silkaurum

[silkaurum]

this is a nightmare... i’m trying to get in the mood to write...

[silkaurum]

definitely me and @sweetorment 💙❤️

[silkaurum]

I wonder if Bruce decorates the Batcave for Christmas, hangs up garlands? Imagine Alfred holding a stepladder while Bruce attaches another light bulb to a nail.

The most spontaneous thoughts.

Autumn is coming, which means it's time to start dreaming about Christmas...

[silkaurum]

⿻ 　𓂃 taking your boyfriend to a hot pilates class seemed like a great idea, until you remembered that he's actually a former acrobat and current superhero.

cw: something playful and cute with dick grayson

it started out easy enough, especially for dick, he did all the exercises with his usual smile. sometimes he'd throw in silly jokes with the women in the group. they'd start to smile at how cute he was. but the more time passed, the more you realised how hard the next elements were for you. dick made jokes at you, too, but there was something reassuring about it. "baby, you can do it," he chuckled, executing the plank perfectly.

you weren't the kind of person who usually got irritated quickly, and you were used to dick's often playful mood, but when he started smiling like that. you knew those blue eyes were up to something. and then he took off his shirt, making the excuse that he was hot. you were distracted. he understood perfectly. turning to your boyfriend, you somehow kept your balance so you didn't flop onto the mat and slap your face in front of all the people in the room. your eyebrow arched in mute question.

"oops, someone’s staring and not even trying to hide it," dick joked again, watching the tips of your ears turn red. your cheeks were already flushed, but only from the physical activity, not from the sight of a half-naked boyfriend slowly doing the exercise.

"you're so annoying sometimes, richard," you rolled your eyes in response. "and you're also a big publicity freak, look at the way some of this pretty ladies stare, be modest."

"you're hurting me," he pouted his lips dramatically, and there was something charming about it. "i don't think you'd want your cute boyfriend to get heatstroke in this stuffy room."

"be quiet," you tried to resist his suddenly unexpected verbal game of who would be the first to tease. and your gaze travelled unintentionally over dick's torso anyway, he was well trained. you were definitely a fool to invite him to pilates.

"and you pick up the drool, it's already dripping on the mat, sweetheart."

"grayson!" you gasped, dumbfounded by his comment. he laughed, and then he pecked you, quickly, stolen, so you wouldn't be distracted.

"look, you'll miss everything," he nodded ahead where the coach was showing the exercises.

[silkaurum]

Yesterday I finished renovating my room! The walls and furniture are painted. Now I live in soft pink colors. Guys, I can't, I'm a marshmallow now.

[silkaurum]

Don't you get the feeling that Jason Todd can do absolutely everything around the house - from simple things like screwing in a light bulb to fixing more complex things like plumbing?

And it's like he'll do it without saying a word. He'll just see that your kitchen faucet is leaking and quickly fix it.

[silkaurum]

THE RIGHT TO REMAIN SILENT

dick grayson x reader servant of the law

SUMMARY: you've had a very shitty day at work, but your boyfriend is meeting you. His suggestion… It's a bit of a cliche considering you're a cop, or maybe it's more daring. It's nice to end this day that way. The handcuffs clink against the headboard of the bed — Dick can't move under you.

WORD COUNT: 2.1k

warnings: 18+ audiences only ⋆ smut ⋆ handcuff kink ⋆ roleplay kink ⋆ tension relief ⋆ p in v ⋆ protected sex

The keychain jingled in your palms, the handcuffs on your belt glimmering with dull silver. You were still in your officer's uniform. Evening was approaching. Work... was disgusting. As if all the disappointment in the human world had piled onto poor little you today. Besides the never-ending paperwork which kept multiplying, just like the cups of awful coffee — the cherry on this bitter cake was the chase. You'd spent this exhausting, unlucky day chasing some petty thief. And not only was his theft almost laughably ridiculous, but the little punk was quick and slippery. It had become a matter of principle to catch him, if only so the day wouldn’t feel like a complete waste. You could feel the unpleasant tension gripping your entire body. Your leg muscles ached. It reminded you of your time at the police academy, all those physical endurance tests that drained every last ounce of strength.

You sighed, nudging the door shut with your foot, though you didn’t bother hiding your irritation when you kicked it a little harder than necessary. A chocolate-brown leather jacket, slightly worn in places, already hung on the hook. That small detail made you smile faintly. So, he was home. Your boyfriend.

You could only hope his day had been slightly better than yours.

You slipped into the apartment like a mouse — quietly, hoping to catch the happy look on his face when he saw you. Something like a dog wagging its tail in excitement. You flinched when he beat you to it. Once again today.

The guy pulled you close with a gentle tug, like some kind of spy, appearing behind you. You exhaled, letting out a nervous chuckle, but only pressed closer, feeling every hard contour of his body.

"Got you, baby."

Grayson whispered it tenderly as he kissed the corner of your jaw, subtly turning your face toward his.

"Or I could kick you in the balls."

Your boyfriend chuckled under his breath, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes — those so-called crow’s feet — appearing. Honestly, Dick Grayson was a sight for sore eyes.

"You love them too much to treat them like that."

"Idiot..."

You giggle, reveling in the closeness of his body against yours. His torso... the one you love decorating with your artwork, scratching him like a genuine cat. He never complains, though. Your shoulders slump - you've kept up appearances too long, pretending everything's fine. But with Dick, there's no need for pretense.

"Bad day?" "Horrible."

His hand slides higher, squeezing your waist tenderly, letting you know you're not alone. His sensitive fingers trace patterns across your police uniform like ripples across water.

"So tense."

Nightwing draws out the syllables. You nod, tilting your head back — a silent invitation. He catches your signal immediately, covering your neck in a series of comforting kisses.

"I've been playing cat and mouse all day." "Mouse got away?"

He reaches this conclusion obviously based on your less-than-thrilled expression, on how exhausted you look after your shift. The first Robin still believed only one particular kind of exhaustion suited you.

"Yeah. That asshole slipped away, made me chase him all over fucking Gotham like some obsessed fan."

The "mouse" mention doesn't exactly cheer you up. Your hands subconsciously clench into fists. Grayson drags his tongue in a wet stripe where your neck meets your shoulder.

"Officer, you could always arrest me if the lack of a catch bothers you so much." "Not funny."

You frown. Dick, in turn, moves his hands to your shoulders, kneading gently. He watches your reaction carefully, hoping to catch relief, relaxation. Staring straight at you, he leaves another kiss at the crest of your shoulder, his lips brushing skin through layers of fabric.

"Seriously. Go ahead. Say it. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in court. Cuff me."

He exhales, his warm breath hitting your ear as Nightwing's lips trace the spots that send shivers down your spine, a throbbing ache settling low in your stomach. You picture his fantasy clearly. Him in handcuffs... not a bad look.

"Come on officer, punish me properly."

Dick smirks slyly. God, he's good at these games. You bite your lip, looking up at him through your lashes, feeling his reaction quite eloquently. His pupils are dilated, and you're sure yours match. Slowly, teasingly, you grind against his groin. The superhero bites the inside of his cheek to stifle a moan.

"Baby, please."

He whispers as your lips meet but not in a kiss. You just leave a lingering trace, something vaguely resembling one at the corner of his mouth.

"Let's go to the bedroom."

You murmur with quiet command, pushing away from him. Nightwing follows without a second's hesitation, no argument, no doubt. Feeling a surge of power, you tug him by the neckline of his gray cotton shirt. Closer. Even closer. You need this. Leading him like some damn puppy. Then you throw your boyfriend onto the bed. The frame creaks under his weight with its familiar, drawn-out sound. You lean down, pressing a noisy kiss to Dick's temple, already reveling in relief as this shitty day finally ends. Your fingertips trace every tense ridge of his torso with indescribable delight. You can't wait to warm his skin with your own, so his shirt goes flying — nearly hitting the window. But honestly, neither of you could care less right now.

"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you by the state, Mr. Grayson."

You bare your teeth in a satisfied grin as you climb onto his hips, locking him in place with your thighs so tightly he can't even squirm.

"Do you understand?"

Dick nods breathlessly, wanting to embrace you, to slip his hands under your uniform shirt, but you stop him with a warning slap to his wrists.

"You won't be needing these."

You flash a wicked smile, taking savage pleasure in this mischief. Metal clinks sharply as the handcuffs snap around the bed's headboard. He's restrained but doesn't look helpless — not with that insolent grin on his plush lips. You maintain your grip, in no hurry, wanting to torment your "prisoner" beneath you a little longer. You press your pelvis flush against his hips and rock against the hardness concealed beneath rough denim in an unmistakably seductive motion.

"Baby... you're wearing way too many clothes."

True enough. Usually Grayson undresses you, but today he's your captive — a very willing one at that. He hasn't so much as twitched, hasn't even considered escaping his iron bonds. You've never conducted an arrest quite like this...

Your hands glide slowly down to your shirt's hem, methodically freeing each button from its loop. Your hips rotate, teasing his growing erection that responds to your sweet movements. Nightwing devours you with his eyes, tracking every new inch of exposed skin as the fabric falls away like a bird's wing losing balance.

"Still too much?" "Way too much... Officer."

Leaning over him, the tips of your hair tickle Grayson's chest, but your lips have a far greater effect. You nip at his skin, leaving faint marks - punitive measures, so to speak. A trail of these kisses leads all the way to his jeans' waistband. The button yields without resistance, and you push the fabric lower.

This time you bite harder. A crimson mark blossoms across the prominent ridge of his hip bone. Satisfied and proud, you kiss it more gently, soothing the stinging hickey.

Sliding off his lap, you rise slowly on the creaking mattress. Your pants — his pants. Your socks — his socks. You shed each garment with deliberate slowness. What's yours is his. The scales remain perfectly balanced - until you unhook your bra without ceremony, no more games now, just hunger and haste.

"Better, baby... just a little more."

Dick doesn't seem restrained at all, tossing out phrases with such ease, embracing you with nothing but his gaze - yet you feel every bit of his attention.

"Magic word." "Please, my girl."

Your boyfriend's deep rumble makes you squirm. Both of you are already wound tight. You can feel the slick heat between your thighs, your entire body aching with that most pleasant pain.

You peel off your panties and toss them aside — who knows where (tomorrow you'll both be searching... for quite a while). Grayson exhales sharply. The cuffs jingle as he tugs at his pinned wrists. Only now does he seem to realize just how helpless he'll be.

His eyes aren't enough. The man wants to embrace, to touch, to squeeze. But it's too late to back out of this game now.

With mercy, you tug the waistband of his boxers down, freeing Dick's erect cock that springs forward instantly. The head is already flushed with tension, glistening with beads of pre-cum. You stroke Nightwing's length, wrapping your palm around his shaft. With rocking motions, you caress his fevered flesh.

"Officer. Please. I need you so badly right now."

Grayson half-moaned the words like a prayer, his eyes glazed over and pleading.

"Oh, I know."

You giggled weakly, toying with his balls at a leisurely pace, savoring the situation, acutely aware that your hands currently held all the privileges and possibilities.

"Y'know, you're abusing your authority here, ma'am. Thought you were one of the good cops."

The guy tested his cuffs again, making them rattle. Maybe you hadn't locked them properly... wishful thinking, of course, but right now Dick wasn't exactly thinking with his head. (Dick thought with his dick, obviously.)

"I want to teach you some patience." "Not the most flattering comment from my girl."

He pulled his best wounded puppy face, hamming it up like he always did.

"God give me strength. Should've gagged you." "Next time."

Grayson replied instantly, not letting you get a word in edgewise. Your boyfriend clearly had no intention of surrendering his ability to speak.

"There are better ways to keep my mouth occupied, y'know."

Which is exactly what you did. The kiss was demanding and messy, tongues tangling the moment your lips met. Your hands tightened around his cock, coaxing hungry sounds into the kiss before you finally pulled away, nipping at his lower lip for good measure.

Clumsy and hurried, you reached for the condom on the nightstand, your ass on full display for his ravenous gaze.

You straddled him again, thinking his swollen lips, still glistening from your kisses, were the best thing you'd ever tasted. With practiced ease, you rolled the latex over his aching length.

Breath uneven, you gasped for air as you guided him into you, taking him slowly despite how ready you were. Teasing, you worked his hardness into your core, your walls fluttering rhythmically — yet another test for Richard. He kissed you with devotion, knowing it was the only comfort he could offer in his restrained state.

When you finally took him fully, a shared, choked moan escaped you both. The teasing, the jokes — all forgotten now.

You found a steady rhythm, clinging to his neck like your life depended on it. Skin grew slick with sweat, bodies burning like furnaces. Your chest pressed against his, nipples aching, even the slightest friction sending sparks of pleasure.

Grayson felt your heart racing in sync with his. He lifted his hips, meeting every roll of your body with powerful thrusts that made the bed creak beneath you. Moans blended into a symphony — his and yours becoming one.

You picked up the pace, knowing neither of you would last. Your hand slipped between your thighs, circling your clit in time with your movements. When he began whimpering your name, you crashed into another feverish kiss.

You slammed onto him recklessly as the first waves of ecstasy hit.

"Dick!... ah, Grayson!"

You cry out without restraint, feeling every fiber of your being tremble with pleasure. All tension recedes like a tidal wave, making your thighs quiver with sweet convulsions. Your fingers dig into your boyfriend's shoulders, sinking ferociously into his flesh.

Dick, feeling how tightly your walls clenched around him, let out a guttural moan. It was the final straw holding him back from climax.

He roared your name, his voice echoing off the walls as he thrust forward, burying himself completely in your spasming heat. The metal cuffs bit painfully into his wrists, digging into his skin with cruel insistence but it only intensified the peak Grayson reached.

Your body, white-hot with pleasure, set every nerve ending ablaze. You cradled Nightwing's face tenderly in your palms, thumbs stroking his cheeks as he spilled himself, utterly spent. Only afterward did you come to your senses, uncuffing him with a guilty look.

Grayson rubbed his stiffened wrists, wearing a tired yet cocky grin.

"Worth it, Officer."

a/n: it seems to me that this bro is so easy on the upswing that he will agree to anything. Rather, he will offer and fulfill it.

[silkaurum]

I'm planning something Dick Grayson related but I'm painting my closet... that could have been you Richard LOL

[silkaurum]

MDNI 18+

a/n: english is not my first language

cw: virgin!jason todd, experienced!reader

it started out the same way it always did, with sloppy kisses, some little whispers about eternal love, and jason's eager hands lingering under your shirt. you two often stayed at that stage and didn't go any further, but you seemed to get enough of it. wanting jason todd but not being able to get him when he was right here was torturing you. soon you climbed on top of jason, and he had that confused look on his face, eyes fluttering. you could feel in his gaze how much he was admiring you.

it didn't take long for your hands to slide up to explore his tense torso. you noted his good physique for the umpteenth time.

"wait," there was some uncertainty in his voice.

"first time?" you asked with a slight smile, not expecting it to be true. "well, there's a first time for everything," you chuckled, not making a big deal out of it so jason wouldn't be confused.

he swallowed nervously. you felt how he wanted to know what was going to happen next. you had to show him that everything was under control, and he had nothing to worry about.  without any hesitation your mouth covered his. your tongue slid inside, he exhaled heavily. his hands instinctively moved down to your waist, squeezing it gently. you could feel his fingers twitching, whether from tension or fear.

"i’ll help you," you whispered to him, pulling away from his lips for a second. you could feel his bulging cock underneath you, so your hands slid down releasing him from unwanted cloth. he held his breath as if afraid to move. you found the look on his face very amusing and couldn’t hold your chuckle.

you would never have thought that jason could be so awkward, so insecure and so damn indecisive. you'd kissed hundreds of times before, and you were sure he was experienced. but now he revealed himself to you in a different way, so cute, not knowing what to do.

"you're so sweet," you teased him.

"can you be quiet for a moment?" he replied in his usual manner, but you could see his cheeks blush sharply. maybe it was too hot in the room?

you slowly slid onto his cock. a light gasp left your mouth. the sight of his face somehow gave you even more pleasure. you must have been stroking your ego knowing you were his first. then you began to move stretching yourself around his cock. you cupped his face with your palms while grinding against his dick, your thumb slid in his mouth. he sucked it. with each thrust, you could feel how your walls tightened.

jason started whimpering as you rode him. his breathing was hitched, lips parted. he tried to keep a straight face, but he was doing it so badly. the room filled with slapping sounds of your pussy rocking his cock.

"fuck," he whined, clenching his jaw. you felt so damn good. he buried his face in the curve of your neck. your lips found him and came together in a wet kiss. he moaned in your mouth.

jason had never looked so pathetic at the time you'd started dating. so, you felt like pulling his hair away from his sweat-covered forehead and tugging on it slightly. he grunted, his body tense. it was not so much the feeling of his cock inside you that gave you special pleasure, but the sight of him. the way his gaze was blurred, the way his lips parted, the way his sighs escaped gustily.

"you're such a slut, jason," came out of your mouth as you sucked and nipped at his lips.  he tried to hide his muffled moans. it took you a couple of thrusts for him to cum. he pressed you as close as he could as soon as he felt the emptiness in his balls.

looking into his face, which was about ready to burst into tears, you felt a kind of pride in making him feel this way. you pecked the corner of his lips with a slight smile on your face.

[silkaurum]

WELCOME, KITTIES.

✦ theia. 21. she/her. writer. non-english speaker ✦

ash. dc. marvel. asoiaf. bridgerton.

[silkaurum]

♯ dc smau . ݁ ˖

ﾟ ˖ 𐔌 𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝖾𝗑𝗍𝗌 𐦯 .ᐟ

. . . 🏁 𝖿𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 : 𝖿1𝖽𝗋𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗋!𝖽𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗒𝗌𝗈𝗇 && 𝗆𝖾𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗂𝖼!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

notes : 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗂𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝗒 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝖼𝗋𝗂𝗉𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖿𝖾𝗆!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗍 𝗂𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗎 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝘁, 𝗌𝗈 𝖽𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝗂𝗌 𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝖾𝗋𝖼𝖾𝖽𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗌𝗈 𝖺 𝗆𝖾𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗂𝖼 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗆. 𝗂 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖾𝗇𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗁 𝗂𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗆𝗒 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗎𝖺𝗀𝖾, 𝗌𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝖻𝖾 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗌. 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍𝗅𝗒, 𝗂 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗇𝗈𝗐.

[silkaurum]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BABYBOY ₍ꕤᐢ..ᐢ₎ !!

jason todd x reader (friend?)

SUMMARY: congratulations for a gloomy kitten, a cupcake, a candle and a wish.

WC: 600

warnings: fluff ⋆ first kiss ⋆ embarrassed Jason Todd ⋆ hidden softness ⋆ birthday fic

Birthdays? Childish nonsense. What grown adult seriously celebrates that stuff? Jason had kept his birthday under wraps like classified intel. And if you hadn't accidentally (or maybe not so accidentally) uncovered the date... Well, let's just say curiosity has always been your strong suit.

You knew you'd surprised him the second his face froze in pure, unfiltered shock. Not for long, though. He pulled himself together almost immediately.

...Almost.

And there you stood, holding a tiny chocolate cupcake crowned with a single pink candle. Maybe the candle was overkill, but... cute, right?

Jason dragged a hand through his hair, only managing to mess it up further. He wasn't the type to fuss in front of a mirror — not like some prissy socialite. His fingers caught in the unruly strands, making them stick up even more. The faint flush creeping over his cheekbones? That was a dead giveaway. And he hated it.

"Uh... Thanks. But this is unnecessary, sweetheart."

His voice was rough, deliberately gruff. Heard the way it wavered, just slightly, on that last word.

You didn’t answer. Just smirked.

"So you're an August boy!"

He grimaced like he'd bitten into something sour, and you couldn’t help grinning.

Jason scrubbed a hand over his face — a gesture meant to look annoyed but that only betrayed his discomfort.

"Damn it..." he muttered under his breath before collapsing into a chair like his legs had given out.

You didn’t let him recover.

"Make a wish, Jason."

Your voice came out softer than you’d intended. Nearly a whisper. You leaned in, lips brushing his cheek — light, fleeting. But enough to make him tense like he’d been zapped.

"This is stupid."

"Jason!"

You pinched his nose not hard, but enough to convince him to be... obedient for a while.

"Fine, fine! My wish is simple. You know — kill J…"

You didn’t let him finish. Your hand slapped over his mouth, and you felt his breath grow hot against your palm, his lips moving under your touch.

"Hey! Make a real wish, you stubborn ass!"

He rolled his eyes, but the ghost of a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, of course you don't see it..

"Alright... alright..."

Red Hood hums into your palm, and the scene becomes comical. He pretended to think, but you knew — he’d already decided. He just wouldn’t say it.

You broke off a piece of the cupcake. Crumbs scattered across the table, leaving chocolate smudges. He sighed but obediently opened his mouth.

You placed the piece between his lips, and for a second, his mouth closed around your fingers. He can already taste the dark chocolate on his tongue. His tongue accidentally touches your fingertips. It's warm...

You freeze. So did Jason. You look stealthily, afraid to open your eyes wide. He stares at you. The next thing happens very soon, otherwise it would never have happened, at least not like this. His hand was at the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair as he pulled you closer. Gentle. But leaving no room for retreat. You didn’t resist. The first kiss was cautious, testing, like he still wasn’t sure this was real. You kissed him back, and he tilted his head, deepening it, his breath mingling with yours, the taste of chocolate lingering between you.

When you finally broke apart, he didn’t let go right away. His forehead stayed pressed to yours, his breathing uneven.

"Wish granted, sweetheart."

His voice was rough, low, and it sent shivers down your spine.

He stood and took a step, increasing the space between you, and walked on, heading to his kitchen to put on the kettle as if nothing had happened.

You watched him go, your lips still tingling.

And as he turned away, he muttered under his breath.

"Happy birthday to me..."

Jason touched his lips, boyish and unsure, where the ghost of your kiss still lingered. For the first time, a birthday brought something warm, like the light on her pink wax candle.

a/n: It's our August lion's birthday! I wrote this scene relatively quickly, in honor of Jason's birthday 🐈‍⬛🐾

[silkaurum]

THE KNIGHT’S SURRENDER

bruce wayne x wife reader

SUMMARY: your husband is constantly disappearing into the night, but you don't want to let him go today, you really need him.

WORD COUNT: 2.1k

warnings: 18+ audiences only ⋆ smut ⋆ sexual tension ⋆ oral sex (reader receiving) ⋆ love bites ⋆ mild dom ⋆ fluff

Crimson swirls danced across the canvas of the evening sky, the first stars peeking shyly from behind the towering, gilded giants of clouds like the finest diamonds. A sense of calm and serenity might have flickered through one’s thoughts if not for the reminder that you were a resident of Gotham City. Were there ever days in this nearly hopeless city without crime or some other misfortune? The wretched Gotham could only be called nearly hopeless thanks to its steadfast dark knight. Every night, the man traded pristine, expensive dress shirts for a cloak that melted into the night’s shadows. It had always been this way — in sickness and in health, in wealth and in poverty… much like the vows of marriage. Only, for some reason, your husband seemed to prefer the cold of his cave to the warmth of your bed and the silk of your sheets.

It was stupid, childish even, to feel jealous of Mr. Wayne over his hobby, his true mask. But every time you rolled over in bed, you were met with the empty space beside you. You were still in that sweet, tender phase called newlywed bliss. Yet instead of his arms pulling you close, instead of his warm breath against that sensitive spot behind your ear, you were left with only the evening wind—whispering silent curses in his stead.

Tonight, you were determined. Not like before. You respected his selflessness, admired his unwavering principles but you couldn’t bear it any longer. There was no justice in an absent husband. Couldn’t the criminals and gangsters just quiet down for one damn night and let you and your hero have a single evening to yourselves?

Right now, according to schedule, Bruce was still playing the part of the millionaire, lazily shuffling papers with an air of disinterest. Yet his body betrayed tension, his long fingers gripped the edge of the desk with palpable pressure. It was as if he couldn’t wait to shrug off his suit jacket, toss his tie aside, and lock those financial reports away in the farthest drawer. The sight before you was familiar — a predator caged.

You weren’t afraid of him. Never. You’d tamed him before. Slowly, step by step, you approached, studying his silhouette as if under a sweet hypnosis. You were already in your perfect nighttime attire — silk clinging to your body like the most passionate embrace but you craved a different kind of touch.

The thin robe slipped from your shoulder, accidentally revealing a little more skin than necessary. Bruce turned, his sharp hearing never missed your presence. The corner of his lips quirked into a smile, softening his bored expression.

"Darling. It’s late."

His voice was a low, velvety purr, sending a shiver down your spine. You returned his smile, stepping closer so the fabric of your robe brushed teasingly against his leg. Your fingers trailed along the mahogany desk, deliberately pushing aside his papers with a graceful flick. He’d forced you to be bold.

"Exactly, Mr. Wayne. Late."

You whispered, leaning in until your noses touched—a sweet gesture masking something far hungrier. The silk slid lower, pooling at your wrist, intentionally. And of course, your husband noticed. A rough chuckle escaped him.

"Need help finding the bedroom, baby?"

His cold eyes burned with barely restrained heat as his fingertip traced your collarbone, then upward along your neck, jaw, cheekbone. Batman lingered on every inch, savoring the warmth of your skin. He tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear—a gesture almost innocent, tender.

"Help me. To hell with your papers. And..."

Bruce laughed against your neck, his hands already claiming your waist like a man who never intended to let go. One palm boldly explored the curves of your body, memorizing every dip and slope like a sculptor. The other crumpled the silken fabric of your robe — an annoying obstacle soon to be discarded. He wouldn’t rest until it was on the floor, a trophy or a flag of surrender.

"And to hell with patrol, Bruce."

"Think I can handle it all, darling."

He rose, the chair creaking in protest as he effortlessly lifted you into his arms ��� a familiar motion. You wrapped your legs around his waist, fingers shamelessly tracing the sharp lines of his face. As if you could ever grow tired of it. His features were dangerous enough to cut, yet you always managed to avoid the edge. His pulse matched yours.

You frowned, peering up through your lashes, finally addressing his arrogant remark.

"No."

The word was firm, uncompromising. Few could command him or rather, he allowed no one to. You cupped his jaw with gentle force. The lady of the house demanded.

"No escapades tonight, Mr. Wayne. You and me. As a husband and wife should be."

Your eyes flashed like lightning. He might be Batman, but you had won. Your man was utterly obsessed with you. He couldn’t refuse when you asked so persistently. A charming, disarming smile spread across his handsome face.

"You’re bad at negotiating. Usually, there’s an exchange."

Wayne joked. You didn’t even blink at his weak attempt to redirect, to slip into the night as usual.

"You’re not a bachelor anymore, love."

Your whispered words warmed his lips like hot kisses, like a promise of more.

"There are no rules for a wife. I want. That’s all that matters."

Bruce’s palm slid lower, greedily gripping your ass through the flimsy nightgown that revealed more than it hid. You licked your lips teasingly, lingering just long enough to give him the green light.

"My woman’s desire is law. First rule for me."

The final shot. The predator surrendered without a fight. Your lips crashed together the moment Batman finished speaking. Your hunger had been underestimated — evidently, you’d surprised your husband by slipping your tongue into his mouth first. Wayne’s skilled hands mapped every inch of you, worshiping your body with relentless desire. Unable to hold back, you let out soft moans, lost in the heat of your kiss. Your legs locked around his waist possessively—he wasn’t escaping. Not tonight.

"Mine," you reaffirmed, tangling your tongue with his again and again.

The door slammed shut behind you with a crash. Impatience had grown to the point where the bedroom was almost unnecessary. With the last shreds of self-control, you and your husband navigated the halls. Maybe you were desperate but he was no better. His long strides ate up the distance, his mouth never leaving yours, stealing every uneven breath, every needy sigh. The world blurred around you. Nothing else mattered.

Your bedroom. Your shared sanctuary. That was what mattered.

Not making you wait any longer, Bruce shouldered the door open impatiently. It met the same fate as his study door — slamming against the wall with a bang. Bliss enveloped you as the silk sheets welcomed your back. He loomed above, drinking in the sight of you with greedy longing. His lips traced fiery kisses along your collarbone, his stubble scratching pleasantly against your skin.

"Forgive me, darling?"

He murmured against your skin, sucking gently at the delicate bone. His gaze was expectant, laced with pleading and sweet desperation. His eyes had darkened with arousal.

"Make me, Wayne."

You tangled your fingers in his dark hair, pulling him closer, nails lightly scraping his scalp. Your thighs locked around his waist, pressing his muscular frame against you. The heat of his skin burned like hellfire. One hand slid down his back, tracing the rigid lines of his spine before gripping his firm ass, nails digging in just enough to make him growl.

His hand slid beneath the slippery silk, cupping the soft weight of your breast, rolling and pinching the sensitive peak until you arched beneath him. His other hand — hot, possessive — trailed down your thigh, fingers digging in as if he couldn’t hold back any longer. Bruce captured your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue plunging deep, claiming your mouth all over again. Your heart pounded like a frantic drum.

You helped him eagerly, shrugging off the flimsy straps of your nightgown. The garment was discarded without a second thought. The cool air kissed your bare skin, but you had no time to shiver — Bruce was already lavishing attention on every inch of you, his lips and teeth mapping your ribs, his tongue circling your navel. His hands slid lower, gripping your thighs, settling between them with practiced ease. His palm stroked the lowest part of your stomach, his eyes locked onto your every expression as his fingers teased lower. You bit your lip, arching in silent yes.

His fingers dipped lower, playing with your slick folds, feeling the evidence of your arousal. He circled your clit with precision — he knew your body too well. Unable to resist any longer, he replaced his fingers with his tongue, running a hot wet path with his tongue along your pussy and triumphantly returning to your aching clit. Bruce gripped your hips, pulling you against his mouth as he feasted on you, lips and tongue working in perfect sync. The obscene sounds of his devouring filled the room.

You were aware of nothing but the skilled mouth of your husband, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Your thighs trembled, your breath grew ragged as your climax rushed toward you. Sensing your tension, Bruce only intensified his efforts, clearly enjoying himself just as much as you. His fingers dug into your soft thighs, leaving crescent marks in their wake.

One final stroke, one last flick of his tongue and your toes curled, your back arched. Ecstasy crashed over you like a wave, stars exploding behind your eyelids. A helpless, loud moan escaped your lips. He’d won this round. Sweet end and beginning, victory and surrender all at once.

Bruce continued his ministrations without pause, watching his wife with open admiration — thinking she was the most beautiful sight in the world, collapsed in bliss against the sheets. Spent. Satisfied. He leaned over her, mind empty of everything but her — her pleasure-flushed skin, the tremors in her thighs, her breathless sighs. He kissed her gently, pouring more meaning into it than any touch before. The sweetness of the kiss blended with your own salty taste.

Your chest rose and fell unevenly, your breathing still ragged from the intense release. Bruce took his time, keeping his promise — tonight was just for the two of you. It was comforting to know that even his ironclad principles had exceptions for you. Wayne propped himself up on an elbow, watching you wordlessly — just smiling faintly, perhaps a little proud of his work. He carefully untangled your tousled hair. You closed your eyes instinctively, leaning into his warmth. Right now, he wasn’t a millionaire, or Batman, or a Wayne heir — just your Bruce.

You didn’t say "I love you." It was unnecessary. He held you tightly, burying you in the softness of the mattress and the unyielding strength of his body.

It was the first night Batman didn’t save Gotham.

a/n: I debated for a long time whether to continue the scene or not… Seriously thought about expanding it, but decided against it, heh. It felt more symbolic this way — that Bruce’s woman comes first for him, that he’s willing to put his own desires "on hold" because her pleasure is the priority. "Ladies cum first" has never been more true.