bruce wayne??? morning sex??? slow???? sign me the fuck up
imagine it right now— you two in bed, lying on your sides and facing each other. his large hand would hold your leg up to his hip, holding your chin up with the other so he could see your face as he fucks you
“that’s it sweetheart” bruce whispered, a smile on his lips as he drags his cock with another lazy yet deeeep thrust in you. “doin’ such a good job for me, hm?” his morning voice made your walls flutter around his cock
all you could do was dumbly nod despite your gaping lips, eyes not leaving his. the way his cock was lazily dragging in and out of you, the way his eyes examined every feature of your lewd expression, the way bruce wasn’t even trying and you were already on the verge of an orgasm
the thing with bruce was that his cock was so big that the size alone sufficed for the lack of speed— even though it was early in the morning. no matter how many times you took him, the sensation of his fat tip nudging deep in your cervix was a buzz in your body you’d never get over
“bruce” you let out a breathless gasp from another thrust sent to you, feeling your orgasm already build up. “c-can’t hold it—"
“dont” bruce murmured, already inches away from your lips. “let go for me, love” there, he claimed your lips in a slow yet possessive manner, trailing his hand from your chin down to your boob and fondling it before rolling his hips onto yours with another thrust
he swallowed your moans and whimpers, tugging your bottom lip and hearing your sounds grow more into his mouth as you came, his cock clamped by your pussy and your orgasm making his thrusts sound lewd and wet.
and that didn’t stop bruce from whispering and cooing praises to you before making it his turn to orgasm, white cum painting your insides and filling up your sensitive cunt
a/n: me when big arms🤤 this was supposed to be under 1k words and it ended up being 2k oopsie
cw: smut, bicep riding, i attempt to make him dirty talk, unprotected pnv intercourse, he's a little mean, implied fem!reader but no pronouns used
Katsuki was looking at you like you’d grown four extra ears. Eyes wide - then narrowed - eyebrows furrowed, nose scrunched. And it was for no reason, really. You hadn’t done anything weird, just-
“-said, ‘Can I ride your biceps?’” You popped a hip, hands propped up on them as you grinned at him - head cocked.
One eye twitched. His nostrils flared.
“Why the fuck do you wanna do that?”
It was your turn to stare at him in bewilderment, gesturing at him, “Um, because they’re huge? And hot? And why wouldn’t I?”
You skipped across the few feet separating you, poking one of his arms for emphasis. His bicep twitched under your touch like it had a mind of its own. Heat crawled up your neck, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you let your palm flatten, sliding slowly over the smooth skin that stretched tight across his hard muscle.
“Seriously,” you murmured, voice dropping into a sincere tone. “They’re ridiculous. Like… carved out of marble or something. I just wanna feel what it’s like to-”
“-ride ‘em,” he cut you off with a snort. “I heard you the first two times, dumbass.” His tone was rough, but he didn’t push you off.
If anything, he shifted his stance, shoulders rolling back as he flexed deliberately under your fingers. The definition popped even harder, veins tracing faint lines beneath the surface. Your mouth went dry.
He rolled his eyes - reading you easily - and bent down to throw you over his shoulder in one easy motion, “C’mon then, pervert.”
The view from his shoulder was sinful - his slim waist, the defined muscle under his tank top, the curve of his ass in those grey sweatpants. You couldn’t resist reaching down to give him a squeeze with a cheeky giggle. He growled a warning, pinching your thigh lightly.
He kicked the bedroom door open, crossing the room in a few large steps. He tossed you onto the bed, hands immediately finding the hem of your shorts, pulling them - and your panties - down in one go.
You giggled as the cool air hit you, resting one foot against his thigh, “Someone’s eager.”
“Yeah, you,” His hand found your ankle, the other swiping your folds. “Fuckin’ soaked already.”
He crawled onto the bed, sitting back against the headboard, one arm extended - palm up. His fingers were glinting lightly with your slick. You sat up, hesitating for all of one second before he scowled, reaching out to tug you forward, “C’mon, I ain’t got all night.”
He did, in fact, have all night - neither of you had plans the next day. You knew the real reason behind his agitation - the twitching bulge in his sweatpants gave away the excitement in his veins.
You bit your lip to hide a smile, crawling over to him. You swung one leg over his arm, thighs stretching as you hovered over the firm muscle. One large hand rested against your back, keeping you steady. The other found your hip as he spoke, looking up at you with a scowl, “Quit hesitating. You were so confident a minute ago. Prove it wasn’t all talk.”
You huffed, bracing yourself on the headboard, “Give me a second, hotshot. I’ve never done this before.”
He scoffed, squeezing your hip. His eyes flicked down to your dripping sex before finding yours again, “How the hell is this any different from riding my thigh?”
You threw your head back, groaning dramatically, “‘Cause it just is! Now shut up and flex.”
Katsuki rolled his eyes so hard it looked like it hurt, but listened anyway. The already defined lines of his arm grew bigger, veins popping out as he contracted the muscle. Your hips didn’t move, but his arm brushed against your lips anyways.
You let out a small whine as you sank down, covering the hand on your hip with your own. He let out a groan at the feeling of your warm juices soaking his bicep, pressing his forehead into your stomach.
“Can’t believe you’re really doin’ it,” his breath was hot against your skin.
You rolled your hips once, clit dragging alone the peak of his arm. The muscle jumped and flexed under you as he adjusted, veins standing out sharply under your soaked pussy. A needy sound escaped your throat.
“Fuck, that’s hot,” you gasped, gripping the headboard tighter, moving the other hand to his shoulder for leverage. You started moving properly - slow grinds at first, then building into a steady rhythm, sliding back and forth along the length of his arm.
Katsuki pulled his head back, watching you with dark, half-lidded eyes - jaw tight. His eyes flicked from your face, to your hips, to your slick pussy stretched across his arm. Every time you rolled forward, your clit caught perfectly on the thickest part of his bicep, sending sharp sparks of pleasure through you. Your juices ran freely now, dripping down his body and onto the sheets.
“You’re fuckin’ filthy,” he growled. “How long you been thinkin’ about this, huh?”
His hand squeezed your hip, pushing you down harder on the muscle as he flexed again. The movement sent little shocks through your body, rock-solid muscle expanding underneath you.
“A while,” you gasped, pushing yourself back against his bent forearm for leverage. “You’re just so pretty, Kats.”
He let out a huff, “Yeah? You look fuckin’ gorgeous like this. Rubbin’ on my arm like some desperate slut.”
You could only moan in response, hips stuttering as pleasure coiled tight and hot in your belly. He shifted his arm slightly, angling it so the thickest part rubbed relentlessly against you with every roll. The friction was maddening - too much and not enough all at once.
You panted, grinding down harder. Your voice came out light and breathless, “Wanted to feel how strong you are- fuck- right there-”
Katsuki’s breath hitched. His cock was straining painfully against his sweatpants, a dark wet spot forming at the tip. His hand left your hip, palming himself roughly through the fabric as he watched you use his arm.
“Faster,” he ordered, voice strained. “C’mon, ride it like you mean it.”
You obeyed, thighs burning as you picked up the pace. The slick glide of your pussy over his hot skin, the way his muscle jumped and flexed under you with every thrust of your hips - it was perfect. Your clit throbbed, sparks shooting up your spine with every pass.
He leaned in, teeth grazing your stomach before biting down lightly, sucking a mark into your skin, “Gonna cum all over my arm, aren’t you? Make a mess like the little pervert you are.”
The words tipped you over. Your rhythm broke, hips jerking erratically as the orgasm crashed into you. You cried out his name, thighs clamping around his arm as you shook and pulsed, fresh slick gushing over his bicep and dripping onto the sheets. He kept flexing through it, milking every last wave until you were whimpering, oversensitive and trembling.
You slumped forward, forehead pressed to his hair, trying to catch your breath. The hand on your back to rub slow circles into your skin, surprisingly gentle for a few moments.
He gave you roughly fifteen seconds before flipping you over, leaning down to press his forehead to yours, “Gonna let me fuck this pretty pussy now?”
You bucked your hips up into his dick, the wet spot on his sweatpants tapping your clit, “Yes, please Kats.”
He grinned, sharp and feral, before leaning back on his heels to pull his clothes down enough to free his cock. It was flushed an angry red, tip steadily leaking pre-cum.
“Y’think you can take me with no prep?” His eyes fixated on yours.
You bit your lip. He was big, always prepping you with three fingers before entering. But, you were also really horny - and didn’t exactly feel like waiting any longer.
Nodding, you grabbed his hair to pull him into a heated kiss. You pulled back, murmuring into his lips, “Be gentle?”
Katsuki’s grin sharpened - all teeth and hunger - but his eyes softened just a fraction at your whispered plea, “Tch. As if I’d hurt you, dumbass.”
He kissed you again - hard, claiming, tongue sliding against yours like he was trying to devour the words right out of your mouth. One broad hand gripped your thigh, spreading you open as he lined himself up.
The blunt head of his cock nudged your soaked entrance, slick and hot. You were still fluttering from your first orgasm - the stretch when he pushed in was immediate and intense. A low groan tore from his throat as he sank the first few inches, your walls clenching greedily around him.
“Fuck- so tight,” he hissed through gritted teeth. His hips rolled forward slowly, giving you time to adjust even as his arms trembled with the effort of holding back. Veins stood out along his forearms, the same ones still glistening with your release. “Breathe, baby. That’s it.”
You whimpered into his mouth, nails digging into his strong shoulders as he bottomed out. The fullness was overwhelming - thick, heavy, pressing against every sweet spot inside you. He stayed there for a moment, buried to the hilt, forehead pressed to yours while you both panted.
Then he started moving.
Slow, deep strokes at first, grinding his hips into yours. Each thrust dragged against your walls, pulling filthy wet sounds from where you were joined. His bicep flexed beside your head as he braced himself, the muscle you’d just ridden now taut and glistening with sweat.
“Still think my arms are the best part?” he growled, voice rough with restraint. He hiked one of your legs higher around his body, hitting that spot that made stars burst behind your eyes, “Or is my cock better?”
You couldn’t even answer properly - just a broken moan as pleasure sparked up your spine. Your legs wrapped around his waist, heels digging into his lower back, urging him deeper. Katsuki cursed under his breath and gave you what you wanted, picking up speed. The bed creaked under the force of his thrusts, headboard knocking against the wall in a steady rhythm.
He dropped his head to your neck, sucking and biting marks into your skin while one hand slid between you to circle your swollen clit, “C’mon, ride my dick like you rode my arm. Show me how bad you need it.”
You did - hips rolling up to meet every thrust, grinding against his pelvis when he pressed deep. The coil in your belly wound tighter and tighter, faster this time, fueled by how full you felt and the raw power rolling through his body.
“Katsuki- fuck, I’m close- ”
“Yeah? Gonna cum on my cock this time?” He slammed in harder, sweat dripping from his brow onto your chest. His voice dropped into a snarl, “Do it. Soak me. Wanna feel you milking me dry.”
His fingers pressed firmer on your clit, thumb rubbing tight circles, and that was it. You shattered with a cry, back arching off the bed as your second orgasm ripped through you. Your pussy fluttered and clenched around him, gushing fresh slick down his length and onto the sheets.
Katsuki groaned loud and broken, hips stuttering as he chased his own release. “That’s it - good girl.”
A few more brutal thrusts and he buried himself deep, spilling inside you with a guttural moan. His cock pulsed hot and heavy, filling you until you felt it leaking out around him.
He picked his head up, pecking your lips lightly as he pulled out of you with a hiss. You expected him to lie next to you - pull you into his chest like he usually did. Instead, he flopped down on top of you, shoving his face into the crook of your neck.
“Still think you’re a pervert,” his voice was muffled by your hair.
You spoke through a smile, “Yeah, and you love me anyways.”
He shoved his face into your skin even further, sighing deeply.
Katsuki using his quirk as a heating pad for your cramps
It was that time of the month.
Late at night, the room was quiet, save for the soft sound of Bakugo’s steady breathing as he slept beside you, unaware of your struggle. You curled on your side, teeth clenched as sharp cramps twisted through your stomach, radiating ache down your thighs. The pain was relentless. You shifted restlessly, trying to find a position that didn’t hurt, but nothing helped.
Then—
A muffled grunt from beside you.
Bakugo stirred, crimson eyes blinking blearily in the darkness before landing on you, narrowing at the pained twist of your expression.
"…Dumbass."
His voice was thick with sleep, but his arm already snaked around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. His palm pressed firmly against your stomach, heat blooming from his skin as his quirk activated, soothing, steady, perfect.
"Shoulda woke me up sooner," he mumbled, his lips brushing your shoulder as he adjusted, shifting until your back was tucked securely against him.
And then, silence.
No complaints. No snark. Just his warmth, his steady breath against your neck, his fingers gently kneading the ache away like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Like he knew. Always knew. Exactly what you needed.
Clark who, after the tiniest of interactions with you, has to go jerk off in the bathroom before he literally jizzes his pants in the middle of the office.
He's locked himself in the bathroom, his breathing quick and labored.
He glances down at the tent in his pants, his cock painfully hard, and he groans, grabbing his face in his hands.
He can’t believe that just a conversation with you got him this aroused.
And now he has to fix it.
He shouldn't. He shouldn't even be thinking about it. He hates that this happens every time he talks to you. He wishes he was better than this, but he can't help it. He just likes you so much.
He tries to push down the guilt he feels by rationalizing that if he doesn't do this, he'll be hard all day in the office and everyone will see. It's not just him jerking off, it's him solving a problem so he can go back to work. Right?
He hastily undoes his pants, his heart beating hard and fast, more blood rushing south at the promise of release.
He pushes his pants and his boxers down, just past his hips, and his cock springs free. The tip is a dark, angry red, precum smeared over it. He spits on his hand before wrapping it around himself, feeling the way his cock throbs with need, and he starts out slow.
He feels guilty every time he does this, mostly because it makes him think about you and that makes him feel like a huge pervert. But he really can't help himself.
He likes the way you did your makeup today. The soft gloss on your lips was shiny and it smelled sweet, and he imagines it smearing on his cock while you suck him off.
He groans quietly. You'd look so pretty on your knees, looking up at him with those gorgeous eyes, your mascara smudging as tears fall down your face.
He squeezes himself harder, jerking faster. Droplets of precum spill from him, landing on the floor. “Fuck,” he hisses quietly.
That skirt you're wearing is so pretty. He'd have it bunched around your waist, holding it there with one hand as he ate you out. Or maybe you'd let him hide under your desk, that skirt concealing his head while he lapped at your sweet pussy in the middle of the office.
His cock twitches in his hand, that searing heat in his lower abdomen growing unbearable, winding tight.
And that blouse of yours…fuck, he'd pop open the top buttons, just enough for your tits to spill out. He wants to bury his face in them, leave marks over their soft skin. He wants to suck on your nipples and bite them until the sensitive peaks are swollen. He wants to spill his cum on them and then lick it off. He wants to watch them bounce as you ride him, watch them jiggle as he fucks you…
Clark braces one hand on the wall as he jerks himself faster and harder with the other. Fuck, he's gonna come.
He can imagine your beautiful face caught in ecstasy, that perfect mouth open as you moan and gasp his name. He can imagine your soft thighs wrapped around his waist, your pussy tight and wet as he fucks into her.
You'd sound so sweet when you’d come, you'd look so beautiful. And you'd feel so good, wet gummy walls wrapped around him snugly and milking him. He'd fill you with his cum, spill all of it in you until it's dripping out of you. He'd keep you full of it until you got swollen with his baby. He'd make you his. Completely his.
He grunts, gasping as he comes, the white, sticky ropes of his release spilling onto his hand, coating the wall, dribbling down to the floor.
He's shaking from the force of his orgasm, sweat beading on his brow. It takes him a minute to come down, but when he does he's immediately cleaning the mess, embarrassed and guilty.
He walks out of the bathroom, his cheeks tainted a faint pink, and he hopes he manages the rest of the day without having to get off while thinking of you again.
♡ please comment and reblog my work, it means so much to me and inspires me to keep writing
Clark Kent masterlist
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𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 - if you wanna be added to my Clark Kent taglist, lmk <3
It is not x reader if you describe the readers fucking key features.
“As he gazed into your blue eyes…” I have brown eyes.
“You’re pale porcelain skin.” I’m black
“Your hair was a mess but you were late so you put it in a messy bun and ran out the house.” I have short ass dread locs.
Genuinely I’m getting sick of this shit. It’s sad that POC creators have to make their own fanfics and specify it’s only for POC because anything else uses specific attributes that usually only a white person could have. It’s such a fucking turn off to read a good fucking story and then for some reason the author has to fuck it up by adding “your silky hair.” Like wtf is happening? If you have a person in mind then you can make it a character x oc that’s okay! But it is NOT x reader when you’re literally turning us into something that’s not even us. Like do some of yall not realize white peoples are not the only ones reading this shit? Ik many ppl have addressed this but some ppl rlly aren’t changing and it’s just so odd to me. If u want to specify how the “reader” looks. Do everyone a favor and just say it’s an OC there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s not fair to people. And it’s not even just about POC. Just in general. Like imagine a brunette reading that shit and it says “your beautiful blonde hair” like???? It’s not fair, it’s just weird. It’s not x reader, it’s x oc and seriously that’s okay!
Plot: reader is a bunny quirk haver or hybrid, it’s spring, Katsuki is mean about it.
TW/CW: 18+, smut, heavy on the breeding kink, hybrid reader, cursing, petnames, reader is desperate, p in v, creampie, Katsuki is mean, begging, cockdrunk, minor dacryphilia, manhandling
A/N: love a hybrid au sorry soooo yummy, will probably stop spam posting now, actually have to go to work tomorrow
Katsuki’s so mean.
He’s just so mean.
His hands behind his head, biceps flexing without any effort, a lazy smirk on his face as crimson eyes gaze on you from under blonde lashes.
You’re trying your hardest, cheeks puffing out, straddled across his waist, hips bucking wildly as you grind your soaked cunt against his boxers. Red in the face and whining so sweetly for him.
“I can feel your lil’ tail twitchin’ like crazy.” He chuckles; the only thing giving him away was just how hard he was beneath you.
His observations weren’t incorrect. Your back curved as your clit rubbed against his abs, your little cotton tail puffed up at flicking against your back, ears pressed to your head.
“Ka-Katsuki~” You babble helplessly, hips moving in tight circles, soaking his boxers, abs, your own thighs, “Help.”
You’re pouting, bottom lip jutting out in a way you can’t control. It’s pathetic, it’s needy, it’s utterly sinful.
“You’re so much needier in the spring bun,” he comments, seemingly unfazed by your desperation, not even bucking his hips upwards to help you, “S’like that pretty little bunny brain only has one thought.”
You wail in response, knowing what he’s getting at, grinding down harder trying to get a response, any response. It’s what he was waiting for, for you to get desperate enough that those pretty tears clump your lashes, for your hips to start twitching from getting close to the edge just by humping pathetically against him.
“Alright, alright,” he chuckles, finally moving, his arms coming to your waist to still you, only making you cry harder, “guess I gotta help. Can’t have my needy bunny cryin’.”
He’s rough with his movements, manoeuvring you onto your back, pinning you below him. You can feel and hear your tail thumping pitifully against the mattress.
He finally loses the boxers, pulling them from his hips in one rough motion and kicking them from his ankles. Your legs are balanced on his broad shoulders as he crowds you, yanking you upward by the thighs so your hips are elevated.
You can only hiccup and babble his name as he lines his cock up. He thrusts shallowly, just the tip, sending you crazy in need by teasing your quivering hole with the promise of more.
“What do you need, angel?” He coos, still being so mean, making you beg for what he knows you need.
“You, you, you-“ You whine, attempting to push forward despite his iron grip on you, trying to take him deeper.
You’re hot, bothered, and desperate enough to drool at the thought. Your stomach is doing flips at every movement, breath, word he utters. It stops, finally, the moment he pushes into you, sheathing his cock in your needy cunt, just one thrust is all it takes for you to shatter around him.
You tremble, grasping at his biceps, nails digging into the muscle as you whine his name.
“That’s one,” he comments through a ragged breath, “got more comin’ bun.”
His teeth clenched at just how tightly your cunt was gripping him; every thrust had him spiralling closer to the edge. Katsuki was shaking with the effort not to bust deep inside you before you’d finished at least once more.
“You take me so fuckin’ well,” he gritted out, “you gonna soak my cock again?”
Your ears are spasming against your hair, pupils blown wide, shaking through each delicious thrust.
“You gotta cum again, bun, can’t fill you up if you don’t.” He groaned, folding you further so his tip could kiss your cervix, nudging right against your womb.
“Fill me up?” You barely manage to stutter out the words, slurred and hazy, mind feeling like syrup, where only one thought prevailed.
“Yeah, you heard me. Gonna fill you up, angel, give you everythin’ your pretty little womb needs.” He rasped, every thrust accompanied by a sharp breath or groan.
Your back arched, trembling through your second orgasm, pulsing around his cock, hammering all the sensitive spots inside you. He fucked you through the second one too, falling forward to press his forehead to your shoulder, putting you in the nastiest mating press.
“That’s it, bunny. You want me to knock you up, don’t you? Bet you’ve been thinking about it all day, your little brain all empty for me. Jus’ a little bunny for me to breed.” He muttered by your ear, breathing heavy as he tumbled towards the edge, “I got you, jus’ gotta take it, lemme take care of you, gonna look so pretty with my baby in your tummy bun. Jus’ gotta let me fill. You. Up.”
An uneven, harsh thrust accompanies each word as he grips you harder, knuckles turning white. His hips stutter, balls contracting by your ass as he paints your insides white with his seed.
You’re panting as he rolls off you, tail finally stilling, nuzzling against him to bask in his warmth.
“Better now?” He asks hoarsely, placing a kiss on your temple, you only hum contentedly in response, “Good. Fuckin’ spring fever.”
how does your other half, Bruce Wayne, treat you during the galas you attend? well, like royalty obviously.
Bruce Wayne Masterlist ◞ follow for more. 2k event soon!
Bruce Wayne, who at every gala, the first thing Bruce does when you arrive is subtly check the back of your dress. He’ll step behind you under the pretense of adjusting your shawl or necklace, running his fingers lightly along the zipper or hem to make sure everything is secure. “Just making sure you’re comfortable,” he’ll murmur in your ear, but the way his hand lingers shows how much he loves taking care of you.
Bruce Wayne, who when walking down stairs or across marble floors, always positions himself slightly in front or to the side, pointing out any uneven step or slippery spot with a gentle touch to your elbow. “Careful here, love,” he’ll say softly, offering his arm so you can hold on. He never makes it obvious to others — it’s just for you, quiet and protective.
Bruce Wayne, who if your dress has a long train or flowing fabric, he’ll discreetly hold it for you when you sit or stand, making sure it doesn’t get caught or stepped on. He does it so smoothly that no one notices, but you always feel his careful fingers brushing the material, like he’s shielding you from even the smallest inconvenience.
Bruce Wayne, who during conversations with other guests, he keeps one hand on your lower back, thumb stroking gentle circles through your dress. It’s his way of staying connected, reassuring you he’s right there if you need an escape or just want to lean on him. When you get tired of small talk, he’ll smoothly change the subject or pull you away with a polite excuse.
Bruce Wayne, who if you’re wearing heels that start to hurt, he notices immediately. He’ll guide you to a quieter corner, kneel down discreetly, and massage your ankles or calves for a moment, completely unbothered by who might see. “You don’t have to suffer for beauty,” he’ll whisper, kissing your knee before standing back up.
Bruce Wayne, who when photographers ask for pictures, he always pulls you close, angling his body to shield you slightly from the flashes. He makes sure your dress is sitting perfectly, tucking a stray hair behind your ear or adjusting your necklace, treating you like the most precious thing in the room.
Bruce Wayne, who can tell when the gala gets too overwhelming — loud music, crowded rooms, flashing cameras — he senses it before you say anything. He’ll wrap an arm around your waist and guide you to a private balcony or side room, holding you close until you’re ready to go back. “We can leave anytime,” he’ll murmur. “You come first.”
Bruce Wayne, who at dinner, he makes sure your plate has everything you like and nothing you don’t. He’ll quietly switch glasses if the wine isn’t to your taste, or pass you the bread basket before you even reach for it. His attention is constant but never overbearing — just steady, thoughtful love.
Bruce Wayne, who when you’re dancing, he holds you like you’re made of glass — one hand on your waist, the other cradling your hand, guiding you effortlessly across the floor. He whispers compliments in your ear the whole time, telling you how beautiful you look, how proud he is to have you on his arm.
Bruce Wayne, who if your dress slips or a strap falls, he fixes it immediately, fingers gentle and quick, shielding you from view with his body. He never makes you feel embarrassed — just cared for. “I’ve got you,” he’ll say softly, kissing your shoulder once it’s fixed.
Bruce Wayne, who after the gala, when you're both exhausted in the car ride home, he pulls you into his lap, letting you rest your head on his chest. He'll manage your feet if your heels hurt, kiss your temples, and tell you how much he loved having you by his side. "You make every night better," he whispers.
Bruce Wayne, who even when you're not at galas, the habits carries over. he checks your outfit before you leave the house, makes sure you're warm enough, carries your bag without being asked. its never showy - just quiet, consistent love. you're always his priority.
Bruce Wayne, who on nights when you feel insecure about your dress or your appearance, he pulls you close and reminds you how stunning you are - not because of the clothes, but because you're you. "you could wear a paper bag and I'd still think you're the most beautiful woman in the room. no, the world."
Bruce Wayne, who keeps a small photo of you in his wallet. ones from a previous gala where you looked especially radiant. when he's stressed during the day, he looks at it and remembers why he fights so hard. you are his reason.
Bruce Wayne, who at the end of evert night, when the dress comes off and you're both in bed, he holds you like you're the only thing that mayors. "thank you for being mine," he'll whisper against your hair. "I don't deserve you. but I'll spend every day trying to."
a/n : can you tell this is so inspired by Tom Holland and Zendaya or am I crazy. also sorry for disapearing
they would have been THE best sesame street guests!! I feel like they would show up every season. And i'd like to think it was Bruce that reached out to Sesame street to ask if they could appear.
Which wouldve caused a big tournament style game for the entirity of the JL to see which 3 would appear (it was rigged from the start)
Maybe Barry and Hal get a chance next time
Bruce Wayne x Muppets
I made art of Bruce wayne as a guest for the muppets a while back, because let's be honest, hed make for a great guest. He wouldve saved the muppets yall🗣🗣
While I drew him as a guest for the muppets, hed make for a great guest on sesame street too, maybe to teach kids about grieving or to teach people about how families do not have to be blood related, either way,,, i should make more fanart. If yall got any ideas or suggestions let me know
Also Robin and Robin together!! The drawing I made of them turned out so cute I made little standees
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