to your rumpled sheets. it's so erotic and it sends another rush of heat to your core, whimpering from just how good it feels.
"your body responds so well to me." jason peppers light kisses all over your sweaty face before licking a fat stripe up from the base of your neck to your jawline. one of his hand frees up to slide between your bodies to start rolling at your clit to match the rhythm of his cock. "fuck, i canâ 'm gonna cum, sweetheart. y'gonna take my cum like a good girl?"
"breed me, jay." you finally manage to moan out. his cock is hitting all of the right spots to make you see stars, his girth stretching you out and filling you up so well. you can feel him twitch inside your gummy walls and a sound he's never made before escapes from the back of his throatâa whimper.
"fuck, youâ y'can'tâ don't fuckin' say thatâ"
"breed me." you double down and look him in the eye. "want you to fill me up til 'm full."
"jesus fuckin'â fuck, 'm so close." jason groans, a deep rumble low in his chest as his hips start to lose its steady rhythm. everything sounds and feels so pornographic. "so fuckin'â gonnaâ fuck, gonna fuckin' breed you, sweetheart. pump you full of m'cum, you gonnaâ fuckin'â gonna let me do that for you?"
the slick, steady plap, plap, plap of his pelvis against the fat of your ass; your breathy moans; your nails digging into the matters, gripping onto anything as if it can ground you back on earth while he's ascending you to the highest of heavens; the soft grunts and moans coming from him as he presses his forehead against yours, catching sweet pecks of kisses as if he's not rearranging your guts; everything is making your senses go further into overdrive.
you can feel an almost peeing sensation when he angles his hips a little differently while he chases his high, reaching deeper into a spot that you never realised you even had.
"oh fuck, jason, please, yes! don't stop, don't stop, please!" you whine breathlessly into his ear. his forehead drops to the crook of your neck, kissing the spot clumsily as he continues to chase his high. your name comes tumbling from his lips like a chant, hot and airy, and it only tightens the knot in your belly.
"i'm gonnaâ fuck!" jason finally cums with a loud moan of your name. his cock twitches where it nestles deep inside your cunt, pouring his hot seed into you and it triggers your ownâonly that it comes in a spray all over his abdomen. his eyes widen as he leans back, his hips slowing down to a shallow thrust as you squirt all over him. "holy fuck, doll. did you just squirt for me?"
you're limp and boneless, your sweat clinging onto you like a second skin but it gives you an ethereal glow under the silvery beams of moonlight through your bedroom window. he's never seen anyone more beautiful than you. his heart skips a beat.
"all for my favourite old man." you pant with effort as he slowly lowers your thighs down to a more comfortable position. he chuckles with a shake of his head.
jason sings praises to you, cooing gently while he adjusts both of your bodies, pulling out from you slowly to prevent overstimulating you further. he doesn't hide away from staring at how the mix of both your cum is oozing from your hole that drips between the curves of your ass. he's so tender and sweet when he takes care of you, cleaning you up after as if he hadn't just completely defiled you.
finally, in the late hour, he pulls you close into his arms and presses a soft kiss to your forehead.
"five minutes," he whispers softly.
"five minutes?"
"just give me five minutes, sweetheart. my hips are fuckin' sore. then we can clean up, and we can discuss plans for a proper date with this old man." jason tucks you into his chest to muffle your laughter that rings through the room.
Jason was pounding merciless into you after making you cum two times already. "Jay! slow down" your poor cunt was sore and you were about to cry from the mixed feelings.
"one more? please baby, just one more I just need to feel you cum around me one more time" he was pleading, his hand reaching at your clit as he slapped it softly. "ngh- fuck, you gonna cum?" you nodded frenetically as your walls get tighter, milking every drop of his cum, but guess what, Jason didn't stop.
he started thrusting again, you couldn't understand how can this man continue to fuck you after cumming so many times. and any time you go at it again he cums faster. his short nails digged into the soft of your hips, your back hurting but trying your best to arch it, you could literally feel him in your stomach.
Jason's hand pressed hard on the bulge on your tummy, your pussy tightening around him. "w-wait, Jay, pull out!" you whined, he gave you two thrusts more and pulled out as you squirted all over him !!
dick grayson always made a big thing of eating you out. he could spend whole day between your legs, taking care of you and your needs. but being between your thighs wasn't enough for him anymore. he needed you as close as possible.
"c'mon, sweetheart" he whimpered. "it's gonna be so good for both of us." his hands already tugging you closer, bringing your hips to his face. your body hovering over his face, thighs locking around his head as you slowly sink down, pressing your weight onto him. you feel his greedy mouth attaching to your pussy immediately, his tongue pressing flat and eager against your clit.
one hand on your waist, holding you steady, the other one going to wrap around his hard, throbbing cock. he gives himself a few fast strokes, precum already dripping from his tip, sticking to his hand and stomach.
you grind your hips against his face, so close to falling apart at his touch. thighs squeezing tighter against his head, when his tongue dives deeper inside you. his hips jerking slightly, fucking himself more into his hand, the coil in his belly tightening more with every second, bringing him closer to his orgasm. he doesn't need a lot of time to finish when it comes to you.
you both finish at the same time. a string of curses leaving your mouth. your pussy clenching around nothing, and dick's tongue lapping up your juices eagerly. his cock twitching, hot, thick ropes of cum covering his hand when he hits his climax with a loud moan against your swollen clit.
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ăđ§¸ âŹ × christmas eve doesnât go as planned, leaving you alone in dick graysonâs childhood bedroom and mildly regretting dating a vigilante, but everything softens when he finally slips into bed hours later, cold hands, warm apologies, and a promise to make the whole night yours. (18+)
âgive you the sweetest kiss that you'll taste, unwrap me now been waiting since midnightâ
Dating Dick Grayson comes with its own list of pros and cons.
Pros: a wallet stuffed like an overindulgent Christmas stocking, an ass that could be a historical monument, and a heart so warm and generous it could thaw even Gothamâs chill.
Cons: an unwavering sense of duty that seems to seep into every corner of your shared life, refusing to take a break even when the rest of the world is curled up by the fire.
Tonight, unfortunately, leans heavily toward the cons.
You find yourself settled beside Alfred in front of the grand fireplace in the Wayne Manor foyer, the crackling logs offering more company than the man you had hoped would be sitting with you. The warmth is comforting, but it does little to soften the disappointment settling in your chest. Despite the holiday, the Wayne familyâs dedication to Gotham is apparently very much alive and well.
You tug your feet closer to the fire and sigh. âI really thought coming all the way from BlĂźdhaven would stop something like this from happening.â
Alfredâs eyebrow lifts with practiced elegance, and a faint, knowing smile tugs at his mouth. âMy dear, if you expected the young masters to set aside their usual activities simply because of a holiday, then you may need to revisit your expectations.â
You glance at him, half amused, half scandalized. âYouâre telling me they have no holiday tradition that involves absolutely no crime fighting?â
He folds his hands neatly in his lap, his voice warm with mischief disguised as propriety. âThere are occasions, certainly. Most commonly when one of them has been ordered to bed rest. I have also witnessed a temporary ceasefire during severe colds, minor concussions, and the rare mishap involving industrial-strength adhesive.â
You laugh, unable to help it. âSo, in other words, never.â
âIt would be unwise to stake your hopes on the possibility.â His eyes twinkle with carefully concealed fondness. âThey are very consistent in their inconsistency.â
You sink deeper into the cushions, drawing the blanket Alfred draped over you a little higher. âI just thought maybe Christmas Eve would be different. One peaceful night. That isnât too much to ask, right?â
Alfred pats your hand with gentle sympathy. âYou are with Grayson, my dear. Eternal optimism seems inevitable. But I am afraid that so is chaos.â
You let out a dramatic groan. âAnd terrible timing.â
âOn that point, I can agree wholeheartedly.â Alfred tilts his head in mock contemplation. âIt is a family trait. A most unfortunate one, but endearing once you learn to live with it.â
You look toward the window, watching the snow drift softly onto the dark manor grounds. âIâm still allowed to not like it.â
âIndeed you are,â Alfred replies with a small, approving nod. âSomeone must uphold the holiday spirit in this house.â
A long yawn slips out before you can stop it, the kind that makes your eyes sting and your shoulders sag. You check your phone, hoping for a miracle, but the screen lights up with an unforgiving 2:00 a.m. It feels both too late and not late enough, the kind of hour where even the manor seems to exhale.
You push yourself up from the couch, the blanket sliding from your lap in a soft heap. âI think thatâs my cue,â you murmur, offering Alfred a tired but appreciative smile. âGoodnight, Alfred.â
He inclines his head with gentle warmth. âSleep well, my dear. And may the rest of the household eventually join you in that endeavor.â
You huff a quiet laugh and begin the slow ascent up the sweeping staircase, each step quieter than the last as the manor settles into its nighttime hush. The hallways are dim, lit only by the soft glow of the sconces and the distant spill of moonlight.
Eventually you slip into Dickâs childhood bedroom, the door clicking shut behind you. The space is still the same mixture of nostalgia and softness he never quite outgrew, and despite everything, it pulls a weary smile from you as you crawl into the bed that feels far too big without him.
You burrow deep under the covers, the pillow muffling your sigh as you stare at the shadowed ceiling. The snow outside taps gently against the window, a soft rhythm that should lull you to sleep but instead underscores the ache in your chest. It's Christmas Eve, and here you are, alone in a house full of ghosts and guardians, waiting for a man who's practically dating you and the city.
Your eyes flutter shut, exhaustion finally pulling you under, but it's a shallow sleep, the kind where dreams blur with reality. You don't hear the faint creak of the floorboards or the whisper of the door opening, but you feel the shift in the air, the subtle dip of the mattress as weight settles beside you.
Warm fingers brush your cheek, tracing the line of your jaw with a tenderness that stirs you awake. You blink slowly, the dim light from the hallway casting a silhouette against the wall. Dick's there, his Nightwing suit half-unzipped, hair tousled from the nightâs activities, but his eyesâthose deep blue eyesâare soft, apologetic, fixed on you like you're the only light in his shadowed world.
âHey,â he whispers, voice rough from the cold night air, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. âI'm sorry. I didn't mean to leave you waiting like this.â
You shift, propping yourself up on an elbow, the blanket pooling around your waist. The disappointment from earlier bubbles up, but seeing him now, the lines of fatigue etched into his face, it softens into something more manageable. âIt's Christmas Eve, Dick. I drove all the way here thinking we'd have one night. Just us.â
He winces, reaching for your hand, his calloused thumb rubbing circles over your knuckles. âI know. Gotham doesn't stop, but that's no excuse. I got held up with some lowlifes trying to rob the holiday shipments downtown. Alfred filled me inâhe said you were holding down the fort by the fire.â His lips quirk in a small smile, but it's laced with regret. âI hate that I missed it. Missed you.â
You squeeze his hand, the warmth of his skin chasing away the chill that's settled in your bones. âIt's okay. Mostly. But next time, maybe text? So I'm not sitting there wondering if you're okay.â
Dick nods, pulling you closer until your head rests against his chest. You can hear his heartbeat, steady and strong, a reminder that he's here, whole. âNo next time. Not on holidays. I promise.â He tilts your chin up, his gaze searching yours. âLet me make it up to you? Please?â
There's a vulnerability in his voice, the kind he rarely shows, and it tugs at you. You nod, and he kisses you thenâslow, deep, like he's pouring every missed moment into it. His lips arenât even chapped from the icy wind (how the fuck does he do it?) and they move with a gentleness that makes your breath hitch. You melt into him, hands sliding up his arms, feeling the taut muscles beneath the suit. The kiss deepens, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips until you part for him, letting him explore with languid strokes that mimic what you both crave.
He pulls back just enough to murmur against your mouth, âI've been thinking about you all night. About getting back here, holding you.â His fingers trail down your neck, over the thin fabric of your sleep shirt, sending shivers across your skin. The touch lingers, his palm flattening against your collarbone, feeling the rapid flutter of your pulse. âTell me what you need. Whatever it is, it's yours.â
You guide his hand lower, to the hem of your shirt, and he understands. With careful movements, he helps you lift it over your head, exposing your bare skin to the cool air of the room. Goosebumps rise in the wake of his gaze, but his eyes darken not with raw hunger, but with reverence, as if you're a gift he's unwrapping with the utmost care. âGod, you're beautiful,â he breathes, leaning down to kiss your collarbone, then your shoulder, each press of his lips a silent apology for the hours stolen by the night.
His mouth continues its path, trailing soft, wet kisses along the curve of your breast, his breath warm against your cooling skin. You arch into him, fingers threading through his hair, the strands soft and slightly damp from the snow. He nuzzles closer, his nose brushing the underside of your breast before his lips close around one nipple, sucking gently. The sensation is electric, a slow pull that draws a gasp from your throat. His tongue swirls in lazy circles, teasing the hardened peak, while his hand cups your other breast, thumb brushing back and forth in time with his mouth.
The dual attention builds a warmth that spreads from your chest downward, pooling between your thighs. You shift restlessly, the ache growing insistent, but Dick doesn't rush. He switches sides, lavishing the same tender care on your neglected nipple, his teeth grazing just enough to send sparks through you without pain. âYou taste like home,â he murmurs against your skin, voice vibrating through you, his free hand sliding down your side, tracing the dip of your waist, the flare of your hip.
âDick,â you whisper, the sound half plea, half prayer, and he looks up, eyes locked on yours as he continues slowly worshipping you. The connection in his gaze grounds you, makes the intimacy feel even deeper, like he's seeing straight to your soul. Your hands tug at his suit, impatient now, fingers fumbling with the zipper. He chuckles softly, the sound rumbling in his chest, and sits back to help, peeling the black fabric away from his body.
The suit slides off his shoulders, revealing the sculpted lines beneathâbroad chest dusted with dark hair, defined abs that flex with each breath, the faint scars crisscrossing his tanned skin like badges of battles fought and won. He kicks off the boots and the rest of the suit, leaving him in nothing but black briefs that do little to hide the bulge straining against the fabric. Your eyes trace him, appreciating the way his muscles shift, the controlled power in his frame that's now yours to touch.
He reaches for you again, pulling you flush against him, skin to skin, the heat of his body chasing away the last remnants of chill. His erection presses against your thigh through the thin barrier, hard and insistent, but he makes no move to free it yet. Instead, he kisses you again, rolling so you're on top, his hands settling on your hips with a gentle grip that gives you all the control. âWanna feel you,â he says, voice low and earnest, his fingers kneading your flesh softly. âAll of you. Take what you need from me.â
You straddle him fully, grinding down slowly, the friction of his clothed cock against your bare folds making you both hiss in pleasure. You're already wet, the anticipation from the lonely wait melting into slick desire that soaks through his briefs. He groans, head falling back against the pillow, exposing the strong line of his throat, but his hands remain steady, guiding your movements without demanding more.
Leaning forward, you capture his lips in a heated kiss, your breasts pressing against his chest as you rock against him. The slide is teasing, building the pressure without relief, and you can feel him throb beneath you, the heat radiating through the fabric. Your hands explore him, palms gliding over his pecs, thumbs circling his nipples until they pebble under your touch. He arches into it, a soft moan escaping into your mouth, his tongue tangling with yours in a dance that's as intimate as it is arousing.
Impatient, you reach between you, tugging at his waistband. He lifts his hips to help, and you pull the briefs down, freeing his cock. It's thick and heavy in your hand, the shaft veined and flushed, the head already glistening with pre-cum. You stroke him from base to tip, feeling the velvety skin over steel hardness, the way he pulses in your grip. Dick watches you through half-lidded eyes, lips parted, breath coming in ragged bursts. âFuck, your hand feels incredible,â he rasps, but his voice holds that same tenderness, like even this is an act of love.
You position yourself, rubbing the head of his cock along your slit, coating him in your wetness. The sensation makes you both shudder, and he grips your hips tighter, not to control, but to steady. Slowly, you sink down, taking him inch by inch. The stretch is exquisite, your walls parting to accommodate his girth, hugging him tight as you bottom out. Your hips meet his, and you both pause, savoring the fullness, the way he fits perfectly inside you.
A shared moan fills the room, low and harmonious, as you adjust. His hands roam your sides, up to your breasts, thumbs teasing your nipples in gentle pinches that make you clench around him. You start to move then, a slow rock of your hips, grinding in circles that let his cock nudge deep, pressing against that sensitive spot inside. Pleasure sparks up your spine, and you brace your hands on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart under your palms.
Dick meets your rhythm, thrusting up gently, each movement measured and deep, designed to draw out the sensation rather than chase a quick end. His abs flex with every roll, the muscles rippling under your touch, and you lean down to meet your mouth with his. The kiss is messy, punctuated by soft whimpers as you ride him.
One of his hands slides down to where you're joined, fingers finding your clit with unerring accuracy. He circles it slowly at first, matching the pace of your hips, the added friction making your movements falter for a moment. âThat's it,â he encourages, voice husky with restraint, his eyes never leaving yours. âRide me just like that. You look so fucking perfect on top of me.â
The praise sends a fresh wave of arousal through you, your cunt fluttering around his cock. You quicken your pace slightly, lifting and dropping now, the wet sounds of your bodies connecting echoing in the quiet room. He groans, his free hand gripping your ass, helping you along without overpowering. The angle lets him hit deeper with each descent, the head of his cock dragging along your walls, building the tension in your core like a slowly winding spring.
Sweat beads on his skin, making him glisten in the low light, and you trace the lines of his body with your eyes, committing every detail to memoryâthe way his biceps bulge as he holds you, the faint stubble on his jaw, the devotion in his gaze. âI love how you feel around me,â he confesses, thumb pressing firmer on your clit, rubbing in tight circles that make stars burst behind your eyelids. âSo good, so wet. All for me.â
You nod, words failing as the pleasure mounts. Your thighs burn from the effort, but it's a good ache, one that mirrors the emotional pull between you. He senses your fatigue and sits up suddenly, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you chest to chest. The new position changes everything. His cock angles differently inside you, pressing even more insistently against your g-spot with every subtle shift.
His mouth finds your shoulder, sucking lightly, leaving faint marks that will remind you of this night tomorrow. You cling to his shoulders, nails digging into the muscle as you grind down harder, the friction on your clit now from his pubic bone. He thrusts up to meet you, the pace still controlled but more urgent, his breath hot against your ear. âCome for me, baby,â he whispers, nipping at your lobe. âNeed you to let go for me.â
His words, combined with the relentless rub of his thumb and the deep, steady thrusts, push you to the edge. The coil snaps, your orgasm crashing over you in waves, your pussy clenching rhythmically around his cock, milking him as ecstasy pulses through every nerve. You cry out, burying your face in his neck, body trembling in his arms. He holds you tight, murmuring praises, âThat's my girl, so beautiful when you comeâ, prolonging the bliss with shallow rocks of his hips.
Only when your shudders subside does he move, flipping you onto your back with effortless strength, never pulling out. He hooks your legs over his shoulders, folding you beneath him, the position opening you up completely. He slides back in deep, groaning at the tighter angle, and sets a rhythm that's still tender but more intense, each thrust long and deliberate, letting you feel every inch as he withdraws and plunges back in.
His forehead rests against yours, sweat-damp hair falling into his eyes, and he watches you with such intensity it steals your breath. âI love you,â he says, punctuating each word with a roll of his hips, his cock grinding deep. âSo fucking much. Fuck, youâre perfect.â The vulnerability in his voice, the raw emotion, builds another peak in you faster than expected.
You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss, your tongues sliding together as your bodies do. He reaches between you again, fingers returning to your clit, rubbing in time with his thrusts. The overstimulation is exquisite, your walls fluttering around him, drawing him closer to his own release.
âDickâoh god,â you gasp against his lips, the pressure building unbearably. He nods, understanding, his pace faltering just a touch as he chases the edge with you. One final, deep thrust, and you come again, harder this time, your pussy spasming wildly, pulling him over with you. He buries himself to the hilt, cock pulsing as he spills inside you, hot ropes of white filling you up, his whimpers muffled against your shoulder.
You ride out the aftershocks together, his body covering yours protectively, hips twitching with the last waves of pleasure. He stays inside, softening slowly, as if reluctant to break the connection. Finally, he eases your legs down, rolling to the side but keeping you close, his cock slipping free with a wet sound, a trickle of his cum leaking from you.
With gentle hands, he grabs a tissue from the nightstand, cleaning you both tenderly, wiping away the evidence of your joining without a hint of haste. Then he's back, pulling the blankets over your entwined bodies, his arm draped across your waist. The room is filled with the scent of sex and sweat, mingled with the faint pine from the holiday decorations downstairs, but it's comforting, intimate.
âMerry Christmas,â he whispers, kissing your temple, his voice sleepy but content.
You smile, tracing lazy patterns on his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing. âBest one yet. Even if it started rough.â
He chuckles softly, the vibration rumbling through you. âWe make it work. Always.â His fingers comb through your hair, soothing, as the snow continues its quiet descent outside. The clock ticks past midnight, but time feels suspended here, in this bed, with him. No need for moreâthe night has given you everything, wrapped in tenderness and love.
You nestle closer, head on his shoulder, listening to the hush of falling snow and his even breaths. Sleep tugs at you now, warm and inviting, knowing he's here, solid and real. The manor creaks faintly in the wind, but inside, it's peaceful, the emotional bond between you stronger than any storm. As your eyes drift shut, his lips brush your forehead one last time. âSweet dreams, love. I'm not going anywhere.â
And with that, the night holds you both, complete and cherished, under the blanket of winter's hush.
nightwing is so fucking good with his tongue ! (+18)
Dick Grayson finds you on one of the rooftops in BlĂźdhaven. Itâs midnight, and the wind brushes softly against your skin, sending a slight shiver through you. However, when his handsâgloved in the latex of his suitâcaress your arms, you know youâll soon start to warm up, and that feeling is reassuring.
And, just like last time, he has you pinned against the wall. Heâs on his knees in front of you, with your skirt hiked up and bunched around your waist. Your panties have vanished; you only hope the wind hasnât carried them away. His face buries itself between your thighs while his hands firmly hold your legs, draped over his shoulders, to keep you from collapsing.
He licks you with absolute talent, his expert tongue exploring every fold as you arch against the wall. He doesnât care in the slightest that youâre practically on an exposed rooftop, where any curious neighbor could see how he devours your pussy greedilyâbecause he hasnât even bothered to take off his suit or the mask that covers those intense blue eyes.
Your hands tangle in his black strands as you feel his tongue exploring your entrance, tracing slow and deep curves that make you clench around it. Then, he replaces it with two fingers, sliding them (still covered in the latex of the suit) inside you with ease, and moves up to your lips to gently lick your clit. You feel like you could explode at any moment if he allowed it.
âDick, oh my God, fuck, fuck⌠Iâm gonna come, pleaseâŚ!â you practically scream as you arch hard. You feel your clit pulsing under his tongue, your entrance clenching and spasming around his fingers, sucking them in like it wants to swallow them whole. Pure pleasure tears stream down your cheeks.
âCome on, baby⌠You can take this,â he murmurs in a playful voice, pulling back for just a second. A thin thread of saliva glistens between his lips and your pussy. His blue eyes pin you from beneath the mask, and he flutters his lashes with shameless teasing that completely disarms you. Youâre lost.
âThereâs nothing I like more than having you as my helper on patrols,â he whispers, his voice husky and laced with amusement. âSpending the whole night eating this pretty little pussy until you come on my face⌠But you have to be quieter, yeah? I donât think you want the whole neighborhood to find out that youâre letting me devour you up here on the rooftops⌠or do you?â
work can be hard sometimes, Dick is here to fix that
Your hands run over your scalp, fingers slipping into the wet hair. Shampoo sticking to your locks and running down the expanse of your back, warm water carrying it down and into the drain.
The door to the bathroom creaked open, hinges squealing in a loud reminder to replace them. Any other day, you'd panic. Today? You turn and great the man slipping in behind you. Tan hands finding your hips and playing with the flesh there. Dark lashes beating against cheek bones as he smiled and leaned in to kiss you. Lips pulling into a smile as he did so, plush meeting plush.
" There's my pretty girl. " He murmured against you, pulling away to look you over. " Have a good day? " Dick switched places with you, water coating sore shoulders and clinging to his skin.
" Mmm, it was a day " You answer, the soft tension between you thrummed with an awakened emotion at your answer. A day, not a direct answer, a silent one. Your job had been killer, bosses too cocky to care, work stacking up and waiting for you at 9 AM tomorrow. For now? You have Dick Grayson all to yourself.
He frowned at your answer, black hair dripping leftover water. " I'm sorry, baby " He murmured the nickname, sweet and tender. It made your belly do a few flips at it. Despite being together for years, he never fails to make you all giddy. A relationship lacking that constant thrumming need for energy and lust, days spent cuddling without a necessary for anything more. Past the puppy love, long past the honeymoon stage. Now? just content.
Today though? Today was one of those sweet days where you both thrum with a need under your skin. He leaned in again, letting you return to the water and have the water carry away the shampoo. His hands gently assist yours. Letting the water rinse away the suds of shampoo. He leaned forwards, chest against your shoulders as he smiled and hummed into your neck.
" Let me make it better? " He murmured, hands lowering over your ribs and resting against your lower hips. Your head tips back so he can kiss against your larynx, lips pulled into a gentle smile once more. You glance over at him, body turning so you face him once more. Hands finding his chest as you smiled.
" Alright, Grayson. " You answer, weight shifting between your legs, stepping forwards so the water was carrying down your back instead of most of you.
He smiled that giddy, excited look before leaning in close and kissing sweetly against your collarbones. His teeth gently nipping the skin there before he kissed down between the crevice of your cleavage, lips pausing as he licked over your nipple and kissed it sweetly. His weight lowering as he kissed down your stomach, past your navel and to your pelvis.
His lips paused at your folds, gaze gently flicking up to look at you as he rested his head against your thigh. A beg for permission, you respond by letting your legs part and fall open. Hand bracing against the shelf in the shower as Dick pressed a gentle kiss to your clit, taking his sweet time working you open.
His tongue pressed against your folds as he started to gently lap against you, nose bumping your clit. His hands bracing against your thigh as he worked you. " So pretty f' me. " Dick muttered, vibrations causing your head to crane back and a moan tumble from your lips. His hips jut up a bit, the action causing your attention as he sucks against your clit.
Dick's tongue curled in you, prodding in all the right places as he groaned quietly. Your body shivered despite the warmth against your back, ectasty building in your bones. A cursed whine dragging from your throat. " Fuckâ Dick, right there! "
Your leg adjusted into the air a bit, foot prodding his V-line as he ate you out like a man starved. His blue eyes shifting to stare up at you, a low moan echoing against your cunt. It only pushed you closer to the edge.
He whined against your folds when you fisted at his hair, urging him forwards. Leading him with a desperation. Your walls fluttered and cunt sobbed as your moans turned towards breathy. Moaning his name in warning, his hands moving up to your hips. His hands splaying and pulling you downwards to grind against his tongue and nose.
That tight coil in your stomach snapped, building all at once and dropping off that edge just as fast, a moan leaving him as you gushed on his tongue. His own release had long since passed, his slick coated lips pressing a kiss into your inner thigh as you came down. Bones tired and body building static.
" Feeling better? " He asked with a smile, tilting into the space he just kissed.
AN: I should do chores more. Thought of this while mopping
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dick grayson x bruce's secretary!reader
summary: dick grayson can't seem to make you swoon, no matter how hard he tries, until he finally does!
tags: 18+ mdni, kissing, smallest argument with comfort, fluff, not proofread!
2843 words
based off this request -- thank you for sending it in! once again, I cannot write anything short. i'm working on it!!
read part two here!
You hated Dick Grayson.Â
He was disgustingly charming, holding a brightness in his eyes that paralleled the beauty of the galaxy. He knew how to wield that power. He was gorgeous, devastatingly so. His face was a perfect canvas of symmetrical visage.Â
You knew it, and he knew it.Â
You could see it in the way that other women in the office treated him â the fluttery lashes, the lip bites, the attempts at small, lingering touches â and how he smirked right back, giving them a false sense of hope. You refused to be a part of his roster, refused to be another person that was hypnotized by his charm. Your resistance didnât deter his efforts, much to your dismay. Yet, despite your annoyance towards his presence, you knew he was anything but malicious. You knew he was harmless in his actions, simply just having fun.Â
Bruce Wayne was unpredictable in his office appearances. Oftentimes, you were left there alone to pick up the slack alongside Lucius Fox. You had no prior business experience that had prepared you for this role, so you were surprised when you were offered the position.Â
Today, in particular, was a harder day for you. Being Bruceâs assistant was challenging, despite all the perks that came with the job. December was the hardest month at the company â meetings, preparations for the new year, securing deals, galas â it was a constant weight on your shoulders that you werenât able to leave at the office.Â
Neither Lucius, nor Bruce were in office today. Neither had been all week, leaving you to take on the brunt of the work in their absence. Dick, for the most part, was the one filling in for what you couldnât do.Â
You hated how easy he made it seem. He came in, handled the meetings, handled whatever paperwork or phone call required of him, and did his work as if it was the easiest thing in your world.Â
You, on the other hand, were drowning. Your head was already under the water and you were losing air quickly. No matter how much you tried to claw to the surface, to break even on the amount of work you had to get done, several more tasks were added to your to-do list. Each task took you longer than you would like to admit, simply because you were afraid of ruining things. You had to teach yourself how to complete the tasks to the same standard of Bruce, Lucius, or Dick, as none of this was originally in your job description. Dealing with Dick wasnât in your job description either.Â
âThereâs my favourite girl! How are we doing today, beautiful?â Dickâs voice cut through the quiet space as he planted himself on your desk. He flashed a bright, charming smile down at you as he lounged comfortably on your desk. His arms crossed over his chest, the fabric of his shirt stretching against the bulging of his muscles. He could sense the tension radiating off your body, all he wanted was to see that pretty smile that you always tried to hide from him.Â
You were too engrossed in reading the file by one of Wayneâs Enterpriseâs partners to acknowledge Dick. One monitor had the file pulled up, while you used the other to research terms and proper practices. Your brow was furrowed as you attempted to make sense of the words in the file.Â
His finger came up and gently twisted a strand of your hair around his finger, ânearing quitting time, sweetheart, you gonna let me take you out for dinner?â he rumbled smoothly, his head ducking in an attempt to enter your line of vision. His finger carefully untwisted your hair and gently smoothed the strand back against your head.Â
âBusy,â you mumbled back, letting out a puff of breath as you squinted at your notes, attempting to make sense of the numbers that were being listed in the file. His touch began to overwhelm you, invading your mind and derailing your train of thought.Â
âCome on,â he whined softly, his thumb coming up to your forehead in an attempt to smooth out the tense skin between your brows. âGotta make sure youâre eating, yeah? I know a good spot over on-â
âCan you stop-â you snapped at him, slapping his hand away. Your eyes were fire, red with anger. He had never seen this side of you before, never seen you even raise your voice, despite how much he knew he toyed with you. âIâm busy. I donât want to get dinner with you. I donât want to do anything with you. Go ask one of your other playthings,âÂ
He said there quietly for a moment, stunned by your sudden outburst. âSweetheart, I-â
âIâm not your âsweetheartâ, Dick. I have had a horrible week because Iâve been too busy trying to pick up your shit, and I have a lot to get done still. So, please, leave me alone. Iâm sure you have 14 other girls on your list that you can take to dinner right now,â you seethed out again, cutting off his attempt at a response. The office went dead quiet, though you couldnât bring yourself to be embarrassed. There was too much to get done, too much on your mind, you didnât need his shallow flirting to make things worse. You didnât need empty promises, you didnât need to be a game for Dick to win.Â
He sat there quietly again, still stunned by your words. A glob of spit pooled in his mouth, practically choking him as he forgot how to work his motor functions for a moment. He made you mad. He was trying to make you smile, but he did the opposite?
âRight, yeahâŚâ he murmured softly, standing up quietly from your desk. You turned back immediately to the file, immersing yourself back into the work at hand. He lingered behind you, his gaze roving over your form one last time. He didnât want to leave you like this. He knew that you were under an immense amount of pressure this week. He had done everything he could to alleviate the workload on your shoulders. He did paperwork, responded to emails, took calls before you could get to them â yet your workload never ceased to decrease.Â
âYou have a meeting in 20 minutes, Richard, I emailed you the notes,â you snapped out quietly, not turning to look at him. Your clipped tone paired with the formality halted him in his tracks. Richard? Â You hadnât called him that since your first week as Bruceâs secretary.Â
He remained in a slight daze as he walked into Bruceâs office and planted himself in the chair. Was it something he said? He thought he was making progress in charming you, making you see that he was serious about his feelings for you, and he was planning to say it explicitly for you if you had agreed to dinner with him. But then again, you had said you had a hard week. It was a hard week. For everyone. The company. Gothamâs crime rate had skyrocketed and required all hands on deck. Everyone was being stretched thin.Â
Dick, however, was used to this chaos. He thrived in the bustle of stepping in for Bruce at the company when needed, and patrolling into the early hours of the night. His entire life was a masquerade, a show.Â
He knew you did not share that same lifestyle â obviously. He had watched you on numerous occasions, scaled the rooftops on your journey home to ensure you made it home safe. Patrol had conveniently situated him across from your apartment window, allowing him to keep an eye on the neighbourhood and over you at the same time. You were quiet, a steady calm in the tornado of his life. His heart, once impenetrable, was consumed by you.
God, he felt like an asshole now. He could make it up to you? right?
The sharp ring of the phone interrupted his thoughts. He leaned back in his seat, taking a breath, before a smile plastered on his face. âMichael Holt! Pleasure to hear from you-â
ââââŕ¨ŕ§ââââ
You successfully avoided Dick for the rest of the work day. Whatever correspondence that was needed between the two of you was done over email. You managed to slip out of the building without being cornered by anyone. Your breath had been caught in your chest all day. There was no amount of air that was able to fill your lungs enough to give you the satisfaction of a proper breath. You felt like you were in a daze until you got home.Â
You dreaded stepping into the office building the next morning. You knew people were going to be whispering about your encounter with Dick. Perhaps about the lack of professionalism that you displayed. You didnât care.Â
There were a few of your coworkers in the office, the early birds getting a head start on their workday. Each give you a small nod of greeting as you passed by. The room was quiet, the low energy of all the staff affecting the atmosphere on the floor.Â
You had expected to be met with a mountainous pile of paperwork on your desk, like everyday of the past week. To your surprise, there was a singular note.Â
Come into the office.
R.G.
Stepping into Bruceâs office was nerve-wracking. You didnât want to face Dick. The way his face had fallen after your outburst caused a crack to split down your chest â seeping with guilt and tar.Â
The office was empty, cold with the lack of Dickâs presence. The only sign of life was a small basket placed on top of the coffee table that was situated in the lounge area of Bruceâs office. The brown, woven basketâs lid was closed, sealing off the contents from your view. Another note with Dickâs elegant scrawl was placed on top. The note began with your name, and you tried not to acknowledge his usual pet name for you missing from the note.Â
I know youâve had a hard week. We would be lost here without you. I got you a little something as a token of my (our?) no, MY appreciation. Please accept it. And accept my apology for angering you, I thought I was doing the opposite. Donât worry about your to-do list, I took care of it already. Take a half day today â think of it as an early weekend! Yay! Enjoy.Â
R.G.Â
You sat down on the chair, reading over the words quietly. Your fingers quietly lifted the lid of the basket. The crack in your chest deepened as you gazed at the contents of the basket.Â
At the very back was a fluffy blue pyjama set, soft and warm under the tips of your fingers. Stuffed beside it was a small box of calming tea, surrounded by some of your favourite snacks â how did he know?. There were facemasks, cozy socks, a candle, a card to some ridiculously expensive spa, and⌠a small, homemade coupon book?
He did all of this for you? All the hard work you had put into keeping him out of your heart had crumbled by this gesture. Your heart was singing at the effort put into this basket.
You opened the coupon and immediately rolled your eyes at the contents. Though, you had to fight to keep the smile of amusement from breaking onto your face. You hated how he made you feel, how the thoughts of him always seemed to infiltrate your mind.Â
Of course, Dick would make a homemade coupon book.Â
âGood for: one free kissâ
âGood for: one dinner dateâ
âGood for: one free slapâ
âGood for: one free kiss!!â
âGood for: pass off your to-do list onto Dickâ
"Good for: ONE FREE KISS!!!!!!â
You rolled your eyes again and moved to flip to the next coupon when the door swung open. Dickâs large frame stopped in the doorway. His eyes roved over you in momentary shock. Your heart lurched as you stood up quickly.
âYouâre here early. You usually arenât here until 9,â he breathed out, shutting the door quietly and stepping closer. He left distance so as to not startle you, afraid you would bolt out of the office once given the chance.Â
âHad a lot that needed to be done⌠um.. Thank you for taking care of it,â you responded back, your flickering between the basket and him. He smiled softly and stopped beside you. His delicate walk never failed to amaze you â the way he moved with grace, always sure of his bodyâs movements, and with perfect motor symmetry.Â
âHappy to, Swe-â he coughed, cutting himself off. His fingers fidgeted as if he didnât know what to do with them â something you had never seen from him before.Â
âI was just leaving. Was hoping to be out of your way when you got here so that you could focus. Use the spa giftcard today,â his tone was gentle, a quiet murmur in the dimly lit office. The rain had cast a prominent gloom in the already present darkness of Gotham. Â
âThank you for the basket,â you whispered in return, your eyes flickering up to meet him.Â
âOf course,â he murmured, the knuckle of his finger gently brushing the underside of your jaw. âYouâre wearing the same outfit as yesterday?âÂ
You looked down at your clothes, your hands smoothing over the top. Embarrassment flooded your cheeks in the form of heat. âYeahâŚâÂ
âI love this outfit on you,â he added softly, nudging your chin back up to face him. You pressed your lips together in response.Â
âDick, IâmâŚâ
âI know, donât worry. Itâs okay,â he whispered back, the tiniest hint of a smile breaking through his lips. âThereâs⌠there are no other girls, by the way. You said yesterday that I have 14 girls. I see why you think I would, but I don't. I only want one.â
âCan I use one of these coupons right now?â you asked softly, your fingers sliding the cardstock material back and forth. He nodded slightly, leaning closer. His nose gently nudged against yours. The warmth of his hands slowly slid up the back of your waist, hooking into the fabric of your top.Â
The quiet rip of the paper echoed softly in the space between you as you gave him a soft smile.Â
âClose your eyes,â you whispered, slipping the coupon into his pocket. You waited until he shut his eyes before a small smile spread onto your lips. You took a moment to admire the beauty of his features. Strong features, angular jaw. The definition of perfect. Beautiful.Â
The crack of your hand meeting his cheek left him silently stunned. His eyes flew open in shock as he blinked down at you. âI deserved that⌠but what the fuck?âÂ
Your laugh immediately filled the space, pulling the coupon out of his pocket to show which one you had chosen to cash in â âGood for: One free slapâ.Â
A pout formed on his plump lips, his eyes filling with betrayal. âThere were FOUR free kiss coupons for you to choose from!â he whined, pulling you in by the waist again. âFOUR!â
You continued to laugh, your hand coming up to gently soothe the skin of his cheek. You were both aware that the slap did not hurt him. His cheek had barely reddened in colour.Â
âOne of them even has extra emphasis on the fact that itâs a free-â
You cut him off by pressing your lips softly to his. Your hands gently pulled him close by the black hairs on the nape of his neck, silencing his whining. His mouth was warm and sugary with the taste of sweetened coffee. He let out a soft breath of relief into your mouth, immediately relaxing into the kiss. His strong arms wrapped around you completely, pulling you into the hard planes of his body.Â
âFuck, youâre so⌠fuck,â he mumbled into your mouth, his lips turning ravenous against yours as a sudden desperation filled the room. He pulled you closer, his lips devouring yours in a way that left you dizzy. You let out another soft giggle into his mouth, gently biting down on the pillowly skin of his bottom lip.Â
He ripped himself back, forcing his forehead against yours. His breathing was ragged, his lips wet with spit. He looked utterly destroyed, disheveled, with half-lidded eyes. His hands cupped over your cheeks, holding you close to his face.Â
âAgain, please. Please let me kiss you again, I-â he breathed out softly, his nose nudging against yours again. Every fibre of his being was pleading, you could sense it in his breaths, in his grip on your voice, and the lower frequencies of his voice. âYouâre so beautiful, taste so good, can I, please?â
âYes, but firstâŚâ you smiled softly, leaning back fractionally. The sound of paper ripping filled his ears again before you held up another coupon in the space between the two of you.
âGood for: one dinner dateâ
an: I don't know if this is exactly what the request asked for??? but I had fun writing it anyways. THANK YOU FOR SENDING IT IN!!! I would make this into a universe if I have enough ideas, or if you do. thoughts are being thunk
youâre pretty sure this is the dumbest idea youâve ever had, which says a lot, considering you once let bsf!dick talk you into climbing a fire escape âfor the vibe.â but here you are again, sitting between his knees on his stupidly comfortable bed, asking your best friend how to make another guy cum fast. and heâs looking at you like heâs trying not to laugh, like heâs seconds away from calling you insane.
âyou canât be serious,â he says, but heâs already lifting his hips so you can tug his sweats down. so, clearly, he also canât stop you.
you mutter something about it being âfor educational purposes,â which only makes him smile harderâthis slow, dangerous curl of his mouth that absolutely does not belong on your best friendâs face.
âsure,â he says. âeducational.â
heâs already halfway hard, and you hate that you notice. or maybe you hate that he notices you noticing, because his eyebrows raise the tiniest bit like, yeah, sweetheart, this is what you signed up for.
the first time you put your mouth on him, he exhales fast, like he didnât expect you to actually do it. his hand lands on the back of your neckânot guiding, just a light touch that makes your stomach drop in a very inconvenient, very not-friendly way.
âokay,â he murmurs, voice doing that low gravelly thing he never uses around you unless heâs half-asleep or pissed. ârule number one: go slow at first. guys lose their minds when you act all innocent about it.â
innocent. right. so funny.
you try it anywayâslow, soft, letting him slide over your tongue like youâre figuring him out. and oh, he reacts immediately. his hips twitch, his breath stutters, he tilts his head back like heâs trying very hard not to grab you.
âyeah. yeah, like that,â he says, and his voice breaks in the middle of the sentence, which is honestly kind of satisfying.
you pull back just enough to smirk, and he narrows his eyes at you like he wants to lecture you but his dick is winning the argument.
âhand at the base,â he says, tapping your wrist because heâs a control freak about literally everything, even this. âtwist a little when you come upâgentle, though, not like youâre wringing out a towel.â
you snort around him. he groans, actually groans, and mutters, âjesus, donât laugh with your mouth fullâiâm trying to be professional here.â
professional? okay.
but you follow his instructions, and it works way too well. heâs already breathing like he ran a mile, thighs tense under your hands. every time you take him deeper, his fingers flex at your neck like heâs pretending heâs not two seconds from losing it.
âif you do this on your date,â he gets out, voice rough, âheâs gonna embarrass himself. likeâbadly.â
you donât know what possesses youâmaybe curiosity, maybe spite, maybe the way he keeps swearing under his breathâbut you take him a little deeper, hollowing your cheeks, and his whole body jolts.
âshitâokayâokay, sweetheartâslow down or iâm gonnaââ
you absolutely do not slow down.
he swears, chokes, grabs the sheets like they personally offended him. his stomach tightens, his breath catches, and you feel him lose itâsharp, fast, like he had zero chance the moment you opened your mouth.
when he finally gets his soul back, he looks down at you with this dazed, horrified affection, like wow, my best friend just ruined me and i might have a crisis about it later.
âcongratulations,â he says, trying to sound casual but still out of breath. âyouâre definitely ready for your date.â
and then, after a beat, quieter, eyes flicking to your mouth:
ââŚprobably more ready than you should be.â
written by rawkuna do not plagiarize. not plagiarized, repost from my old acc.
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roommate!dick who always knocksâeven if your doorâs cracked open, even if you called his name. heâs polite, almost too polite, like heâs afraid of crossing a line, even though youâve known for weeks now that he looks at your mouth too long when youâre talking and his eyes always drop to your thighs when youâre wearing those tiny little sleep shorts.
roommate!dick who makes you tea at night without asking. his voice is sleepy when he passes you the mugâbarely more than a mumble. âthis one helps with cramps, right?â he says, like he hasnât memorized your whole cycle just from the days you get extra quiet and hug your knees on the couch.
roommate!dick who accidentally folds your underwear when doing the laundry and immediately goes red when he realizes it. âi didnât lookâi mean, i wasnât trying toâshit, i just threw it in with the restââ he looks so flustered, and you almost believe heâs innocent until you catch him glancing at your panties again the next week with that same look in his eye.
roommate!dick who gets too used to sharing space. too used to hearing you moan softly through the wall when you think youâre alone. too used to the sound of your bed creaking at night, to the soft gasps you try to muffle into your pillow. he jerks off to it once. maybe twice. then hates himself for it, swearing it wonât happen again.
but it does. he canât help itâyour voice drives him crazy. you sound so pretty when you think no oneâs listening. and maybe heâs gotten bolder now. maybe he listens with his forehead pressed to the wall, hand stroking his cock slow while he imagines itâs his name youâre whispering into the dark.
roommate!dick who catches you bent over the bathroom sink in just your towel and loses his mind a little. he doesnât mean to stare, but godâyour thighs, the curve of your ass, the way water droplets trace down the dip of your backâheâs hard in seconds, trying to bite back a groan before he slips out and locks himself in his room to handle it.
and when roommate!dick finally gets his hands on you, heâs gentle the first time. you climb into his bed after a rough day, and it starts with soft touchesâhis hand on your hip, your face buried in his neck, your fingers bunching the fabric of his t-shirt.
it doesnât stay innocent for very long.
his voice is hoarse when he asks, âyou sure?â and when you nod, he exhales shakily, rolling you beneath him and hovering on top of you like you're his prey. turns out your roommate isn't as innocent as you thought.
ââââ mlist. OLDER BOYFRIEND BRUCE WAYNE .á and his terrible tendency to baby you and fix your issues. he turns into an overprotective figure every single time he gets the chance to. itâs in his nature, he canât help himself but look after you. why did you skip dinner? how is your college assignment going? do you need his help? he can definitely proofread your work. canât pick your clothes? heâll do it. need a lift? heâll pick you up himself in his lamborghini and make everyoneâs head turn because, oh, your boyfriend so happens to be the bruce wayne.
this time, bruce finds you in his office, sleeping heavy with your head perched on the desk, surrounded by countless pages and a laptop. he finds some sort of comfort in watching you sleepâ itâs simple. youâre at the wayne manor, awfully tired from a long day, but at least youâre safe and so, the dangers of gotham city wonât get their dirty claws on you.
this isnât the first time he finds you asleep, struggling to keep up with the horrible amount of college work youâve been received. youâre a smart girl and heâs proud of you.
so, bruce pulls the chair back and he picks you up in his arms with so much ease. the sudden movement forces you awake and you look at him with confusion stuck all over your face. with sleepy eyes, you try to focus on your surroundings and you become aware you fell asleep while studying.
bruce mustâve arrived home just in the time to find you dozed off in his office. when you texted him earlier, he seemed busy with some board meetings at the wayne tower, so you assumed the night will be lonely without his presence at the manor. alfred brought you some tea and biscuits to snack on and here you are now, barely a few hours later.
âbruce? what time is it?â
âitâs late.â he answers with a smile peeking in the corner of his mouth. his lips press in a soft kiss on your forehead, âiâm taking you to bed.â
bruce walks with you in his arms through the enormity of the wayne manor and the silence enraptures you with an odd sense of intimacy. itâs just you and him awake through the long night. he carries you down the long hallways, then up the oak staircase to the second floor, where the master bedroom is. he pushes through the large door, taking you to the bed he now shares with you.
bruce lays you down on the black silk sheets and he turns around for a moment to turn on the bedside lamp. he picks up a set of pajamas from a nearby armchair, pretty pink satin.
âcome on, letâs get you changed, princess. arms up.â
âyou baby me too muchâŚâ you mumble sleepy.
itâs true, but youâre always fond of the way your boyfriend treats you.
âdo i now, sweetheart?â
âmmmhmâŚâ
half-asleep, standing at the edge of the bed, you lift your arms up, so bruce grabs the fabric of your t-shirt, pulling it up and removing it off your body. then, he takes off your bra and he leans down enough to place a kiss on your neck. he replaces the two with a satin pajama top and he does the same with your skirt, pulling it down your thighs and repeating the process with the matching pair of pink shorts.
âmuch better, donât you think?â he kisses your forehead and when he pulls away, bruce sighs. the tiredness is always visible in his eyes, but you know he wonât sleep any time soon.
heâs trained himself for enough years to handle the exhaustion that comes with being both bruce wayne and batman. you wish it would all be different. but nevertheless, there are things you simply cannot change, as much as desire it.
he chooses to take care of you first, then heâll get back to his business. most likely, heâll wait for you to fall asleep, then retreat inside the batcave and work on his plans. thereâs nights when youâll join him, falling asleep asleep in his lap. other times, you wander inside the batcave, a thing he could never mind. this time, dreamland calls your name, begging you to close your eyes and drift off.
âstay with me tonight,â you hold onto the fabric of his shirt, eyes half closed, sparkling with a sickening urge to be with him, âplease.â
âiâll be right here until you fall asleep, darling. and when you wake up, iâll be next to you. iâll bring you some breakfast in the morning.â
by now, youâve completely closed the distance between each other, and heâs on top of you, while you lay with your back on the silk bedsheets, head on the cozy stack of pillows. you keep your arms wrapped around his neck and your legs around his waist. he doesnât put his entire weight on you, because if he did, youâd be squished by now. he rests one hand on your face, running his fingers up your temple and down to your flushed cheek.
âi want you with me tonight, bruce. please.â
âyou should get some sleep. youâre exhausted.â
you use your both your arms and legs to pull him as close as possible to your body, âat least give me something before you go.â
âi spoil you too much, donât i?â
âthatâs not true at all. in fact⌠i think you should spoil me even more.â
your boyfriend rolls his eyes. if thatâs what you truly want, heâll give it to you. tonight, the sex is gentle. thereâs no need for the sort of sex that leaves your body shaking and mind emptied. youâre not in a rush and neither is bruce. he never is, if you were to ask him. heâs as meticulous as youâd expect him to be, always taking his time with you. heâs a man of sublime passion and patience. unless you brat around. tonight heâll make sure to fuck you to sleep.
when the tip of his cock stretches your needy cunt for the first time, you moan so softly, barely audible, but your mouth is open agape. you hold onto his body, hands seeking the burning heat of bruceâs body, skin on skin. and so do your lips, in a constant need for a sweet kiss, moaning against his mouth.
bruce works himself inside your pussy with slow paced, deep strokes and you adore it, as sleepy as you are, you thank him with another soft moan, looking into the depths of his blue eyes. you feel so full with his entire cock inside you, stretched out to perfection under the weight of his body, burning hot, two of your fingers shoved against your clit, drawing messy circles around it.
when youâre finished, bruce cleans you up with patience and then, he tucks you in bed. you keep your face pressed against his chest and the hum of his heartbeat sings in your ear. you dig your nose in his shirt, and you realize nothing in this entire world will ever feel as fulfilling as being in his arms, enraptured by bruceâs fragrance, his muscular arm is wrapped around you in a hug; bruce makes you feel so safe and now that heâs finally home, you can fall asleep and stop stressing over your college work.
your boyfriend thinks that he should a little bit longer. maybe tonight, bruce will stay with you just to watch you sleep. and after that, heâll leave. heâll turn off the bedside lamp, make sure youâre properly tucked in, completely covered by the cozy blanket. heâll close the tall window shut, all so you wonât catch an awful cold. heâll bring you a glass of water, leave it on the nightstand and kiss your forehead before going. his gaze will linger one more time before closing the door behind him. maybe.
The moment Bruce saw you walk in for your interview, he knew he was fucked.
And now, here you areâstanding in front of his desk in that unmistakable pink skirt, twirling a lock of hair around your finger as if youâre unaware of the effect you have on the room.
âSo⌠the cafĂŠ said they were actually out of your cappuccino,â you say nervously, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.
Bruce canât help it but a slow smile pulls at his mouth.
âNo worries, sweetheart,â he replies, voice warm and low in a way he doesnât entirely mean to let slip.
You relax, offering him a shy smile before turning to leave, pink fabric swaying in your wake.
Later that night, long after the office has gone quiet, Bruce sits alone at his desk. He tries to focus on paperwork, on deadlines, on anything elseâbut his mind drifts back to you. Your nervous voice. Your skirt. The way you looked at him like his opinion mattered.
And that pink skirt keeps replaying in his mind like a problem heâs already losing control of.
Late that night Bruce would stroke his cock thinking of his pretty little assistant in her pink skirts.
Soon after, you found yourself staying late at the office, buried under clutter and stacks of disorganized paperwork. The building felt different after hoursâquiet, cold, the long hallway of Wayne Enterprises stretching ahead of you like a tunnel of shadows.
As you walked past the executive suites, you noticed Bruceâs office door slightly ajar. A thin sliver of light spilled into the hallway.
You paused.
âMr. Wayne?â you called softly.
No answer.
You pushed the door open a little more and stepped inside. The office was emptyâdim, orderly, untouched, exactly the way he always kept it. You hesitated before moving around the desk, your eyes drifting over the neatly arranged papers and the personal items he rarely let anyone see.
A small picture frame caught your attention.
You picked it up carefully. It was a photograph of a much younger Bruce sitting between his parents on a sun-lit benchâhis smile open, uncomplicated, the world clearly different for him then.
A sudden, low throat-clearing behind you made you jump.
The frame slipped from your hands, clattering loudly against the desk.
You gasped and spun around.
Bruce stood in the doorway, shadowed by the dim light of the hall.
âMâMr. WayneâŚâ you stammered, your face burning with embarrassment.
He stepped into the room slowly and pushed the door closed behind him, the soft click sounding far too loud in the quiet office.
The quiet stretched until it felt like the air itself was vibrating.
You opened your mouth to speak, but your voice came out thin.
âI wasnât⌠I didnât mean to intrude.â
The room suddenly felt smaller.
Or maybe he just took up all the space in it.
âYou shouldnât be in here,â he said, his voice was low, controlledâtoo controlled. Like he was holding something back with both hands.
Your breath slipped out unevenly.
âI know. Iâm sorry. I justâyour door was open andââ
âAnd you came in.â
He wasnât accusing you.
He was stating it like a fact he didnât know what to do with.
Bruce moved closer, slow, deliberate, like you were something he was afraid to startle⌠or something he wasnât sure he trusted himself around.
When he reached the desk, the space between you was barely a few feet.
Close enough to feel the warmth of him.
Close enough that it made your skin prickle.
He picked up the fallen frame, turning it over in his hand. His jaw tightened once, sharply. Then his eyes lifted to yours.
Whatever was in them made your breath stop.
Bruce leaned over you, his presence suddenly enormous, his shadow falling over the desk. The air between you felt impossibly tight, charged.
âDonât you know,â he said, his voice low, controlled, yet laced with something dangerous, ânot to touch things that donât belong to you?â
You froze, heart hammering, heat pooling in your chest. His gaze was fixed on you, dark and unreadable, and for the first time you noticed how close he had leaned over, the faint brush of his shoulder against yours, the intensity in his eyes that made your knees feel weak.
âIâIâm sorry,â you stammered, unable to look away.
He didnât move back. Instead, he leaned slightly closer, the faint scent of him wrapping around you. His hand rested on the desk, just inches from yours, and the tension between you crackled like electricity.
âYou really have no idea,â he murmured, voice rougher now, almost a growl.
Your pulse spiked. Your fingers itched to pull away, but you couldnât. The heat in his gaze pinned you to the spot, every instinct in your body screaming that you should leaveâbut every part of you wanting to stay.
His eyes softened for just a fraction of a second, and then darkened again. âYou shouldnât be here this late. Not alone. Not like this. And yetâŚâ He exhaled sharply, the restraint in his voice making the tension almost unbearable. âYou keep testing me.â
You swallowed, chest tight. âI⌠I wasnât trying toââ
âYou donât have to try,â he interrupted, leaning just slightly closer, enough that you felt the faint brush of his breath against your neck. âI notice everything.â
The words lingered between you, heavy and sharp. You could feel the heat, the desire, the restraint all coiling tight between you like a spring ready to snapâand neither of you could look away.
The room was impossibly quiet, except for the faint hum of the city outside. You could feel Bruceâs thigh between your legs, close enough that the warmth of him pressed against you made you shake yet not close enough to satisfy the ache building in your core.
you didnât move. You couldnât. Every instinct screamed to step back, but every nerve in your body was alive, aware of him, drawn to him like a magnet.
âBruceâŚâ you whispered, breath uneven.
He didnât answer with words this time. Instead, he leaned just a fraction closer, his lips hovering near your ear, and you shivered at the proximity, every hair on your arms standing on end.
Your heart hammered. You could feel the heat of him, the tension coiling in the small space between you. He tilted his head slightly, giving you a look that made your knees weak, your fingers clenching involuntarily.
And then he was closer stillâcloser than he should be. Your breath caught when his lips brushed against the side of your neck, light and teasing.
âI canât⌠I canât ignore this anymore,â he admitted, voice low, raw, full of restraint and something unspoken. âYou make it impossible.â
Before you could respond, the words, the heat, the pull between you snapped. His lips were on yoursâsoft at first, testing, seeking, and then insistent, desperate, desperate enough to take your breath away.
You melted into him, your hands finding their way to his chest, feeling the tension beneath the fabric, the warmth radiating off him. He deepened the kiss, pressing closer, but not too closeâenough to make every nerve in your body hum, every thought blur, and every rule youâd tried to follow vanish.
When you finally broke apart for air, both of you were panting slightly, foreheads pressed together, eyes locked. Neither of you spoke. You didnât need to. The tension lingered, heavy and sweet, a promise that neither of you would forget this momentânor each otherâanytime soon.
âIâŚâ you whispered, unable to finish, and he pressed his lips to yours again, softer this time, almost gentle, as if to soothe the storm raging between you.
âYouâre mine,â he said against your lips, almost a warning, almost a plea.
He pushed you back onto the polished mahogany desk, the cascade of papers and pens hitting the floor like a declaration of war on restraint.
Now, he leaned over you, his broad shoulders blocked out the world, hands planted firmly on either side of your head, caging you in. His breath was hot against your neck as he kissed down the column of your throat, teeth grazing the pulse point that raced under his touch.
Each unbuttoning of your blouse was methodical, his long fingers deft from years of handling boardroom deals, but here they trembled with barely contained hunger.
The silk blouse fell open, exposing the delicate black lace bra that cupped your breasts, nipples already pebbled and straining against the fabric.
Bruce's growl rumbled deep in his chest, a primal sound that sent shivers racing down your spine. He latched onto the spot just above your left breast, sucking with possessive force, his tongue swirling over the skin until a blooming red mark testified to his claim. You arched up, the cool wood of the desk pressing into your spine, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from his body.
His hands, calloused from late-night patrols in the shadows of Gotham, slid down your sides, tracing the curve of your waist before gripping your hips hard enough to bruise.
âYou're mine right now,â he murmured, voice a low timbre laced with authority, the same tone he used in board meetings but infinitely more intoxicating. âNo distractions, no escape. Not from this.â
His mouth claimed your breast fully, shoving the lace aside to expose the flushed skin. Teeth closed around your nipple, biting down with just enough pressure to make you cry out, the sharp sting melting into liquid pleasure that pooled hot and insistent in your core.
Your pussy throbbed, slick arousal soaking through your panties as he lavished attention on the sensitive peak, tongue lashing before soothing with wet, open-mouthed kisses.
Bruce's other hand ventured lower, bunching your skirt up your thighs, the fabric whispering against your stockings. He pressed his hips forward, the rigid length of his cockâthick and unyieldingâgrinding against your inner thigh through his tailored slacks. The friction made you whimper, imagining how it would feel stretching you open.
âFeel that?â he rasped, switching to your other nipple, nipping the underside before sucking it deep into his mouth. âThat's the effect you have on me every damn day, watching you bend over files, your ass teasing me from across the room.â
Your fingers twisted in the crisp fabric of his white dress shirt, pulling him closer as desperation clawed at you. He hooked a finger into your panties, the damp cotton yielding easily, and pulled it aside. Without preamble, two fingers thrust into your wet heat, curling against that spot inside that made stars burst behind your eyelids.
He fucked you with them steadily, thumb pressing firm circles over your swollen clit, the dual assault building pressure until your thighs quivered
âGood girl,â he praised, the words vibrating against your skin as he trailed bites up to your jaw. He added a third finger, stretching your walls, the lewd sounds of your arousal filling the quiet office. The city hummed faintly beyond the glass, but it was drowned out by your gasps and the slick rhythm of his hand owning you.
Suddenly, he pulled free, leaving you clenching around nothing, a whine escaping your lips. Bruce's eyes locked on yours, dark and stormy, as he unzipped his pants.
His cock sprang out, veined and heavy, the head slick with pre-cum that beaded at the slit. He gripped your thighs, spreading them wide, Positioning himself, he dragged the tip along your folds, coating himself in your wetness, bumping your clit with each teasing stroke.
âBeg for it,â he demanded, voice rough as gravel, his free hand tangling in your hair to tilt your head back, exposing your throat.
âPlease, Mr. Wayne... fuck me. I need you inside me,â you pleaded, the formal title slipping out from habit, making his gaze darken further.
That broke him. With a guttural groan, he slammed into you, burying every inch in one brutal thrust. Your pussy stretched around him, the burn exquisite as he filled you to the hilt.
He didn't give you time to adjust, hips snapping forward in a punishing rhythm, the desk groaning under the onslaught. Each plunge drove deeper, his balls slapping against your ass, the angle hitting your g-spot relentlessly.
Your nails raked down his back, tearing at his shirt as pleasure coiled tight in your belly. Bruce's hand came up, wrapping around your throatânot choking, but a firm anchor, his thumb stroking your pulse. He captured your mouth in a fierce kiss, tongue invading like his cock below, dominating every sense.
âCum for me, Princess,' he growled against your lips, the word a filthy twist on your professional role.
The command shattered you. Your orgasm ripped through, walls fluttering and squeezing him in rhythmic pulses, juices gushing around his pistoning length. Bruce thrust erratically, chasing his release, before yanking out at the last second. Hot ropes of cum painted your stomach and the underside of your breasts, marking you in the dim glow of the desk lamp.
He slumped over you, both of you panting, sweat-slicked skin sticking together. His lips brushed your ear, voice husky. 'This office just got a lot more interesting. And don't think this is a one-time thingânext time, I'll have you bent over my desk during a conference call.'
| aka: You catch Bruce trying to sneak a peek at his gifts, so you punish him accordingly. (Smut)
| Bruce Wayne x wife!reader | 1.3k words
| CW: [18+] mdni. smut, dryhumping, blindfolds, restraints, unprotected, pinv, cowgirl position. Alfred is an instigator.
| A/N: First ever smut with the big old bat. How'd I do?đ¤ Ongoing masterlist can be found here
Gift in hand, red-handed, guilty. Thatâs how you caught him.
Now, the Batman was not someone who gets âcaughtâ doing things he isnât supposed to be doing. The notion was laughable- no one catches the bat.
He didnât get caught by the GCPD in his first night out, or by all the different mercenaries who called for his head. He doesn't get caught when he breaks into the homes of enemies and crimelords alike, search for evidence where everyone is too scared to look. Simply, Batman didnât get âcaughtâ. By anyone.
But you werenât just anyone. You, were his wife.
âAnd what, pray tell, are you doing, Bruce?â Your voice is clipped, accusatory, and you have a hand rested on your hip like youâre scolding a small child.
With the scene in front of you, you might as well have been; crouching right in front of the Christmas tree was Bruce, shamelessly attempting to peak past the wrapping paper of one of his presents. Had you not chosen to walk around the corner at that moment, lead fully by your gut intuition, he would have gotten away with it.
He looks up, almost sheepish. He offers you a charming grin- a Wayne classic- and puts the gift down.
âOh! Sorry, I thought this was the one I got for you,â he starts, smooth like honey, but the blatant lie does little to impress you. âGuess my eyesight isnât what it used to be.â
âBruce. Wayne.â You punctuate every syllable, âAre you lying to your wife?â
And to that he has no words.
âI tried to tell him,â you hear Alfred sigh from behind you, the mirth in his singsong voice loud and clear, âbut Master Bruce just would not listen.â
No worries, you think to yourself, looking at your husband in a way that promised nothing but trouble. You had plans for him.
He notices your change in demeanor instantly.
---
âWhen I tell you, 'no peaking',â you say, adjusting the handcuffs and blindfold, âI mean, no peakingâ.
Even fully restrained, Bruce is the picture of calm. Laying back on the bed in nothing but his underwear, he bites back a lazy grin.
"My apologies, darling. Had I known such... discipline would await me, I would have been more careful." Even with his eyes covered, you can imagine them shining playfully.
"Liar." You whisper at him and he laughs, but his joy is short-lived.
In the next moment, you move to straddle his lap, the softness of your bare thighs rubbing against him scandalously. Your wet slick has already begun soaking through the fabric of his boxers, and when you begin to rock your hips, he's a done man.
He sighs roughly as his head lolls back against the pillows, handcuffs clinking against the wooden bedframe. Hoping the cheap metal holds, you begin to grind harder into him.
âYou like that, honey?â You purr, and his responding groan sends shivers down your spine.
With the practice and expertise that came with pleasuring him for so many years, you know how to angle your hips just the way he likes, causing his breath to hitch. On instinct his hands reach for you, but the handcuffs are successful in doing their little job, and they scrape against the frame as if taunting him.
He grunts out, brooding, and even without his vision he just knows youâre smiling.
"Enjoying the view?" He guesses, voice low.
"Unfathomably so," you coo at him, squealing when he ruts his hips up to meet you halfway.
You smack his chest, tutting.
"I'm in charge right now, Bruce." You reprimand, and the tone of your voice sends delicious goosebumps over his skin.
To prove your point, you lift yourself up and slide off the last piece of cloth between you. Long, and thick, and curved in all its glory, his cock springs free. You gasp, the vision of it bobbing against his abdomen shooting heat directly into your stomach. Almost as if in a trance, you trace the length with a soft finger, following the trail of a particularly throbbing vein all the way up to the tip. No matter how many night you spend with him, youâll never get enough.
Bruce says your name then, low and promising, and you snap out of your reverie. Below you, your husbandâs chest is moving up and down with hardened breaths, arms taut against his restraints. The sight was sin, wrapped up sweetly just for you. The blindfolds for his crime of peeking, the handcuffs for touching⌠you mentally give yourself a pat on the back as you take him in.
Jaw clenched, he calls your name again, the sound impatient and- dare you say- desperate.
Rolling your shoulders back, you readjust yourself to position him right at your entrance. You donât waste another second.
With a sensual cry, you slide him inside you all the way in. The way your walls clench around him, the way he stretches you out just so⌠your moans fill up the large space of the bedroom with ease.
Once again, you hear the jingling of metal as Bruce tries to reach for you. He snarls at the resistance, suddenly despising the object that was keeping him from touching his wife. You chuckle softly, nails scratching teasingly over his chest.
âThe point of punishment is to punish, Bruce.â You muse, and then youâre moving.
It doesnât take long to get a momentum goingâ not with how achingly good it feels to ride him. Hands on his chest and knees positioned just right, youâre able to take him with ease, your pace picking up every time your clit touches back down to the hilt. In minutes, the bed is creaking and banging against the headboard with every rock of your hips, the feeling of his heavy balls slapping against your ass with every bounce.
He tries to jerk his hips up to meet you halfway, but with the speed youâre going (and his lack of hand-eye coordination) he quickly resigns to just laying there and taking it.
Cursing under his breath, he grips the bed frame in his hands. How it doesnât splinter under the pressure is beyond you. Just watching the way his strong fingers wrap around the thick wood⌠that familiar coil begins to tighten faster than usual.
âOh, Bruce-â you gasp, on of your hands moving to touch yourself, and he lets out a guttural groan when he feels your cunt clench around him even tighter.
He doesnât have to see you to know youâre seconds away from coming undone. With the speed in which youâre pleasuring your clit and the now stuttered bucking of your hips, all you needed was one more push.
âThatâs it, darling, thatâs it. Cum for me, cum for your husband,â he murmurs, and that final command is all you need to finally unravel.
With a loud cry that echoes off the walls, your eyes roll back as your orgasm washes over you. Fast and hot, you tighten desperately around him as stars blind your vision. Itâs a pleasure that takes all your other senses away, which is how you miss the displeased frown that twitches across your loverâs lips. To Bruce, not being able to see you right now was the greatest punishment of all.
He hides it by the time you come to, and you open your eyes to see nothing less than a patient smile. Too out of it to notice, you reach forward to finally peel the blindfold off his face. His blue eyes give away nothing, shining even in the dimness of the night. You press a gentle kiss to his lips- one that he softly returns- and finally lift your hips up to slide him out.
You both sigh at the loss.
âAre you satisfied with your punishment then, Mrs. Wayne?â His voice rumbles, and you just nod in a daze.
âExcellent.â
He sits up, and in one motion so quick you almost miss it, snaps his hands on either side of his head. You can only watch in shock as the cheap metal links break in half, freeing him.
âMy turn,â he says, and then he lunges.
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The world knew Bruce Wayne as Gothamâs golden billionaire, all charm and composure. But when the doors to the penthouse locked behind you, all that control burned into something far darker, far hungrier.
You barely had time to set down your purse before his large hands wrapped around your waist, tugging you against his chest. His lips claimed yours without warning hot, rough, desperate as if heâd been holding back all night. The taste of whiskey lingered on his tongue, making you melt as he walked you backwards until your back hit the wall with a soft thud.
âDo you know what you do to me?â he growled against your mouth, his voice low, gravelly, sending a shiver straight down your spine.
Before you could answer, his hand slid beneath your dress, finding the thin lace between your thighs already damp. His thumb pressed down hard against your clit through the fabric, earning him a strangled moan.
âAlready wet for me,â he murmured, smirking against your lips, âand Iâve barely touched you.â
You whimpered his name as he tugged your panties down and off in one swift motion, leaving you bare under the hem of your dress. He dropped to his knees without hesitation, spreading your thighs open with his palms, and buried his mouth against your cunt.
The sudden heat of his tongue made your legs shake, his growl vibrating against you as he licked long and slow from your entrance up to your clit before sucking it between his lips. You fisted his dark hair, pulling him closer, and he let you let you grind against his face as though his mouth existed just to serve you.
âBruceâf-fuck,â you gasped, your head falling back against the wall. He only groaned in response, his tongue plunging into you, curling deep until your knees nearly buckled.
Just as you were about to unravel, he pulled back, wiping his slicked chin with the back of his hand, eyes dark and predatory.
âTurn around,â he ordered.
The tone left no room for disobedience. Heart racing, you pressed your palms against the wall, arching your back, ass pushed out toward him. You felt the hard length of him pressing through his slacks as he stepped up behind you. With practiced ease, he freed himself, the heavy weight of his cock sliding between your slick folds before pushing in with one deep thrust that had you crying out.
âFuck- Bruce!â
He pressed his hand flat between your shoulder blades, holding you down as he set a brutal pace. Every thrust drove you against the wall, filling you to the hilt, his hips slamming against your ass. He grunted low in your ear, lips brushing your temple as he muttered filth only you could hear.
âYou take me so well⌠dripping down my cock like you were made for it.â
Your moans filled the room, every cry swallowed by the sound of his body claiming yours. He grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back so your ear was pressed to his lips.
âSay my name.â
âB-Bruceââ
âLouder.â
âBRUCE!â
That was all it took. His thrusts grew erratic, his grip on your waist bruising as he buried himself deep and came with a guttural growl, spilling into you until you felt it leaking down your thighs.
He held you there, pinned against the wall, panting hard. His lips pressed against the back of your neck, softer now, lingering.
âYouâre mine,â he whispered against your damp skin, as if it were a fact as absolute as gravity.
Something short and simple while I work on my page and these other fics donât be afraid to request or just talk to me
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Summary: Bruce really wants to see you carrying his baby.
pairing: Bruce wayne x fem reader
open request - dc masterlist
The days Bruce gave Alfred free nights were something they enjoyed as a couple, what could be better than having the whole mansion to themselves?
They were the only times they could go through all the rooms. The library, the gym, the study, literally everything.
His hips thrust slowly, deeply. He knows what he's doing. He knows you're on the verge after a third consecutive round, feeling him drip from your tight hole. Each thrust drags his own seed back inside, as if your body can no longer escape him.
"Bruce..." you say, but it's barely a whisper. Your fingers grip his back, marking his skin, needing him more.
âThatâs itâŚâ he growls against your ear, his hands gripping your hips tightly. âTake it all. Donât stop squeezing me like that, my love. Youâre so fucking good for meâŚâ
Every word stings like a pulse inside you. And he's still hard. He's still inside. Sweat trickles down his neck. Your legs tremble, leaving you completely dumbfounded by the pleasure he gave you as he whispered the dirtiest things anyone could ever say.
"I want you to walk around this house feeling me squirt between your legs." You arch, your body convulsing with pleasure. He feels it. He seeks it. He punishes you with every thrust. "You're going to be the mother of my child," he whispers against your ear, his words choked with pleasure. "I'm going to fill you every night if I have to... until it happens."
The wet smack, the sound of his pelvis colliding with yours, your unfiltered moans echoed throughout the room.
"You're going to wear something of mine," he whispers, barely touching your ear with his lips. "Everyone's going to know that I filled you so well with my cock."
Your legs are shaking, your body is burning. You're surrendered, open to him, body and soul. And Bruce knows it. He looks at you like you're a miracle he needs to secure, mark, claim.
His eyes, fixed on yours, are not only darkened by desire, but by a deeper, older, wilder need: that of belonging. He doesn't just love you. He wants you to be his in every possible way.
You're perfect like this... open for me, trembling for me. There's nothing more beautiful than this," he murmurs, moving a hand down to your abdomen, where his fingers rest reverently, as if he's already imagining you different, full. "What I want most... is to see you carry my baby."
His forehead rests on yours, his breathing ragged. "You're going to be such a beautiful mom."
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It's an open secret amongst certain Gotham circles that Bruce Wayne is sleeping with his assistant. Truthfully, the rumours had begun almost as soon as he set his eyes on you for the first time.
It just made sense. Gotham's most eligible bachelor, spending lots of one-on-one time with a pretty girl fifteen years his junior.
You're at his beck and call, armed with his diary, aspirin, and whatever else he may need at any given time. It's become almost impressive, the way you can predict his needs before Bruce even becomes aware of them himself.
And initially, that's all it had been. You were an excellent assistant, and he paid you handsomely for it. But as time went on, the gazes started to linger, touches growing bolder with each passing day, finally culminating in a heated kiss one night after everybody else had left.
Embarrassed by his lack of control, your relationship had stalled, turning purely professional as Bruce tried to keep you out of his head.
Until he turned up at your apartment door, bruised and bloodied, and had fucked you until you couldn't remember your name.
Things were different from then on. It went entirely unspoken, but you knew the drill. Bruce needed release, and he needed it from somebody he trusted. In his office, after meetings - when he called, you came.
It was a situation you were more than happy with. Dating in Gotham was tough at the best of times - you're not sure you'll ever be able to look at another man again after seeing Bruce Wayne with his head buried between your thighs.
After the sex came the gifts. Starting small, flowers soon morphed to jewellery and clothes that cost more than your whole apartment.
Now, when he keeps you late, Bruce has started taking you to dinner as an apology. Of course, the entire place is rented out, and each staff member signs an ironclad NDA to keep their mouths shut, but it feels dangerous nonetheless.
It's certainly not just sex anymore for you. And you get the sense it isn't for him either.
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