Bruce notices that you’ve been eating sugary food a lot more than usual.
So much that before you even get out of bed, your hand’s already reaching for the candy beside you, the one you prepared the night before. Saying, “I need coffee in the morning, so what?”
Except it’s not even coffee. It’s a coffee-flavored candy.
He’s been on a mission to find every stash of your hidden sweets in the mansion, inside the tumbler you don’t use anymore, beneath your pillowcase, in your purse pocket, between the sofa cushions… and even in places they shouldn’t be—his closet, office and car.
He knows there are still more. Maybe you’re hiding them because he and Alfred nag too much or maybe you simply forget where you’ve left them and keep buying new ones.
But for now, the living room table is covered completely packed with your candies and snacks. Bruce sighs, rubbing his face before dropping onto the couch. He scans the mountain of sweets, already calculating how many hours of exercise you’ll need to burn all that sugar, and how soon you’ll need a trip to the dentist.
“That calls for a field trip to the dentist,” Alfred mutters, unimpressed. He sets down a cup of hot coffee for Bruce, lifts the tablecloth, and frowns. “It’s heavy, Master Bruce. I’m genuinely concerned about Madam’s health.”
He shakes his head, already heading to the kitchen to dispose of everything before you notice it’s gone. Bruce glances at the untouched coffee. “That’s what I’ve been thinking. She keeps saying her teeth hurt at night but refuses to admit why. Now I know it’s the candy. I should’ve noticed the stash sooner.”
You’re really testing his patience this time.
It’s already eight when you stumble through the door, hands full of shopping bags—all branded, of course, bought with Bruce’s card.
There's lots of huffing, annoyed grunts as you walk towards the living room. Your heels ache, your head spins from all the talking you’ve done, and now you just want candy. You drop your handbag onto the table, rummaging for the last few sweets you managed to snatch from your stash before Bruce suddenly comes out of nowhere and snatched it out of your hands.
You gasp. “Bruce! Give me back my bag, you thief!”
He easily lifts it above your reach, calm as ever. “No, sweetheart. You’ve had enough. I’m throwing these away.”
Your mouth falls open, eyes wide. “What the fuck?! I didn’t even eat any today! Give it back, you big—!”
He sighs, raising it higher as you start jumping for it, arms flailing. A grin tugs at his lips. You’re all pout and frustration, little feet stomping like an angry cartoon character—adorable.
Bruce catches you by the waist, effortlessly lifting you and setting you on his shoulder. The bag is gone, along with your shopping bags. Alfred can take care of those later after a session with you.
He drops you softly onto the mattress. You cross your arms, huffing and rolling your eyes in protest. Bruce kneels between your thighs, cupping your cheeks and rubbing your skin gently with his thumbs.
“No point in huffing like a dragon,” he murmurs. “I already threw your candies away. Tomorrow morning, we’re going to the gym first then the dentist.”
You glare. “I didn’t agree to that. Who gave you the right to make that stupid decision? It’s just candy. You’re overreacting.”
“Overreacting because I’m worried about my wife’s health?” he shoots back softly. “You’ve been eating sweets like a maniac.”
Your hands flew to your chest as you drew in a sharp breath, stunned to hear such a word from your own husband. Well. “How dare you call your wife a maniac?!”
He catches your hand mid-slap, fingers curling gently around your wrist. “Baby, please. You’ve had too much sugar. It’s supposed to be a treat, not a routine. Your teeth still hurt, don’t they?”
You pout, voice low. “...Yeah. It’s swollen inside. I just eat them when I’m stressed, okay? It’s not like it’s every day.”
He chuckles quietly, thumb brushing your cheek. “You stress over everything, darling. Even small things. You took two candies this morning just because you couldn’t find the remote and it was right beside you.”
Your frustration eases, face leaning into his touch. “I just… don’t want to hurt anyone or get mad. So I cope with candies.”
He smiles, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close. His breath warms your ear. “That’s fine. You can always hurt me with your words, and I’ll gladly take it like a fool.”
You huff. “That sounds like a toxic relationship…”
He laughs softly. “Maybe. But happy wife, happy life, right?”
And he stays true to his words.
The next morning, he’s already tugging you down to his private gym—patient and gentle as he is coaching you through every movement, fixing your posture and praising you when you do it right.
After the gym, Bruce doesn’t even let you walk to the shower. He scoops you up and carries you to the private bathroom, lips brushing your neck as he pushes the door open. “You did good today,” he murmurs, voice low, rough with restraint. “you deserve a reward.”
Before you can speak, his mouth is already on your skin, tracing wet kisses down your shoulder, along your spine until you’re pressed against the cool tile. His hands roam over your hips, tugging your shorts down just enough.
He kneels behind you, and the air catches in your throat.
His tongue licks a slow, deliberate stripe up your center. Once, twice before his lips close around you. You gasp, hands gripping the wall for support as his tongue works you open.
“Bruce…” you whisper, half warning, half plea. “We’re going to be late.”
He hums against you, the vibration making your knees buckle. “Just a moment, darling.”
But it’s never just a moment.
His fingers join in. Two of them sliding inside you, slow and deliberate, curling until your moans echo off the marble. His thumb rubs tight circles against your clit and you can feel he smirks against your skin when you tug at his hair from behind.
Time blurs—It’s only when Alfred’s polite knock echoes through the door that Bruce finally pulls away, chest rising and falling with quiet satisfaction.
“Master Bruce, it’s nearly noon. You and Madam will be late for your appointment.” Alfred calls out, voice steady, as if he didn’t just interrupt something indecent.
You’re breathless, face flushed as Bruce stands, pressing a kiss to the back of your neck.
“Looks like the dentist will have to wait.” he murmurs, a faint grin tugging at his lips.
You turn, glare weak and voice hoarse from all that screaming he draws out of you. “You’re so dead if the doctor has to move the date to another day.”
He chuckles, brushing his thumb over your plump lips.
“If it’s by your hands, I’ll die happy.”
۶ৎ - @miffyliebe @cherisea @ellayahhs @qnarrc @qualityrabbitsoup @codlsstuff
