snowfallrecs

[snowfallrecs]

Cuddly wife, happy life.

Zayne was never the type to let others invade his space---but you changed that. Never been the cuddly type at first but you're an exception.

Imagine, he's in a zoom meeting with other doctors to discuss about their important meeting. And when he was instructed to open his cam---his colleagues was met by their head doctor having his wife snuggle against his chest while she sleeps.

His cardigan over your body and you snuggle at his scent. Zayne has a stoic look on his face as he holds you on his arms while you clung to him. His hand gently soothing your hair, careful not to wake you up.

All of his colleagues in the call watches in disbelief and awe---surprised to see the gloomy and serious Dr. Zayne be so soft to his wife. A rare sight.

"Dr. Zayne-"

"Continue your discussion."

They might need to get used of seeing that in a few zoom meetings.

masterlist

[snowfallrecs]

⋮ 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐬.

───〃★ the jackal (the day of the jackal) x reader.

★ — TYPE | fluff ; sfw ★ — SUMMARY | to celebrate your anniversary, your husband takes you on a trip — and a trip down memory lane. ★ — WORD COUNT | 3.3k ★ — WARNINGS | wife!reader ; mostly just married people being gross and in love ; jackal is referred to as alexander duggan ; reader is referred to as my love, darling, etc. ; time skips between past & present ; not really canon compliant ★ — NOTES | i originally wrote this fic 2 years ago on another blog for a different fandom, but i recently watched tdotj (and then read the book: not as good as the show imo but i’d still recommend it) and i decided to rewrite this fic to fit my current interests! it seems like this fandom on tumblr is fairly small so please reblog or leave a comment if you liked this! i have a few more ideas that i'd love to write for him in the future :)

“alex, can you at least tell me where we’re going?”

he shakes his head, a shy grin making its way across his face as he zips a bag of toiletries shut. “it’s a surprise, my darling. can’t spoil the fun yet.”

you pout and cross your arms, sitting down on the edge of the bed beside your open suitcase. “how am i supposed to know what to bring, then, if i don’t know where we’re going?”

alexander pauses to look back at you, considering. “ah. well, you’ve got me there.” in one smooth motion he turns back around, pulling his phone out of his pocket and tapping a few times against the screen. you watch as he studies the device carefully, waiting to give him a chance to speak, but he doesn’t.

for a man with so many secrets, many secrets he’d finally divulged to you and you alone, there could be any number of things going on in his life at any given time. when he’d proposed a week-long holiday for your upcoming anniversary, he’d swore up and down that there would be no other engagements diverting his attention. for the first time in a long time, he was all yours, and at present you were inclined to believe him. he was a liar, yes, and a very skilled one at that, but never without good reason. if something else was to happen over the next few days, then he would let you in on the secret when he saw fit. otherwise… it really was just going to be a vacation getaway, and nothing more.

“what is it?” you ask after a tentative silence, and alex lifts his head again at your voice.

he looks up at you like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “checking the weather,” he says, turning the phone around to show the screen. “it’s going to be warm and clear. usual for this time of year, but it’ll be windy, so pack a coat.” he pauses, glancing down at the screen again, and then back up at you. “perhaps more than one coat.”

you purse your lips, thinking for a moment before you stand and walk into the closet, pulling out two hangers: in your left hand a long brown overcoat, and on the right, a faded black leather jacket. “which one?”

there’s a spark of recognition in his eyes, and he immediately raises his hand to point towards the left. “that one.”

—— 20th FEBRUARY.

“excuse me, miss, do you need some help?”

ice cold droplets of rain pour down around you as you stand underneath the awning in front of the grocery store, cursing yourself for not checking the weather more thoroughly before you’d gone out today. it had been deceptively sunny earlier, but during the rainy spring season you never know when the weather will decide to flip on a dime and the skies open up like they have today. your outfit had been perfect for the sunshine, but now it’s nowhere near enough to protect you from the rain.

at the sound of a voice you turn and see a tall man coming out of the store behind you, a brown paper-wrapped package sticking out from under his arm. “do you live far?” he asks. “you can borrow my umbrella, if you want.”

the words no, i’m fine, thank you form themselves on your lips, but after another moment of studying his face closer, you realize there’s something familiar about him, though you can’t immediately figure out why. “sorry, have we met before?”

his expression mirrors your own of confusion for a moment before he narrows his eyes, as if realizing something. “aren’t you— ah, that little café down on wilshire street, do you work there?”

you nod your head in response, relaxing now that you know he’s friendly. still, it comes as a surprise when he repeats your name, though you brush it off quickly; anyone who comes into the café could notice the neatly lettered chalk swirls that sit against the black background of your apron’s name pin. “that’s me,” you say with a polite laugh. “but… i’m sorry, i don’t remember your name. i don’t pay much attention to customers, unless they come in quite often.”

“don’t worry about it. i’m visiting from out of town.” he offers a dazzling smile, and it’s so enthralling that you barely notice the sound of distant thunder cracking in the air. “it’s alexander, by the way. or just alex, if you’d like.”

you stick out your hand and he shakes it enthusiastically, his grip firm yet warm. “very nice to meet you, alexander,” you smile, and he bows his head at you.

“so— about that umbrella,” he says.

you wave him off. “oh, no, i’m alright. it’s not far. just working up the courage to sprint back home,” you say with a laugh, hugging your groceries tighter to your chest in a futile effort to protect them from the rain.

“let me give you a ride,” he declares suddenly. “it’ll be a bit shorter of a sprint for you, at least? i’m staying at the apartments a couple blocks down, it’s not out of my way.”

“i’ll be fine,” you say, brushing your hair out of your face as a gust of wind threatens to knock you over. “though it’s very kind of you to offer.”

alexander frowns a little, and you try not to read too much into the flirty pout gracing his lips. “well, i can’t in good conscience let you go off running around in a storm like this without an umbrella,” he says. he shifts the paper package to his other arm and quickly starts shrugging off his coat. “here, take this. your pretty outfit will get all ruined in the rain. please, i insist.”

you want to tell him no again, but just then the thunder cracks again, drawing your attention back to the downpour around you. you can already feel the puddle of water you’re standing in beginning to soak into your socks through your shoes, and his coat does look warm…

“alright, fine,” you concede after a second, accepting the clothing from him and slipping your arms into the sleeves as he pulls it around your shoulders. “how should i get it back to you?”

“well… i’m in town for a while longer. i’ll stop by the café another day this week when you’re working?”

“i’ll take good care of it for you until then,” you nod, offering him a friendly smile as you tug his coat tighter around you, and he grins in response.

alex catches your eye for a moment, a spark flickering in his gaze before he lowers his head to check his watch, almost shy to avert his eyes. “i’m really sorry, i’ve actually got a meeting to rush off to,” he says apologetically. “but it was nice meeting you. i hope we’ll see each other again soon.”

he gives you a little wave and then dashes off into the rain, holding his package over his head to protect himself. you pull the collar of his coat up around your neck, watching as he disappears into the twilight of the parking lot and feeling only a little guilty for leaving him without protection from the weather. but then again, he had offered, and you would see him again anyway. and besides, he seemed to be more prepared than you, in other ways.

“now, will you tell me where we’re going?”

the warm morning breeze brushes against your cheeks as you rest your elbow against the car door, the fabric roof of the convertible folded down behind you. you lean your head back against the passenger seat headrest and sigh, glancing over at alexander in the driver’s seat. the wind blows his hair around in his face, a tousled flurry of dirty blond against his freckled cheeks.

you still have no idea where you’re headed for your anniversary trip, and it seems like alex has no intention of letting you know anytime soon. but despite your curiosity, that thought couldn’t be farther from your mind as you watch him drive with one hand on the wheel, dark sunglasses perched casually on the bridge his nose.

“not yet, my love,” he says coolly, his voice raised just enough to be heard over the wind. “you’ll see soon enough, i promise.” at your whine of protest he grins and reaches across the seat, resting his other hand on your thigh.

the rural city gradually fades out, becoming less and less dense until you’re out on a long stretch of back roads, nothing but green fields and tall grass as far as the eye can see. eventually alexander pulls off the road and stops in a tiny dirt parking lot surrounded by trees. a small wooden sign announces the name of the park, along with a note that reminds visitors to pick up their trash.

he pulls the keys out of the ignition and shoves them in his pocket, and you hum curiously. “is this your big surprise?”

he chuckles, leaning over the center console to kiss your cheek before opening his door. “no, of course not. this is just lunch.”

he slides out of the car and comes around to your side to open the door for you before he moves to open the trunk, pulling out a small cooler and a blanket before shutting it again. he holds out his hand to you, motioning for you to follow him. when you take his hand he squeezes a little, turning back over his shoulder to smile at you before leading you over to a shady spot in the grass.

as alex spreads the picnic blanket out, you start to open the cooler to help him set up, but he shoos your hand away with a tsk of his teeth. “darling, let me do it,” he says, throwing you a playful frown. the ever-prepared man that he is, you know he’s meticulously planned out each and every detail of this vacation sparing no expense, so you surrender and let him continue with what he’s doing on his own.

he pulls a bottle of sparkling apple juice out from the cooler and hands you two champagne flutes, then pours your glass out first before pouring his own and setting the bottle down in the grass.

“the real stuff is waiting at the hotel,” he says with a smirk, holding up his glass to clink with yours.

“so we’re staying in a hotel, then?” you hum, raising your eyebrows at him as you take a sip. “i’m one step closer to figuring you out.”

“must’ve been a slip of the tongue,” he grins, and for once you know for sure that he’s lying. alexander duggan simply doesn’t do a slip of the tongue. every move he makes is intentional, and there’s no doubt in your mind that revealing this little piece of information was intentional, too.

you sigh contentedly, leaning back on your hands as he pulls out paper-wrapped sandwiches from the cooler. he glances at both of them before handing yours to you, your name printed in carefully scrawled sharpie lettering.

it’s so cute you almost don’t want to ruin it by opening it, and you look at it fondly for such a long time that by the time you finally start to unwrap it, alexander is already halfway done with his. you call his name, holding back a laugh when he looks up from his sandwich with mustard smeared over one corner of his mouth. “what?” he hums, mouth full.

“nothing,” you giggle, reaching over to wipe the mustard off his face with your thumb before wiping your hand on a napkin. “i just love you.”

—— 3RD MARCH.

“number twenty-four! ham and swiss for alex?”

the barista’s booming voice calls out the order, and alexander slips out of his chair to go grab the food. despite being the middle of the day, there isn’t much of a lunch crowd in the deli this afternoon. 

you’d seen him again at the café a few days later, and, recognizing him immediately this time, returned his coat to him safe and sound. after that he’d quickly become one of your regulars at the café, always staying longer than necessary and tipping far more than the cost of his regular black coffee and croissant.

days passed, and after one particularly flirty morning he’d finally, shyly, asked if you’d get lunch with him sometime. it hadn’t taken much to convince you; he’d recommended a sandwich shop down the street owned by an old friend of his, enthusiastically raving on and on about the chocolate chip muffins until you’d agreed with a laugh.

he comes back to the table a second later holding a little wood tray with two sandwiches, carefully handing you yours before sitting down again. 

the sandwich ends up being fantastic (he had been right to give rave reviews after all), but the company you’re with ends up being the best part of the lunch. getting to know alexander is more fun than you’ve ever had, and when you look down to check your watch and realize that you’ll be late to work if you stay any longer, you’re honestly disappointed that it has to end here.

“would you wanna go out again sometime?” alex asks sheepishly as you both stand up. despite his calm and collected demeanor, there’s something awkward about the way he acts that you find terribly endearing. “maybe… dinner, or something, next time?”

“yeah.” you give him a bright smile and push your chair in. “i would really like that. dinner sounds wonderful.”

he grins, and you can almost see his cheeks flush a little beneath his freckles as he follows you out of the shop. being around him feels like you’ve known each other for years, and in that moment you realize this lunch is only a first date with alex. he’s already making plans for a second, and it feels like the most natural thing in the world. 

he helps you into your car and gives you a wave before walking away towards his own. and long after his car has pulled away and you’re still sitting in the parking lot, you can’t help but smile. the only thing on your mind is how much you’re looking forward to seeing him again.

“we’re here, my love, are you awake?”

the smooth lilt of alex’s voice pulls you out of your nap and you blink slowly, sitting up and massaging the kink in your neck from sleeping against the car seat. you had wanted to stay awake to see where he was taking you, but with the excitement from packing for the trip you hadn’t gotten much sleep last night, and the feeling of warm sunshine on your face and the rolling of the car had put you right to sleep.

rubbing your eyes, you stare out the window to see what he’s talking about, but it only takes you a few seconds to immediately recognize where you are. you gasp, looking over at him, and he grins back.

“surprise,” he smiles, watching your giddy reaction as the car moves along the familiar coastal highway. it’s the same little town you spent your honeymoon with him years ago, the one you’ve always said you’d wanted to visit again, but between both of your busy lives and his jobs getting in the way, you haven’t had the chance to.

you lean forward and stick your head out of the car, inhaling the fresh, salty sea air.

alexander pulls into the hotel parking lot: a small but grand little villa that, by the looks of it, hasn’t changed much since the last time you were here. eagerly you hop out and come around to meet him at the other side of the car. he gives you a kiss on the cheek as he stands up, shutting the car door and taking your hand to lead you towards the arched entrance.

when you pull open the door, the foyer is just like how you remember it. tall glass windows offer stunning views of the cliffs, paintings of ocean scenes hang on the walls, and baskets of driftwood and seashells sit atop every antique wooden table. you walk across the room to pick up a magazine off one of the tables, flipping through it to see advertisements for local restaurants, wine tastings, and local art shows.

you’re so invested reading an article about whale watching boat tours that you don’t notice alex slip upstairs, disappearing for no more than a few minutes before he casually returns to the entryway and calls your name, gesturing for you to see the rest of the place.

muscle memory comes back to you as your feet carry you up the stairs and around the corner to the same bedroom you’d stayed in so long ago. he follows after you, the corner of his lips turned up as he watches your excitement. it’s not often you get to go on vacation together, and he’s determined to make sure this anniversary is one you won’t forget.

standing outside the room you push open the door, but when you see what’s inside you nearly drop everything you’re holding. the entire room is covered in flowers, with pink peonies and pretty white blooms in vases on every table, and rose petals scattered across the bed. by the mini refrigerator there’s a bottle of champagne resting in a bucket of ice, a little note attached with a bow around the neck of the bottle.

you turn around and alexander is right behind you, carefully watching your reacting with a smile.

you throw your arms around him and he chuckles, walking backwards into the room with you in his arms. the luggage in the open car trunk is long forgotten as his lips finally press against yours, his arms wrapped tightly around you.

—— 16TH JUNE.

“are you ready?”

despite your nerves, alexander’s voice is calm as he sits beside you in the driver’s seat of the car. your dress bunches up around you as you push the fabric out of the way, leaning across the cupholders to kiss him, the first of many kisses today and over the years that will come.

it had been a long but happy year since your coincidental meeting at the grocery, which he'd later revealed had been not-so-coincidental after all. but the initial shock of learning who he was and what he did had eventually worn off, and the two of you had come out together stronger than ever.

he smiles against your lips before leaning away to push the keys into the ignition, and you look out your passenger side window one more time. a small group of your closest friends and family stand outside the car, waving bouquets of bright pink peonies.

alex twists around to look over his shoulder at the rear window, where the words “just married” are written in chalk marker, as he reverses out of the parking lot.

once everyone is out of sight, you begin to relax into your seat, kicking off the shoes that have been hurting your feet all night. you’re leaving before any of your guests are, having stayed at the reception just long enough to cut the cake and have your first dance, so it’s still early enough in the evening to have some time to yourselves.

“where are we going?” you ask, reclining the seat a little with a sigh as you gaze out the window. the stars are beginning to come out, little twinkling lights in the dusk sky, and you smile as you think about today, finally a moment to relax and reflect on everything.

your new husband grins and shakes his head, keeping one hand on the wheel as he slides the other across the seat to intertwine his fingers with yours. “can’t say. it’s a surprise.”

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

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. — @betsybat @wandalfnation @princess76179 @zooni92802 ^^ (i added everyone on my taglist, but please lmk if you'd only like to be tagged for specific fandoms in the future!)

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

[snowfallrecs]

Favourite Face

─────── · · A 'Day of the Jackal' (TV series) FanFic

Pairing: Alexander "Jackal" Duggan x Fem!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: A former MI6 agent now on a mission for survival, you use your expertise as a weapons engineer, masquerader, and manipulator in order to take on illegal missions. After a close call on your most recent mission, you stumble into the hotel room of a fellow assassin... the last person you would expect to see.

─ · · TAGS: second person perspective used, female-pronouns used, depictions of blood, mentions of guns and violence, fighting, usage of pet-names (ex. love, sweetheart, etc) swearing, light angst.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 2,195

─ · · A/N: thank you to @calmowl2407 for this incredible ask! I had so much fun writing it that I hope you all enjoy reading it just as much. As always, your interact helps me to know what to write!

─────── · ·

Summer | Middle-of-Nowhere, Germany | 13:01 PM

A red Alfa Romeo Spider drove down bending and twisting country roads before they turned to dirt and gravel. The roof was open, your hair blowing away in the wind from underneath your sunhat. The sun was warm against your skin as you changed gears and parked the car behind a wall of trees before grabbing your leather bag from the boot of the car and slinging it over your shoulder.

With a slam and a beep, the car lights dimmed and you trekked through the rocky terrain before entering an opening in the trees, a small pond sat in the middle, a pair of ducks swimming and ruffling their feathers in the shallow waters as you knelt down behind a fallen tree and zipped open your gear.

A few cicadas hummed in your ears as your forrest green pants became brown at the knees from the wet earth. The bottom of your designer boots ruined but you couldn't find it in yourself to wince, knowing how easy it would be to just buy a new pair when you arrived back to your hotel room.

Taking off your sun glasses, allowing them to hang from the unbuttoned portion of your creme shirt before sorting through the bag, you pulled out various 3D printed pieces of a medium-distance rifle and laid them out atop the log.

Attaching the grip to the slide with a satisfying click, you twisted on the barrel and flicked back the safety on the gun before lifting it up to look down the sights and pulled back the trigger. You could hear the scream of the bullet and the muffled bag ringing through your bones as you brought the handle back to your chest, observing your skewed shot with a grunt.

Flicking the safety back on, you pulled out a roll of leather that held your tools all nicely in a line as you tinkered with the finishes that matched the diagram floating through your head. Standing up and reading yourself for another shot, your squinted your eyes to a branch threatening to fall before taking aim, flicking back the safety, and firing... bullseye.

The branch crashed, the ducks from earlier taking upwards and into the clear blue skies as the cranked your head to the side, pondering for a moment before tucking the empty gun into the back waist of your pants.

You grabbed and built the remainder of the weapons you wanted to test this afternoon ahead of your biggest mission yet in Munich. You never would have thought this to be your future, setting up an illegal firing range and testing not-to-code weaponry in the middle of a field in Germany but you were left with little choices as your husband divorced you, your family not wanting anything to do you- and it seemed that MI6 had the same thoughts. Abandoning you in the Middle East back in the early two thousands.

You work with a silent rage, eye twitching as you remember calling out from your microphone only to receive a soft apology from your handler, and then nothing... left stranded in the middle of a desert.

You remember stripping yourself of your badges, your gear, and only carrying what food and water your could carry with a small handgun hidden beneath your ripped shirt. You let your past self die in that desert, stealing from house to house, and hitchhiking, pleading and acting like your were some kidnapped tourist.

You could only scoff once reading the headlines of your platoon being "dead" when you hacked into their servers a few weeks later as you started taking on private work. The document read that you, weapons engineer and expert were "missing" and consequently, all your brothers and sisters had all died from a failed mission and planted IED. But you knew the truth... They left me out there to die. And ever since then, you worked for only yourself, and not even your morals- whatever it takes, you reminded yourself, firing off shot after shot, sweat dripping off your temples and soaking into your shirt, whatever it takes.

─────── · ·

Meanwhile in Munich, Germany...

Alexander sat on the couch within his hotel room, all the blinds closed, stopping the daylight from entering the room besides a few strands coming from the gaps, casting horizontal lines across his form.

He wore a simple tan linen suit to account for the warming temperatures, a handkerchief wrapped around his neck for an added flair. A pair of tasteful leather loafers on his feet to match his belt, his hair combed back into subtle waves as he squinted at the laptop screen, reading over a report he had requested from an old contact that read:

"Callsign: Veil. Known for having "many-faces;" master of disguise, manipulation, and seduction. Ex-military weapons engineer and weapons expert. Presumed Dead: Cause of Death: IED."

Alexander scoffed after reading that last sentence, he knew you to be alive, saw it himself when he too was running through the desert after killing his own team, leaving only his spotter alive to survive alongside side him. Duggan needed you, your expertise and abilities if he was to succeed on this next mission, one that could potentially set him up for life...

He was obsessed with finding you for weeks up until today, stalking any minuscule fault you made. Dressing up as cleaning staff and butlers to get even a potential glimpse of one of your many faces as he pinned-pointed and tracked each identity you used. And how did, the Jackal, know these people to be you? One may ask... well, the Jackal smiled to himself, finger tracing over your covered face as you cosplayed as lawyer within the airport footage. A suitcase in your hand that he smirked at before looking at his matching one, knowing the work to be your own that his current employer gifted him.

You two had worked alongside one another many years ago when you both were in training and served.

CHAT ROOM OPENED:

"$*^4^78&" said: 2005, Platoon 274, Palm Hotel. Trust. Business Opportunity.

Now all that was left to do... was wait. Something that the Jackal was exceptional at, but when it came to you, he could be described as most anxious for those who had the pleasure of viewing it beneath the five layers of coldness he hardened his features into.

─────── · ·

Munich, Germany | 7:48 PM

Your newest weaponry had worked beautifully, seven clear shots all placed right between the eyes as you walked through the crowd of running and screaming museum goers from the charity event as best as you could in your nine-inch heels.

Your deep blue silk dress carrying after you as the cold night air kissed the skin of your leg through the slit. The shawl you wore covered the wound you sustained when pushed onto a pile of glass shards. You held a panicked face, looking around as you followed the various officers yelling out directions and walked back to a nearby hotel room, the staff offering their condolences and not even taking a second look as you stepped into the elevator and broke into a random room on one of the upper floors you thought to be empty thanks to the cleaning cart blocking the doorway.

And the room was barren, blinds down and not a single item used or removed, perfect. Locking the door behind yourself, you flicked on the bathroom light and began removing parts of your prosthetic cheek "implants" and lips. The wig you wore discarded as you washed your face clean and felt around for a hand towel. Fingertips gracing the soft material you pressed it to your face, make-up smearing onto the white before looking up through the foggy mirror to find another standing just beside you, meeting your eyes through the reflection.

Instantly you hook your foot around their ankle yet feeling themself falling they pull your arm down with them as you both crash onto the tiled for. You make no reaction, watching as the mans face slams against the marble as you hike your leg over his waist and press your hands around his neck. He grabs your hips tightly, trying to throw you off as he starts to cough yet you squeeze your thighs tighter together as he curses and groans before pushing to the side- rolling you underneath him as he pins your hands above your head with a glare.

Mascara dripped down your eyes, lipstick smeared and cheeks warming, you spit at his face only for him to wipe it off with a cheeky grin by the back of his suit. "Civilized aren't you?" the man belittles you as you scoff in return.

"Let go of me," you do not plead yet demand, baring your teeth, eyes sharp as he leans down closer to your face. "Are you willing to talk?"

"Depends, you'll have to let go first to see," you counter, trying to blow the hair out of your face as they reach down to tuck it behind your ear- you shiver in disgust. "And why would I do that, knowing someone like yourself?" He tilts his head slightly, eyes searching your own, awaiting your response with sick eagerness that makes you feel sick to your stomach.

"And just who am I?" you ask, giving him an equal stare as you feel the grip on your wrists slightly loosening but before you can move, he places more of his bodyweight atop you, keeping you in place.

"Veil," he says as if an obvious thing like the weather, "weapons-smith, master engineer, ex-MI6..." he rattles off your resume off-the-top of his head as you furrow your brows, they must have been- or are a high officer, you think to yourself, knowing your files to still be accessible to a degree but what shocks you to your core is his next words, "...and 2005, Platoon 274, Palm Hotel, it's been quite the show, watching you, and is an equal delight seeing you this close." You shiver.

For once in your life, you are greatly disturbed, stopping all your sudden movements as you take in his appearance, trying to analyze and pick apart his image before he takes your chin, forcing you to look up at him. "Now, I'm going to ask again. Are you going to behave if I let go? Or must I strap you to a chair for your own wellbeing?"

You let out a deep sigh before batting your eyelashes and putting on a soft smile, "You know, I don't remember the last time I had a man on me. I wouldn't mind staying like this," you tease, offering a small giggle. Alexander hums, "Is that so, well then let us get comfortable..."

With every play you put on, he follows along, casting the line that much further from the shore. A competition of play happens between the two of you, switching between characters, accents and languages. Breaths becoming ragged before he lets you go.

You lie there for a minute, trying to catch your breath before looking up at him and taking his extended hand. Feeling a bit dizzy, you wobble in your shoes as Alexander stabilizes you, leading you towards the couch as you settle yourself, carefully observing his every movement as he pulls a suitcase you instantly recognize to be a work of your own.

Feeling your stare he calls from over his shoulder, "I am a man in awe of your talents." And in that moment a memory flickers over your vision, a young man with dusty hair and sun-kissed cheeks. Camouflage prints running up muscled arms and legs- you shake your head awake. Squinting at the man before you as he stands, suitcase in hands looking down at you.

"Cat got your tongue- hm?" the graduate of your sniping school year presses. "fuck you, Alex," is all you can spit out as you sort thought the onslaught of thoughts as your hands rip the luggage from his hands.

Alex takes a seat beside you, arm casting over the back of the couch, fingers just barley touching your shoulder as you tinker and fix the weaponry before you. You feel his stare as you silently work, dropping a screw by his next carefully chosen words, "good to see you again, (first/name) (last/name). My favourite face of them all."

You glare down at the screw, working your hands around the furnishings to fish it out before carrying on as if nothing happened. "How would you feel about a business opportunity?" You pause your work once more with a huff, annoyance growing as your shoulders rise and you cast a glare his direction.

"I'll stop here if you are not going to pay me for my work here-"

"Not even a deal for an old friend-"

"Alexander" you growl out his name, hating the way he smiles every time you say his name.

"Yes, you'll get payed for this busywork and for a new job, if you'll take it."

"What is it?"

"How does a quarter of a billion sound?"

"Perfect."

─────── · ·

─ · · JACKAL TAGLIST: @swiftietevitdrewjew @groovyponypatrollamp

[snowfallrecs]

Hitlist

the jackal x fem reader

~ i am a whore for eddie redmayne so you should thank his face for being so gorgeous

~ this is 2k words of poorly written and unedited smut. if you see typos,,, no you didnt.

~ i need his face in my chest thats like the only reason i wrote this

~ ty for everyones lovely comments on the last part!

~ look at my art of my beautiful husband who is too old for me

~ BEFORE I FORGET. i have a longfic idea for this sorta universe,,, a mr and mrs smith type of situation crossover w sherlock bbc as a case fic. what do we think

part one | part two

You lead him back to a hotel room. Your hotel room, though not for much longer. The people who had hired you paid for everything, and once they heard you had betrayed them, they would eventually be able to track you down. The faster you left, the better.

The Jackal kept you in his sight the entire time, staring into the back of your head as if he was trying to cut a hole right through it.

It’s not like I would have hurt him anyways, you thought mulishly, poking your tongue into your cheek, troubled. Your mind had already been made up before you had even stepped into the room.

You could never hurt him.

As you walked into the room, he stalked past you and started examining everything, keeping an eye on you all the same.

“It’s clean,” you offered, but he only shot you a side glance, not bothering to acknowledge you had said anything. You worked hard to keep yourself from letting the hurt show on your face.

Instead, you ask: “Married?” 

Trying to lighten the mood, you couldn’t help but notice the ring on his finger. By the way his face tightened, you knew it was the wrong thing to say.

“Divorced,” he muttered. “You?” he added, as an afterthought.

“No,” you shook your head. You had thought about it once, a long time ago, but it never worked out. You simply could not stop thinking about him.

The Jackal sat down next to you on the bed, done with his search. He was close, closer than you would imagine comfortable. This close, you could see every freckle and mark on his face.

You are definitely not complaining.

“Her loss,” you whispered. At his questioning glance, you clarified: “Your wife.”

The tips of his fingers brushed over yours and you shivered.

He huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “No, it was my fault. She deserved better than me.”

His eyes flickered shut as he leaned in closer. You could feel his breath on your face.

“Probably,” you agreed, tilting your head away to admire the earlier hickey you had left. He blinked a couple of times, confused by the sudden distance you had put between them. Then you pressed your hand into the purple mark, and he hissed and pulled away. 

He went to lean against the headboard and you followed him, climbing into his lap. His hands immediately found your waist even as he tried to push you away.

Instead, you only pressed his hips against his, hands caging him in on either side of the headboard.

“Come on, J,” you crooned. “Don’t you miss this?”

“You tried to kill me!” He snapped. “Forgive me if I’m not so forthcoming.”

You frowned. “You were literally all up in my business not even five seconds ago. Besides, if I wanted you dead, then I wouldn’t have announced my presence,” you cupped his cheek as gently as possible. You couldn’t stop looking at his freckles. “I was never going to kill you.”

He paused, eyes threatening to flutter shut at your touch. Then he pushed you away again, seemingly remembering why he was mad at you. “Then why did you take the job in the first place?”

You resisted, pressing your forehead against his. “I was trying to protect you,” you said mockingly slowly, as if trying to make him understand something very simple. His cheeks reddened with humiliation and anger. “I knew that taking the job would give you some time. And the only reason I threatened you was because I thought you wouldn’t want to see me anymore.”

The end of your words turned into a soft whine, and you nosed his face into his. Your thumb pressed past his lips and into his mouth, gagging him. His tongue immediately met your thumb, swirling around it on instinct. You moaned, kissing the edges of his mouth.

“Get off,” he managed to mumble through his make-shift gag, saliva dripping past his chin.

“Alexander,” you murmured. “Look at me.”

His name, his real name, snapped him out of the lustful haze your actions had put him into. It had been so long, how had you even remembered that? He should have never told you.

He pushed you away and you finally relented, letting him throw you back onto the mattress and climb on top of you.

“Fuck you,” he said, before swooping down and capturing your lips with his.

The kiss was hot and searing, and you could feel his large hands feeling up your body.

“That’s the idea, J,” you mumbled into his mouth, running your own hands up his back and tugging on his shirt. You needed him naked. Now.

He pulled away, biting your bottom lip as he went, tugging his shirt above his head. You watched from beneath him, admiring the ways his abs flexed before he dropped his hands and caged you in between them.

“You look nice,” you breathed, your hands creeping up his chest. “Ah… I remember this. But the background was different. Ah-!”

J buried his face into the crook of your neck, biting down harshly onto the soft skin there. At the same time, his hand slipped down your pants and underneath your panties, finding the growing wetness between the apex of your thighs.

“It… it was something like,” you sighed as he slipped two fingers inside, “a desert scene? R-remember that, J? Fuck!”

He curled the fingers inside you, his free hand making a large bruise the way it pressed into your waist so tightly. He kissed up your neck and jaw and eventually found your mouth, muffling the words that couldn’t help but spill out.

He remembered it too. The Al-Qaeda operation, the wedding party, the car bomb. You had been a junior sniper working with his team, and he could not help but notice the way your quiet gaze kept falling on him. You met him in his room that night, slipping past the door silently. You weren’t so quiet then, and you weren’t so quiet now.

When he killed the rest of his team, he let you live.

Maybe it was a mistake to do that. But the way the moans kept falling from your mouth, he wasn’t in any position to regret his decision. His thumb pushed at your clit, circling it faster as your voice grew to a higher pitch, as moans and gasps filled the air quicker. He swallowed your sounds as they came out, not letting you get in any air.

The hand holding your waist came to rest at your neck. It was so thin, so easy to just wrap his fingers around it and choke the life out of you. He began to apply pressure, just the tiniest bit, but the way your breath hitched, he knew that you knew the power he had right now.

Your chest heaved up and down against his. Dimly he realized that he had neglected to take off your blouse and bra.

He pulled away slightly, continuing his circular movements on your clit. A thin strand of saliva connected your mouths, and he broke it with a soft flick of his tongue. The hand on your neck tightened, and you released a strangled groan. 

You were vulnerable. Completely at his mercy.

But you found that you didn’t mind. You wanted it. A relationship with him, one in which you could trust that he wouldn’t hurt you, the same way you could never bring yourself to hurt him. 

The pressure on your neck furthered, and your hands instinctively went to his wrist, gripping it tightly. He stared into your eyes. You could feel the wave of pleasure in your stomach growing, legs twitching subconsciously, tightening around the hand in between your thighs.

“P-please…” you managed to choke out, arching your back and rolling your eyes as the pleasure passed the precipice and washed over, stringing your body taut before allowing it to collapse into what felt like a melting puddle.

His hand left your neck, brushing over the dark bruise he had left behind. Something in him felt vindicated, glad to have caused you pain. He kissed the deepest part of the bruise, smiling against your skin as you inhaled sharply at the touch. 

You bring your hands to brush through his hair, gripping it tightly to pull him away from your neck, half heartedly throwing him away. He rolled off, groaning, painfully hard.

“Give me a moment,” you gasped, trying to catch your breath. Wow. “Fuck.”

“Good?” He asked.

You nodded, before realizing he probably couldn’t see it. You let your hand find his instead, squeezing it. He sighed.

“I need to go take a cold shower,” He said, moving to get up.

By some miraculous show of strength, you managed to sit up before him and pressed your hand against his abdomen, shoving him back down.

“No. We’re not done yet.”

He stared at you as you swung your leg over his lap, hovering above him. His face was still flushed red, making his dark freckles stand out against his skin. His eyes flicked from between your face to where his erection made a tent in his pants.

“Ok,” he muttered. “Take off your shirt.”

You obeyed immediately, fingers thumbing to undo the buttons on your blouse. The Jackal watched you hungrily, hands coming back to hold onto your waist. They were burning hot against your now bare skin, moving up your spine to unclip your bra and let your breasts free.

He cupped them; the heat making you gasp as you worked to take off your pants. You managed to get them to hang at your knees, finally sitting down on his lap and pressing against his clothed cock.

“Fuck,” he groaned, hips pressing upwards.

You circled your hips, mouth falling open at the stimulation to your clit. It was still overly sensitive from his fingers earlier, and the roughness of his jeans did nothing to help soothe it.

“I need your cock in me,” you moaned. “Please.”

The Jackal let out a strangled sound at your words, managing to sit up and push down his pants. His cock sprang free, nudging against your soaking wet panties. You grinded against him, wrapping your arms around his neck, feeling his back muscles.

He pulled at the band of your panties, allowing them to snap back against your skin. One of your hands finds itself back in his hair, pushing his face into your chest. You can feel him grinning, a low laugh rumbling from his throat.

Finally, finally, he lined up his cock with your pussy and pushed inside. Your mouth fell open in a small ‘o’ at the feeling of complete fullness. He was burning you up from the inside.

He pressed kisses to your bare skin, face still buried in your chest as he kept his hips moving against yours. Pleasure began to build up in you once more, and you knew by the soft grunts and moans that fell out of the Jackal's mouth, he was close too. 

“Inside,” you whimpered, clutching onto him so tightly you wouldn't be surprised if he wouldn't ever be able to separate from you. “P-please.”

You raised your hips, his cock slipping out completely, before slamming back down. Your lips met, more clashing teeth than a kiss. His tongue consumed the inside of your mouth, stealing away your breath as you came once more.

Still riding the high, you had enough sense to realize he had also come, just seconds after you, cum filling you and dripping out slightly. 

You swayed slightly, and the both of you fell to the side, his cock still inside you.

Your chest fell up and down. The Jackal shifted closer towards you, placing his head back in the valley of your breasts. Your hand immediately comes to his hair to keep them there.

The two of you lay like that for a while, before you groaned.

“We need to go,” you muttered.

The Jackal mumbled something you couldn't hear. You begin to get up, but he doesn't move, the heavy weight forcing you to flop back down. 

“J,” you patted his back.

“... give me five minutes.”

You sighed. “Yeah, ok.”

part one | part two

tags: (for those who commented they wanted a second part (if you didnt want to be tagged,,, uh lmk) @affective-disorder @simp-ly-writes @freya260

[snowfallrecs]

dealing with it- chef luca

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gif from @ wiha-jun

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summary: you see carmen for the first time in years, things happen, but at least your husband is there for you :)

pairings: chef luca x fem! reader, EX carmen berzatto x reader

warnings: smoking, cursing, reader endorses smoking (it makes sense i promise), toxic relationships, fighting, happy ending, luca is a cutie pie, carm is an ass :(

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Carmen had been staring at you the whole night. You, standing diligently beside your mother, and Luca. 

When dinner came and you sat beside Luca again, the question begged to leave his mouth, but he decided on waiting and watching. 

“So Y/n,” Sydney turned to you. “I would love to literally pick your brain apart for the inspo of your last cookbook.”

You chuckled. “Well, Luca and I went all around the world on our honeymoon and-”

“What?” Carmen choked on his drink. “S-sorry did I fucking hear that right? Honeymoon?”

Luca sighed deeply, the energy at the table shifting. “Yes Carm, she said ‘honeymoon’.”

Honeymoon. You and Luca were married. Married and he didn’t even know it. Married, and he hadn’t even known that his last chance had been his last chance. 

You were Chef Andrea’s daughter, and you were everyone’s forbidden fruit. You worked with them, trained with them, and Carmen had been so deeply interested in you, that he broke the rules. He went after you, and he didn’t even feel bad about it. You’d started out dating in secret, then slowly warmed your mom up to the idea, and suddenly it was out in the open. Sure you’d had fights and sure, maybe it wasn’t the most healthy relationship ever, but Carmen loved you. He still did. When it fell apart, it was all Carmen’s fault (as usual) and you’d sworn off chefs. 

---------------------

“Fucking hell Bear! I’m asking you to do this one fucking thing for me, and it’s too fucking hard?” You shouted at the top of your lungs. “I love you! I moved to fucking Coppenhagen for you! I moved to fucking New York for you! What is your problem with me taking a job in London?! I can probably get you into the same place-”

“NO! No, I fucking don’t alright? You’re fucking- you’re fucking boring! You never make anything new- you’re so f-fucking obsessed with being the-the-the best at something that you won’t even try to innovate!”

You stood there, in his kitchen and he watched as the tears fell. He took a deep breath and stepped closer, holding your waist in his hands. He tried not to be offended or upset when you went rigid as he touched you, but he felt his heart break. “Baby I-I’m sorry, look, y’know I’m sorry-” 

“You’re a piece of shit Carm. Just because I’m better than you doesn’t mean you get to talk to me like that. We’re not fucking trainees at my mom’s restaurant anymore, alright? I’m fucking better than you and i know it boils your fucking blood. I got this position. All on my own,” you spat. “You are the lowest of the low Carm. I swear to fucking god, if I ever date another chef again, kill me.”

And with that, you walked out. Out of his apartment and out of his life. 

---------------------

“W-wait so-s-, you two got married? Since when?” Carmen laughed, but it was wrong. It was forced and haunted, strange.  

“Since the 14th of July last year,” Luca smiled and you pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Congratulations guys,” Sydney smiled. “Carm, say congratulations,” she whispered and Carm nodded furiously.

“Yeah! Yeah- congratulations to the liar and her shitty douchebag of a husband!” He cheered, gathering the attention of the other tables. 

“Stop making a fucking scene Carm,” your voice cut through the ringing in his ears. “This isn’t about you. This is about my mom, and what this restaurant meant to people. Stop. Being. An. Asshole.”

He felt like he’d been effectively bitch slapped, and he quietened down, but not before kicking Luca under the table. 

They’d both been after you, back in the day. And you’d picked Carm at first, and realised your mistake. When you met Luca in London, you weren’t going to mess it up again. 3 years later, you were a year married, and a lot happier. Too bad Carmen had to make everything about himself, again.

He went out to get some ‘air’ a little while later, and you followed him. 

---------------------

“So…” you sighed, standing beside him. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he sighed. He watched as you took a cigarette out and lit it, then offered one to him. He shook his head. 

“You quit?” You asked, blowing the smoke away from him. He nodded. “You should start again.”

He looked at you in confusion. “What?”

“You shouldn’t stop, you’re fucking crazy when you don’t smoke,” you chuckled, though everything you said was true. He’d tried to give it up for a month about 4 months into your relationship and it was the most stressful month of your life. You sighed as you thought about it. Every time he was rude to someone, you apologised for him. Every time he fucked something up, you made it up for him. Every time he did something stupid, you made it smart somehow. It was fucked up how much he relied on you, when you thought about it in hindsight. “Everyone will thank you.”

He laughed. “I guess that was a shitty month, huh?”

“One of the worst of my life,” you admitted. 

There was a moment of silence. 

“I miss it,” He admitted. 

“Smoking? You can have the rest of this pack-”

“Us.”

You sighed. “You were doing so well,” you joked. “Just don’t bring it up Carm, we don’t need to dig up the past.”

“I want to,” he pleaded. 

“I don’t,” you scoffed. “There’s nothing for us to talk about, nothing about us worked, nothing about us was ok, or normal, or happy, or-”

“Does he make you happy?” Carmen asked, venom in his tone. “Does he make you feel fuckin’-fuckin’ butterflies? Does he fuck you like I did? D-does he even see you the way I did? Does he make you laugh?”

“He doesn’t make me cry,” you smiled softly, thinking of Luca and how much you truly loved him. “He doesn’t make me question our relationship everyday. He doesn’t make me feel untalented and undeserving. He doesn’t make me feel used. He met me in London when I was crushed after our break-up, and he healed something he didn’t break in me, alright? He made me feel loved for the first time in a long time. My mom fucking loves him, a lot more than she liked you. He let me take everything at my own pace, and he never pushed me into something I wasn’t ready for. He wasn’t afraid to show his love for me to anyone! He didn’t make me question if we were even dating, ever! And the best part is, he fucking married me Carm, in this gorgeous ceremony where he cried while I came down the aisle and he cried during his vows. Do you want to know what his vows were? Ask him when we get inside, because he got his and mine fucking tattooed on his arm!” You were welling up at this stage. “He stood there with me, through thick and fucking thin, he made me feel loved when I felt unlovable, Carmen. And yes he gives me butterflies, yes he fucks me better than you ever did, and he sees me for who I am. So yes, he makes me very fucking happy Carmen.”

Carmen stood there for a moment, then nodded. “I still love you, you know that, right?”

You scoffed, stamping out your cigarette. “You might want to get over that,” and you turned away, and walked back into the dinner. The rest of the dinner was quick, and you skipped the invite to Sydney’s to retire to your hotel room. You sat on the bed, makeup wipes in hand as you tried to wash the night off of you. 

“Hey darling,” Luca’s soft voice cut through the thoughts clouding your mind. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You smiled as he wrapped you up in a bear hug from behind, he was so perfect, so kind, so Luca. “Sure.”

“I heard a little bit of what you said to Carmy outside.”

You took a deep breath. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Before tonight, I was really fucking scared that when you found Carmy he’d somehow convince you I was a piece of shit and he’d sink his fucking claws into you again.”

You pressed a kiss to his arm and nodded. “He’s fucking…”

“He’s the worst,” he finished for you. “And I’m sorry about what he said tonight. He should’ve had the fucking manners to at least let us get to the third course before he started being a piece of shit.”

You both laughed, and you felt all the tension you held in slowly dissipate. “It was so delicious.”

“It was fucking amazing,” he pressed a kiss to your cheek. “You mum really did something special there.”

“At least we’ll see her more in London,” you shrugged. “I really loved that place.”

“So did I,” He sighed against your neck. “Remember training there? God, you were so fucking cute in your chef’s hat-”

“Hats make me look stupid!” You argued, but laughed regardless. You flung his arms off of you, and a wrestling match ensued, one that ended with him under you. You pressed a soft kiss to his lips, then he deepened it, his hands sneaking up your thighs and around your head. 

“You look good in anything,” he whispered. “But my favourite thing you ever wore was your wedding dress.”

When you pulled away from his lips you saw the starry-eyed smile and sincere look on his face, and you knew you made the right choice. 

Luca was your everything. Carmen was nothing now, and he had to live with that.

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the bear masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games :)

[snowfallrecs]

Oo ok im projecting a little bit but wahteves 😭

what about reader having daddy issues and she dose something good like lands a job something etc and johns all like “im so proud of you” ans she just melts into him

it can be either john up to you

john wick x f!reader. daddy issues.

he felt a surge of pride and excitement when you told him the news, knowing how hard you had worked and how much it meant for you. he was there by side the entire time, encouraging you when you had self-doubts.

"that’s amazing, sweetheart. i'm so proud of you," you heard his sincere voice, laced with nothing but affection and genuine pride. something he didn’t know you lacked off…

and you literally froze. pupils dilating at his response as your mind got clouded by his praise, and he was oblivious to the affect he had on you. at least that’s what you think.

you haven’t even realized you got silent for a second, until his fingers gently cupped your jaw and tilted your head up, breaking you out of your trance as he engulfed you in a short but sweet kiss.

his dark eyes scanned your features for a glimpse when he broke the kiss, meeting your vulnerable ones as you wrapped your arms around his torso with a sigh, your cheek pressed to his chest.

he was taken aback by the sudden hug, but welcomed in nonetheless by enveloping his own arms around you tightly, pulling your body as close as he possibly could.

he knew that you weren’t just overwhelmed with joy for acting that way, there was definitely a lot for him to unpack. but for now, he settled on planting a soft kiss on the top of your head, inhaling your sweet scent he was so addicted to <3

[snowfallrecs]

I have two ideas for the marquis de framing that I think you’d do great writing!

1: where the reader is interrogating the marquis (meaning she kidnapped him) and through there, they start to get feelings for each other

2: reader (who had a relationship of some sort with the marquis) fakes their death because they couldn’t take the assassin world. The marquis is devastated (lots of angst hehehe). They meet again while the reader is trying to help someone (maybe John, lol)

3: reader who is part of the high table meets the marquis for the first time. Sorta like live at first sight.

vincent de gramont x reader: i could never give you peace | what’s meant to be is supposed to be

plot: the one where he finds you again.

warnings: the reader’s a medic/healer in here SORRYYY…, she knew john from before, he rats her out lolz, kidnapping except vincent doesn’t do it this time..(yay! cuz he forced someone else to do it!!!), anon im so sorry i focused too hard on one part, i will do an extra (i swear)

masterlist

“stay still.” you mumble.

mr. wick lets out a small grunt while you sew his wound back together, nothing too fatal (at least in his standards) but without the help of any anesthesia or alcohol to soothe the pain, the assassin had no choice but to follow.

“don’t worry, it's almost done.” you whisper almost finished with patching up the flesh on his back. “and..there..”

he immediately gets off his seat and reaches for his shirt stationed on a random desk scattered with medical supplies. he digs into his suit jacket and fishes out a coin and hands it over to you, you accept it eagerly and begin cleaning up.

“you need any help with transport?” you inquire while you discard your bloodied gloves and utensils.

“yeah.”

“on your way out turn left and find the guy with a gray jacket. he’s one of winston’s men, he’ll help you out. where are you headed?” you inquire while washing your hands. he hesitantly answers before offering a reply.

“paris.”

“oh.” you stop in your movements and look at him. he stands near the door way all dressed up with blood caking his temples, he still looks rugged and in no shape to do what he has to do in pairs but your opinion likely doesn’t matter to him.

“good luck, i guess.” you mutter.

“you’ve been there.” he says.

“i..have.” you hope he doesn’t press any further.

“what’s in paris?” he questions but doesn’t take a step further.

“for you?” you uneasily say, he doesn’t reply.

“a dangerous man. i..think you’ll die trying just to get what you want, mr. wick. but hey, who knows? maybe, it’s now him.” you explain.

“the guy who had the continental demolished, was it him?” he sternly asks.

“..yes, i think it was him.” you confess, avoiding his eyes.

it had been almost three years since you left that country.

three years since you left him.

you can’t even bear to say his name because if you do, all of it will spill out. how he met you, how kept you and how he loved you. 

he nods, “and for you?”

“an even more dangerous man.”

 ever since mr. wick entered and left your clinic. you've been in a constant state of anxiety. the mere thought and mention of him had you nervous, especially when you heard that he was in new york a few days ago. you thought it was all over, that he found you and was going to rip you from your freedom in this city.

the following news shocked you to your core, the new york continental being demolished was not in your bingo card as to why he’d be here. all because of an excommunicated assassin which you had tended to almost a day after the bombing.

although you’re horrified with the state of events, relief flooded you when you realized he wasn’t there for you. you’d still be safe from him.

but you can’t help but think what all of this means for him. at some point, you know that john wick will kill him, and you somehow played a part in it. you feel a tinge of regret for him but it’s quickly overshadowed with the horrors he’s done and you don’t feel as bad.

he did like you though, when you still worked at france for him as his estate medic. whenever he found himself wounded in the line of fire in an ambush attack, you were the one who tended to his wounds and saw him at his weakest. you don’t know why but a strong sense of trust was established between the two of you.

you thought it to be a friendship but fleeting glances of affection would seep through when you talked or when a large bouquet of flowers suddenly appeared in your clinic after patching him up. 

you toyed with a pin he gave you, his insignia. only he wore it proudly on his coat and truly, it warmed you to him. he did make you feel appreciated, small touches on your back and sometimes fiddling with your hands whenever you sewed his wounds, gave you butterflies in your stomach.

with you he was just…vincent.

soft words and touches with soulful eyes looking into yours, just gentleness and affection present in him. it made you indulge into it too, that he isn’t the cruel man people made him out to be. he isn’t heartless, that’s just how the world is.

a naive perspective.

a perspective that was easily shattered when you’d hear a bloodcurdling scream from the barn, and he walks out with blood on his hands and a disgusted look on his face from his clothes being stained. gunshots echoing beneath the servant’s staircases and thudding bodies being dragged into the secluded forests of the estate. you whisper to yourself those very same words even if all his actions sent chills on your spine.

but the truth of it is that, he is heartless. he is the man people made him out to be and you’re a fool thinking he could be better for you but at the end of the day, he is still the marquis.

it made you think. what if this is all a game to him? what if the moment he finds you uninteresting you become another stain on his suit? 

it’s not a secret that men like him love having delicate pretty things only to break them apart. that’s all you are his current delicate and pretty thing.

you decided to leave. you weren’t staying long enough to find out what would happen to you, feelings be damned when you’re easily replacable to him. you knew that the marquis was like a dog to a bone when he didn’t get the things he wanted, which only pooled fears into your stomach should he find you in new york.

he cannot have you.

you stare at the pin before chucking the pin somewhere in the room, you get up from your chair and begin closing the windows from your clinic.

a knock comes from the door, you chuck the remaining medical materials into a random desk and walk up to the door. wounded assassins aren’t a strange occurrence at this time of the evening but something…felt different.

your gut was telling you to ignore the person on the other side and stay still. you thought that maybe if you didn’t answer the person would go away. wanting to play things safe you don’t mutter a word that would alert them of your presence. it usually worked in some cases.

the knocking persists, much harder and louder now. your hands begins to shake and your eyes start looking around for an emergency firearm to help defend yourself, your actions frantically halt when you hear a voice through the door.

“doc?” a gruff voice asks.

you sight and put a hand on your chest. it’s just john wick. you eagerly open the door to let him in.

“john.” you greet, “come inside.” you invite him as you walk inside.

john doesn’t follow you and a confused expression takes your face, until you take a good look at him. for the first time, john wick doesn’t look wounded to you, his face and hands void of any blood, a new bulletproof suit adorning his body, a french one you notice but it still leaves you questioning things.

“i’m assuming france went successful.” you say.

“…it’s close.” he pauses before replying, seeming as if he’s finding the right words to say.

“what do you need?” you question.

“it’s winston. he’s been shot.” you freeze.

oh dear. you never really approved of the things he did but a soft spot was always present for him and charon. they helped you settle here in new york, but winston took you in even when he knew of your history with vincent. you swore to always help him in ways you could and now the opportunity presented itself.

the car sped down the street with you and john in tow. you hold your medical kit close to your lap, feeling uneasy with the thought of losing the old man. charon had been so recent and you don’t think you bear to lose the friends you’ve made along the way.

you glance at john and he looks calm and composed as usual, eerily so. a week earlier he was calm but you could feel his anger and determination simmering underneath his skin. now it looked like he was taking a walk in a park. you eye him carefully, uneasiness seeping in your stomach.

“did they give it to you?” you ask, he looks at you before clearing his throat.

“just an extension.” he answers, knowing exactly what you were referring to.

“to do what?” you ask again, john doesn’t budge and continues driving, ignoring your question. your eyes stay on him but he doesn’t look at you.

silence settles into the car and you lean back in your seat. you really wish your brought your gun with you right now. you don’t know why but you have a feeling that something is wrong right now, especially with john. he’s not telling you something.

or maybe it really is none of your business. perhaps he wanted to spare the bloody details of how he’s going to win his freedom back. you relax and try to forget the uneasiness, trying to remember that winston is the priority right now, you shut your eyes. all of your fears are gathering together and it’s making you overthink your interaction with john, everything’s okay.

the loud sound of drilling makes you open your eyes, you look at the window and you see a familiar street. 

the new york continental was being rebuilt.

your apprehensiveness returns.

“john?” you look at him once again, “who shot winston?”

“he got hit during the line of fire.” this time he replies.

bullshit. winston would have an emergency plan before the shooting started.

“in new york?” you press.

“yeah.”

another bullshit. you could see through his lies, he’s clearly fresh out of france. what was he trying to do? 

“j-john.” you voice shakes almost as if you’re begging. something happened in france, something that saved both winston and john.

he looks at you with regret in his eyes. not enough to save you for what’s about to come.

“where are you taking me?” you sputter, your heart beating fast in anxiety, “i’ve done nothing but help you, please don’t do this!”

“he took winston with him and he found out.” he quietly defends.

“please help me, i don’t want to go back!” you begin crying, tears rolling down your face, “he’ll kill me!” 

he makes no reply and continues driving. with no hope left with him, you try to open your side of the door. he immediately notices this and grabs your arm trying to stop you from leaving, you begin hitting him with your other arm.

you know that he doesn’t want to do this but it feels so unfair. you’ve saved his life only to throw yours away.

“let go of me!” you scream.

“i’m sorry.” 

you feel a prick in your neck.

you feel a heavy sensation pulling at your leg, your eyes feeling groggy still wanting to keep your lids closed. however the sensation persists and this forces you to open your eyes and sit up.

a dark room welcomes you, only a small lamp helping you take a small look of where you are. specifically, on a plush bed and a decorated room. your body feels heavy  from exhaustion which makes you lean back to the pillow behind you.

pondering what made you feel so tired when you haven’t done much for the night, you’ve sewn back together…a pair of assassins for the night? or was it three? two austrians and…who?a french? no…no..it was winston. 

that’s right.

wait.

only you didn’t treat winston.

you bolt up, your body seemingly sobers from the realization.

john brought you here in exchange for his freedom. 

you look around to see some sort of presence in the room but with the darkness it was hard to tell, nevertheless you hopped off the bed and bolted to the wooden door nearby. no wonder the place looked familiar, only the marquis would have a place as frivolous as this.

you need to leave right now. your hand reaches for the door until you find your body being slammed on the floor. a groan leaves your throat, in pain you massage your forehead and look around.

oh goodness.

a gasp leaves your mouth when you see a chain wrapped around your ankle, you inspect your foot before tracing the lines of chains, which were sourced on the thick foot of the bed you were on.

you tug it to check its strength and to see how long it actually goes. it was long enough to walk around the room but not long enough to reach the door. this is basically your fully furnished torture chamber. 

fuck. fuck. fuck.

a loud creak echoes through the room.

you really hate how things are right now.

he’s going to kill you. kill you for leaving him, how you easily made him look humiliated for being abandoned.

feeling your knees weaken you sit back on the bed and your hands shake in trepidation. the marquis’ simple presence made you scared of him, you felt tears falling down once again and you lowered your head, not wanting to look weak right now.

his footsteps are heard through the room, the door loudly closes shut, a thud echoing. he doesn’t say a word.

you feel everything leave your body. hope,freedom and life mostly.

he walks up to you until you see his shoes on the floor, a blurry sight entering your eyes due to the tears, he touches you, tilting your chin upwards and you do everything not to flinch. was he going to snap your neck?

you look at him and he still looks the same, slightly more mature.

but the same man you met a few years ago, if you jumped back into your rose tinted glasses, you’d probably see the vincent you cherished at some point if you weren’t so frightened right now.

he inspects you, his eyes wandering through your face. searching for something that’s supposed to be there, his lips part almost as if he’s about to say something but you beat him to it.

“i-i’m sorry. i’m sorry.” apologies spill out of your lips, wanting to take the chance of saving yourself, “i-i’m so sorry! i didn’t mean to.” you cry. your hand reaches up to his hand that held your chin and you grip it for mercy, his hold on you weakens.

he doesn’t say anything and leans forward to you. you need him to say something, anything, whether it meant he’d simply say he wants yuu dead.

“please forgive me, just please don’t kil-“ he cuts you off.

with a kiss.

not a firm one but a surprisingly soft kiss on your lips.

he takes your hands into his and fiddles with it, trying to find his place in them just like before, he halts the kiss and leans towards your face. the man right in front of you wasn’t the marquis, it was vincent. 

your vincent.

the one with soft eyes looking at you with relief and adoration. the gaze that looked at you as if you were the most precious thing on earth, he wipes the tears on your cheeks and the next thing he says dissolves all sense of worry out of you.

“i could never hurt you.” he whispers.

author’s note: this kinda doesn’t make sense bc im so braindead rn to expand things but basically vincent finds medic!reader through winston and in exchange for the continental and john’s freedom, john brings medic!reader back to vincent. so basically she got ratted out lolz. this would work better if i made a vincent pov would be fun but i have a bunch of prompts to work on…(tempting) + he literally chained her down to him (hshshsh marriage allegory…) i kinda want to be funky dynamic of obsessed man + “ngl what’s wrong with this guy but i vibe with it” woman

[snowfallrecs]

john wick x f!reader

cw: cis female reader, slight dom/sub dynamics, soft dom!jw, sub!reader, unprotected p in v, creampie, squirting, praise kink. MINORS BEGONE!

word count: 1.4k

a/n: i am in a Mood™️ and was inspired to try and write a quick piece. also yes I am procrastinating everything because of animal crossing so this is also to try and get back into the swing of writing lol. enjoy!

Your cheek squished against the flat, cool surface of the rich mahogany desk. Sometime after settling down in John's private library with your usual dark fantasy romance and John following not long after to have a nosey at what you'd been reading, you'd ended up bent over the nearest desk with your skirt yanked up and bunched around your waist and your panties pulled to the side. Thick fingers dug into the soft flesh of your hips, keeping your willing body right where he needed it. You were doing your best to be quiet, as per his orders, but it was becoming increasingly difficult with each delicious inch he pushed inside you.

“John…” You whined, wiggling your hips under his iron hold in an attempt to coax his cock further inside you.

This only had John doubling his grip on you. The fingers that held your hips dug in further, hard enough to bruise and leave little crimson crescent moons in your skin. The pain didn't deter you though. It only had that unsatisfied ache pulsing within your centre flaring up tenfold.

“Shush, baby,” John's voice was low and gravelly and sent a thrill rushing down your spine. Really, it was almost pathetic how much of an effect just his voice had on you. “I told you to be quiet. You sure you can do that for me?”

He leaned over, pressing his muscled slab of a body against your back to nip at your earlobe. You bit your lip in an attempt to stifle a whimper of need, just barely succeeding, and nodded.

“Good girl.”

John’s stubble grazed you and his long, dark hair tickled your skin as he pressed a tender kiss to your cheek and the weight of him lifted off of you. Whether it was out of mercy or pity - or both - John pushed the full length of his cock inside you in one swift motion. It took everything you had to not cry out in pleasure and pain as his tip kissed your cervix, filling you completely.

He watched as you struggled to keep any noises from escaping, his gaze heavy enough that you could practically feel it pinning you down to the desk just as effectively as his meaty hands. Seeing you in such a state of utter need while also being desperate to obey had his length throbbing inside you.

John set an unbearably slow pace, slow enough that it had you practically crawling out of your own skin. You so desperately wanted - no, needed him to to just fuck you, but instead it seemed he was determined to make sure you felt every vein and every inch, right up to the ridge where his swollen pink head met his shaft.

“Mmm, that's it, thaaaat's it.”

All you could do was lay there and take it without protest, however he wanted to give it to you. Your hands white knuckled the edge of the desk in front of you, serving as your anchor as you fought tooth and nail to keep any sounds of pleasure trapped behind your teeth. You knew that disobedience would result in punishment and you didn't really feel like being punished and degraded right now.

Right now, you wanted to be showered with praise. You wanted to be adored.

“You're being such a good girl for me. You want more?” He asked, relinquishing the vice grip he had on your hips in favour of smoothing those large, rough palms over the meat of your ass.

You didn't get a chance to nod. John was already parting your cheeks and chuckling deeply at the sight of his shaft, half buried in your soaking cunt and glistening with your slick arousal while the rest of it slowly dripped down your thighs.

“Look how wet you are for me. Of course you want more; you've already soaked my cock.”

With one hand he gripped one of your cheeks, while the other snaked up your spine to tangle in your hair. He pulled on the strands, forcing you to lift your head up and prop your upper body up on your elbows and forearms as his hips finally, finally picked up the pace.

If you weren't struggling to stay quiet before, you sure as hell were now. John knew how you liked to be rocked, what the perfect angle was to hit that sweet spot inside you that made you see stars. 

Tasting the tang of iron on your tongue you stopped biting your lip. You'd been so focused on keeping any noise at bay you hadn't even registered how hard your teeth were clamping down on the soft flesh while John pumped his huge cock in and out of you.

“You're doing so well for me baby, so well. Just a bit more and I'll - ngh - let you cum. I want to enjoy this sweet pussy a little longer.”

God, if his dick didn't push you over the edge then his words might just do it. Knowing that such a sweet, gentle man had the capacity to groan out words so filthy made that sick little part of you sing with glee.

The sounds of your rapid breaths mixed with his grunts of pleasure and skin slapping against skin bounced off the walls and echoed through the rows of bookcases filling John's library. Your legs began to shake as that familiar heat began coiling low in your abdomen. Sensing your building need, John let go of your hair and ass cheek to lean that glorious weight over you once again, propped up on one thick forearm while his other hand moved between your trembling legs to rub your neglected clit.

You keened into his heavenly touch and you couldn't stop a strangled little cry from escaping. You were quick to cut it off however, dropping your head to press your treacherous mouth into the inside of your elbow to muffle the noise. 

“That's my girl. You've been so good, do you want to cum? You want to cum for me? You want to be loud?” John's voice was practically dripping with honey as he whispered in your ear.

All you could do was lift your head again, look at him over your shoulder and nod pathetically while you rocked your hips back against him, meeting his thrusts.

“Cum.” He ordered, slamming into you with his fingers working relentlessly on your clit beneath you. “Cum on my cock baby. Scream for me.”

That was all the encouragement you needed.

Your cries and sobs of pleasure drowned out anything else as you came, your pussy gushing over his length and thighs and the wooden floor beneath your feet while you rode out the waves of your orgasm. John wasn't too far behind, pressing his chest flush against your back to suck a dark bruise into the crook of your neck while he thrusted into you one, two, three more times, and then filled you with his seed with a loud, long groan.

Both of you stayed like that for a short while, catching your breath and begging to sober up from the lust-addled haze you were in just moments ago. Eventually, John lifted his weight from you and pulled out, letting his cum leak from your entrance. He took a few moments to run his hands up and down your back, soothing you as you came down from the high.

“You okay?” He asked, his voice returning to its usual deep, gentle lilt.

Somehow you managed to stand up and turn around to face him on your shaky legs. John was quick to wrap his arms around you to keep you steady. You were all too grateful, immediately leaning your weight against him and letting out a content sigh.

“Yeah. More than okay, I feel amazing.” You smiled up at him, cheeks rosy with happiness, and then nuzzled your face into his broad chest.

John chuckled, the baritone sound rumbling from within. “Good.” With a swift motion he scooped you up into his arms to carry you bridal style towards the door to the library. “Because I've not quite had my fill of you just yet.”

divider by @/strangergraphics

[snowfallrecs]

. ⋆. 𐙚 ˚ too much ˚ 𐙚 . ⋆.

warnings: MDNI, dom!logan x sub!reader, unprotected sex, size kink, dirty talk, kinda breeding kink, degradation, daddy kink, petnames, belly bulge

✧₊⁺ i knoow its such an overused dynamic but i cant help myself i love it. i so badly need logan to just take control of me and do give feedback on where i can improve i need it ✧₊⁺

“relax sweetheart, it will feel good once you do” logan grunts out, slowly pressing his tip into your tight hole.

“l-logan! oh lo, y-you’re too big!” you hiss out, feeling stretched and already full just from the fat head of his cock burning your gummy walls.

“shhh, she’s taking me just fine, hm? look at that, i’m squeezing right in” he smirks as he look down to where you’re both connected, your juices already leaking down his shaft, as he bottoms out with a loud groan.

he gives no time for you to get used to the generous size of him as he pulls out leaving just the tip before slamming back in. he sets a rapid pace as he thrusts in and out, kissing your cervix with every rut.

“f-fuck kid, you’re gripping around me so tight” he growls out, leaning down to bury his face in your neck, biting and sucking to leave his mark on you, yet remaining at his vicious pace. he wants needs everyone to know who you belong to.

“oh, daddy i’m so full, your cock feels s-so fucking g-good” you mumble out, eyes rolling all the way back as you moan with every thrust into you. “m-more, please daddy..”

“greedy fuckin’ whore” logan scoffs at your desperation yet he presses his thumb to your red, puffy button and moves it in swift circles which have you clamping down on him impossibly harder. you’re hands claw at the sheets, you swear you can see galaxies at this point, and the pleasure from both his finger on your clit and his hips snapping into you is all too overwhelming.

“w-wait lo, s’too much” you sob beneath him, squirming away, but he doesn’t stop and instead drills harder against your cervix. he grabs both your wrists and pins them above your head with just one of his hands while he continues his assault on your clit with the other hand.

logan chuckles “this is what you wanted, right doll? so quit squirming and fuckin’ take it” he snarls into your ear, his breath hot against it and his groans take over your hearing.

you soon give up with your pleads to slow down and instead let him use your now pliant body. so willing. logan hikes one of your thighs up to his pleasing - manhandling you as if you were merely a toy. strings of ‘uh,uh,uh’s’ are all you can slobber out and soon enough you’re crumbling down with the intensity of your orgasm.

logan groans at the even tighter feeling and he fucks you right through your release and all you do is just moan and whine while being fucked dumb on his girth. soon enough, you feel him throb in your heat and he jackhammers into your cunt, chasing his own orgasm.

“gonna cum in you princess, make those pretty noises for me, let everyone hear what a cumslut i’m making of you” logan smirks as he watches you let out your lewd moans for him. so obedient.

“f-fuck” logan’s hips begins to stutter and then he halts into you, as deep as he can, as thick spurts of his load stain your insides white, plugging you full of him.

“im gonna stay right here, princess” he releases his grip on your wrists and moves his hand towards the thick bulge in your lower stomach. he presses down gently, letting you feel the imprint of his girth in your core, and you whine, feeling overworked and spent.

“gotta make sure you can take daddy’s cock easier next time, hm?

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐ ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐ ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐ ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐ ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘ ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪

was it too much? was it too little? help me, all i knew when writing this earlier was how desperate i am for him😢

[snowfallrecs]

(unedited) inexperienced simon.

your lips are soft against his, plush and warm; you taste like the fruity gum you always chew and he hesitantly licks into your mouth to get a deeper taste. his large, strong hands tighten on the fat of your hips, pawing and kneading when you moan at the feel of his tongue diffident on yours; your pretty little hands cradling his face and body pressing impossibly closer.

the movie that's flickering in the background is nothing more than a soft drone in his ears, dull and distorted; he can only hear your breathy moans and the wet sound of your messy kissing. it makes his head spin, makes his heart race in his chest and he's sure that you can feel it against your breasts. the weight of your body nestled in his lap, ass perched on his bulge and thighs caged on either side of him; makes his hands clammy, a low, desperate whimper rumbling in his chest.

heaving breaths are taken when you pull away from the kiss, simon's usual shell-pink, thin lips are swollen and tinted with a rosy hue. his eyebrows knit together and his teeth dig into the softness of his bottom lip as your kisses descend upon the rounded angle of his jawline; teeth nipping and mouth suckling upon the skin, your tongue lavishing attention on every inch.

you can feel the soft tremble of his fingers, the gentle bounce of his knee; the tapping of his bare feet on the hardwood floor. his grip tightens, a delicious ache on your hips as he moans, a soft hissed whimper coming from his parted lips. the sound of your soft chuckle feels almost mocking and simon's chin sets; lips almost pouty as he goes to speak, however, his words die on his tongue the moment you're sucking the sensitive skin on his neck.

his eyes flutter back and he practically whimpers your name, a guttural plea as his hips buck up and roll for a brief moment before his thighs tremble and a flurry of whispered curses spews from his mouth. he hugs your body close, burying his face into the warm curve of your neck as he cums in his pants. simon feels your gentle retreat, the soft caress of your hand cradling his cheek, your voice all pretty and breathless. "did you just…?"

"fuckin'…." simon is still cumming in thick spurts, hands keeping your hips steady, his head reclining onto the back of the couch. his skin is flushed red and you can't help but lean forward and press a kiss to his adams apple, his hips jolting beneath you again. "…yeah." he confirms, it's such a breathless, needy sound that you coo and lave softly at the bruises forming on his skin. "can you do it again?"

[snowfallrecs]

Patrick Bateman NSFW Alphabet Headcanons

(A/N: Hey all! In between my work, I cooked this up to help me decompress, so I hope you all enjoy these smutty and kinky headcanons for everyone's favorite axe-wielding yuppie! ❤️😁🪓)

(Warnings: BDSM themes, Dominance and Submission, just general kink content mixed with fluff)

(I also tried to make this as gender neutral as I could, but please keep in mind I am a woman, and it can be hard not to discuss/include specifically female oriented things :P)

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex): 

Patrick is hit or miss when it comes to aftercare, it is entirely based on who you are. If he doesn't see you of much value, don't expect much at all, other than just some money and (if you're lucky) a swat on the ass as he leads you out the door. But if you find yourself in a position where he actually does like you/love you/value you, consider yourself very lucky. His aftercare with you will consist of taking you with him to the bath or shower and scrubbing you both off, maybe even another round in there if he's horny enough. If you're both not up for a shower or bath, you can expect him to dominantly be cuddling with you, nipping at your neck and kissing it, maybe watching TV together, until you both fall asleep. 

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s): 

Besides his muscles he loves to flex, Patrick’s favorite body part of his would have to be his dick. He is extremely proud of that thing. His favorite on his partner's would have to be the classic goodies: Tits, ass, and pussy. He often can't decide which is his favorite. If he had to pick one, it would be pussy because he can fuck almost any woman, no matter how small or big her tits are, no matter how flat or round her ass is. If she's pretty enough and he'll feel good enough, that's all that matters. If you're his true love, well… he'd choose your pussy because no matter what, he owns that thing once you're with him. 

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person): 

Patrick cums a lot, and he will cum anywhere. In you, on you, on your face, in between your tits, in your mouth…He loves seeing you full of his cum. He wants you to worship his sweet nectar… 

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs): 

The few times Patrick is submissive, it's when he's not only with someone he trusts enough, but it has to be extremely tender and loving. This secret will come to light with time and love. You have to be careful, though:  Teasing is one thing, but being too mean will earn you an extremely harsh punishment that will put you back in your place. 

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?): 

Patrick is full of experience. He lost his virginity probably at Phillips Exeter academy with a girl in his class that he liked. From then on, all throughout Harvard and into Manhattan, he completely lost count. If it's something sexual, chances are he's probably at least familiar with it if not already done it. He knows all of the weaknesses it takes to make a girl cry and melt under him. 

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual): 

Pat's favorite positions include doggy style, good old fashioned missionary, 69, prone bone, cowgirl, and anything that would involve the two of you being able to face a camera recording or the mirror to look at yourselves. 

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc): 

Patrick is not really a fan of being goofy during sex. If you try, he'll make a cocky comment out of your joke and brag. He is pretty serious and wants to see you be in a complete submissive headspace worshiping him. 

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.): 

Like most yuppie/preppy men, Patrick takes the time to trim/shave his body hair, including his pubes. At most, you will find small dark wisps of hair above his dick. 

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…): 

Intimacy is considered a privilege with Patrick. If you are worthy enough to him, meaning you're more than just a fake person who's destined to be dead by the end of the night, Patrick can slowly but surely become more intimate with you. It will take time and patience, but as he opens up more and more, you will notice him become more and more intimate. It starts off small, such as more frequent kisses and tighter hugs, but then it will become little brushes in your hair, little nips in your ear, gifts that were bought for you for just being more than a pretty object that will look good on you. In his darkest moments, he might even draw you in his private planner filled with all his dark drawings, depicting you as an angel contrasting against the darkness.  Eventually he will work up to a point where he will be very intimate with you. Smothering you with kisses and tight, warm muscles-filled hugs and nuzzling against you, nipping at your neck, claiming you as his, telling you how beautiful you are and how much he loves you and you only, etc. 

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon): 

Patrick doesn't masterbate as often as you might think. Yeah, he watches porn (especially gore and/or lesbian porn) and jacks off to it, but buy and large, if Patrick's horny, he'll find a real person to fuck. He can pay for it easily and finds chronic masterbaters “loser virgins who can't get laid.” 

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks): 

God, what kinks doesn't this man have? Definitely domination, bondage, knife play, choking, and biting to name the tamest. He's also open to daddy kink, somno (as in he fucks you while you're sleeping, rarely ever the other way around), piss (this is technically canon in the book since he saves girls’ panties who peed themselves in fear while he's torturing them “for later”), lactation, pregnancy/breeding kink (mostly after he's married to you and when he finally gets baby fever), public sex, voyerism, lesbians, blood…Sheesh, there's probably some I'm forgetting. This man is one horny and freaky bastard! 

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do): 

His apartment is an obvious one, but he also enjoys his summer home in the Hamptons, a fancy hotel room, and possibly even his office if he can get away with it. 

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going): 

When you tease him with your body or comments (bouncing boobs, making suggestive comments, etc.), watching or looking at porn, doing coke, and fantasizing about murder. 

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs): 

When you're mean and disrespectful to him in any way, shape, or form, especially in those rare moments of submissiveness. Seriously. If you want a way to piss Patrick off and have him put you in your place, be an asshole/bitch to him or try to hurt him. See what will happen. It won't end well for you. He also can't stand shit anything. While he might be open to being anally fingered, getting pegged is a whole other story that he’s not very open to. While he can tolerate it, he's not big on using condoms and much prefers to go either raw or do his “half an inch from the ejaculate” trick he did with Courtney. 

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc): 

He's fine with giving or receiving. He loves his dick being sucked by you, he'll give you tips and tricks and show you how it should be done based on experience with previous girls. He's very talented at giving. He's eaten so much pussy, he knows all of the good spots and knows how it's done. 

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.): 

Patrick tries to be slow and sensual…for the first few minutes or so. Then it becomes fast and rough. He can try in between to be slower, but he's just too impatient. The sensuality and passion is never gone though. 

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.): 

He doesn't mind a quickie to help him deal with stress. One before work, after work, or even during work would be pretty nice to him, especially if he has a hard on that won't go away. 

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.): 

Patrick can be pretty risky. He gets a thrill from risking being caught or putting you in a situation where your boundaries can be pushed at least somewhat. He's down to experiment with you so long as it's not one of his turnoffs. 

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…): 

Patrick can damn near last an entire night. He can go several rounds with only short breaks in between. His record is seven rounds in one night, and the longest he’s lasted is three hours. What can I say? This man is a horny beast. 

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?): 

He owns a few toys he saves for the prostitutes and escorts, but that doesn’t mean you can’t use them. He owns a dildo or two he likes you to use while you moan his name and think about him. He also has a vibrator or two he saves for when he wants you to pleasure yourself while thinking of him (using it on the go is entirely your choice). He doesn’t really use any sex toys himself; as mentioned before, if he’s going to do something, he’s going for the real thing. If you also count handcuffs and rope as toys, Patrick has you covered there. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease): 

Patrick likes to tease you a lot. He will still reward you for good behavior, but he gets off on watching you cry and beg for him to grant you some form of release. He also likes teasing you about how desperate you are for him (ex, “Awww, look how desperate you are for me, baby…so horny for me and my big cock? Do you need me to fill your womb with my seed? Are you so needy for me? Who’s a good girl who worships me? You are!”). 

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make): 

He mostly makes grunts groans with an occasional moan. He’s shockingly quiet and soft. Other than that, it’s a whole lot of wet slapping sounds and spanking. 

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice): 

One of his absolute favorite fantasies is chasing you down like a serial killer/kidnapper and playing hide-and-seek with you, toying with you, making you think he doesn’t know where you are when he knows damn well where you are. When he finally catches you, he holds you down and does whatever he wants with you before taking you back home like you’re his little spoil or prize. Honestly, the fun with him might not stop even there… 

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words): 

He’s pretty girthy and long; he’s not only thick, but he’s a little over six inches when erect. Be careful. 

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?): 

His sex drive is pretty high. When this man doesn’t have money or murder on his brain, he’s got a whole lot of sex. 

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards): 

He doesn’t fall asleep first because he wants to watch you fall asleep, but after you’re out and he’s done staring at you, watching you succumb to your body’s exhaustion, he’ll let his own take over and he’ll join you in pure bliss… 

[snowfallrecs]

𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒃𝒐𝒏𝒚 𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒓 .𖥔 ݁ ˖

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His pretty little wife.

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

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

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

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

If Batman wasn’t there to save you.

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

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

I don’t care. I love you.

He loved you too, he really very did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s my girl.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was no playfulness about it now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So gorgeous…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He wouldn’t have a problem with that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[snowfallrecs]

—SHOULDVE PAID THAT WOMAN MORE MIND

BATTINSON!BRUCE WAYNE + WIFE!READER

18+, sizekink, reader is very feminine, cheating, filming (with the eyelens), reader has a shitty husband, Finger sucking, fingering, choking, use of "good girl, special girl, princess" and "daddy", dom/sub dynamics, Bruce sends readers husband the video, vaginal sex, hint of size kink and cockwarming, reader's skin color is not mentioned, all characters are over 18

What is a man supposed to do when their bestfriends' husband is not treating them right? Well treat them right themselves!

I GENUINELY believe that this is one of my best works. And it's pretty fucking long too

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ໑

"Why didn't you ask me to come with you?!"

Your voice echoed throughout the cave as Bruce arrived on his motorbike. He swiftly took his helmet off and hung it on the handle of his bike by the strap, then swung his leg over the other side to get off and proceed to walk towards the illuminated computers. Where you were also standing in the blue and white light, on the phone with someone.

Probably arguing with your husband again..

you were originally a forensic for the GCPD but since you got to know the batman and then he revealed to you that he was billionaire bruce Wayne two years after, he offered you to help him with his work when he was away, you two sometimes even worked together on certain cases. Bruce Wayne definitely paid better than the police department..

You shook your head and rolled your eyes as you leaned against the metal desk, Bruce quietly positioned himself next to you and waited for you to finish the call.

"You know what?! Go fuck yourself, CUNT!" You yelled the insult particuarly loud and angry before you aggressively hung up and groaned, slamming your phone on the desk.

Bruce looked at you rubbing your temples and groaning in annoyance, waiting a bit before he spoke up "Him again?" Bruce asked quietly as you ran your hands through your hair in a frustrated manner. Bruce knew you since forever, and he obviously trusted you with all his heart for letting you know what he does after hours. So he also knew your husband, he was a cop that he was..acquainted with. Meaning he broke his nose in a club once. You were mad at him for that for a while but forgave bruce after you found out that he was in the iceberg lounge.

This was not coming from a place of jealousy or anything but he couldn't get how a man like him got a woman like you.

You two were like night and day, and not in the cute "you wear black and I wear pink" type of way. You both were just very different from each other, you were a sweet, caring, helpful, and obviously a beautiful women. He, on the other hand, was a dirty, corrupted and with all respect, unattractive cop. At least for you.

But then again..no man could compare to your beauty.

"Yeah.." you sighed and gave Bruce a soft smile that quickly faded away, just for you to look down at your heels again. Bruce sat down on his chair looking up at you "is it okay if I ask what happened? Or would you rather not talk about it?"

You shook your head softly "no, it's okay. I need to complain to someone about it anyway." You turned to him and leaned on your hand that was placed on the desk.

"So.." you started and smacked your glossy lips "there was a little gala tonight and he didn't even bother to ask me to come with him beforehand—fuck, i even just found out about the gala!"

Bruce already furrowed his eyebrows at your sentence so you reacted with "no, no! the best part is just about to come, He brought his female coworker instead of me! HIS WIFE!"

You said with a bitter grin, you found this funny as well as heartbreaking. But Bruce was just mad and confused as to how and why he wouldn't want to show off a woman like you..if bruce had you, he would attend galas and meetings just to show people how hot you are, sit you down on his lap and how you belong to him and only him..maybe bruce was a little jealous

"No way." He chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. "Yes way!" You laughed "unbelievable, right?!" Bruce nodded in agreement and pressed his back into the seat of his chair with a sigh. He actually couldn't Believe that your husband could do such a thing, there is no way that there is a woman as sweet and beautiful as you..he just couldn't wrap his head around it

"I just.." you sighed and sat back on the table, your actual sadness was evident in your sigh and suddenly change in tone, catching Bruce's full attention once again "I don't feel like I'm good enough lately.."

Your worries made Bruce straighten his back and look at you again with a worry adoring his features.

"He doesn't look at me like he used to you know? I've got so many cute outfits to show off, and I try to go out on dates with him but..he just isn't interested in me.." you swallowed a sad whine before looking at Bruce with little tears forming on your lashline.

"Am I not good enough?"

Your question made his heart sink, you are usually so confident and lively, how could a man like that make you feel so little?

Bruce shook his head and placed his hands on the sides of your face to make you look up "no, no, no..don't.." he took a deep breath "please don't let him make you feel this way.." your pretty doe eyes blinked the tears away "the way he acts isn't your fault, you're.." he stopped and looked down, not being sure if he should say this but your sad look made him immediately decide that he should.

"you're one of the most beautiful women I've ever met, if not the most. I would do anything to keep you happy if you were mine, I would take out on dates, take you to galas I would take you to Trips in Paris..fuck I would do so much for you" Bruce already felt regret bubbling up inside him for saying that, he shouldn't say stuff like that to a married woman..but he also felt so vulnerable for opening up to you. Sure he knew you now for four years but it's still beyond him to open up to others.

As Bruce let go of your face, his lips parted to apologize but you didn't let him. You took a step forward to give him a small kiss. Bruce's heart was pounding against his ribcage the second your face got closer to his, he didn't pull away or fight it. He loved it, but he knew he shouldn't.

You two looked at eachother for a few seconds before you pressed yourself against his chest

"I— we shouldn't.." he said, slightly above a whisper as his gaze flickered between your eyes and lips, it's been a long, long time since he got to feel a woman's touch..so feeling not just any woman's, but your touch was almost ethereal to him.

You stood on your tippy toes to reach back up to him "I don't care anymore..you're right"

You sighed against his lips, looking into his pretty blue-green eyes surrounded by the smudged black eyeliner, it was like a metaphor for his whole melancholic being.

"I shouldn't let him make me feel this way.." Bruce nodded at your statement "you deserve better..I never wanted to say it but..you always deserved better" his hands hesitantly took ahold of your hips, he touched you like a delicate flower, only because he wasn't sure if you really wanted this.

You were so warm and smelled like cotton candy, such a contrast to him..he was cold and wet due to the rain, and he smelled like a wet dog at the moment.

"You deserve better.." he said again before softly pressing his lips against yours, he could almost moan at how sweet you taste once he hot enough time to enjoy the Feeling of your heavenly lips. This was all he ever wanted, you could be so much happier with him and he knows it.

"You're so gentle.." you mumbled, sliding your hand around the back of his neck to play with his hair. Bruce shivered at your warm and soft touches as a small whimper crawled up his throat. "I want you to own me, bruce" your soft lips connected with his neck and slowly went up his jaw

Bruce couldn't keep his low noises inside anymore, feeling your painfully soft kisses on his skin..Bruce was so touch starved that this felt like he was entering the gates of paradise. "What.." he started but got cut off my his heavy breathing "what do you mean..by 'owning you'?" Bruce knew what you meant but he wanted you to fully say it before he did anything else than softly touch you.

You didn't say anything and just grabbed his hand to place it on your tits, Bruce's eyes almost rolled back once his fingers made contact with your soft and squishy flesh. "Fuck..you can't just do that.."

You grinned and traced the veins on the hand that was grabbing your tit "or what?"

You're asking for your ass to be red after this encounter.

"Or what?" He repeated your question with a slight chuckle, his voice was deeper and his eyes were darker as he got closer to you again, slowly massaging your soft flesh "Mhm.." you moaned and looked up at him.

But even though you already looked at him, his other hand went up to grab your hair and pull it back so he could pull you closer to him and lift your head up. You looked into his eyes and you could only see a fog of lust and darkness in them, your thighs rubbed together at the sudden dominant aura around him

"tell me what you want" you were about to answer but he yanked your hair again "and be clear about it."

You swallowed hard and nodded "I want to be yours..I want you to make me yours" you took a deep breath as Bruce got closer to your pretty face again "I want you to fuck me and show me how a real man should treat his lover.."

Just as you thought Bruce was about to kiss you again— he pushed you foward, onto the Table, pulling your dress over the curve of your ass. letting some papers slide onto the floor in the process. "You want me to fuck you?" He huffed as his hand slid back into your hair and pulled your head up "y-yes" you stuttered.

The Cold metal on your ass and pussy was such a contrast to your hot Body temperature. It was a little uncomfortable but it was easy to look over when the hottest man you knew was finally getting his hands on you.

Bruce got closer to your pretty lips and chuckled when your mouth opened, desperate for another kiss.

"Good girl.." his hot breath ghosted over your wet lips. Bruce suddenly chuckled as he ran his thumb over your lips "what if I would send this to him?"

You got confused for a second but then understood what he meant, he was still wearing the contact lens with the camera. "He would finally regret the way he's treated you..he would see how well I treat you" he sighed once your lips wrapped around his thumb "would you like that?" He asked softly while his other Hand Massage the Back of your head.

You nodded with him thumb still on your tongue "mhm.."

Bruce had the slightest smile on his lips before he spoke up again "then Show him how well you can suck on my fingers.."

You mumbled a highpitched 'mhm' again and sucked his fingers like you were sucking his cock. Bobbing your head up and down, sliding your tongue on the underside of his fingers..

Bruce groaned and watched your plush lips intently before looking back into your Eyes that were cutely and innocently looking up at him like you weren't sucking his fingers right now.

"Good, good girl.." he Pulled his fingers out of your throat making you let out an adorable choking Sound before taking a deep breath. Bruce looked at you like hes never seen anything more Beautiful, there were little tears Rolling down your face due to the 'throat fucking'

"What do you want now baby?.." he asked pressing himself against your thighs, making you feel how hard he was

"I want—" you gasped for air, trying to gather your thoughts "f-finger me..please, daddy.." Bruce quietly sighed at the nickname and your suggestion before Bruce could say or do anything else you kissed him, open mouthed and wilder than before..way more needy than before. Hot tongues sliding, teeth clashing and scraping across his and your lower lips. Bruce pulled away from the kiss to catch his breath a bit

"my pretty little princess.." he kissed you on the forehead and let his lips linger there as his fingers traced down your inner thighs to your clothes cunt. "Hmm.." you hummed, grabbing onto his dirty and still wet jacket "take it off.." you mumbled and noticed your breath hitching once Bruce's fingers traced the lace of your panties and the little bow on it.

Bruce kissed your cheek softly again before taking his jacket and shirt off. You bit your bottom lip as you saw his breathtakingly hot and well built body.

Bruce smiled a little as he saw your stares and little squirms "lay back a bit, baby" you nodded and did as he said. You leaned back on your elbows before slowly spreading your legs as your eyes never left Bruce's face. He shamelessly stared down your body "take them off" he said in a raspy tone, staring at your clothed cunt.

Bruce couldn't remember the last time he was this horny, the answer is probably never. He was achingly hard, he felt so uncomfortable due to the amount of precum in his boxers but he fuckin loved to watch you slowly take your panties off and just placing them on the table.

You looked into his now dark eyes as you agonizingly slowly spread your legs again, to finally expose your sopping wet cunt, pressed onto his now wet table

You saw Bruce's cock twitch as a guttural moan left his throat "fuck.."

You tilted your head cutely and slid your fingers down your pussy to spread your pussy lips for him "p-please..bruce.." you whined.

Bruce cursed one last time and walked back over to you "you're driving me fucking insane.." Bruce's rough hand slipped down to your cunt and began to play with your swollen clit immediately. Bruce wanted to ask you out the second he saw you, even though his morals spoke against having a lover since it could become complicated or even tragic. But then he found out that you are married, so he knew he could only admire you from afar, technically speaking, he was admiring you whenever you would stay at the tower at late hours just to help him because you wanted him to get more sleep..he usually doesn't listen to people telling him to go to sleep ect, but you, you worked late just for him..he didn't want you to lose sleep because of him. But he couldn't deny the way his heart fluttered knowing that you cared so much for him.

"H-aahh..f-fuck!" You moaned and grabbed onto his bicep before moaning into his strong shoulder "want my fingers inside of you?" Suddenly his touches became feather light. As you started to grind your hips onto his hand so desperately but he kept pulling his hand away from you, you nodded and felt tears well up again as the way you clenched your thighs started to hurt "yes! P-please..fuck.."

He grabbed your jaw and made your messy face look up at him again "what's my name again?" He asked deeply, not like Bruce but more like vengeance..

"Daddy.."

You answered, almost hushed and breathless.

Bruce didn't say anything before growling deeply and pushing his lips onto yours in another heated and open mouthed wet kiss as his fingers forced themselves into your wet pussy, his fingers were able to slide is so easily, so fucking easily..it was another reason for Bruce to moan and almost lose the little bit of composure that he had left.

"Tell him how you feel.." he demanded with a little nod for you to go ahead and say it, you let out a string of strangled moans as his fingers literally fucked you, letting wet skin smacking noises errupt from in between your legs reaching every corner of the wet and dark cave.

"So—" you cut yourself off with a loud and borderline pornographic moan coming from deep within your chest as Bruce curled his fingers, hitting the perfect fucking spot "so fucking good—g-god!" You cried out

Bruce could barely take the pretty faces and noises you made, but he loved knowing he was making you feel good, and he wanted your fucking soon-to-be ex husband to know that too..

"Was he able to make you feel like that?" Bruce breathed out as he began to rub fast and hard circles on your clit with his thumb. Your body twitched and your hips bucked as you tried to speak up "n-never! Daddy- you make feel.." you took a deep, shaky breath "so fucking good!"

"Good girl.." your tight and warm walls suddenly clenched down hard on and pulse around his fingers..

Fuck.

You were cumming..he was about to make you cum..

Your hips kept grinding against his hand as your nails were digging themselves into Bruce's injured shoulder, but he couldn't even feel the pain, he was too fucking focused on you, Like he always was..it was like everything else was gone, only you existed in his mind right now. All of his worries were gone..

"Fuckk!! Daddy—I-i'm- fuck!" Bruce lovingly kissed your forehead while his fingers kept wrecking your pussy and flooding the desk with your pussy juice. "I know, baby..let go for me.." another kiss placed on your forehead "cum for me, my special girl"

His voice was so soothing and soft, but that nickname hit you like a fucking train..it made you feel so fucking good that your orgasm hit you just as hard. Your pussy gripped his fingers so tight that Bruce let out a deep, erotic growl that helped you clench down even harder on his digits..if that was even possible..

You slowly came down from your high with a soft sigh. Bruce wanted to hug and comfort you but he wasn't quite sure if he should. But you did it for him, you softly wrapped your shaking arms around his strong torso "..are you okay?"

He softly asked as his hands caressed your shoulders and back, Bruce's heart hurt from how adorably you were cuddling up to him, limbs so heavy and breathing so soft..

You suddenly pulled away, which made Bruce think he did something wrong until you sat back onto the desk making him look deep into your eyes, also noticing your cheeks flushed and bottom lip swollen from all the biting.

Both of you held your gazes as you grabbed the straps of your dress to slide them over your shoulders and teasingly slow to reveal your beautiful tits to Bruce. Once you were done your dress pooled at your waist, looking just like an angel being ready for the dark to corrupt her.

"I want you, bruce.." you mumbled, taking his way bigger hand compared to yours. "You might think I'm a dirty woman now but.." you took a small breath

"I wanted you for the longest time now.."

Bruce's eyes widened at your sweet confession and he shook his head "no, I.." he swallowed "i wanted you too.."

You smiled and chuckled, bruce could never get enough of the way your smile reached your eyes..it was the sweetest thing.

"I knew that, silly bat"

You didn't even give Bruce the opportunity to answer before you spread your legs again and ran your hand softly over his back while the other ran down his abdomen to his work pants and the thick belt, swiftly opening it hearing the clinking of the belt buckle in the process.

"You didn't think we were done, right?" You smiled and kissed his chest softly before you laid back down on your elbows, sliding the keyboard to the side beforehand.

"You still want me to.." "fuck me, yes..I do" you finished his sentence. Bruce's hand caressed your cheek "should we go up and have sex in my bedroom? I have condoms there.." you shook your head as you reached up to kiss him again

"I want you to fuck me raw and cum inside of me, daddy.."

"Yes.."

You mumbled against his lips, bruce shivered underneath your touch and took a deep shaky breath

"is it okay if I'm rough with you?" He asked, already sliding his hand over your tits and hard nipples towards your neck, but he waited for your answer before he went any further.

That little agreement was enough for him to roughly grab your throat, leading to the veins in his hand to become very visible. His grip was soft enough to let you properly breathe, but hard enough for your pussy to clench around nothing.

Bruce kissed you softly, as if he was greeting you after coming home from work and pulled back again "stick your tongue out, princess" he rasped. God he was hot..

"Gonna treat you right, baby.." his lips pressed onto your soft cheek "just the way a special girl like you deserves.." you whimpered and nodded

"who's my special girl, baby?" He asked, squeezing your throat softly, and running his thumb over your pulse "me.." you answered with your pretty puppy eyes looking up at him, both of your eyes' surrounded by smudged makeup now. But you looked so much prettier like that, so fuckin beautiful..

"say it. who's my special girl?" He asked again, now so close that you could feel his warm breath over your face. You gulped, which was hard due to the grip he had on your neck.

"I'm your special girl" you grinned, completely fucked out and cute..you actually felt so special and appreciated for once. You were so happy that Bruce was filming all of this to show your husband, he should know what he's done to you, and what he's missing out on.

You opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out, still looking straight into his pretty eyes. "Good girl.." he groaned before spitting onto your waiting tongue, once then twice.

Bruce started kissing you again, tongues gliding against each other, pushing more spit into your mouth in the process. He pulled away again, but was still so close that a string of spit was still connecting the two of you

"Swallow.." it was a clear order that you gladly followed..bruce loosened his hand and watched your throat bob slightly as you swallowed. He kissed you again, this time sweet and slow "good girl." He praised before picking you up and sitting you down on his desk chair, sitting between your legs as he pulled his pants down, letting his cock finally jump out with an almost inaudible groan. Red and leaky tip, he was fucking huge.

Bruce smiled a little at your soft gasp "you like what you see I'm guessing.." bruce ran his thumb over your bottom lip "am I bigger than him?" He boldly asked and you started sucking on his thumb "yes.." you opened your mouth again to stick your tongue out and let him push his thumb further on your slick and soft muscle.

You looked back down at how close his cock was to your cunt, causing your thighs to twitch and quietly beg him to put it inside of you.

"Say what you need, baby and you'll get it..you'll get everything you want" bruce slid his thumb out of your mouth and caressed your cheek with the running mascara. "Fuck me..f-fucking cum inside me..please, daddy"

"D-do you think it'll fit?.." you asked before he pushed at your entrance, bruce chuckled and smiled down at you "we'll make it fit.."

Bruce grabbed your throat again and his rock hard cock with the other to run it through your glistening pussy lips "p-please..." you gasped once his tip hit your clit softly.

Bruce didn't want to torture you and himself anymore so he looked into your eyes to ask for a quiet 'can I?' For you to immediately nod. Bruce took a deep breath, preparing for the tight grip your pussy has that he already felt on his fingers.

He said in that sexy raspy tone again before slowly pushing his cock inside of you, inch by inch..your mouth hung open but no sounds came out at first before a loud moan crawled out of your throat. Bruce had to fucking hold back his moans just to keep on listening to yours. The only sounds that he let out were low groans and grunts making your pussy clench and throb around his length.

"You're so tight, angel...fuck" Bruce still couldn't believe that he was this close to you, after four years of crushing on—no, having actual feelings for you was unfathomable to him..

Your pussy clenched around him as you whined and rocked your hips back and forth forcing a hitched moan out of bruce "fuck me..please..I need you, bruce" hearing you call him daddy was one thing, actually you saying his name in such a loving and adoring tone made his heart melt, he was putty in your hands. He was so vulnerable with you

Bruce didn't say anything because..well he was bad with words, so he just softly kissed he as he began to rock his hips back and forth, trying to find a rhythm that you both liked, the second he heard your breath hitch in your moans as he hit that one spongey spot inside your cunt so he just kept this rythm up

Bruce was slowly going harder and faster as he straightened his back again to look at your pretty figure, desperately holding onto the leather of the chair for dear life and his cock jackhammered your gspot. One of your hands reached down to Bruce's hand grabbing your hips just to guide that hand to your throat "f-fuck me like this, daddy.." you cried out and grinded against his thrusts. He groaned again and gripped your throat tighter, fucking into you even harder, dragging his cock along your tight and sensitive walls, making your toes curl and letting you see stars

"Fuck, my pretty fuckin' girl..so pretty" your hand grabbed at his wrist as you smiled and clenched more around him.

Bruce was so fucking close to cumming inside of you, he could feel your fast pulse on his palm as he choked you and your constant throbbing, knowing you were close too. He slipped his thumb down to circle your clit again, and looking into your dreamy eyes. "Cum on my cock, princess.." you moaned out a loud cry "I'm close.." he groaned and you nodded, drool running from your mouth, not even thinking or caring about anything else than bruce and his hard thrusts. "I'm cumming, daddy!! Fuck! I-I'm cumming!" You almost sounded scared at the orgasm that was about to crash over you.

Bruce kissed your temple to then press his forehead against yours as you kept moaning and clenching "fuck—me too..let's.. " he took a breath that came back out as a moan "let's cum together.."

You couldn't even nod because you were already cumming all over the seat right as he finished his sentance, leading to bruce huffing out a deep "oh fuck.." that he made you cum that fucking hard was enough to push him over the edge, feel a burning hot feeling in the pit of his stomach and cum deep inside of your cunt.

"That was..so fucking good.." bruce huffed and cuddled his head between your shoulder and neck, to place a soft kiss onto your delicate skin, you ran your hand into his soft hair and wrapped your legs around Bruce's waist. Keeping him as close as possible..

You two were breathing into eachothers mouths as Bruce was slowly rocking into you again until a hand to his hip stopped him once you noticed how gone he himself was..

it made a little bit of pride bloom in your chest knowing that you reduced vengeance, the batman to a mindless, rutting mess. But you were the same right now..

Bruce felt so relaxed for once..he almost forgot what that felt like. Bruce looked up at you and couldn't help but kiss you again

"I love you.." he confessed and you almost thought you were so cockdrunk that you were hallucinating but he actually said that he loved you..

Bruce Wayne Confessed his feelings to you.

You grabbed his face as soft as you could to kiss him again "I love you too.."

Bruce smiled and shyly hid his face back into your shoulder. You pat his back and he looked back into your eyes "we should go take a bath.." bruce got off you and slowly pulled his softening cock out of you with a little moan "yeah..you go up first..I'll follow, I gotta do something real quick"

You cocked your head to the side and frowned bruce chuckled softly "it has nothing to do with work.." he smiled again at you. You could never get tired of his rare smiles..they always force your face to smile

"Okay..I'll be waiting, brucey" you purred and pulled your dress back down as well as pulling your straps back up before walking into the elevator.

Bruce watched you leave and then took the eyelens out to place it back onto it's holder.

If you thought he was joking about sending this to your husband, Bruce Wayne wasn't quite the humorous type.

He pulled up your husband's number and sent it without hesitation, why should he hesitate anyway? He never liked him. He hated the way he treated you like a second option..you deserve better and you'll get better.

Tagging : @notbimbobanza @spaceace5834 <33

[snowfallrecs]

Under Wraps

Bruce Wayne x Wife!reader

IN WHICH Bruce and you deal with the aftermath of your kidnapping.

WC: 1.8k

warnings: ANGST, mentions of kidnapping, injuries, PTSD, soft!Bruce.

A/N: Ive l’ost all motivation in writing as of recently and had to FORCE myself to write this for a whole ass month😭 so it’s really nothing great.

The tense silence that lingered between you two was suffocating, albeit all windows in the room being wide open. You just couldn’t get yourself to speak, and Bruce just didn’t know what to say. He never does, but you love him either way. it’s funny to see the cocky billionaire flaunt all of his riches out to the world while he softens for you.

You sat upon the edge of your shared bed with your head in your hands, unable to make out whatever you husband was fumbling with behind you. The feeling of being in the opposite man’s grasp was so fresh to you, like a new scar that your brain harboured. Not only mentally, but the haunting mark across your wrists and neck were yet another temporary reminder of what had happened to you that night.

Oftentimes throughout the night you found yourself being ashamed for a reason or the other. Your husband’s been through worse, so have your sons, and yet your brain couldn’t help but replay the disturbing images of the moment you’d lost Bruce at the gala. You sighed in the comfort of your hands, forcing your eyelids shut impossibly further than they already were to try and shoo the nightmares away. 

Your clothes laid messily somewhere across the floor, a bloody and muddy mess that Bruce had quickly drawn off of you before ushering you into a warm shower. He’d then dressed you in a silky robe, and that was the end of it before you’d end up on the edge of the bed, alone with your thoughts despite your husband being in the same room as you.

Your ears fell deaf to the sound of constant rustling of cloth, so much that you failed to hear him crouch before you as he settled comfortably on his knees. 

Rough hands gently pried at your own, pulling them away from their protective stance around your face. The sudden lack of covering made you scrunch your nose in dismay, but a quick look from those hazel eyes before you had you relaxing. Bruce made a quick work out of the situation, silent as ever as his hands came to undo the knot around your robe that he himself had previously tied. 

You didn’t complain as his hands pushed at your robe, revealing the naked torso that Bruce had seen so many times before. The soft sigh that escaped your husband didn’t go deaf to your ears, and you closed your eyes once more as you awaited for the tingly feeling of his fingers. Seconds passed in sterile silence before you finally felt the scarred skin upon your own, except instead of balm covered fingers, you were met with his warm, bare ones. 

You opened your eyes to the sight of your dishevelled husband staring down at your bruised torso, the balms and bandages that were once in his left hand now abandoned beside you on the bed. His right hand held onto your side like an anchor, wide thumb pressing against your stomach. Bruce kneeling between your open legs was a sight that you’d never get tired of, but this time you could only pray for it to end. 

Hazel iris traced the dark spots littering your torso with a shame that was beyond their ability. Tiny hairs across his hairline stuck to his forehead due to cold sweat, and you brought a hand down to smooth them behind, little to no care for the tacky fluid rubbing onto your hand. Slowly by slowly, you began caressing your way down his face, smoothing out the wrinkles accumulating on his face before stopping on the edge of his jaw. 

The feeling of your fingers, alive and warm upon his freshly shaven jaw caused his fingers to involuntary clench on your side. The painful hiss that escaped your mouth was enough to snap your husband out of his stance, fingers almost immediately unclenching from their grip. 

Masochistic as it was, you were somewhat glad for the pain. It reminded you that you were alive and well, there in the mansion with your husband. It also managed to get those brown eyes that you loved so much to snap upwards towards you. They held so many feelings in there that you believed you could not be able to tend to them all in one night.

“I’m sorry,” it left his lips faster than your brain could comprehend, and you were left dumbfounded yourself at those two little words. Meaningless in most relationships, those words were nothing that you’d ever hear coming on of the one and only Bruce Wayne’s lips. He was cocky, always flaunting his riches to those who seeked. 

“It’s okay, it only hurt for a second.” you lied, because the throbbing pain still coursing through your right side threatened to sell you out. You could tell that Bruce wasn’t buying it, so much for being Gotham’s greatest detective. Nevertheless, your hand resumed its delicate caressing upon his cheek, a ruse to take his mind away from the little slip up. 

You could practically see the gears turning inside his head, trying to decipher why in hell you would be lying to him about this out of everything. Yet again he’d worried far too much over you in one night, you wouldn’t let his mind collapse over something so minor. 

Bruce didn’t wait for your approval before shifting on his knees, hands grabbing at the balms that looked humorously tiny compared to his large palm. The cold paste spreads smoothly upon the tip of his fingers, and soon they’re on your skin. The sensation made you flinch, but the reassuring hand that laid on your knee made you calm down. You thought it was crazy how such a simple thing could make you relax so easily, yet again marriage and love were another crazy thing of their own.

Your fingers clenched on their own as you felt

your throat tightening. No. Hell no, you wouldn’t let Bruce see you cry after the hectic course of fucking hell of days that you’d put him through. That selfless side of you that was present most of the time was yelling at you to stay strong, and yet the sight of your burly, rough and yet caring husband doting after you following your accident, you couldn’t hold it in anymore. 

You fingers clenched into a fist, nails digging little crescent moon into the skin of your palm as

you gritted your teeth together to hold in a loud sob threatening to escape past your lips involuntarily. From his spot on the floor, Bruce froze at the sight of the soft, rhythmic movements that swayed at your chest. From the corner of his eyes nevertheless, and in the dimness of the enclosed room, his senses never failed him.

Tilting his face up to meet your own, his fingers unwillingly clenched around the poor tin can of balm upon his hands. The tears that you were trying so hard to keep in pooled at your waterline, entangling in your bottom lashes before escaping on their own accord. He watched as your chest shook, exasperation taking over your body before you could even cry to him. Yet you weren’t doing it, and for some reason Bruce knew that he had some part to play in it. 

He remained silent as his hand came to clutch onto your own. Then, the sobs shook you and you just couldn’t hold it in anymore. You jumped from your seat on the edge of the bed and straight into his awaiting embrace, arms thrown tightly around the broad neck. Bruce felt his heart squeezing at the sound of your distraught cries, like the Joker himself had his heart placed and chained on some sort of death carousel. 

Nothing was more painful to Bruce than family. The bad and the good hurt. Like when happiness would grasp at his heart so hard that it’d physically hurt. Only family could achieve that for him, yet life wasn’t always favourable, and the bat knew that better than anyone else. He could make a list of things, one shittier and more tragic than the other, that’s happened to Bruce ever since he was but a little boy, and yet, his heart never got more of in a twist than at the sight of a member of his family hurting. 

Your breath staggered, and your husband felt the warm exhale of you trying to stabilise yourself upon his neck. A large, ringless, and warm palm found its way to the small of your back like a collarless dog chasing home. Suddenly, another bare hand fell upon your back as Bruce embraced you against his chest fully. 

The room was void of any noise save for the agonising sounds of your pained sobs. Bruce didn’t need to ask anything, he didn’t need to inquire to know that you were hurt. All the more scared and traumatised after your encounter with the Joker. His large palm rubbed comforting circles along your back as you laid motionless in his warm embrace. 

“You’re home now,” he muttered, as though it would help appease all of the new scars and fears that you'd acquired in the span of a few days. 

“I’m glad.” you breathed out from your position in the crook of his neck, feeling like you’d break down again if you spoke too much. The both of you occupied your positions on the floor for far longer than normal, only splitting apart to rejoin the comfort of the soft mattress after you’d whined in pain following a slight movement to adjust yourself on his lap. 

Bruce made a quick and effortless job of carrying you back to bed, pausing in his movements when you’d told him you’d feel better to sleep with the side lamp on tonight. The frown on his face deepened at your comment, yet he didn’t allow you to see it as he kept his back to you despite complying. Settling in bed was even harder for you than you expected, unable to wrap your arms around the muscular torso of your husband and rest your head upon his chest as your injury unabled you to. 

Sleep didn’t come easy either, plagued with nightmares that previously didn’t exist in the far back of your mind. Bruce was here with you through it all, his sleeping habits aiding him to wake by the moment you’d stir awake. That night, Batman slept but Bruce didn’t, but the feeling of your pulse regaining its normal beat as you laid with your back against his chest erased Bruce’s ability to care. Safe and sound under the wraps.

-

anyways that was that….

[snowfallrecs]

tired of waiting

pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reader

warnings: none

word count: 1,300

summary: Your nephew stays with you for the weekend. You and Bruce each have your own thoughts about having kids

masterlist

A/N: I haven't seen a lot of dad! bruce content so here we are. also i'm about to go crazy on a final in like an hour, wish me luck.

It was your brother’s 5th anniversary and he and his wife were going on a trip to celebrate. They were leaving their three-year-old son, Jack, with you and Bruce for the weekend. You could tell Bruce was nervous about having a child in the house. The Manor wasn’t exactly childproofed and if somehow Jack managed to get into the cave then there’d be too many problems to keep track of. Bruce didn’t want Jack getting hurt while he was staying at the Manor. As a result Bruce had been anxiously cleaning every room he could think of and locking the doors to most of them anyway. The problem was you thought he just didn’t like children and it was making your heart ache.

When your brother dropped off your nephew Bruce came to the door to see the two of them. They had met, but Bruce didn’t often see your family. He didn’t often see anyone but you. Nevertheless, Jack had remembered Bruce. Jack grinned when he saw Bruce.

“Uncle Bruce!” Jack called out as your brother handed off the bag of Jack’s things. Bruce adored the title. It reminded him that he was a part of your family, and that he had a family at all. You talked to your brother for a few minutes, getting some instructions about Jack. All the while Bruce was entertaining Jack.

Bruce sat on the ground and spread his legs so that Jack could stand between them and hang onto Bruce’s shoulders for balance. Bruce listened quietly as Jack babbled on about the television show that he liked at the moment, asking questions when appropriate despite the disinterest any adult would have in the conversation. Bruce liked talking to your nephew. He looked a bit like you. He had your eyes and nose, your brother’s in reality, but they were features your whole family shared. Bruce liked the idea of a child with your features. Your brother called out to Jack to get a hug goodbye. You hugged your brother as well before waving him off to go enjoy his weekend.

When you turned around Bruce was still seated on the floor. Jack was standing behind Bruce with his arms wrapped around Bruce’s neck in a three-year-old’s version of a chokehold. Bruce was making over exaggerated choking noises as Jack giggled behind him. Bruce dramatically collapsed to the side, playing dead. Jack fell over with Bruce, still hanging onto Bruce’s neck. Jack got up and straddled Bruce’s chest as Bruce lay with his eyes closed and tongue sticking out. Jack leaned down and squeezed Bruce’s cheeks together. Bruce chuckled and reached out, tickling Jack’s sides and causing him to break out in wild laughter. Bruce wrapped his arms around Jack as he leaned up and then stood, pulling Jack onto his feet.

You watched the whole thing play out as your heart filled with more and more warmth and then stinging pain as you wondered whether Bruce would ever want children of his own. Bruce looked over at you as he stood and he could see both the fondness and pain in your eyes, but he couldn’t imagine what was hurting you in this moment.

The two of you spent the day keeping Jack entertained: playing hide and seek, a board game, watching the television show that Jack was so enamored with. After dinner you were settled on the couch with Bruce. You had a movie on and Jack was lying on the floor in front of you playing with the train set Bruce had bought for Jack to have at the Manor. Bruce pulled you closer to him so he could wrap his arm around your back, pushing up the hem of your t-shirt just enough that he feel your skin beneath his fingertips. You leaned into him and rested your head against his shoulder, moving your hand to rest on his thigh.

“What’s been bothering you?” Bruce whispered into your ear. You tilted your head up at his words.

“What do you mean? Nothing’s bothering me,” you whispered back.

“Yes, there is. I can tell, sweetheart,” Bruce said. “It’s in your eyes,” he added. You sighed and nuzzled closer into Bruce.

“Promise that we won’t fight in front of Jack?” You asked, gearing up for what you feared would be a hard conversation. Bruce paused. Had he done something wrong? He searched his mind for what it might’ve been, but came up empty.

“Promise,” he said. You sighed, preparing yourself for the bad news you were sure was to come.

“I want us to have kids,” you said. You braced yourself for Bruce’s rejection of the idea. For him to tell you that he couldn’t. That Batman couldn’t be a father, and that came first.

“You mean now?” Bruce asked. You were surprised. You had expected immediate resistance. You leaned away from his shoulder so that you could meet his eyes, though you both continued to keep your voices low, not wanting Jack to hear.

“Do you…want kids at all?” You asked. Bruce furrowed his eyebrows.

“Yeah, of course,” he said. A smile appeared on your face. “Did you think I didn’t?” He asked, the confusion he’d been feeling washing away.

“You were freaking out about Jack being in the house so much,” you said. “I thought you didn’t want kids here.” Bruce smiled slightly in realization. Usually you were the anxious one in the relationship, but this time his anxiety was the source of the problem.

“I just don’t want him to get hurt, but we’ll have plenty of time to make everything safe by the time we have kids,” Bruce explained. You kissed Bruce chastely. “So, now?” Bruce asked when you pulled away. You chuckled.

“Is that what you want?” You asked.

“Kind of,” Bruce responded. “I had fun today,” he said. “It’s nice to see you with a kid.” You blushed.

“You can’t imagine how cute you’ve been with Jack today,” you said. Bruce let the tiny smile that he wore around you spread onto his lips.

“I might’ve been playing it up a little for your benefit,” he said. You rolled your eyes.

“Manipulating me with the cuteness of my nephew? That’s not playing fair,” you joked. Bruce smiled.

“I'm tired of waiting,” he said. “Had to get you on my side somehow.”

You tucked Jack into bed when the movie ended. Bruce read him one of the books your brother had given to you. You stayed in the room to take in the sight of your husband reading to a child. It was a sweet sight and it filled you with a warmth in your chest. Bruce closed the book as Jack fell asleep and stood from the chair by the side of the bed. He pulled the covers up over Jack’s shoulders and went to take your hand as you left the room. You closed the door behind you. You walked towards the foyer and stopped in front of the elevator to wish Bruce a goodbye as he left for the night, but he didn’t turn towards the elevator.

“I’m not leaving tonight,” Bruce told you. You scrunched up your eyebrows.

“You’re not?” You asked.

“I want to be here in case something happens to Jack,” Bruce said. A smile danced over the corners of your lips as you thought of how caring Bruce would be with his own children. You leaned up and placed your hand on the back of his neck, pulling him down to kiss you passionately. Your tongue slid into his mouth so you could taste the sweet flavor that was distinctly him. You pulled away after a moment.

“What was that for?” He asked with a smile. You looked into his eyes, trying to determine the right answer. You couldn’t pick one thing, so you didn’t.

“Everything.”

[snowfallrecs]

― 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚎𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚜 (nsfw)

⌯ pairing: bale!bruce wayne / afab!reader ⌯ warnings: smut, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, oral sex (f receiving), overstimulation, fingering, nipple play, friends to lovers, love confessions, mentions of fear toxin (dcu), no gender affirming language other than anatomy description ⌯ word count: 2.5k ⌯ summary: based on these prompts: “I dreamed of your legs wrapped around my waist.” and “How do you always end up under my blanket?” your best friend bruce wayne has been missing for a while. when he comes back, he has a confession to make. ⌯ author’s note: this took a little while to write because I wanted to write an actual fic for bale!bruce. I hope yall enjoy (:

divider credit: @arminsumi | @firefly-graphics | @cafekitsune ⌯ masterlist ⌯ taglist form

this fic has been cross posted to ao3.

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

You’re busying yourself by folding laundry, trying your best to get your mind off your best friend Bruce. While his job is very demanding, and he goes away for a while sometimes, he’s never been gone this long. You’re beginning to worry- so much so that you’ve lost sleep and the ability to eat properly. But you know Bruce, and you know he’s resilient. It’s just a matter of time. But, of course, he was presumed dead for years before now, and that will always haunt you. So it’s not entirely irrational of you to worry.

A knock at your apartment door startles you out of your sleepy stupor. You set down the towel you were folding before shuffling to the entrance. You peek through the peephole to see none other than Bruce standing there. You swing the door open, and Bruce immediately wraps his arms around you. You do the same to him, holding him tightly, fearing that this is some hallucination from lack of sleep. Your face is buried in Bruce’s chest, and his scent tells you that this is real and he’s really here with you. 

“Where were you?” you whisper, tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

It had been quite a few days of radio silence from Bruce. You know he’s Batman, and he keeps you updated on his safety status. But he, of course, doesn’t tell you details of the villains and crimes for your safety. You’re his childhood best friend, so you knew he was Batman before he even told you. The day he told you, you just laughed. “I know, Bruce.” But you were still very concerned about his well-being after trying to approach one of his enemies. 

“One of the guys I was after had a toxin,” Bruce pulls away from you, looking around to ensure no one would hear, “It got to me.”

You furrow your eyebrow, “Come in.”

Bruce enters your apartment, waiting for you to close and lock the door. He shoves his hands into his pockets, unsure of whether or not he should explain the situation at all. But he knows he owes you an explanation. 

“A toxin, huh?” you ask, crossing your arms as you lean against the door.

“Fear toxin.” Bruce clarifies, “It makes you hear and see the things you fear the most, but they aren’t really there.”

You shudder, “That sounds horrifying. And you said you experienced it? How long did it last?”

“I was out for a few days while Alfred worked with someone to make an antidote. I saw things. Things I didn’t want to.”

You pull away from the door and slowly walk to Bruce, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Bruce looks at you as you stand before him, “No, but I probably should anyway. Considering the things I was seeing.”

You pull the sides of Bruce’s jacket together, holding onto them as you search his eyes. They’re different, and you figure it’s from whatever he experienced from the fear toxin.

“What did you see, Bruce?”

Bruce grimaces with a nervous laugh, “Are you sure you want to know?”

You look at him and nod, still clutching his jacket. 

“I saw you,” Bruce sighs, shaking his head, “Something kept hurting you and killing you over and over. And there was nothing I could do to stop it.”

You stare up at Bruce with a frown etched on your face at the thought of your best friend feeling helpless. 

“That sounds awful,” you say.

“It just made me think about a lot and realize things I didn’t see before.”

Bruce turns his thoughts over carefully, choosing what exactly to say next. He had always loved you, sure. But Bruce never thought of it as a romantic thing. Not until the fear toxin made him see things and feel things he had never felt or seen before. He wants to protect and care for you so you never have to go through what he saw you go through. Even though it isn’t plausible that you would, Bruce still wants what is best for you because he does love you. A little more now than he did before. You, on the other hand, have always loved Bruce. You've been enthralled with his presence since you were kids playing in the Wayne Manor backyard. Everything he did amazed you, especially now with him helping the people of Gotham. His intelligence, softness, even the cockiness he sometimes lets seep through. Even before, when he was a slightly bratty rich guy, you loved him. Bruce's absence for days has made your feelings for him more intense. With love comes worry and concern.

“And what would that be?” you ask.

Bruce pulls your hands from his jacket, enveloping them in his, “You’ve always been here for me, and I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner. I love you and will always do anything to protect you.”

“I love you too, Bruce,” you say back, not realizing the total weight of his words.

“No,” he says, “I really do. It’s taken me this long to see, but I do love you. And not like a best friend.”

Your face softens, “Bruce, you don’t mean that-”

“No, I do mean it,” he says, squeezing your hands.

There’s a pregnant pause before Bruce slowly leans down to capture your lips with his in a swift, gentle motion. The world seems to stop around the two of you, the sirens outside quieting and the sound of your washing machine fading away. Bruce lets go of you and cradles your head in his hands, deepening the passionate-turning kiss. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him ever closer. Bruce slips his tongue past your lips, battling yours for dominance, which you gladly let him take. He guides you backward until the base of your spine is pressed against the kitchen counter. Bruce moves his grasp from your hair to your thighs, where he hikes them up around his waist. He smiles into the kiss, and you pick up on it.

“What?” you ask, pulling away briefly.

“I dreamed of your legs wrapped around my waist.”

You feel a warmth spread along your ears at that confession. Trailing your palms up Bruce’s neck and past his jaw to his cheeks, you stare into his eyes. A smile spreads across his face into slight laughter, to which you mirror. 

“What else have you dreamed of, Bruce?”

“Want me to show you?”

A nod of your head leads to Bruce walking you to your bedroom, still perched on his waist. He gently lies you down on the bed before climbing over you, his strong arms on either side of your head. He lowers himself onto you to kiss you again, his weight on his forearms by your ears. Bruce then moves to your jaw, teasing you with small kisses and nips. You can’t help but giggle at the feeling of his stubble on your skin, tickling it. Bruce travels down your neck and then down to your torso, where he lifts your shirt and kisses your stomach. You watch with content as he tugs your shirt over his head so he can reach higher to your breasts. You don’t wear a bra when at home, so Bruce has easy access to them. He softly kisses your skin, avoiding the areas you want him most. You open your mouth to joke about it, but before you can say a word, his fingers pinch one of your nipples as he lays his head by the other. Bruce shoves your shirt to your shoulders, resuming his previous position of pressing his cheek to your left breast and toying with the right one with his hand. With a slight movement of his head, Bruce is now suckling your unoccupied bud. Your hips buck into his stomach, and you feel his length growing hard against your leg. Bruce gazes up at you through his lashes, his eyes a little darker than before. Your hand finds its way to his hair, fingers tangling themselves in it. 

Bruce tweaks your nipple with his teeth as he rolls the other with his fingers, making electricity jolt through you. A gasp leaves your lips at the sensation, your grip on Bruce’s hair tightening briefly. He leaves open-mouthed kisses along your breasts before moving down your sternum and stomach, toying with the hem of your sweatpants. Bruce glances up at you to ask for permission, and you nod.

“You can touch me.”

Bruce pulls your sweatpants down, and you kick them off the rest of the way. He bites and licks the skin of your thighs before cupping your clothed heat with his mouth. Bruce flattens his tongue against you, dragging it upward against the cotton material of your underwear. You whine at the contact, wanting something a little more direct. With your hands still in Bruce’s hair, you remove them, moving them to pull down the barrier between you and Bruce’s mouth. He helps you with a knowing smirk. He softly kisses your clit before letting his tongue delve into your wetness, a sharp inhale through your nose letting him know it feels good. You would be lying if you had said you hadn’t thought of this exact moment before. Bruce steadies your hips with his hands, his fingers digging into your flesh. When the tip of his tongue comes in contact with your bundle of sensitive nerves, you attempt to buck your hips up to no avail. Bruce is incredibly strong, so you had no chance of moving. But he begins to guide your hips up and down, making you ride his tongue on his own accord. You move with what he’ll allow along with his guidance, and pleasure flowers through you. Bruce coaxes a finger into you, the feeling of him exploring you with it making you moan loudly. When he finds your spot, he adds another finger to circle it slowly. You gasp, biting your lip to keep from moaning too loud again.

“No,” Bruce shakes head, pulling away from you and stopping his movements, “I want to hear you, sweetheart.”

“Fine,” you exhale, hands clutching the bed sheets.

Bruce resumes pumping his fingers in and out of you while pressing his fingertips to your spot every now and then, eliciting noises from you that you’ve never let out with anyone else. He laps at your clit simultaneously, and he allows you to move your hips freely as he spreads your legs with his free hand. You feel yourself becoming lost in pleasure, your head cloudy and letting out noises without a second thought. Bruce feels you tightening around his fingers, signaling you’re close to release. So, he pulls away from you and sits up on his knees. You wriggle at the loss of his fingers, but he quickly replaces them with the tip of his hardened length. Bruce holds you still with one hand as he drags himself up and down your weeping cunt with the other. You pull your shirt the rest of the way off as Bruce slowly pushes himself inside you. Giving you a moment to adjust, he peels off his own shirt and tosses it before continuing to thrust slowly into you. 

When he’s entirely inside, he notices you taking deep breaths, “All good?”

“Yeah,” you nod, “It’s just been a while.”

That and Bruce is well endowed, so you have to relax fully to take him comfortably. When you finally feel comfortable enough to move, you give your hips an experimental roll. Both you and Bruce groan at the feeling, to which Bruce pulls out a little before pushing back in. 

“Don’t be shy, Bruce,” you joke, “You can go faster.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” Bruce smiles deviously down at you.

He picks your legs up and lays them on his shoulders before he begins to pound into you, leaving you gasping for air. You grip Bruce’s biceps, his rhythm is merciless as your bed frame squeaks underneath you. He moves you upward to the pillows so you can rest your head on them and so he can grip the headboard for leverage. Bruce’s hips snap forward rapidly, just as he assured, and he has to put a pillow above your head so it doesn’t slam into the bedframe. Your moans are incoherent at this point, and your eyes are wound shut.

“Look at me, babe,” Bruce says, moving a hand from your thigh to your cheek, bringing you out of your fog.

You open your eyes to gaze into his, Bruce pressing his chest to yours and fucking you at a new angle as he puts his forehead against yours. You gasp and pant into each other’s mouth before finally embracing in a heated kiss. Deciding to switch up the angle, Bruce removes your legs from his shoulders and spreads them apart as far as they go. You howl into the kiss as Bruce hits that spot inside you, driving you crazy. 

“Right there, Bruce,” you manage to stutter, “Right there!”

He hooks his arms under your knees, slamming you against him even harder than before. Bruce presses a thumb to your clit, rubbing tight circles into it. You curse, no longer caring if your neighbors hear you or your bed slamming into the wall. Heat builds up in your belly as you struggle to maintain eye contact with Bruce, stars flooding your vision. He hits that spot inside you harder than before, sending you over the edge in a snap. Your walls clench around Bruce, causing his orgasm to unfold shortly behind yours. The feeling of him emptying into you coaxes your release to last longer, and Bruce not letting up on your clit adds to the overstimulation. You cry out as another orgasm washes over you, and Bruce hisses from his own overstimulation. He curses under his breath as he pulls out of you, hurrying to your closet for a towel. Bruce cleans the two of you up as you work to bring yourself back to Earth. 

“That,” you say, Bruce hovering over you, “was amazing.”

“You’re amazing,” Bruce says, and you both laugh at his cheesiness.

Rolling over to lie next to you, Bruce pulls the blanket on his side of the bed over him, and you do the same. But the ownership of blankets doesn’t last long as you cuddle. You manage to pull Bruce’s blanket over to your side, much like you used to when you were both younger. You had sleepovers a lot, and you’d always somehow end up stealing Bruce’s blanket.

“How do you always end up under my blanket?” Bruce sighs.

You peek at him, opening your closed eyes momentarily before shrugging, stifling a laugh. Bruce pulls your head into his neck before kissing your hair, allowing you to doze off. Even if the things he saw during the toxin’s hold on him were disturbing, at least it allowed him to see things more clearly and find his way to you. 

[snowfallrecs]

something new | luca x reader

i was awoken from a dream last night

contents: requested size kink so luca is hung!! basically pwp, slight somnophilia if you squint, unprotected sex, spanking, lots of pet names from Luca, reader receiving fingering, dirty talk, semi-submissive reader vibes, pulling out for backshots but some cum play still whoops

a/n: used a photo of will bc it fit the vibe so well 🌝 can we, as a fandom, decide a last name for this man!! only semi proof read i fear pls ignore any mistakes. also no pronouns or real reader description used.

contents: 2.7k.

the climax right before morning's first light

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Your body feels heavy as it’s pulled from a deep sleep. 

There’s warm lips on your shoulder placing soft kisses along your skin, a hand kneading at your ass while you wake up. You hum into the quiet room while burying your face into the pillow desperately not ready to wake up. “S’everything okay?” 

Luca’s chuckling against you, sliding his calloused hand up the back of your thigh while you stay lying on your stomach. He looks down at the sight of you illuminated in the moonlight from his apartment window, soaking in every inch. His hand cups under the bottom of your behind, giving it a little jiggle for his own entertainment. 

“All’s fine, my love. Didn’t mean to wake you so early.”

You turn your head towards the nightstand and it takes a few blinks for your eyes to finally focus on the dim clock. 3:30 AM. Early enough for him to get up to shower, make tea, and leave out a small note of affection on the counter for when you wake up at a much more reasonable time. He typically doesn’t wake you, opting to shimmy out of the bed but not this morning. 

There’s lips on your neck now. “Was dreaming about you and had to make sure you were real.” His hand is sliding in between your thighs now, pulling them apart. Inches away from where you’re starting to crave him. You’re whining in the pillow now while arching your hips up towards his touch. He’s grinning against your skin and rocking himself towards your side. Luca’s hard and heavy against you. “Gonna go take care of this in the bathroom. Just needed a little touch of you before I go.” 

You’re shaking your head now, trying to unpin your arm that’s trapped between the two of you so you can find the waistband of his sweats slung low on his waist. “No, no. Don’t go.” The elastic is tight against your fingers as you slip your hand into his pants, fingertips brushing along his growing length which rewards you with a moan from your boyfriend. His hand gently slaps down on the flesh of your ass before he starts to pull away. You murmur out protests as you stretch your arms out straight ahead of you, fingers curling around the edge of the bed. There’s a rush of cold air as he pulls the blanket from your frame and tosses it to the empty side of the bed. 

He’s grabbing a pillow next and tapping his fingers against your side, grinning as you take the hint and lift your hips for him. “Just lay there, Darling. Let me take care of you.” Luca makes sure you’re comfortable. Taking his time to fluff the pillow just right. Running his wide hands down your back while still lazily waking up. The bed creaks under the two of you as he moves to kneel between your spread legs. He admires your stretched out form. The curve of your ass propped up and his for the taking. You’re wearing an oversized cliche t-shirt from the last trip you took together and this old pair of underwear with a half worn off print. Not the sexiest outfit to ever grace this bedroom to say the least and yet Luca doesn’t mind in the slightest. 

His thumbs slide along the seam of your underwear that’s stretched across your cheeks, warm hands sliding up your backside to your lower back to gently work on your relaxed body. He leans forward to reach up towards your shoulders, the length of him sliding against your ass and eliciting a moan from you. Luca’s taking advantage of this position to rut himself against you, the feeling of your soft body under him working him up even more than he thought was possible. 

“Always so good for me, aren’t you?” You’re nodding against the pillow, turning your head to the side to press a kiss against the hands that are now on your shoulders. “Only yours, Luca.” He’s groaning above you and there’s warm, open mouth kisses being pressed along your spine now. 

There’s a shuffling coming from behind you as Luca makes quick work of kicking his sweatpants off. You feel the warmth of his skin directly on the inside of your thighs now as he sits back up. He’s crooking fingers in the waistband of your underwear and finally, finally pulling them down your thighs and leaving you exposed to him. They’re stuck right above your knees - Both Luca kneeling between your legs and how far spread open you are making it impossible for them to go any lower. “Are you passionate about these?”

You barely shake your head no, because again they’re old and worn and you find it endearing he even asked, before the sound of them being ripped off of you fills the room causing you to gasp out. Luca haphazardly tosses them towards the trash can in the corner and gets to work pulling his own boxes down. You’re needy. Wiggling your hips through the air in slow movements to entice him. As if he needed anymore motivation. You follow his guidance and haphazardly make work taking off your shirt, balling it up and throwing it on his now empty side of the bed.

Since Luca’s doing all the work you allow yourself to stay, essentially, half asleep. Your eyes are still heavy and hooded and your body lax against the bed. He’s delivering one more small smack to the roundest part of your ass before his fingers find their way between your thighs. Normally he’d take more time teasing you, building you up. As much as he yearns to spend the whole day tangled in you, he does have to get to work soon. For now he’s going to be quick but he plans on taking his time with you again tonight. 

There’s fingers sliding up either side of your folds, a slow languid motion to get you used to his touch before his middle fingers slips in. You’re slackjaw against the pillow, letting out a stream of breathy whimpers you can’t control. Luca knows you. Knows every inch of you. So he’s using that knowledge to get you ready for him. His pointer finger slides into you while his thumb finds your clit at the same time. You’re wet, the scissoring and dragging motions Luca’s making causing a slick sound to come from between your thighs. 

“Luca, please.” He grins down at your backside, enjoying the view of his fingers working deep inside of you. “Always so greedy, aren’t you?” You respond by rocking your hips back against his hand and clenching down against his fingers which causes him to chuckle. “Alright, alright.” His hand slides out of you and smacks down against the back of your thigh. Your left behind wetness from his fingers attracts the cold air and causes goosebumps to rise. 

You secretly like when Luca spends a little less time stretching you out then he probably should. The way your boyfriend stretches you out as he first pushes in you has become a piece of heaven. There are nights he spends as long as you’ll allow eating you out and fingering you, toying with your pussy for his own enjoyment. Leaving his chin wet with you and a darken spot on the sheets until he fucks through how sloppy he’s turned you. 

Not tonight. You’re wet, yes. But you know there’s going to be a heavenly burning feeling coming your way. The amount of care your boyfriend puts into you making you comfortable enough to open yourself in that way. Knowing he’d stop the second you asked if needed. 

The head of his cock sits heavy against your entrance and you feel yourself desperately clenching around nothing. He’s pulling you from your train of thought and your body is buzzing in anticipation. The slap of the tip of him against your clit causes your body to jerk which prompts Luca to use his free hand to grip your hip, holding you in place. “Be good, yeah? Let me get us off before I gotta go. Can’t have you wet all day waiting for me to come back home to take care of you.” Luca lines himself up with your hole, sliding just the tip of himself in which pulls a moan from both of you. 

“Baby, please.” Pride swells in Luca’s chest as you start to beg. If he hadn’t been gripping your hips then you would have rolled them back to take more of his length in you. Instead he goes slow, allowing you to adjust to his girth inch by inch. Even after dating for this long, you still weren’t used to him yet. 

There’s a bit of drool coming from the corner of your still parted lips as Luca works his length in. Your boyfriend was well endowed to say the least. A good length, something you could still take to the back of your throat but not so long you couldn’t sink all the way down it. But his girth? That was unmatched. Thick, heavy, and all yours. 

“Feel so amazing, Darling. Was dreaming about this pussy spreading around me.” Luca jerks another inch in without warning, a squelching sound coming from you as the movement causes some wetness to drip out. You can’t form a thought when he’s got you like this. Your body is still relaxed against the bed as Luca stretches you out. 

It takes a moment for him to bottom out and all your mind can focus on is just how deep he feels inside of you. The sensation causes your breath to catch, pathetically letting out whatever whimper you can muster and allowing him to use you to his heart’s content. Luca gives your hip a little squeeze as a warning he’s going to start moving, giving you a second to accept what’s to come before the first roll of his hips hits. 

You’re a mess. Groggy still, already becoming cock drunk. It’s easy to do with him. “S’full, Luc. So, so full.” Even with his brows knitted in concentration as he tries not to instantly cum at the sight of your pussy stretched around him, he’s proud to get you this way. 

But God does the sight of you already have him close. 

Stretched out around him, filled to the max you could be. You look so beautiful like that. Luca fucks through all the wetness you give him, hips building a steady rhythm easily. His eyes flash over towards the clock and something about the pressure of a time constraint is making him a bit more feral than he expected. 

His pace quickens and you’re back to being reduced to a drooling mess under him. Moaning out an incoherent string of pleas, praise, and curses. You couldn’t repeat what’s coming from your mouth even if you tried. His heavy balls slap against your clit which each thrust and Luca’s grabbing your hips with both hands now to get a better grip on you. Fingertips digging in enough that bruises will be left as he starts to fuck into with a firm pace. 

“Such a perfect fuckin’ pussy. So wet for me, aren’t you? You’re gonna be sore all day now but you don’t care. Every step’s gonna remind you how good I fuck you.” 

Your head is spinning. 

You allow yourself to be fucked by Luca, hands gripping the edge of the bed as you desperately clutch anything within reach to keep yourself grounded. He’s… Brutal. Fucking you for his own pleasure in a way. He needed to get off and get off quick before work - But arrogantly knew how good you were for him. Knew that him using you like this would get you off too. 

One of his hands gripping your hip loses his grip and there’s another smack being delivered to the fat of your ass. He groans at the sight of you bouncing, the red mark already blooming from his hand. The burning of being stretched out is fading away and being replaced by the pure pleasure of your boyfriend wrecking your body. 

His hand is sliding up from your ass to press down on the small of your back, a comforting touch compared to the brutal pace of his hips. Long forgotten is the sleepy mask of morning, Luca just chasing after pleasure for the both of you now. You purposely flutter yourself around his length, trying to pull him closer as well. 

“Can you come for me, Darling? You can do that, can’t you? Wanna feel this pretty little pussy finish before I do.” You’re squeezing yourself tighter around him now, the soft pillowcase feeling rougher as your face continues to bounce against it. The room is getting hotter by the second around you two. 

Something about the combination of circumstances has you getting close to finishing far faster than normal. You catch yourself biting down on the pillow as Luca drags his nails down the soft skin of your back, his hips not losing pace as the all too familiar sensation starts to coil up deep inside of you. 

You’re crying out at the sensation, pussy tightening around him as your orgasm rocks through your body. Toe curling, back arching, clit throbbing orgasm. You collapse even further into the bed, a mess of breathless whimpers as Luca continues to fuck through your sensitive body. God you sound lewd with how wet you ended up. 

Luca’s quick to follow after watching you come undone around him.  

He’s moaning out your name, giving a few more pumps through your wetness before quickly pulling out. Stroking his soaked length to keep the sensation and then you feel warmth splattering along your ass and back as he cums on you. He’s breathless and whiney, teasing his own overstimulated cock behind you. Thumb swiping along his tip to collect the last droplets before wiping it in-between your folds and pressing it into you. 

As much as he loved cumming in you, he wanted to make sure he had time to get you cleaned up before he had to leave but he still couldn’t leave you without anything left inside of you. 

Luca drags you to the bathroom after he gives you a moment to collect yourself. Normally he’d take his time with aftercare but sadly he’s lacking just that - time. You use the restroom while he draws the two of you a shower and take a good look at yourself in the mirror while he corrects the water temperature. Healing hickies low on your chest, your hair looking crazy from the combination of sleeping and being wrecked. He’s got twenty minutes left before he runs out of time to make his breakfast but he refuses to leave you in a pile in the bed. 

He makes quick work of washing off your over sensitive body, letting you stand there and run your fingers along his chest, his arms, whatever inch of skin you can reach. “You’re so pretty.” 

Now after what just happened in the bedroom? You’d think nothing would phase him. 

But Luca’s cheeks are going bright red at the compliment. He cups your face with his soapy hands, bringing you two together for a kiss as a silent thank you. 

Luca gets you dried off and sends you back to bed with a pat on your ass. He’s rushing to get ready for work while you lay down in a lump on the bed. Towel tight around your body and the covers long forgotten. It takes a few minutes for him to emerge from the bathroom clothed and hair gelled but he can’t help laughing at the sight of you. You feel the towel being tugged away from your body, the previously discarded blanket being tucked around you and a kiss pressed to the top of your head. 

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

He leaves everything you need for your morning tea sitting on the counter before running out the door.