STOP PUTTING OC STORIES WITH "X READER" TAGS BRO WITH ALL DUE RESPECT YOUR STORY DOES NOT BELONG THERE....listen... im sure the story is great... BUT im literally gonna combust if i keep seeing ts. Im trying to feed my delusions and yall arnt helping. Sighhhhhhh
summary: bruce helps you fall asleep after you suddenly wake up, sweaty and shaken
contents: comfort, reader has asthma, degrees are in celsius, wc is 1.5k
It's one of those rare nights where Bruce isn't out cleaning up the streets of Gotham, but he's lying next to you, snoring lightly and embracing you tenderly. His body is heavy, muscles pressing and weighing you down. It's a feeling you typically yearn for, a feeling you love deep in your bones. But tonight, it's suffocating.
You wake up suddenly, your chest tight and breathing shallow. A shiver runs down your spine. Battering wind pounds against your shared bedroom's arched windows, trees whipping about violently in the distance. Another shiver. Sweat accumulates under your arms, trapped close to your body. Your fists clench, your delicate skin brushing Bruce's pecs. He's like a furnace, heat radiating off his body in waves. The blankets on top of you are almost as hefty as he is.
It's claustrophobic. You feel like you're losing yourself in a sea of fluffy covers and limbs with the pounding wind as your witness. It's like your husband is crushing your ribcage, grip threatening once he's donned that inky mask. You need to get up.
Gasping for air, you quietly struggle in his arms, trying to free yourself without waking him up. But he simply pulls you in closer, your bodies flush now. Your patience is thinning. Unceremoniously, you begin whisper-yelling his name.
"Bruce! Bruce! Bru-ce! Off! Get off!" He stirs, groaning and rolling onto his back, taking you with him. No longer are you squished between him and the mattress, and you use this change in position to slip out of his grasp. Climbing off him, you sit next to his spread-out body and cough. Something shifts in the back of your throat, thick and salty. Great. You're getting sick.
But while you struggled to capture your hubby's attention before, you most certainly have it now. In the darkness, his hazel eyes scrunch then open, blinking disorientedly before focusing on your hunched form. As you dive for a tissue, Bruce sits up, scratching sleepily at his scalp.
"Honey?" His voice is deep and raspy, your favourite. But you barely hear it as you throw up mucus into the aloe tissue. Pale moonbeams catch on its colour. Clear. That's odd.
You jump as a searing hot palm lands on your upper back. Whipping around, you're met with Bruce's concerned stare.
"Hey, you alright?" He asks. You shake your head frantically.
Discarding the tissue, you turn around to face him, then say, "My throat feels really tight. And I feel really cold, but hot at the same time. Like I keep shivering and—"
More awake now, Bruce interrupts, "One thing at a time, alright? Your throat feels tight?" You nod.
"Okay," he breathes out, his mind running through every possibility as to why you're feeling this way.
You enlighten him with, "I think it's my asthma." Ah, that makes sense. How could he forget? Even if momentarily. "It doesn't usually play up until it gets colder, but…"
"Do you need your puffer?" He's already shifting to standing, pyjama pants slung low on his hips and singlet riding up like he's immune to the cold. And he just might be.
"Warm water first, please—" You cough again, drawing in a ragged breath afterwards that makes your condition sound much worse than it actually is.
"Alright. I won't be long," he reassures you, kissing your sweaty forehead sweetly before leaving your bedroom. He jogs down the kitchen, intent on not wasting a second should things become more severe.
In the time he's gone, you shrug off your warm jacket (his, actually) that seems to be doing more harm than good. Casting it onto the floor, you lie back down in bed, the chill nipping at your skin. It's freezing for this time of year, the cold biting at your toes and transforming your fingers into icicles.
Bruce returns with a glass of water in hand. Pulling back the covers, he helps you sit up before placing it in your palms. Taking a sip, your windpipe relaxes at the contact. The rest of the glass's contents are empty in seconds.
"Feeling better now?"
"Mhm." He takes the glass from you and sets it down on the bedside table. "Bruce," you murmur.
"Yes, honey?" His eyes trail over your puffy face, noticing the water glistening on your lips and perspiration drying around your hairline.
"Can you take my temperature?" You ask shyly, focusing on your breaths. The tight, crushing feeling in your chest is slowly receding. But it needs an extra kick.
"Of course, I can. Do you need your puffer as well? Just in case?"
"Yes, please," you mumble, flashing him a small, reserved smile. Closing your eyes, you count your breathing pattern. Inhale… one… two… three. Hold. Exhale… one… two… three. Over and over until Bruce is back by your side. He hands your puffer to you and watches as you take it, mentally praying that you'll be alright afterwards.
Turning on the thermometer, your husband raises it to your forehead. "Hold still," he utters, concentrating like this is a do-or-die situation, not a simple temperature check. Reading the little light-up screen, he says, "36.3. You're fine. Maybe a little cold, but." Placing the thermometer and puffer aside, he gently grabs your hands and holds them in his, thumbs swiping over your knuckles. "How long have you been feeling like this?"
"I don't know." You shrug. "I woke up suddenly and then… I think you woke up maybe a minute or two after me."
"Mhm." He squeezes your hands a little. "You took off your jacket. How about we put it back on—?"
"No!" You blurt out, panic rising within you. "No, it'll only make it worse. I felt so trapped, I… I need to breathe."
"Okay. It's alright, honey," he coos, leaning closer to brush back the strands clinging to your temples and cheeks. "No jacket then." He pecks the side of your face, right on your cheekbone. This anxious feeling bubbles within you, overflowing before you can stop it. You grab onto his shoulders and keep him close.
"My back feels cold," you mumble. "Can you help warm me up?" After a pause, you add, "Please," in the softest, most heart-wrenching voice. If Bruce were still standing, his knees would be weak from the word.
"'Course." You both settle under the covers, your husband's meaty arms around your torso with his chest against your back. Wriggling, you get comfy before relaxing into his touch. You shut your eyes, waiting for sleep to come. But your mind feels alert and awake, but tired at the same time.
The wind has lulled for the time being, gentle strokes after a harsh beating. Dark clouds float in the obsidian sky, obscuring the moon. The bedroom darkens.
"Bruce," you say quietly.
"Mhm." He sounds like he was on the verge of nodding off.
"Sorry," you whisper, frowning and remorseful. "Sorry for keeping you up. You can sleep. I'll be okay." Initially, he doesn't say anything, nor does he move. But then you feel his unwavering strength shifting you onto your back. You inhale deeply. This position feels much freer and more open.
Tilting your head to the side, you see that Bruce has propped himself up on his forearm. There's a devilish smirk on his handsome face. Stroking your cheeks affectionately, he says, "If you're up, I'm up. It's as simple as that." Inching closer, you happily accept his tender kiss, the gesture helping to dissipate the pent-up tension in your body.
Pulling back, he continues, "You don't have to apologise for anything, sweetheart. Whenever you're struggling, tell me. I'm here to help. And I'm proud of you for being honest and open with me." He places two gentle kisses on your eyebrows, his love eliciting a sigh from you.
"Thanks, babe." You grin, all soft around the edges. Reaching up, you cup his jaw with one hand, a light stubble pricking your skin. Drawing him down, your kiss is deeper and slower this time, your foreheads bumping and breath united as one.
Separating, Bruce peppers your face with chaste pecks before murmuring, "Try to get some sleep, alright? If you can't sleep, then rest. It'll help." He lies beside you, keeping one half of your body warm while the blankets do the rest. The mattress protects your back against any more chills, absorbing and insulating your body heat to help you stay toasty.
It isn't until the sky begins to brighten that you fall asleep. Your husband watches you silently, your slow, easy breaths and the gentle rising and falling of your chest. You look so at peace, it makes his heart melt. He stays like that for a while, observing you—his beautiful wife—finally at rest after a rough night.
Once the sun breaks through the clouds, he switches off your alarm and soundlessly slips out of bed. Before he leaves for Wayne Enterprises, he tells Alfred not to wake you, hoping he can be done with this performative board meeting in a couple of hours and race straight home to be there when you wake up. To be right where he belongs, next to you.
masterlist
elle's notes: this happened to me a few nights ago and i really wish i had bruce there to take care of me >.<
"Don't you look like a sunshine today." The voice of your husband reached your ears, and when you looked up through tired eyes to glare at him, he only grinned back at you from behind the rim of his coffee mug.
"Oh, shush." You grumbled sleepily, brushing past his sitting form and ruffling his hair on the way.
Bruce scoffed softly at your antics, knowing very well that you knew how much he hated having his hair messed up. Quickly, he reached out his arm and managed to land a gentle slap on your ass.
You squeaked and scrambled to get his arm away from you. Bruce chuckled mischievously, grinning as he lifted the mug to his lip to take another sip.
You, on the other hand, dragged yourself to the big counter to make your usual morning pick-me-up. There was silence between the both of you as you enjoyed your beverage with a soft hum.
"... you started it." His sly comment made a small gasp fell from your lips as you clutched your chest.
"You're on thin, thin ice, Mister." You warned, pointing your finger at him accusingly.
He only smiled back at you widely, a smile that both made you want to kiss his cheeks and hit him over the head with a frying pan. You know, the average marital experience.
Bruce put his cup down with a clink, right next to the latest edition of the Gotham Gazette, before sauntering over to you, wordlessly wrapping his arms around you and pressing a sweet kiss to your temple.
"Good morning, sweetheart." He said softly, resting his chin in your shoulder.
"That's better." You huffed, a smile breaking onto your cheeks.
Bruce hummed in response and let his eyes fall shut as he gently swayed the both of you from side to side. The tile was cold against your feet and the summer breeze that brushed in through the big, open doors facing the beautiful garden belonging to the Manor made goosebumps rise on your skin.
"What are your plans for today?" He asked before pressing a featherlight kiss to your shoulder.
You chuckled softly, twisting your body to face him with his arms still firmly around your waist.
"Well, it seems like you have plans for me today." You smirked at him, stroking your hand down his soft brown locks.
He let put an amused huff and straightened his back to his full height.
"Maybe I do." He grinned, spinning you around to face him.
"Jesus-"
You barely had enough time to put down your drink.
"A warning next time?" You raised your brow at him, your arms crossing over your chest.
"Sorry, honey." He chuckled, though you knew these little moments of mischief were what kept the little boy inside him alive.
You rolled your eyes playfully.
"So, your plans?"
"I figured we can just do.... nothing. I don't know when the last time was that I did nothing." He mused.
Your expression softened.
"Nothing means lying on the couch all day, slipping into the occasional nap until we wake up at an ungodly hour and eat way too much food?" You asked with a grin, tilting your head and watching as a smile spread over his lips.
"I didn't know my lovely girl was a mind reader." He joked, gently flicking you on the forehead.
You scrunched up your nose in response. Bruce chuckled.
"And here I thought you knew me, Mr. Wayne." You sighed with faux disappointment, before you gave him a soft smile.
"D'you want me to get the good pillows from upstairs?" You whispered playfully, like a child hiding something from their parents.
Or, in your case, a very loved british butler that has chastised you too many times already for bringing the Manor and his housekeeping system into disarray.
"You're perfect." He replied, gently taking your chin between his fingers and pecking you on the lips.
You giggled against his lips, reaching your hand up to pinch his cheek.
"If you keep going with those compliments it'll get to my head." You smiled.
"I have always been one to spoil the ones I love." He smirked, nuzzling into the palm of your hand.
A chuckle fell from your lips.
"Lucky me, that I get to call you mine." You hummed, stroking your thumb over his cheekbone.
Before he could respond, you cut him off.
"I'd be even luckier if you could get breakfast ready while I fetch those pillows...." you trailed off, averting your eyes.
Bruce pinched your side and slightly shook his head at you with a smile.
"I think Alfred prepared something."
You sighed in relief.
"Thank God. We don't need you burning the kitchen down." You chuckled, twisting out of his embrace and making your way upstairs.
"Now, excuse me-"
He started with a scoff, but a sharp look from you made him snap his jaw shut.
Bruce grumbled and turned to plate whatever delicious meal Alfred had made. You giggled all the way up the stairs.
"I love you!" You called out, earning a grumbly "Yeah, Yeah." With a huff.
.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.
After a delightful breakfast you were splayed out on the luxurious couch in Bruce's arms. Your belly was comfortably full and the cushions felt like clouds as you watched his face, carefully tracing his handsome features with your eyes.
His chest was falling and rising with soft breaths, and his eyelashes gently brushed the top of his cheeks. He wasn't quite sleeping, but in a relaxed state that would rest him nonetheless.
You continued to admire him, running your finger from his temple over his cheekbone all the way to his jaw. A pleasant hum rumbled in his chest as his eyes opened, and he smiled at you softly.
You smiled back at him, a smile so sweet Bruce could feel his heart melt into the crevices of his ribcage.
There was no need for words when you guided his face to your own and pressed your lips to his in a gentle and passionate kiss. Like an automated response, his arms snaked around you in a tight grip, one of his hands cupping the back of your head.
It was a dance of teeth and tongue with a harmony of soft sighs and hums that bounced off of each other. Your arms wrapped around his neck, and with his help, you maneuvered yourself onto his lap.
Before you could sit down properly, he pushed one of your thighs to the side, making you slip and sit directly on one of his. You gasped into his mouth at the sudden pressure against your pussy.
The hand on the back of your head wove its fingers into your hair and tugged lightly, making a soft moan fall slip past your lips. Bruce only pushed you further into him, your noses bumping each other occasionally as he deepened the kiss.
He was practically devouring you, licking into your mouth and tugging at your puffy lips with his teeth. Y
ou managed to pull away for a breath, lust glistening in Bruce's eyes as he took in the state of you.
Panting above him, red lips, dilated pupils with disheveled hair. To him, you looked like heaven. He leaned in, brushing his lips against your ear.
"Ride, baby." He said lowly, and you had to try your hardest to bite back the mewl that was sitting in the back of your throat.
He planted one of his hands on your hip, gently starting the movement of you rubbing yourself all over his thigh. You didn't hesitate to grind your aching cunt down onto his leg, soft moans spilling from your lips.
He groaned when you tugged at his hair to capture his lips in a feverish kiss once again. You sped up your movements, squeezing your eyes shut at how deliciously your panties felt against your clit and folds.
Bruce was only pushing you further in the direction of your orgasm by pushing you down on his thigh with his hand, chuckling into the sloppy kiss when your breath hitched in your throat.
The sensation was overwhelmingly good, setting all your nerves on fire. He swallowed up all your moans and groans, the sighs, and whatever other divine noises you were making.
He pulled away briefly, his chest heaving same as yours, as he whispered in your ear.
"Just like that."
Your hips stuttered, and you mewled, tightly grasping onto him. You were rutting against his thigh like the neediest thing in the world, only reaching your peak of pure ecstasy when he kissed you once more.
Your movements became sloppy, and with a last cry into his awaiting mouth, you came undone.
Your breath was shaky, your thighs quivering as he gently helped you through your high.
With a heaving chest, your forehead glistening with a thin layer of swear fell to his shoulder. You felt leaden, all your limbs pulling you down.
"You did so good for me, my love." Bruce cooed, rubbing your back.
You collapsed onto his chest.
"Need a nap.." you slurred, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck.
He chuckled, brushing some stray strands of hair out of your face before pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head.
hii can you write about bale!bruce being an ass guy and just constantly grabbing and squeezing your ass whenever you’re on his lap and especially during sex, he would be doing all that and slapping it a lot? thank you sm i hope this isn’t too weird to ask!! 😭🫶
That's not too weird at all!! 🩷
This isn't exactly what you asked for, but the horny part of my brain took over, and there was no stopping it lol
You're laying on your bed, turned on your stomach while reading a book or looking through your phone. It's late already, only the faint glow of the lamp on your bedside table illuminating the room.
Your legs are bare, as your usual sleep attire consisted of a top of some sort short and a pair of panties. Sleep is tugging at your limbs, your eyelids begin to droop, and your head feels heavy.
In comes Bruce, your husband, dressed in a pair of pajama pants and, fortunately for you, no shirt. He takes a moment to admire your form.
The curve of your back and your shoulders, your hips that look so soft and comfortable to grab and your legs, moving around a bit as you adjust your position.
And then, his favorite part. Your ass that looks like it was crafted by the gods. At least in his eyes. It's so perfect. He can't find a single flaw. It fades into your thighs so nicely, and the shimmering stretch marks accentuate its form even better.
Next thing he knows, he's staring at your behind with dilated pupils and a slack jaw. He's itching to take a handful, wanting to feel the supple flesh spill between his fingers. Bruce steps closer, the mattress dipping under his weight.
The tips of his fingers ghost over the curve of your ass, making a shiver run up your spine. You giggle, knowing exactly what's about to happen. As ridiculous as it sounds, Bruce was almost hypnotized, completely focused on your rear. His feather light touches turn into a gentle kneading of the fat, to digging his hands into the flesh.
You wiggle your hips from side to side with a cheeky smile, watching as he shot you a look before his lips were pressed to the backs of your thighs, trailing sloppy kisses up your leg. The soft hum that falls from your lips turns into a gasp when Bruce nips at your cheek, soothing it with a soft kiss.
He sucks hickeys and gently bites at your ass and thighs, covering them in various blooming shades of purple and blue. You could swear he spent hours worshipping your behind to his heart's content.
He hums against your skin, running his tongue up the inside of your thigh, nudging your legs to open wider. Bruce gently rubs his hands over the many marks, leaning forward to press a kiss to your shoulder before he settles back into his favorite place.
He noses the gusset of your underwear, making you instinctively arch your back, which in turn makes a wicked grin spread over his face.
He ended up eating you out until the sun rose, reveling in the beautiful sounds you made and how your body reacted to his tongue running along the seam of your cunt.
Whenever your hips would flinch away from his mouth, he'd deliver firm spanks to your ass, scolding you for interrupting his meal. He's obsessed. Your thighs clenched around his head, his cheek resting agaisnt your rear as he lazily licked and flicked his tongue over your clit.
He made you come undone so many times that you had to fend him off with a stick by the end.
Bruce loves to use your ass as a pillow. He'll collapse on top of you and use your cheeks as cloudy head support while he knocks out for a good few hours. Mainly after patrol.
Because where you see your ass, Bruce sees two perfectly good clouds to take a nap on.
A/N: I got carried away. I'm very passionate about Bale!Bruce and just lost control at one point. I'm not sorry, hehe! This is for all my Bale!Bruce girlies. Can be read for any Bruce, though! Enjoy!
~Fi 🪻
Prompt: Bruce spoiling you to the high heavens and only wanting your love in return.
Requested by: my lovely mutual @vampkennedy
Warnings: NFSW CONTENT. proceed with caution. PiV, creampie, very very fluffy, kinda possessive Bruce
Word count: 3.6k
PART 2 ♡
Please don't copy my work. I put a lot of effort and heart into the things I write.
❤️◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇💍◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇❤️
❤️◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇💍◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇❤️
There was not a morning where you didn't wake up like this. You were alone, yes, but you knew he wasn't far. He never was. This had turned into a game of sorts. A spiel where he would shower you in lavish gifts every single morning. It was his way of showing you just how much you meant to him and that you held his heart in your hands.
You sat up in your shared bed and stretched your arms, letting out a yawn. Your gaze fell to the sliver of light that your curtains couldn't keep out. Getting up, you followed it carefully, knowing that he wanted you to. He was Bruce Wayne, nothing was a coincidence. Everything was intenional. A small, red box sat on your vanity, a note right next to it. It was being perfectly illuminated by the slice of sunshine cutting through the darkness of the room. A smile crept onto your face as you read the note your lover had left you.
My beloved,
May this bring a sparkle to your life, just as you have brought to mine.
Love,
Bruce ♡
You rolled your eyes at how corny this was, but it still tugged at your heart strings in the best way possible. Every day there would be a new box and note for you to discover. Placing the gifts in just the right spot and, like today, draping the curtain just at the perfect angle to guide the way to his love. He was always awake before you were but that didn't stop him. He'd never missed a day and you doubt he ever would.
You looked forward to this as well, but not because of the jewelry or whatever other expensive gifts he had prepared. No. It was the notes. It were the cruelly scribbled down words that made your heart beat out of your chest.
You loved the gifts as well, but the notes held a special place in your heart. Putting down the piece of paper, you carefully picked up the tiny box and opened the lid. Your mouth fell slightly agape at the sight before you. In the smooth, white pillows sat a delicate necklace. It was glistening in the morning glow ever so nicely.
A beautifully crafted rose pendant hung from it, the intricate petals were cold to the touch as you gently grazed the tips of your fingers over them. This had been one of most extravagant presents he'd ever given you. Bruce did always call you his flower. You brought so much to his once dull and gray life; his heart and soul bloomed like the delicate daffodils did in early spring everytime he thought of you. You brought color and joy. Just like flowers did.
"Oh, Bruce..." you sniffled, the smile on your face hurting your cheeks. Carefully picking it up, you placed it around your neck and fastened the clasp. It fit perfectly, sitting ever so delicately on your skin. You admired yourself in your vanity mirror, your fingers slightly grazing the skin just around the necklace.
You couldn't wait to show Bruce. Yes, he'd picked it out but it looked so different on you than it did on the silken interior of the small box.
Throwing on one of your many, many silk robes that Bruce insisted on getting in every single color, you quickly made your way down the grand staircase. The cold marble tiles sending a delightfully cool feeling up your spine each time you took a step. You rushed down the stairs, a steady grasp on the railing. The sunlight streaming in through the many windows fell right onto your ring.
Slowing your pace, you held your hand up to the light and examined the shimmering band. A reminder of his love. He had proposed to you just a few days ago. It was incredibly special, just the two of you under the stars. He popped the question in the stunning garden of Wayne manor that Alfred worked so hard on.
Speaking of Alfred, he was more excited than either of you. He had to sit down and went through an entire box of tissues when you broke the news. What a kind soul. You had the dumbest smile on your face recalling the events from a couple of days ago. Letting out a squeal, you pressed your hands to your heart. You were getting married. Not only that, but to him. The love of your life.
You couldn't wait any longer, you had to see him. Hurrying the rest of the way to the dinning hall, you composed yourself before entering. And the sight. Dear God. Bruce was sat at the head of the table in his boxers and a white T-shirt, coffee cup in one hand, newspaper in the other. He looked so domestic, so peaceful. Not like previous nights where he'd limp in, all battered and bruised.
Slightly looking up, his furrowed brows were immediately replaced with a wide grin when he spotted you. Putting down the mug and the paper he got out of his chair, walking your way. You met him halfway, your arms thrown loosely around his neck as his snaked around your waist.
"If it isn't my beautiful wife." He grinned, tracing circles on your waist with his thumb. "Ah, soon-to-be wife." You corrected him, the smile on your cheeks never leaving. He chuckled lowly and shook his head. "What took you so long, Honey?" He questioned softly. You laughed at his eagerness to see you. "I was held up by your generosity, Mr. Wayne." You teased, taking one of his hands and placing it on your collarbone, right next to the stunning piece of jewelry.
His gaze fell to your neck and his smile faded, leaving him wide-eyed and with his mouth slightly agape. He tenderly caressed your soft skin with his thumb, tracing the shape of the necklace. "I knew it'd be perfect," He breathed out, followed by a breathy chuckle. Your cheeks flushed and you brought his hand up to your lips, placing a kiss on his knuckles.
"Thank you, Sweetheart. For all these precious gifts. For always making me wake up with a smile on my face. You've made me the happiest girl in the world." You confessed, the softest smile on your face. Bruce swear his heart just melted inside his chest. He made you the happiest girl in the world? You have no idea how happy you made him. He felt invincible, like the king of the world. He was convinced he only needed your love to accomplish whatever he set his mind to. You were his oxygen, the blood in his veins, the very spirit of his soul.
Bruce was determined to show you just how much you meant to him, if that was possible. "Anything for you, my love." He said, having the most adoring look in his eyes. You'd placed your hand on his cheek in the meantime, the golden engagement band cold against his skin. "I love you, Bruce." You whispered, gently leaning in for a tender kiss. He didn't hesitate, pulling you closer to him by your waist. You relaxed against his lips, tightening the grip you had on the back of his neck.
You needed more, you needed him. He chuckled against your lips but complied, deepening the kiss. Pulling away for air, you were breathless and your lips were puffy. He would kiss you breathless forever if he could. And God knows you would let him. His playboy days paid off for something because this man could kiss. And you loved how you were the only one to feel those kisses.
"Look at you. My eager, little wife." A sly smirk was on his face and he made sure to emphasize the last word. You opened your mouth to correct him again, but he quickly interrupted you with another breathtaking yet soft kiss. You didn't now why you were so easily flustered by his kisses, you'd been together for years. There just something so electric and new about being his. Truly being his. Him being yours.
"I know we're not married yet, but I can call you whatever I want. You're mine." He said lowly, pupils dilated. His grip on your waist tightend. He's never done that. Never called you his. Told you you were his. It was implied, of course, but he'd never said the actual words. You just stood there, face flushed to the high heavens with the biggest lovesick smile on your face. His tone softened again when he spoke.
"I want you to wear the necklace to the Gala tonight." Your brows furrowed and you slightly tilted your head in confusion. "What Gala?" You asked, no idea what he was talking about. "Oh, it's a... spontaneous thing. There's a new dress in the closet." He answered. You squinted your eyes in suspicion. "Spontaneous, huh? Also, we talked about this, Sweetheart. I don't need a new dress for every event! I've barely worn the other hundreds." You laughed.
He just grinned in response. You knew he loved to see you in something new each time, he loved spoiling you. Only the best for his love. "That's where we disagree. Would you wrap a diamond ring in used wrapping paper?" He teased. You playfully rolled your eyes at him. "No, I wouldn't." You sighed.
"All the other dress just can't keep up with your inner beauty." He breathed, a soft look in his eyes. You folded. You could never be upset with him for long, you loved him too much. "Fine, I'll wear it. You're lucky I love you," you pouted. He wanted you to never stop saying that. That you loved him. Something he'd longed for, for so long. To be loved, truly loved. Not for his money, his status, his looks. But because of who he was. And you did just that. From the odd noises he made when he slept, to the extremely bad jokes he made. You were always there, tending to his wounds, whether they affected his body or his soul. Holding him so softly after a hard night, he feared you'd crumble under his calloused hands.
"Well, I'll get ready for the day. I'll see you later, okay?" You said, pressing a quick peck to his lips. He hummed in response as you slipped from his grasp.
"Honey?" you turned around, already halfway up the stairs.
"There will be a lot more press and paparazzi there today," he said. "Why?" You asked curiously, fully turning around on the stairs. "They're expecting Mrs. Wayne." He shot you a wink and gave you one of those signature smiles as he walked away.
He was right. There were a lot more people. The streets leading up to the location were lined completely with camera wielding, and very nosy paparazzi and news anchors. Everyone was hoping to catch a glimpse. This was huge for the press. They probably thought that this day would never come. Bruce Wayne, Gothams millionaire playboy was settling down? Impossible. The moment you stepped out of the car they were all over you. Invading your personal space, shoving cameras and microphones in your face. This was sensational. They wanted to know more about the woman who tightly held Bruce Wayne's heart in her delicate hands.
They had written some pretty bad stuff about Bruce in the past, not that he cared. But when one peticular news article labeled you as just a trophy wife, all hell broke loose. He sued them until bankruptcy. How dare they. How dare they lable his wife, his world, his precious jewel, as just a trophy. You were the light of his life, you loved him and he loved you. He loved you more than they would ever know and he would burn them to the ground if they ever suggested otherwise again. No press had the guts to call you names again, or they would feel the wrath of a very in love Bruce Wayne.
He came to your rescue pretty quickly. Positioning himself between you and the paparazzi, acting as human shield. Bruce gently placed a hand on the small of your back and pushed you through the doors. You let out a breath you didn't know you held.
"Jesus, do they not have better things to do.." you mumbled, hooking your arm with his. "This is their job, so no, Honey." He grinned. You rolled your eyes at him. You knew that, but did they have to be so obnoxious? If they asked nicely maybe you would actually answer some of their absurd questions. You made your way into the center of the room where the upper class of Gotham was already mingling with a glass of very expensive champagne in hand.
Bruce couldn't stop glancing over at you. The floor length, satin gown was tailored to perfection, showing of your body in the best way. The rose necklace sat nicely around your neck, sparkling under the bright light of the many chandeliers. Your hair was in an updo, showing off your earrings perfectly as they lightly swaying as you walked. Your soft hands were decorated with the many rings he had showered you with, the extravagant engagement band catching everyone's eye.
God, you looked so elegant on his arm, almost floating along the granite floor. The bright smile on your lips melted his heart as you greeted people. Unimportant people, if you ask him. "You look absolutely beautiful, my love," he whispered in your ear, his breath fanning over your neck, sending a chill down your spine.
"You flatter me, Darling. I'm glad you wore this suit, it's my favorite," you gently ran your hand down his chest. It too, was tailored just right. His heart beat faster. He didn't know you had a favorite suit. One that you longed to see him wear because it just made him look that good. "What's this Gala for anyway?" You asked, toying with the lapel of his jacket.
"Oh, you know, just some... charity," he responded with a breathy laugh. You raised your eyebrows at him. Your eyes widened in realization and a knowing smirk made its way on your pretty face. "Did you plan this whole thing just to show me off?" You questioned amused. He stumbled over his words, a very rare occurrence.
"What? Of course not, Honey, that-that'd be absurd-" you interrupted him by pressing a finger over his lips. "Fine. Let them see. Let them see how much I love you." You whispered, smashing your lips to his in a hungry kiss. One hand was on the back of his neck, keeping him close to you, the other was steadied on his chest. His hands instinctively snaked around your middle, holding you tightly.
All eyes were on you, hushed whispers and gasps filling the room. You pulled away, chest heaving. Bruce's pupils were dilated. "God, you're perfect..." he whispered breathlessly. He couldn't wait to leave this stupid event and shower you in his affection.
The Gala was a success and you were finally back at the manor. You were standing in front of the mirror in your bedroom and admired yourself one last time before you'd take it all off. Bruce came up behind you, the jacket of his suit discarded and the sleeves of his shirt rolled up. He wrapped his strong arms around your waist and dropped his head into the crook of your neck, trailing kisses along your exposed skin. You let out a breathy laugh. "Look who's eager now," you teased.
Bruce chuckled against your neck. "Can you blame me when you look like that?" He said lowly. He dragged his hands up your back and slowly pulled the zipper to your dress down. With a gentle brush of his hand, he let the dress slip off your shoulders and onto the floor. You were left in nothing but your panties, which quickly joined your gown and the floor as he pushed them down your plush hips.
"You're a little overdressed, don't you think?" You said softly, yet seductively as he continued placing wet kisses along your bare shoulder and neck. "You tell me, Honey," he answered. The taste of your skin was intoxicating. You turned around, putting your hands on his chest and slowly pushing him towards the bed. When the back of his thighs hit the bed, he sat down, pulling you into his lap.
"I think you are," you mumbled hazily, unbuttoning his shirt and throwing it on the ground. You moved your hips over his hard cock, straining against his pants. A low groan erupted from his throat at your actions. You could feel your wetness dripping from you, leaving a wet patch on his crotch. He pulled you in for a desperate kiss as you reached down to unbuckle his belt and slip off his pants.
Bruce was left in his boxers, which were quickly taken care of. His throbbing cock sprung free, hitting his stomach. You took his dick into your ring clad hand and pumped up and down a few times, making his head fall back. "Fuck, Baby..." he groaned, squeezing your hips. Lifting your hips, you lined his length up with your pussy and sank down onto it, a long moan falling from your lips. "G-God.. you fit so well. It's like you were made for me.." you mumbled out, your hands finding their place on his shoulders. He was made for you, he was sure of it. He was yours, until the end.
He moaned out your name when you started moving your hips, which he guided with his hands. You tangled your fingers in his soft hair, occasionally tugging and pulling at it. Bruce looked up at you as you bounced on his cock. Your beautiful face was contorted in pleasure, and the jewelry he had bought you still adorned you so nicely. There was a layer of sweat covering your skin, making you shine. Just like your necklace glistened in the dimly lit room. You looked like a Goddess above him, decorated with delicate pieces of jewelry. Jewelry he bought for you.
God, he wasn't sure he wanted to fuck you another way ever again. Your ring was cold against his skin, reminding him that you were his. For him to take, however he pleased. He would buy every diamond in Gotham if it meant having a sight like this before him. Your hips started moving faster, as you moaned. "Shit...M'getting c-close," you breathed out, letting your head fall against his shoulder.
He was almost upset at you for taking away his privilege of admiring you, but he never got the chance once he heard your cute little moans and whines right beside his ear. "Me too, Honey, keep going.." he panted. You pressed your body to his, your tits sitting beautifully against his chest. Bruce glanced down and saw the curves of your soft tits adorned with the stunning necklace.
It molded to their curve so perfectly, making him tighten the grip on your hips, frantically moving you up and down his cock. He chased his release, your warm, wet walls feeling too good. You gasped as his dick hit that one that that made your head spin. "Oh fuck, I can't wait to call you my husband.." you rambled out, barely registering what you'd confessed.
That pushed him over the edge as he shot his load inside you with a guttural groan, filling you up. Your husband. That was music to his ears. That's all he wants, to be yours, to be loved by you. You clenched around him and came with a cry of his name. Panting, you pressed a tender kiss to his lips. "Did you mean that?" He asked quietly, kneading the flesh of your hips.
"Did I mean what?" You asked, breathing heavily. Bruce hestitated, letting out a nervous chuckle. "That you can't wait to call me your husband."
"Oh.. I did. I love you so much, Sweetheart. More than you'll ever know. My heart is yours, Bruce," you said softly, stroking his cheek. "I love you too, Honey." He responded, kissing you passionately.
"I'll draw us a bath," you breathed, raking your fingers through his locks. He hummed in response, reluctantly letting go of you. You slipped off his cock. He watched his cum trickling down your thigh as you walked towards the bathroom. He groaned at the sight, falling back onto the bed with a smile.
Bruce was laying with his head against your chest, surrounded by bubbles and soap. His back was pressed to your front and your hands were wrapped around him. You could feel him relax against you, the tension in his shoulders fading. "I keep them, you know," you said softly from behind him. The water rippled as he turned his head to look at you.
"Keep what?" He asked. "The notes. The ones you always place next to my gifts? I keep all of them," you spoke, tracing patterns on his pecs. "You do?" He smiled. "Yeah, I read them when you're gone and I'm feeling sad. They're in a box in my nightstand." You mumbled, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "I love you so much, Honey," he said quietly. "I love you more, Bruce."
From that moment on, he put more effort into his notes. They keep getting longer and longer, almost turning into letters as he confessed his love to you every single day. You would still read them when you're old and gray, because his love for you would never fade. Just like how your love for him would never be lost to time, you would love him until the end, continuing in your next life. Your souls and hearts were bound, and they would never stop searching until they found eachother once again.
To say he'd be gentle would be an understatement. You'll be treated as absolutely royalty, touches so soft and tender you can barely feel them.
He'd be extremely honored and giddy that you want him to be your first. The fact that you trust him so much despite his reputation makes his heart beat faster and his cock twitch.
It's safe to say he's not a virgin, and boy, does he know what he's doing!!
He'd take you out on a nice date first, most likely a very nice restaurant. Bruce wasn't usually the romantic type when it came to relationships (if you can even call them that) but he loves you, truly loves you, and he wants to make this special for you.
I don't think he'd go the full 9 yards with rose petals and candles, but it's definitely still a very soft and romantic atmosphere.
Bruce would be insistent that you don't have a single sip of alcohol that night. Yes, you've been together for a while, but this is a big step, and he wants to make 10000% sure that this is what you want. No drinks for either of you that night.
So, he'd take you out on a fun night, have you get all dolled up and then drive around with you for a bit, the lights of a Gotham night reflecting in the windows of his very expensive car. Just something to take the edge off.
You're obviously very comfortable around each other, and he's probably seen you naked at one point anyway, but sex is a completely new form of intimacy.
He'd help you undress and place soft kisses on your skin. You'd lay in bed for a while, not completely naked yet, but still very much undressed. Just enjoying each other's company while the flame of lust and desperation slowly grows and grows. Maybe he'd tell you some of his weird or embarrassing sex stories that he (undoubtedly) had at one point just to make you less nervous.
Sex can be messy, clumsy, ungraceful, and sloppy. He wants you to know that there's nothing to be ashamed about and to always voice and concerns or wishes you may have.
He's gently caressing the skin of your arm as you both lay on your sides, facing each other, as you talk about whatever comes to mind. There's a little lamp on in the corner of the room, bathing the room in a soft golden glow.
He can't help but stare in awe as he follows the light reflecting off your features as your lips move. His hand trails lower, settling on stroking your waist, and when he hears you stop talking he searches for any sign of discomfort on your face but is only met with blushed cheeks and your breathing slightly picking up.
Bruce smiles softly and and gently tugs you closer to his chest, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. There are wandering hands, clumsy attempts at keeping your lips connected and the overwhelming urge to just touch. He'd ask you one final time if you're sure about this, that he would stop immediately if you asked him to.
The second you give him the go-ahead, he's almost bursting with excitement. He can't wait to explore this new side of you to figure out what you like and what makes you weak in the knees. His hands explore your body, caressing and teasing your sensitive spots whole his lips are attached to your neck.
He tugs off any remaining garments you had on and makes his way down your stomach, brushing his lips over your soft flesh. And, yes, he will eat you out for your first time (definitely not because he's a munch and has been thinking about this for months) maybe he'd make you come on his tongue, but he doesn't want to overwhelm you so he'll just tease you and rile you up until you're dripping with a fog of pleasure clouding your senses.
He'll gently ease his fingers inside of you one by one, getting you used to the feeling of having something inside of you. He'll switch between holding your hand and circling your clit with his thumb. He watches your face like a hawk for any indication that you're uncomfortable or, god forbid, in any pain.
And if you end up coming around his fingers, that's okay. He didn't really set himself any goals for this, like getting 5 orgasms out of you in 10 minutes or anything like that, he just wants you to feel good and loved.
If you don't come around his fingers, that's okay, too. What happens, happens, what doesn't, doesn't. As long as you're satisfied in the end, he doesn't care.
Expect to get like a thousand kisses and him telling you how much he loves you every second.
Bruce insists on missionary (it's his favorite position, but only with you) because the closeness and intimacy is very important to him during your first time. He will always have a safe word, it'll be just stop most of the time. It's easy to remember because it's the first thing you think of when it gets too much anyway.
Because, let's be honest, you're not gonna remember rhubarb-vanilla crumble or something ridiculous like that.
He's been ignoring his raging hard-on, purely because he just can't take his eyes off you. You look absolutely divine underneath him, your pretty features contorted in bliss. He's already been making mental notes to what really makes you melt. And then the moment finally arrives and he gently pushes himself inside of you, tightly grasping your hand.
Communication is really important to him (not only during sex) so I'm afraid you won't get any kisses until he's 100% sure that you're okay. He needs to hear you loud and clear, whether you want him to slow down, start moving, to angle his hips differently. This is all about you tonight.
But the second he's found a good and steady rhythm and has you mewling with your eyes rolling to the back of your head, he's smashing his lips on yours. Bruce would lay his entire weight on you, chests pressed together because he needs to be closer to you. It's not close enough for him, but it'll have to do.
But don't think this isn't affecting him, sex with love is way different than the hook-ups he had. He's panting like a dog, messy hair and dilated pupils. He's absolutely drowning in pleasure, reaching the deepest parts of you while your fingers are still firmly laced together. He'd be very insistent that you come together (he's probably the one that has to hold himself back) and he'd stroke your clit or suck on your tits, whatever tips you over the edge.
I believe the closer he gets to coming undone, the more incoherent babbles of love spill from his lips. It's all desperate and needy "I love you"s in between moans and groans. There are definitely night where he was more control, but this one is not one of them.
After he's brought you earthshattering bliss, and he tiped over the edge himself (he'd preferably come inside of you, but he wouldn't mind pulling out if that's what you wanted) he'll lay down with you. There's no rush, just the two of you gently coming out of your haze of pleasure.
Bruce can't ever shut up, which makes him the king of pillowtalk. You'll just take for a little while, make sure you're both okay before it's time to clean up and get ready for bed.
Depending on how deep you're into the evening, he'll either gently wipe you down with either a damp towel, make sure you're both getting some water, or he'll straight up pamper you with a full bath. I'm talking candles, bubbles, lots of differently scented soaps, and ,of course, his arms around you.
It's all very intimate and loving with tons of soft kisses to your temples, forehead or lips. After you're dried off, you'll help each other slip into your sleep attire before absolutely knocking out for a good 9 hours and waking up in the loving embrace of your lover with the sun kissing your cheeks.
A/N: I finally got around to writing this lovely request!! Fluffy morning sex is perfect for Bruce AHHH 😭 and this is also the sequel to 'My Precious Jewel' !! Get your nom noms :3
~Fi 🐝
《Prompt》: the ask is here!
《Requested by》: anon <3
《Warnings》: NSFW CONTENT. proceed with caution. Handjob, edging (barely), PiV, throat holding (???), creampie (don't be like them), lil bit of cockwarming, so fluffy it's sickening, Bruce is a hopeless romantic, change my mind. (You can't)
《Word count》: 2.6k
Sequel to My Precious Jewel ♧
Can be read as stand alone as well though!
Masterlist ✨️
Please don't copy my work! I put a lot of effort and heart into the things I write.
🍾●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●🌼●●●●●●●●●●●●●●🍾
🍾●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●🌼●●●●●●●●●●●●●●🍾
The morning sun was streaming in through the curtains, tickling your face. You stirred, craning your neck to take a peak at the time. 8:39 am. You sighed sleepily, turning around and snuggling closer to the man who had his strong arms wrapped around you.
You smiled softly as you saw his peaceful expression, still dreaming away. Feeling a cold sensation on your hot skin, you gently lifted the covers. The hand that held you tightly yet so lovingly had a gold ring sitting on its ring finger. You quickly inspected your own hand, finding a golden wedding band there as well.
You had to stop yourself from squealing like a little girl when you realized that all of it, the wedding, the reception and the kiss weren't a dream. You were officially married now.
There were so many emotions bubbling up in your chest. Unbridled joy, disbelief, and pure excitement. But, you'd decided to deal with all of that later, and for now just enjoy your first morning snooze as Mrs. Wayne.
You pressed a sweet kiss to Bruce's lips, and closed your eyes, burying your face in his t-shirt clad chest. It wasn't even 9 in the morning. You'd sleep till dusk like this if you could. Safely in the embrace of your now husband, feeling each other's steady heartbeat and soft breaths.
A comfortable silence lingered over the estate, safe for Alfred who was probably doing all kinds of things already. You'd urged for him to sleep in today, he deserved a break. But, to your dismay, you knew the man and he couldn't just sit and relax even if he was chained to the chair. Well, as long as he enjoyed whatever he had to do you wouldn't complain.
Your slightly parted lips were pressed right above his heart, gently brushing the cozy fabric of his shirt with every breath. One of your arms was slung over his waist, your fingertips gliding over his back in whatever random pattern your wrist decided to carry out. It was a soothing gesture, making Bruce hum sleepily as he pressed his lips to the top of your head, your hair tickling his face.
His arms tightened around you, making it clear that he didn't want to leave the bed either. He felt like he had been put in chains, in a loving and warm way, not in a constricting and controlling manner. The chains that were your love and affection kept him tied down, sinking into the soft sheets, with an even softer you in his grip.
"Don't ever wanna leave this bed..." you mumbled into his chest. A drowsy smile tugged at Bruce's lips as maneuvered you closer so your legs were intertwined.
"I don't either... never wanna be without you." He sighed, feeling the familiar and gentle call of sleep.
"Wanna sink into the mattress, let it swallow us whole."
Your husband chuckled softly. Lack of sleep and early mornings did tend to bring out the poet in you.
"You can tell me all about that in, say... 4 hours?" His words were jumbled, the heavy fog of slumber taking over his brain. It took you a minute to put together what he said, as your own brain was still neatly tucked in its own metaphorical bed.
The furrow in your brows softened when you understood what he was trying to tell you, and you pulled the blanket tighter around the both of you.
"Very, very good idea."
Soon enough, you slipped back into colorful dreams, safely tucked against Bruce's chest.
.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.
A strange feeling that settled in Bruce's bones is what woke him up. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling by all means, it was just... odd. A peculiar buzz in his skull, that slowly trickled down into his spine. It was euphoric almost, making him hazy about his surroundings but too aware of every nerve in his body.
His shirt was soft, too soft, and the buttons on the pillowcase dug uncomfortably into his ribcage. The sliver of sun that managed to sneak its way through the thick curtains fell directly on his face.
His nose scrunched up as the blinding light slowly burned his eyes. Yet the warming and comforting feeling on his cheeks made him stay in place, taking in the new day instead of pulling the covers over his face.
He shifted slightly, shivering when a cool sensation set the nerves in his thigh on fire. The sight of your hand, your married hand, on his leg, made a fire ignite in his stomach that was so ravenous and destructive it could've turned him to ash from the inside out.
The gleaming of your ring, the ring that he put there, made his heart rush and his cock twitch in his briefs.
"Been waiting for you to wake up." With a sweet smile playing on your lips and a certain glint in your pretty eyes that he'd seen many times before, you stroked your thumb over his skin. Your touch made his breath hitch ever so slightly, which didn't go unnoticed by you. It never did.
You were able to read Bruce like an open book, all the tricks he'd acquired over the years and used on the public to shift his image didn't work on you. They never really had, even from the beginning. For some odd reason, that he couldn't explain, you could see right through him.
"Hm, yeah? Could've just woken me up, honey. You're my wife now, after all." Bruce grinned, a strong arm sneaking around your back and pressing you flush against his chest. Your cheeks were on fire. That word still flustered you to the high heavens, and you reckoned it would for a little while.
"It would've been a shame to wake you. You looked like you were crafted by the gods." You whispered softly, pressing your lips to his in a tender but hungry kiss. Bruce melted into you, his eyes fluttering shut as he lost himself in the feeling of his lips on yours, moving gracefully against each other. With heavy breaths, puffy lips and glazed eyes you severed your connection.
"The sun sitting on your cheekbones," your fingertips traced over his face in such a gentle manner, one could assume you were afraid of breaking his peacefulness.
"And on your lips," your thumb swiped over his bottom lip, which curled up into a smile.
"Down your neck... it would've been a crime to break such beauty."
Your hand settled on the back of his neck and gently kneaded his muscles.
"I'm flattered, though no beauty can ever match yours, my love. You will eternally be the universe's rose, blooming in all your glory no matter if the sun shines or not."
"You need to stop reading all those books Alfred recommends to you." You giggled, an obvious blush on your face.
"I don't think I will." He smirked before capturing your lips in a kiss again. It was desperate and full of passion, making you sigh softly against his mouth. His hands became needy, grabbing at the fat of your hips. Bruce trailed his kisses over your cheeks, to your jaw and down your neck, sucking and gently biting at your skin.
You moaned quietly, your body sinking into the sheets at the feeling of his lips against your skin. Grabbing at the hem of his white shirt, you swiftly pulled it over his head, revealing his mouth-watering physique to you. The hand that had been resting on his thigh up until this point now cupped the tent in his briefs, stroking gently but with a firm hand.
He groaned into your shoulder, squeezing you tighter.
"None of that, baby, look at me." You cooed softly, gripping the hair at the base of his skull and gently pulling him away from your neck. Your hand dipped into his underwear and gave his cock a few strokes before shoving his briefs down his thighs.
Never breaking eye contact, you licked a fat stripe over your palm, guiding your hand down to his dick and rubbing at the tip. His lips parted slightly and few throaty groans left him.
"J-Jesus Christ, sweetheart, your hands really are magic." He breathed out, his head tipping forward just a smidge as you found a steady pace with your hand wrapped around him.
"Only for you, always for you.." you whispered against his cheek, feeling his breathing speed up. His hands were digging into your hips by this point as you circled the tip of his cock with your thumb, his pre-cum and your spit slicking him perfectly.
When you ran your finger over the underside of his shaft, against the bulging vein, pretty moans spilled from his lips as he approached his high. But before he could float on that cloud of bliss, you retracted your hand and left him hanging on the edge. His eyes were hazy and filled with need and desperation as he let out a frustrated groan.
"You're gonna regret that, little minx." Bruce smirked, but there was a fire in his eyes that made the heat in your belly boil over.
"Will I?" You challenged with a wicked smile, making him chuckle before smashing your lips together and silencing any further comment you might've made.
He pushed you onto your back and quickly pulled your nightgown over your head before sliding your panties down your legs.
Bruce's hands were placed on your inner thighs, pushing your knees further apart. He groaned at the sight of your glistening cunt, pupils swallowing the brown of his irises whole. Your naked form isn't something he hadn't seen before, but his mind was foggy with emotions of all kinds; the golden sunlight that painted your skin, the way your hair fell into your face, and that sparkly diamond on your finger making his heart swell in his chest.
You were his, through and through, and he never doubted it, but to see that solid piece of evidence sitting so nicely on your ringfinger made something stir in him; something primal, almost.
His hands trailed to your waist, kneading your flesh, as he leaned forward to be closer to you.
"I'd eat you till morning, honey, but I need to be inside you." You could tell that he was trying to hide the urgency and need in his voice, blanketing it in a soft and loving tone.
"I need you inside. Please, my love." You begged needily, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him in until his dick was prodding at your entrance.
"Besides," you whispered when his head found its place in the crook of your neck,"you can always have me for breakfast later."
With an amused huff, he slowly pushed inside of you, filling you up delightfully.
"You'll be the death of me." Bruce groaned, intertwining your fingers on both hands and pressing his forehead to yours.
Your beautiful moans echoed softly in the bedroom when he started to slowly thrust his hips into yours.
The movement knocked the breath from your lungs every single time, your nerves tingling with a sizzling fire that crawled up your spine. He sped up his thrusts, moaning and groaning against your lips.
You pressed your hand against his chest to slow him down again.
"Slow, slow... wanna feel every part of you."
You could've sworn you heard the faintest whimper escape his throat, gripping your hands tighter has his cock dragged along your walls. You could feel every ridge and bump, your head lolling to the side in bliss.
With languid and deep thrusts, Bruce continued to bring the both of you to the edge of your ecstasy. As your moans got louder, you reached for the hand with his ring on it and gently placed it around your neck.
Your husband shifted his weight so he wouldn't fall on top of you, but there was a hint of concern in his eyes. You placed your ringed hand on top of his and gave it a reassuring squeeze.
You just wanted him to gently hold your throat, wanting to feel the cold metal against your burning skin.
"You won't hurt me, I promise. Jus' need you to hold me- fuck!" You cried out at a particularly deep thrust, squeezing your eyes shut and digging your nails into the back of Bruce's hand.
"Look at you. My pretty fucking wife. All mine. I made you mine, and everyone knows. They just need to look at that pretty diamond ring on your finger." His voice dropped an octave, and his words were almost a growl as he plunged in and out of you.
"You're s'good to me, honey. The perfect husband f'me." You moaned, your lips clumsily brushing against his as he panted on top of you.
"God, I love you." He grunted, his movement becoming sloppy as he was nearing his climax. You could feel the bliss gnawing at your limbs as well. Bruce trailed his hand between your bodies and circled your puffy clit, which only made you succumb to the pleasure faster.
"F-Fuck- oh my god, I'm so close!" You almost screeched, trying to ground yourself with him in any way you could.
"Come f'me, yeah?" He heaved, struggling to get the words out between his groans. Any more moans and cries were muffled as his lips greedily found yours, the tip of his cock hitting that spongy spot inside of you over and over again.
With a a strategic swipe over your clit and a well timed thrust, your orgasm crashed into you, jumbled 'I love you's falling from your lips as Bruce spilled inside of you with your name on his lips. The hand around your throat tightened only a little bit, prolonging your high that much longer as bliss clouded your brain.
Bruce gently lowered himself on top of you, steadying his breathing against your chest. You were catching your breath as well, tracing patterns on his bare back. He was still nestled deep inside of you. He rolled the two of you over so you were on top of him, your cheek pressed against his shoulder as you relaxed in his arms.
"I love you so much." You mumbled, eyes falling shut. You didn't know what time it was, but it didn't matter to you. You had nowhere to be except right here, snuggled against your husband.
"I love you too, sweetheart. Are you alright? D'you need anything?" he asked softly, pressing kisses to the top of your head.
"Hm, no. Jus' wanna stay like this. Maybe take a nap." You yawned, making Bruce chuckle.
"Do you need anything?" You questioned in return, placing a kiss to
his shoulder. "I could use a nap as well." He laughed softly, pulling the covers over the both of you.
"Good. Cus' I'm not getting up." You sighed, letting yourself be loved by him. His hands lazily ran through your hair, lulling you to sleep.
"Sweet dreams, baby." He whispered against your hairline, coaxing a sleepy smile onto your lips.
"You too, my love."
Both of you drifted off with the sun high up in the sky, not a care in the world that it was well past noon. Your hearts beating in sync, your soft breathing mimicking each other and connected deeper and closer as ever, the bonds of your love shinning in the dwindling sunlight with your hands intertwined.
If Bruce could make you wear his heart, he would, but for now the diamond ring would have to do.
You were his and he was yours. The perfect balance of love.
