#dad!bruce wayne

But he couldn't drag himself away from work. Not when he had a lead on Dagget's newest offense. If he was lucky, he could trace the fingerprints he'd found left behind on a window-pane, and be one step closer to revealing the truth behind this investigation. Just one more hour...

The elevator shaft behind him began reeling; signaling the arrival of a guest.

You.

Bruce's eyes shifted to the time and he mentally kicked himself. It was past midnight. He mentally kicked himself for the being the cause of another sleepless night for you.

The elevator doors slid open nearly silently and he listened to the soft padding of feet on the cave's floor. Your feet were most likely swelling, again.

"Head back to bed, sweet girl, and I'll join you soon." He murmured, eyes fixed on the analyzing data in front of him.

A hand slid up his bicep to his broad shoulder, thumb massaging the tense muscle there. Bruce groaned.

"Can't sleep without you, Brucey."

It didn't take any effort to peel his gaze from the computer to you.

Bruce hadn't believed in angels until he met you. From the first moment he saw you in that coffee shop, he hadn't been able to think of anything else. And now, with his ring on your finger and the swell of your silk encased stomach from his child, Bruce knew heaven existed. And it was wherever his wife was.

Bruce reached out for you. "Keep me company a while?"

Without further encouragement, you straddled his lap--with some awkwardness thanks to your growing midsection--and laced your fingers behind his neck. You smelled like lavender and vanilla and felt like home.

You pressed your lips to his in reunion. "Missed you."

His fingers dug into the softness of your hips, tongue tracing the seam of your lips. "What did my sweet girl do today?"

"I went to Jason's place with Tim to drop off the rest of his books and then to lunch. Afterwards I took a nap and Alfred was kind enough to wake me up with cookies--and, no, the baby didn't save you any."

"The baby?" he withdrew slightly to take in the tired, mischievous gleam in your eyes. "It would seem the baby has been slighting their father for quite some time now. First with stealing all the blankets and pillows and now with cookies?"

"They're sneaky, like you."

"Apparently, everything's my fault."

"Well," your finger spun the hair at the nape of his neck idly, "when you cheat on your wife with work in the middle of the night, you're automatically blamed."

Bruce trailed kisses along your neck, an apology for keeping you waiting. "You know how I am-"

"Work obsessed and tireless." You shouldered a lock of hair back to give Bruce more skin to work with as you scolded him. He hummed against your pulse, the noise repentant. "I only wish I had as much energy as you. These days, it feels like I wake up and am instantly exhausted."

Before finding out you were pregnant, you had been a dynamo; flitting from one project to another. It wasn't until your second trimester that you began switching luncheons for naps and family nights for early retirement. Bruce and the boys had been extra careful to attend and provide for your wants and needs, from stocking up the ingredients for your cravings to keeping an anti-acid in all of their wallets for your chronic heartburn.

Bruce knew you missed your previous lifestyle, something he had come to guilt himself for cutting short, but you knew him better than anyone else and that meant you were able to smother his fears and regret with reassurances. There was nothing more important you could be doing than growing a piece of him and you, you took as your newest mantra whenever you found him stuck in his own head.

You had been his savior in many ways but he always found himself in awe at the thought that you wanted to build a future, a life, with him. You loved his Robins as your own, treated Alfred as an old friend, and--most importantly--showed up for Bruce in his darkest moments.

"Don't tell me you're still thinking about work."

Your soothing voice brought him back from his thoughts.

He looked up at you, mad at himself for bringing that melancholy frown to your lips. Before you, he might have brushed off your worry and ordered you back to bed to leave him be but you had taught him better.

His palms spanned across your abdomen, scarred fingers kneading the firm skin there. The nightgown you wore tonight fit you like a glove, showcasing every proud curve and giving Bruce the pleasure of seeing what was his.

"I was thinking," he pulled you to him until your fronts were flush as much as they could be, "that you're too good for me."

As he expected, your eyes rolled heavenward in exasperation. "Should I tattoo it over your heart, Bruce Thomas Wayne? I. Love. You."

"And I love you-"

Your finger pinned his lips closed as you glared at him. "I love you and I don't want you saying things like that anymore. If I hear another self-deprecating word from this mouth, I will revoke privileges."

His brow rose in curiosity.

"I will reinstate the pregnancy pillow." You decided.

That had Bruce's eyes widening. He spoke around your finger, "Don't be so hasty, baby!"

"Then stop it." You snapped.

Any other person would have seen the wrath of the Dark Knight if they'd dared speak to him like that. Found themselves dangling from the cave ceiling or knocked on their ass. But he just looked at you with desire. The same thing that had Damian grumbling under his breath at dinner or Dick teasing about a houseful of little Wayne's.

He couldn't stop himself as he kissed you, easily man-handling your body to meld to his preferences.

As he suspected, your limbs went lax as you returned his affection, a moan building in your throat when his hand cupped your throat, moving your head this way and that in guidance.

You might be able to yell at and scold him but Bruce always took back control.

Your fingertips glided over his naked back, feeling the raised scars there from his time as an apprentice of Ra's Al Ghul. Every scar he had, you had kissed dozens of times. He never felt ashamed to bare himself in front of you the way he did when he laid with his past dates. You made him feel whole despite all of his loss and grief.

"You're not bringing that damned pillow back." He growled against your mouth, hips shifting beneath you to support his decision.

You gasped, sensitive from pregnancy.

"Tell me you won't bring it back." He ordered, hips raising again.

"I-I won't!"

He smiled darkly, fingers playing with the hem of your nightgown to push it further up your smooth thighs. You had made him shave your legs this morning as you couldn't reach them without a struggle.

"You wouldn't even be able to find it. I burned it to embers the first night you insulted me with it."

You chuckled breathily. "Good thing I have my billionaire husband's credit card at my disposal. I can buy the entire company and then some."

Bruce nipped at your collarbone. "I hope you weren't planning on getting any rest tonight. Our bed won't be used for sleeping after your impertinence."

"I didn't tell you why I wanted you to come to bed."

But when he saw you holding the baby, the fruit of his great love, he felt something he'd never felt before, and when he held Vivian for the first time, so small and so defenseless, he felt the whole world stop. Gotham, with all its noise and darkness, suddenly disappeared. Gone were the streets he patrolled every night, the villains sworn to destroy him; there were just the two of you, and that tiny baby breathing so gently in his arms.

The first time he held her, he barely dared move his fingers. He was afraid of breaking her, afraid of not knowing how to be a real father, afraid of not being up to the task. And yet, in that instant, he understood that all he needed was to be there. That just looking at her was enough to find a peace he hadn't known since he was a child.

Bruce had sworn to protect Gotham until his last breath, but as he felt Vivian's warmth against his chest, he knew that at that moment he could betray himself without even hesitating.

But that certainty didn't bring him immediate peace, but rather a different kind of fear. For the first time in years, Bruce doubted. He doubted every time the sun set and the suit waited for him in the cave. He doubted every time he looked at her against your chest as she slept, in the connection you both had, and when you were snuggled up in bed where you would wait all night for his safe return.

That first night, barely a month after his birth, he stood still in the doorway of the room, hood in hand, the weight of duty on his shoulders. Gotham called to him, as always, but his heart was in that room.

"I don't know if I should go out tonight..." she whispered, without taking her eyes off the crib.

Your breath hitched at the sound. It wasn't the first time Bruce had hesitated before leaving, but he'd never said it out loud. You approached slowly, careful not to wake Vivian, and placed your hand on her still-suited arm.

"Bruce… "you murmured, looking into his eyes. " I never imagined hearing you say that, from the beginning I knew you would never stop being Batman, but now…"

He gently shook his head, his jaw clenched. His gaze was fixed on the baby's tiny silhouette, barely illuminated by the warm light in the room. "Before, if I didn't come back, Gotham would lose Batman," he said, his deep voice cracking for a second. "But now... if I don't come back, I lose them all. She'll never know me."

You felt his words pierce you, because it was the first time Bruce had let himself be seen so vulnerable in front of you. His broad shoulders seemed heavier than ever, carrying a fear that not even the darkest nights had managed to impose on him.

"Then come back," you replied firmly, tightening your grip on his arm. "There's no other option, Bruce. Come back to us."

He looked away, staring at you for a moment. Without saying anything, he lowered his head and gently rested his forehead against yours. It was a brief, silent gesture, but one filled with everything he felt: fear, love, relief. You closed your eyes and hugged him, letting his large hands wrap around your waist.

"I know," you whispered in his ear, a slight tremor of emotion running through you. "And you'll always come back."

Bruce closed his eyes for a moment, as if finding strength in that touch, and then leaned over Vivian. Clumsily, he ran a finger over her soft cheek, and the baby, as if she could feel it, let out a small sigh before settling back into sleep.

He looked at her as if that gesture were the key to everything. And for a moment, the Dark Knight allowed himself to feel fear, because he had discovered something that bound him much more than Gotham: the certainty that, no matter what happens out there, he would always want to come back here.

Bruce remained bent over the crib for a few more seconds, breathing in his daughter's delicate scent. Every small movement of hers seemed like a miracle he'd never known he needed. Then, without another word, he slowly rose, leaving his hood hanging from his shoulder. Before leaving, he took one last look at Vivian, making sure she was sleeping soundly.

He walked toward the door, but something stopped him. An unfamiliar feeling compelled him to look again. There she was, so fragile and perfect, and he suddenly realized Gotham could wait a few more minutes. He leaned down and rested his forehead on the edge of the crib, closing his eyes. For the first time in a long time, he didn't feel the urge to fight the night, but the need to stay, to be present, even if it was just for a moment longer.

"Good night, Vivian," he whispered. "I promise I'll always come back."

That same night, when he finally returned from patrol, the mansion was silent, a heavy, almost reverent silence, as if the world had stopped to let him return home. The boys were asleep, and you should have been resting after the long days you'd been having, but still listening to the baby. He didn't turn on the lights; the soft darkness embraced the furniture, the walls, and the wooden floor. He didn't even take off his full suit; his gloves still hung on his hands, cold and stiff, reminding him that outside, Gotham never rested.

His footsteps were barely a whisper on the carpet, guided almost by instinct, toward Vivian. He found her there, fast asleep. One small hand rested on the blanket, the other balled into a fist against his cheek. Her breathing was a rhythm so perfect, so steady, it seemed like a mantra that could erase the darkness from his mind.

Bruce stood beside the crib, resting his forearm on its edge, as if the touch connected him to something neither Gotham nor his enemies could touch. His eyes scanned every detail: the tiny curls of hair, the eyelashes that fluttered with each unconscious blink, the delicate curve of her sleeping mouth. She barely blinked; she seemed afraid that if she did, this miracle would disappear from the face of the earth.

The constant murmur of Gotham still haunted him: the echoes of distant sirens, the roar of engines, the memory of every blow received that night on the streets. But there, in that room, everything was out of reach. It was a small sanctuary of peace, a space where there was no fear or threat, only life and warmth.

He leaned a little closer, letting his forehead rest on the arm resting on the crib. He felt the tiny warmth emanating from her, the calm rhythm of her breathing that contrasted with the violence of the night.

"I missed you so much," he murmured softly, the same voice he used when speaking to his children after a nightmare. He knew Vivian couldn't consciously hear him, but part of him hoped his words would somehow be etched into her deepest memory. "I hope you didn't notice me missing."

The weight of his suit, the dried sweat beneath his armor, even the tension in every muscle after the fight—it all vanished there. He was a tired, vulnerable, but also whole man. Because in that room was the only thing he'd ever had: a home waiting for him, a daughter who made him want to return every night.

The soft creaking of the bed in the next room pulled him from his thoughts for a second. You'd moved, probably unconsciously, but he noticed. He knew that even when you were trying to rest, your ears were always alert for her, for every little sound. And the thought of the two of you watching over your daughter like this sent a warmth through his chest.

He leaned forward slowly, with almost childlike clumsiness, and brushed a finger against Vivian's soft cheek. The baby sighed, a barely audible noise, and settled back into her sleep. Bruce closed his eyes, as if that moment would give him strength for a thousand more nights.

He remained like that for a long time, still, absorbing every detail of his daughter. When he finally straightened, he didn't leave immediately. Before leaving the room, he turned back to the crib once more and murmured almost voicelessly, "I love you, Viv..."

And even though she couldn't hear it, she knew it was the most sincere promise she had ever made in her entire life.

Since then he had been thinking of thousands of possibilities to integrate Vivian even more into his life, he knew that her nocturnal activities limited many things in his life, the boys knew it, and you had accepted it from the first minute, but he didn't want to do that to Vivian, she wouldn't even notice his absence really, but he felt a feeling of guilt in his chest for all the time he wasn't at home, before it happened to him with you and the boys, but that girl made him rethink things.

It was then that he had an idea, a very good one for him, a little strange for the rest of the family, but no one dared to say it directly, they had thought it was a joke or that he wouldn't really do it, but the first to react was Alfred.

Alfred snorted disapprovingly the first time he saw it, but the crib remained in the Batcave; Bruce was determined not to move it. A delicate white piece that looked like a mistake amidst the damp rock, the constant technology, and the memories of the past. If he could have an enormous dinosaur or a giant coin, why couldn't he have a crib there? The crib also represented a memory, a reminder of everything that now kept him going and of the great, unconditional love of his home.

It had become something of a habit for him that after finishing patrol or while working on a case, he would go down to the cave with Vivian. He liked having her there and taking care of her while he let you sleep in peace for a few hours. She wasn't always asleep; she often watched him with those big eyes, fascinated by the lights and shadows. And in those moments, the murmur of Gotham City became less of a burden.

That night, Bruce was sitting in front of the monitor, reviewing files on a new criminal network in Gotham. The blue light from the screens outlined his serious profile, his lips pressed together in concentration. But every so often he turned his chair, as if an invisible force were calling him. There was Vivian, in her crib, babbling with contagious enthusiasm, having a conversation with herself, and moving her little legs as if the whole world were nothing more than a secret game.

"Your mother would say this isn't the place for you," he murmured, raising an eyebrow at her waving her arms as if demanding attention. "But I didn't want to leave you upstairs."

Vivian stared at him, with that intensity that left him breathless. Then she let out a loud babble, accompanied by a sharp kick against the blanket. Bruce tilted his head, amused, and extended a finger toward her.

"Yeah? Are you on my side? I thought so. We're a good team."

The baby caught his finger with the surprising strength of her tiny hand, and he was amazed at how such a simple gesture could disarm him more than any villain.

At that moment, Alfred appeared with a tea tray. He stopped when he saw the scene: Bruce, still in his suit, leaning toward the crib, with an expression he'd rarely seen on his face. "With all due respect, sir," he said in a deep voice, although his eyes shone with a hint of tenderness, "I don't think Mrs. Wayne would be pleased if Miss Vivian became a habitué at the cave."

Bruce didn't take his eyes off his daughter, who was now laughing with a bubbly babble as she tried to catch his entire hand. "You're not going to tell Mom anything, are you?" she replied, and for the first time in weeks, she let out a soft laugh.

The echo of that laughter filled the Batcave in a strange, almost miraculous way. As if, for an instant, the darkness that had always inhabited it had opened up to give way to something new.

Alfred approached slowly, placing the tray on a metal table piled high with reports and tools, as if that small, everyday act could tame the coldness of the cave. Then, without interrupting too much, he settled to one side, watching as Vivian struggled to reach her father's face with a curious persistence.

"I'll be down before Master Bruce leaves," Alfred replied, in his usual tone. "I'll take her to her mother later..."

Vivian responded with another babble, as if she'd understood what she'd just heard. She shifted in the blankets, and as she did, Bruce instinctively bent down to accommodate her, gently placing a huge hand against her small frame. The contrast was overwhelming: the strength of a man who could break bones with a blow, now reduced to a careful, almost fearful gesture, so as not to disturb his daughter's peace.

Alfred watched them in silence for a few more seconds, he wanted to keep that image in his mind, he could finally see Bruce happy and enjoying life, then he withdrew with measured steps, leaving them alone.

The cave once again filled with the hum of computers, the distant echoes of cascading water. But for Bruce, the only real thing was that small breathing, that pair of shining eyes that seemed to regard him without judgment, without fear.

The night was ready for Bruce: the full suit, the hood in hand. He just had to get out, but he couldn't. Vivian was in his arms, older now, six or seven months old. She babbled and played with the fabric of his T-shirt, while her bright little eyes looked up at him as if he were the center of her universe.

On the other side of the mansion, you were putting on your slippers and robe, intending to go downstairs to find Vivian and, while you were there, scold Bruce for taking her to the Batcave. You walked up the stairs, each step muffled by the silence of the night, thinking about how to approach without scaring the baby or making Bruce feel bad.

When you reached the cave door, you stopped. There was Bruce, leaning over Vivian, the little girl in his arms, playing with the fabric of his T-shirt. His eyes shone in the dim light of the monitors, and his deep, broken voice traveled to every corner of your heart.

"You know," he whispered, his deep voice cracking slightly, "if I had to live my whole life over again to have you back, I would do it a thousand times over."

Vivian raised her clumsy little hand and touched her father's face. Bruce closed his eyes, allowing himself to be melted by that innocent gesture, and a soft sigh escaped his lips, as if the entire weight of Gotham had vanished for an instant.

“You are…” he continued, gently stroking her little head with a large, trembling finger. “I love you with all my heart, little Vivian.”

The baby gurgled, a sort of bubbly giggle, and brought her tiny hand up to Bruce's face again, as if responding with her own love language. He held her close, resting his forehead against hers, breathing in her scent, letting that tiny being remind him that true strength wasn't in the armor, or in the city, but there, in those eyes that looked at him without judgment or fear.

From the doorway, you watched him, your intention to reprimand him gone. No words could break that moment. The man Gotham feared, the one who always seemed invincible, stood there, completely surrendered to his daughter.

"Being good with mom, eh..." he spoke softly but enough for you to hear him. "I love you very much."

Vivian snuggled a little closer against his chest, and Bruce carefully placed her in the crib. He watched her settle in, watching her until she was comfortable, before turning to you.

You remained silent, your heart beating faster than usual, as you watched him. The scene was something you'd never imagined witnessing: Gotham's strongest and most feared man, surrendered and vulnerable, showing his unreserved love for a girl who could barely manage words. Every gesture he made, every whisper, every touch he touched toward Vivian filled you with a mixture of tenderness and wonder.

When Bruce turned toward you after placing Vivian in her crib, his eyes met yours. You moved a little closer, not touching him at first, just to make sure his gaze and yours shared the moment. And as he wrapped his arms around you, a warm and safe moment amidst so much darkness, you knew that, despite everything Gotham demanded, this—this family—was what truly mattered.

their favorites? your peaked nipples and seemingly always swollen pussy. the extra blood flow to your most intimate areas has changed the way things look now. but, there’s no time to feel insecure. these two men worship you every single day.

it’s late in the evening, enough that the sky is fading from a burnt orange to a deep indigo. clark’s running late at the planet, no doubt almost breaking the keyboard from how hard he’s typing in his haste.

bruce has sent dick out on patrol tonight. they took down their biggest lead last week, so hopefully things will be more calm for a while.

after you complained about your aching legs, bruce pulled you to the bathroom. the kids were either out or tucked away in their own rooms.

steam filled the giant bathroom when bruce turned on the tap. he poured some bath oil in before making his way to where you were perched on the toilet lid. with the most gentle touch, he slipped your robe off your shoulders, stroking your arms as he went.

his touch gave you goosebumps, causing you to shiver. immediately, bruce had a shit eating grin on his face. he crouched in front of you and used a hand to tilt your face to the side. you felt his stubble before his plush lips, scratching softly over the skin of your neck. you weren’t sure if he heard the soft whine that escaped you, but after he nipped at your collarbone you knew he did.

bruce pulled away and shifted his attention to your protruding belly. it seemed to grow bigger each day, especially over the past month, getting so large you had to bend over to see your toes.

his two hands, large and steady, covered the width of your belly. gentle kisses were pressed to the stretched skin, followed by whispers of love and devotion. his fingertips pressed in slightly on your sides, feeling for the position of the baby growing inside you. bruce was always trying to cradle baby’s head, even if they didn’t know it yet.

with the tub almost full, he moved away to cut the water off. he took your hand and led you to the giant soaking tub before getting in first. bruce helped you in before helping you get comfortable in front of him. the oil was slick on your skin, and he got right to rubbing it into your heavy breasts.

bruce cupped your breasts as if they were made of glass, with his giant hands holding their weight. both of his thumbs began caressing your nipples. they had grown larger in the later months of your pregnancy, grown even more enticing to bruce and clark. even the slightest whisper of air across them had your back arching, and it was no different in this moment.

your head fell backwards onto bruce’s shoulder, thighs parting on instinct. the oil allowed his fingers to glide right over the sensitive buds. they were slippery as he softly tugged at them and rolled them between his fingertips.

against the small of your back his cock hardened, you could picture the flushed red tip already. he made no move to relieve himself though, solely focused on you in that moment. strong hands brushed up and down your ribs before meeting under the swell of your belly, his thumbs caressing the bottom as he pressed tender kisses against you shoulder.

“so gorgeous, y/n. you look incredible, especially growing our child. you’re radiant”, his voice was soft but sure in your ear.

you huffed out a laugh, “i look like a whale, bruce”

“none of that. you’re the most beautiful woman i’ve ever seen, darling.”

a satisfied hum leaves your lips, eyes fluttering closed at the feeling of bruce tracing patterns against your belly. he gently presses his fingers into the skin when ever he feels a little kick.

bruce spreads a plush towel out on top of the duvet covering the alaskan king bed. he helps you onto the bed, although you’ve insisted a million times that you can get up there yourself.

once you’re settled, he grabs your lotion and rubs it between his palms to warm it up. gentle hands rub the lotion in, starting at your shoulders.

he works it in with tender but steady pressure.

“when did clark say he’ll be home?” you murmur.

“9ish. got stuck writing a big piece. perry’s been hounding him, i think.”

“mmm” you hum. “miss him.”

bruce leans down to drop a kiss to your hairline. “he’ll be here soon, love.”

his lotion hands move from your shoulders to your breasts. with slick fingers he immediately began playing with your nipples. brushes of his thumbs at first, then soft pinches before adding more pressure. the feeling had your pussy clenching and you knew if he felt you you’d be soaked.

after a few minutes it was as if he couldn’t hold himself back any longer, dipping down to swirl his hot tongue around the stiff buds. you arched into his mouth, soft whines falling from your panting mouth.

finally, bruce pulled away and used the back of his hand to wipe at the corner of his mouth. you pouted at him, making him chuckle.

“sorry, darling. just give me a minute, i’ll give you some more. i always take care of you, don’t i?”

cheeks flushing, you nodded.

your belly is next, and you’d normally melt at how tender he’s being, but you can’t think of anything other than the throb in your pussy at the moment. bruce, always the tease, skips straight from your belly to your thighs. his fingers caress the bend where they meet your torso, but don’t dare inch any closer. it feels like he spends an hour on your calves and feet, before finally moving onto his belly between your legs.

a single finger dips into the folds of your soaked cunt, spreading your arousal up to your aching clit. already swollen from the increased blood flow pregnancy has brought on, it’s seemingly rock solid with how horny you are right now. the hood is slightly pulled back with how puffy it is, the red bead of your clit out and begging to be touched.

bruce spits onto it before taking it into his mouth. he suckles and licks in the pattern he knows gets you weak. he dips lower to get a taste of you. nose pressed into your clit, he groans from deep in his chest. the sounds are nothing short of obscene as he drinks from you like he’s been lost in the desert.

he makes a “v” with his fingers to nestle them on each side of your clit. they stroke up and down the sides as he takes it back into his mouth, getting you close but not letting you fall over the edge just yet.

“bruce! stop.. stop teasing” you pant.

“don’t you want to wait for clark, angel? don’t wanna save it for him?”

“fuck!” you groan. bruce distracts you with a tongue-filled kiss, letting you taste yourself on his lips.

bruce sits against the headboard, propped up. you flip over and take his hard cock in your hand, cleaning the precum with your tongue before it has time to roll down. in no time your lips are wrapped around his base, your nose smushed to his happy trail.

he grabbed your hair into a makeshift ponytail, holding your head down to grind just a little further into your mouth. through his hazy eyes he saw you slip a hand down the bed between your legs, and pulled you off him.

“save it. clark will be here soon”

“bruce i need it, please” you whimpered. no shame at all for how desperate you sounded.

“c’mere, angel.” he patted his muscular thighs. once you were in his lap he turned you facing outwards, towards the door.

clark walked and was met with the sight of you straddling bruce’s cock. he had an arm around your waist, holding you still. the only relief he was giving you was light strokes against your clit.

the sight rendered clark speechless. his cheeks flushed at the sight of bruce buried in you and the way your arousal dripped down onto his heavy sac. your clit was the hardest he’s sure he’d ever seen it, folds puffy and glistening around bruce’s shaft. the arch of your back only helped showcase your bump, and he’d been dying to get his hands on you since he left you sleeping in the bed this morning.

“um.. hi, guys.. w-wow this is..” he stammered. clark’s glasses began to fog from the heat of his cheeks.

“hi clarkie..” you moaned at bruce’s teasing.

“clark, we’ve been waiting on you. don’t keep us waiting any longer.” although bruce’s tone was stern his words were laced with love and adoration.

in an instant clark was naked and on his belly in front of you and bruce. clark’s tongue drew a long stripe from bruce’s balls all the way up to your clit. bruce moaned at how hard you clenched when clark finally started suckling at you. even with bruce trying to hold you still, you were shifting your hips as much as you could trying to get him to move inside you.

“how was work, clark?” bruce asked.

“was good”, his words were muffled.

“good. how does our sweet wife taste?”

“mmm” clark groaned, “even better.”

clark could feel how intensely your clit throbbed in his mouth.

“gosh, bruce.. you’ve kept her waiting, huh?”

“mhm”, bruce hummed. he reached a hand around and fished for clark’s hair.

“c’mere, hun. lemme taste her”

as he licked into clark’s mouth he finally began bounce you on his cock.

“oh, bruce. oh- god.. fuck” at your whimpers he began palming your tits again. clark clearly took pity on you and reached around to stroke your clit. by the time the two of them were panting behind you, you were fully working yourself onto bruce’s cock. clark moved his hand down to cup bruce’s sac.

“clark, shit.” bruce cursed. clark had moved to nipping at bruce’s flushed neck. moving down, he took one of bruce’s pink nipples into his mouth, you could tell by the way his hips bucked into you.

clark was quick with the way he moved back in between your legs. the way he spit onto his fingers was filthy, but there was no time to consider it before he was stroking your clit. his head ducked down to lap at bruce’s sac. bruce had admitted to you both early on how much he loved the feeling, but never had a partner who really ventured that far down.

it reduced bruce to grunts and whines in seconds, and you loved how needy he became. clark alternated between that and your clit until he had you both as loud as he wanted. he was truly the definition of a service top most of the time.

you could tell bruce was close by the way he sat further up and put more effort into slamming you down onto him. it was as if they exchanged some sort of look. clark doubled down his efforts on your clit.

their hands met at the bottom of your belly and caressed it with touches that were extremely gentle compared to the treatment they gave your pussy.

“y/n, please- mmm, cum, honey. let it out. i’m right here.” clark murmured against you.

bruce moved to pinch both of your nipples, and it sent you crashing over the edge.

your cunt clamped down against bruce, almost locking him in and milking every drop from him. clark worked you both through it, with firm touches and gentle words.

when bruce’s cum leaked out of you, clark was there immediately to clean it up with his tongue. he wasted no time, and went on a side quest to make you cum again on his fingers.

between your whines, you whimpered a “clark, no. need you, too. please.. please clark. i can take it” as if you had to bargain with him for his cock.

clark pushed up onto his knees and slid into your leaking cunt. bruce held you tight as you arched against him.

the focus seemed to have switched onto your nipples this time. you knew they both loved how they’d gotten a tad larger and darker over the past few months. bruce nipped and sucked at your neck while clark pinched them in time with his thrusts.

bruce’s hands came up to rest over clark’s. occasionally he reached further out to grab and scratch at clark’s biceps, knowing how he loved all the touching he could get in these moments.

your final orgasm came quick, hard, and with a loud wail. seconds later clark came, too. he rested against the two of you for a minute to catch his breath. although he had immeasurable strength, you and bruce knew exactly how to wear him out. bruce slipped out from behind you and went to the bathroom to grab a washcloth. while he was gone, clark smoothed your sex hair and pressed gentle kisses to your rosy cheeks.

“you okay?”

“mhm”, your eyes were already fluttering shut.

“promise? is baby okay?” clark whispered with his soft but worried tone.

with a hand in his curls you guided his cheek to your chest and used your other hand to pull his larger one onto your belly.

“we’re fine, honey. all good here. just missed you, s’all”

you felt his smile against your collarbone.

bruce cleaned all three of you up before returning to bed and tucking you all under the thick duvet. one of his large hands found it’s place on your belly. meanwhile, clark had shimmied under the covers to press his face against it.

“missed you so much, sweets.” he pressed a gentle kiss beside your belly button.

as bruce and clark’s voices always seem to reach baby, he got a tiny kick in response.

“my littlest love. mommy’s doing such a good job, huh? keepin’ you all safe in there.” you shivered at the feeling of his eyelashes fluttering against you.

“love your mommy so much. your daddy, too. pa can’t wait to meet you, sweets. i love you so much already..”

his voice was so low you wouldn’t have heard it if you weren’t listening for it. bruce nuzzled his face into your neck when he heard clark’s sweet words. ever the emotionally constipated man, he was silent but rubbed circles into your belly as if he were desperate. needing to feel a kick himself.

and he didn’t stop until he did. baby began kicking like crazy in the presence of the two of them. as if they knew they’d be protected from anything headed their way. clark pressed soft kisses to bruce’s hand, and hummed at the feeling of bruce’s hand cupping his cheek.

silence filled the room for a while.

“d’you think they know we’re here when we aren’t pressed against your bump?” clark whispered, almost as if he were scared. “like… do you think they feel alone in there?”

“mmm i don’t know..” you reached a hand down to play with clark’s thick curls. “ s’hard to not feel loved around the two of you.”

“ask my bladder, it’s been converted to a trampoline recently.”

they both barked out a laugh. clark moved back up to wrap his arms around you. as always, his fingers searched for bruce on the other side of you.

once the three of you all had a hand on each other, both your men passed out relatively quickly.

feeling baby kick against you, you whispered,

“you are so, so loved, sweetheart.”

——

Jason was thankful that he was wearing his mask, because if he didn’t, Dick may have picked up on the fact that his eyes were getting watery. Allergies, just the worst.

“You're comparing a twelve year old who stole tires to a murderer?!” Jason yelled. His vision got blurry. His stomach churned at the thought of being compared to the Joker by Batman no less, the man he used to look up to more than anyone in the world.