Let Me See You: Bruce Wayne x f!reader (smut, req)
Jujutsu Kaisen
❝Morning Fun❞: Toji Fushiguro x f!reader (smut + fluff)
❝Dad, please…❞: Toji Fushiguro x f!reader (angst + fluff)
Hello Kitty !!: Toji Fushiguro x f!reader (fluff, req)
Love and Deepspace
If You Want To Live: Sylus Qin x f!reader (smut)
Resident Evil
M-R-S dot Kennedy . . . : Leon Kennedy x f!reader (angst)
☆ Requests Open ☆
I’ll write anything, from your favorite ships (character x character) to character x reader content, or explicitly dark themes. I’m very willing to experiment with different plots/prompts/tropes.
When requesting character x reader, please specify whether you want female reader, male reader or gender neutral reader.
My ask inbox is anonymous, meaning you can request whatever you want.
☆ General disclaimer: English is my third language ☆
☆ DO NOT INTERACT IF:
you’re a minor or an ageless blog
you ship incest, step-relatives, illegal age gaps, etc.
i got ur post asking for requests suggested on my dash and i am here to provide
consider this: watching bruce wayne masturbate
☆ Let Me See You ☆
☆ Bruce Wayne x Female Reader
☆ Content tags/warnings: 18+ content, smut, NSFW, male masturbation, praise, intentional begging, established relationship, cock riding, spanking, exhibitionism, no beta, not proofread, kinda rushed
"Fuck," he muttered under his breath again, closing his eyes as his head tipped back the slightest bit. The wet schlick schlick schlick noises of his hand stroking his cock at a rapid pace bounced off of the walls, echoing in your ears. The two of you were in your shared master bedroom, him leaning back against the bed's headboard while you knelt between his legs and watched his hand.
Bruce grunted, squeezing his swollen tip before moving his hand back to the base of his cock. The sight combined with his low grunts sent a shiver up your spine, heat pooling down between your legs as you squeezed your thighs for an ounce of friction. Your panties, which were the last thing you were still wearing, were soaked through by now, but you weren't going to touch yourself just yet.
"Slower," you murmured, digging your fingers into the sheets beneath you to keep your hands to yourself.
"What?" He sounded almost pained, voice rough.
"Do it slower, Bruce," you repeated, leaving no room for discussion.
You watched him grit his teeth, a choked groan lodging itself in his throat as he complied to your demand and slowed his hand down. His cock was wet from cumming earlier and precum was dribbling from his slit again.
Droplets of sweat kissed his hairline, coated his chest like a second layer of skin and moisturized the small curls of hair there. You watched his toned stomach tighten, abs squeezing together like he was trying to hold back.
"Mrgh—" Bruce squeezed his base, closing his eyes for a moment as if he were trying to regain a semblance of his usual control.
It was almost magical to watch him like this, really. You knew your husband to be a stoic and controlled man who avoided being put in a vulnerable position. Yet the version of him in front of you right now was the complete opposite, reduced to a sweaty, noisy mess, his cum slowly drying on his skin. Not that he was actually loud. Even in this state, Bruce clung to the last pieces of his control as whispered curses and labored breaths left his lips, his chest inflating with each intake of air.
You don't remember how long you've been watching him already, nor did you particularly care. The only things that mattered to you were his grunts and groans that he was working quite hard to suppress, and his hand that was wrapped around his thick length.
Your gaze wandered from his parted lips to his heaving chest, downward to the red, leaking tip of his cock. Your teeth sank into your bottom lip, your stomach fluttering as you watched his fist move up, down, up, down, up, down.
"You're doing so good," you purred, leaning closer to him. "Keep going, baby. I wanna watch you cum again."
"Fuck," he breathed, squeezing his eyes shut and tightening his fist around his cock. "Fuck, you're—Mm..."
"C'mon, Brucie," you all but pouted, enjoying his current state too much. "One more. Please? I even asked nicely."
He let out another groan, his hand picking up speed again as you kept murmuring words of encouragement into his ear. You were close enough to straddle his lap if you wanted to, your chest nearly touching his.
"Please, Bruce," you whined on purpose. "Please cum for me. Pretty, pretty please. You always tell me to give you one more. You can do it too, right?"
"'M not gonna last long," he grunted roughly, looking at you with blown pupils that made his eyes look black instead of icy blue.
Bruce tilted his head back, your name leaving his lips like he was asking for salvation, like he was asking you to release him from this torment. You leaned in and pressed a wet kiss against the side of his neck, below his ear, and your hand came up to squeeze his pectoral muscle.
He gritted his teeth, stopping the moan that threatened to spill out as you peppered kisses all over his blazing skin. Your tongue darted out to lick his shoulder, up to his ear.
"It's okay," you whispered in his ear. "Let me see you cum, husband. I need you."
Bruce cursed under his breath, mumbling something you couldn't quite catch, and then you felt something warm spurt all over your lower belly and the apex of your thighs, making you gasp in surprise and shiver slightly. Bruce exhaled harshly and leaned back completely while you watched his cum trickle down your skin, your heart drumming fast against your rib cage.
You swallowed hard and pressed your thighs together, suddenly feeling inable to sit still. Your husband had gotten to cum twice, already, while you didn't so much as touch yourself.
Your body hummed like needles penetrating your skin as you caught his gaze on his release trickling down on your thighs, ruining your panties along with it.
"My turn," you murmured when you decided that he had gotten enough time to cool down, straddling his lap before he could fully process your words.
Bruce attempted to say something, but the words died on his tongue as soon as you pushed your panties to the side and sank down on his sensitive, half-hard cock, making both of you moan in unison.
"Shit—" he choked out as his hands gripped your hips like a lifeline to prevent you from moving just yet. "Ah, fuck, sweetheart—"
You exhaled shakily, squeezing his cock and immediately loosening around him again as you felt him harden inside you. Shifting your hips, you tried to get more comfortable, but he tightened his hold on you and groaned.
"Shit," he cursed between labored breaths. "Give this old man a moment, would you?"
You smiled, deliberately rolling your hips forward. "Mmh... Please let me move?"
He looked at you like you were torturing him, with half-lidded, lustful eyes. Then his grip on your hips loosened just a fraction, enough for you to grind on him. Bruce suppressed the moan that threatened to leave his lips, sounding like a growl in his throat, instead.
You rolled your hips back and forth, grinding your clit against the coarse tuft of hair on his pubic bone, then picked up the pace until you were sliding up and down his cock, letting out breathy gasps.
"Feels so good," you sighed dreamily, tilting your head back.
Your hands found purchase on his shoulders and his hands were on your hips again. But instead of holding you down, he guided your movements in his lap. A moan tore its way out of your mouth, followed by a choked "Fuck" when he thrust upward, meeting your hips as you slid down.
"Keep going," he grunted, suddenly making you aware of the fact that your movements had gotten sloppy. One of his hands went to your ass and squeezed before landing a harsh slap there that had you jerking forward against him with a surprised yelp.
You dug your nails into his shoulders and buried your face in the crook of his neck, moaning when he spanked you again. Your legs were shaking, heat coiling in your belly and tightening to a knot that threatened to burst.
"Bruce," you whined against his blazing skin, wrapping an arm around his neck in an attempt to keep yourself from stopping abruptly. "Fuck—fuck, I can't—"
"You can," he interrupted roughly, moving your body up and down his shaft. "What was it you said earlier?"
He was toying with you, you were sure of it. Still, you didn't interrupt and he didn't stop. He angled your hips and pulled you down onto his cock, his tip hitting your G-spot directly and eliciting a loud moan from you. He repeated the motion over and over again, making you squeeze him hard and tight.
"Let me see you cum," he repeated your words to you, his voice strained. His hand on your ass was rubbing circles on your skin as if to soothe the stinging pain he had left behind moments earlier.
You could practically hear your own pulse thumping in your ears, blood rushing through and muffling every other noise. Your legs shook violently as he pushed you past your limit, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as your vision turned white.
The world darkened completely for a moment and when you opened your eyes, you realized that Bruce was holding you against his chest while the two of you were breathing heavily. Neither of you was moving and it took you a minute or two to fully regulate your breathing. No matter what you did, his stamina would always surpass yours.
You took a deep breath and slumped against him, your eyes fluttering as he caressed your hair and back. You could still feel a slight buzzing beneath your skin and his heart thrummed steadily against your shoulder on his chest.
"You okay?," he murmured softly, his lips brushing your forehead with a soft kiss.
You only hummed with a nod, wanting nothing more than to fall asleep in his arms. Alas, he gently lifted you off his lap despite your complaints and sat you next to him on the bed. With a peck on your lips, Bruce stood up and left for the bathroom, telling you that he'd clean you up.
You laid down with a sigh, stretching your aching body. You'd definitely be sore by morning, but it was okay. The pillow smelled like him as you buried your nose in it, inhaling his scent and letting it envelop you like a warm blanket. You didn't pay attention to when Bruce returned, only feeling him clean you up with a warm towel.
A pleased hum left you as he gently slid your ruined panties down your legs and wiped between your legs and your thighs, as well as his—by now dry—cum off your stomach. You turned your head to watch him as he pressed a loving kiss on your lower belly, one of his hands rubbing your thigh.
His eyes lifted to meet yours. "Do you want to take a shower?"
"If you wash me, sure," you replied with a cheeky smile and closed your eyes.
Within a flash, you were lifted bridal style into his arms as he carried you to the bathroom.
"That can be arranged."
☆ A/N: This is lowkey rushed and I feel like I didn't do the req justice but uuuhhhh.... I hope you enjoyed?
Not sure why it's a new trend among fic readers to assume if the fic has not been posted within the week it's inappropriate to comment on it, like the fic has to be hot out of the oven to give feedback for.
I got a comment on a fic that is less than a year old and it was mostly an apology for being a comment on an "old fic" and how late they were in commenting.
Just comment on the fic. Doesn't matter how old it is.
starting to hear more and more people say they "wouldn't know what to do without chatgpt", and in my head I tell them without chatgpt, they would probably be using their own brains as god intended
To all my moots, I just wanted let you know that I may not be often in your dms and asks, but I def follow everything you update and try to react. I feel guilty knowing that I don’t interact with you as often as others, but I’m genuinely not the type of person to do that even with my real life friends. So thank you all for coming to my dms and still interacting with me 😭😔
☆ He was seriously getting tired of constantly having to deal with bioengineered viruses, corpses that refused to stay dead and mostly-abandoned facilities. Twenty-eight years of similar problems weighed heavily on his aging body, although, he could confidently say that nothing could surprise him anymore. Turns out, he was wrong about one thing.
☆ Content tags/warnings: RE9! Leon, angst, hurt/no comfort, no happy ending, past established relationship, divorced couple, DSO Agent! reader (though she does the same “desk job” as Sherry), takes place during RE9, emotional intimacy, no specific age gap, reader is implied to be around his age (no specific mentions), not proofread, spoilers? kinda?
Eerie silence was never a good sign in places like this and it definitely didn't create any sense of safety. Not that Leon expected any, considering that he had spent so many years dealing with situations like this to the point that there were very few things which could faze him.
He kept walking through the hallway with his gun drawn, although, it was unreasonably difficult to get a proper orientation without any sort of floor plan. What was it with facilities being built like mazes? He couldn't remember one building that hadn't had an unrealistic number of floors.
"Sherry."
His low voice echoed through the empty air as he waited for a response, his ice blue eyes flitting left and right to keep track of everything that might happen.
"Not Sherry, but I can help in her place," a familiar voice told him over the comm line. A voice which he hadn't heard in quite a while, which made him stop in his tracks for a moment.
"I sent her to take a break because she's been working relentlessly," you answered his unasked question, either unaware or simply ignoring his stunned silence.
Leon cleared his throat and forced himself to keep moving. "Right."
In all honesty, he never expected to hear your voice again, much less see you. There hadn't exactly been an argument when you told him that you wanted a divorce—he had known that it would happen eventually—but he still thought that you might have preferred to cut all ties with him.
He knew, to an extent, that he hadn't been a bad husband, per se, but he also hadn't been the best, either. Between his own emotional baggage and the constant distance that came with missions—they never had let you work with him; something about protocols and professionalism—it had been only a matter of time until you'd put yourself first.
"What do you need?", your voice sounded in his ear again, and he realized that he'd been quiet for a moment too long.
His throat felt like sandpaper all of a sudden and he took a deep breath that he wouldn't need under normal circumstances. It had been a year since the divorce, he was supposed to have moved on, it shouldn't be affecting him like this.
Right?
"I need whatever you can find about the Rhodes Hill Chronic Care Center," Leon finally replied, ignoring how rough his voice sounded. He turned sharply at a sudden noise and raised his gun, only for it to be a mouse. "This place is like a fucking labyrinth..."
His voice trailed off into the hallway's vast air, silence replacing everything for a moment as he waited for you to reply. Despite the steady steps he took, his feet felt inexplicably wobbly.
"Well," your voice came from the comms again, washing over him like a pleasant summer breeze, "its history is dating back to the eighteenth century and has reportedly been renovated in the sixties. Hmm..."
Leon didn't say anything, simply walking and looking around vigilantly as he waited for you to continue.
"In 2003, a Doctor Victor Gideon acquired the building and it's been running under him since. But there's nothing shady noted anywhere regarding the treatment of patients." He heard you sigh. "Whatever's going on there, he's been doing quite a good job to keep it under wraps."
Leon grunted in response, pressing his back against the wall as he peeked over the corner. Two infected people, practically waiting for him to make a mistake so they could feast on him. He clenched his jaw, the mere sight angering him. What did all those people do to deserve this?
The sound of gunshots bounced off the walls until the second body fell with a wet thud, blood pooling everywhere. He kept moving, sharp eyes assessing his entire surroundings. He softly called your name—just to test if you were still there or if it was all in his mind.
"Yeah?", you replied, proving that he wasn't going insane yet.
Or maybe he was, considering that he never had thought about requesting something like this before.
"Stay on the line?"
Fuck, what kind of question was that? When did he start feeling so unsure of himself?
The truth was that he knew. He knew, though it was scary to admit it, that you were his undoing. You had been the one steady thing in his life. After every mission, every near-death experience, every fatal injury, you had been the one waiting for him to come home. You had been his home to come back to.
Leon had known that a divorce would be inevitable. Still, after a year of separation, he sometimes found himself looking for traces of you in his life. His home had long stopped feeling like one, lacking your flower bouquets, your clothes, the smell of your perfume, the stray hair ties he'd find everywhere except your vanity, lacking you.
The words—I miss you—were on the tip of his tongue, yet the chain around his throat would never allow him to speak them out loud. That wasn't what you deserved.
"Sure," you said softly. "I'll stay."
Leon let out a breath, far shakier than was normal for him. How could you have such an effect on him? You had carved out a perfect place in his heart for yourself, and now that hole refused to close. It ached for its owner to come back, to remind him of who he belonged to.
"How have you been?," he asked clumsily.
Every word that left his lips had him feeling stupid. He was experienced in all aspects of his life, but talking to you always made him feel like he was a teen again. With you, he felt like the bright-eyed rookie he once used to be.
Still, hearing you answer him—telling him about what you've been up to like you used to—made his heart stutter with relief. Sneaking through the dark hallways felt less like a chore when he had your voice to listen to.
Leon thought it'd be awkward, which it had been at first. Or rather, he had been. But it was almost too easy to fall back into the comfortable rhythm that the two of you had had. It felt like time had never passed. You talked and Leon listened, replying only here and there. He never interrupted you, even when more infected ambushed him.
"—you still there, Leon?", you'd asked as he wiped the blood off his axe.
"Yes, ma'am," he replied lowly, already moving again. He was seriously sick of pitch black hallways and barely-lit rooms. How come a renovated care facility hadn't been able to afford better lighting?
"As I was saying," you continued your story from where you had left off, "I was extremely worried that they'd send me back or refuse to hear me out. I didn't even want to go, in the first place, because what if someone hadn't been there? Would I have just had to wait? But it all turned out to be just fine. I was really scared about nothing."
Yeah, that sounded like you, alright. The corner of Leon's mouth curved upward in a small smile. He remembered how much of an overthinker you were, no matter how small the issue actually was.
"Guess you haven't changed, huh, Mrs. Kennedy," he smiled, not really thinking about his words.
But there was a moment of silence before you answered, voice as soft as it had been whenever you were telling him something while smiling.
"You know that hasn't been my name for a long time now."
"...Yeah," he breathed. "I m—" The words lodged themselves into his throat, choking him with their intensity. He cleared his throat. "Nevermind. I mean I... I'm sorry."
Leon always ruined perfect things.
The comfortable air between you two shifted, returning to the awkward silence that made him want to claw his hair out. Why did he have to call you that?
You sighed, suddenly, the sound making him stand straighter. "Look," you murmured, "I'd be lying if I said that... I don't miss you. Or what we had."
His throat tightened, like his heart had somehow found a way into his windpipe and was intent on climbing up until he could no longer breathe.
"But?", he asked hoarsely, even though he knew the answer. Still, his traitorous heart was hoping for a sign that didn't exist.
"But," you echoed, "you're more married to your work than you were to me."
The truth hit him hard, when it had no reason to.
"Which isn't something I blame you for," you went on before he could even think of something to say. Before he could try to deny the truth. "I know how important this is to you and how much you've sacrificed to get where you are now. As a colleague, I understand. But as your wife?"
Leon sighed, forcing himself to keep walking while the weight of the topic pulled his shoulders down. "I know," he murmured.
You elaborated, anyway. "I couldn't keep living with the fear that you might never come back home. That one day, I would have had to wake up in that bed alone and realize that I'd always be alone."
A moment of heavy silence passed. Even his mind was blank.
"I'm still afraid," you confessed so quietly that he had to strain his ears just to make sure that he hadn't imagined that. "And I still care about you. But now, I can sort of... focus on myself a little more. Do you know what I mean?"
"Yeah," he replied quietly, glancing at his gloved hand. Or rather, what he knew was beneath it. He had never told you. Nor did he have any intentions to do it now.
A deep breath left his lips. "It's okay," he said, and he meant it. "I don't blame you, either. I knew you'd choose yourself eventually."
"Leon—"
"I mean it," he cut you off, leaning against a wall and stopping. Just for a moment. "You think I felt great every time I had to leave you?" He sighed deeply. "It's better this way."
"Better for who," you muttered. "Somehow, I feel worse than before.”
Leon didn't reply. He knew what you meant. You had been alone while married to him. You were alone while divorced. Just in a smaller apartment and a bed meant for one person instead of two.
It didn't matter, really. Married, divorced, together, separated, none of it.
In the end, his death would affect you either way.
You had known that all along, you reminded yourself as you placed the bouquet down in front of the tombstone that held his name like an accusation.
☆ A/N: y’all this feels so ooc Also, I made a discord server. It’s invite-only for now and you have to be 16+ and have an existing account to get in.
