::: 𓍢ִ໋֒ / 𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 ! sleepy doe-eyed . . . blue pink-gloss kisses. laces slipping off her shoulders. slow dancing in the dark, even prettier when she cries. soft whimpers at 5:05am. a pearl curse && 0219 lover ♡
Ი 𐑼 . . . bruce wayne ♡ joel miller ♡ nanami kento
Joel came home late. His boots were heavy against the floorboards as he dragged his tired body down the hallway. A grunt slipped from his lips when he caught a glimpse of a figure in the living room.
He huffed, half amusement and half exhaustion, when he saw you asleep on the couch, wearing one of his old flannel, a blanket draped over your body. His wife. Always stubborn, never listening when he told you not to wait up.
The floor creaked softly as he knelt in front of you. His gaze softened at the sight of you sleeping so peacefully. Slowly, he laid a hand on your shoulder, rubbing up and down until you stirred.
You yawned and stretched, a drowsy smile curving your lips. “Hi, honey.” you murmured, raising your hands to cup his face, stubble rough against your palms.
“Told ya not t’wait up, darlin.” Joel said, voice gruff but warm, leaning into your touch.
You shrugged, fighting a smile. “Couldn’t sleep without my husband. And no one to warm the bed.” Your eyes searched his tired face, noticing the shadows under his eyes despite the fondness in his gaze. “Rough night? You’re late again.”
Joel hummed, nodding. A long day. Too many customers. Too many complaints. But he didn’t want to talk about work. He just wanted you.
He pressed a kiss to your temple, then scooped you into his arms. You wrapped yourself around him easily, already knowing his drill. The bedroom door creaked open as he carried you in, setting you gently on the bed.
He tugged the blanket high around your shoulders before lying down beside you. Propped on one elbow, he met your eyes in the dark. “Now that I’m here, shouldn’t be a problem sleepin, yeah?”
You chuckled. “Right, right.” Leaning up, you pressed a kiss to his cheek before settling against his chest, fingers lacing with his. Sleep was already pulling at your eyes. “Good night, honey. Dream of me.”
Joel snorted softly, giving your cheek a little pinch. “G’night, darlin. I’ll make sure I do.”
He never said I love you outright. Not with words. But it was there, in the way his hand rubbed your back until your breaths evened out, in the kisses he pressed to your forehead long into the night. His own quiet way of saying it, over and over again.
Nanami is always there and noticed everything about you. Not a single day passes without him worrying especially when you shut him down and pull away during your period.
Everything feels too much all at once, the stomach cramps, the sharp twinges that come out of nowhere, the pounding headache, and worst of all: the rash that always shows up and leaves you uncomfortable, itchy, and miserable.
Right now, you’re sitting naked on the bathroom floor, soaking in a basin of warm water mixed with herbs to calm the irritation. Your eyes are swollen from hours of crying and for once, Nanami isn’t here to comfort you. He’s working late, again. Overtime for the second time this week.
You feel hollow, exhausted and all you want is your husband. You already called him, asked him to come home early because for once you need him and you know he’ll keep that promise.
The bathroom door creaks open. You turn your head, tears blurring your vision, and there he is, Nanami, already crouching down beside you, his warm hands reaching for your cold skin. You collapse into his embrace, sobs filling the bathroom, and he holds you tighter.
“I’m right here, honey. I’m here,” Nanami murmurs, thumb tracing slow circles on your back, whispering nothing but comfort.
When your tears finally ease, he cups your cheeks, frowning at your swollen eyes. “Do you feel a little better, honey? Do you need anything?” His voice is low, worried.
You can barely speak, your throat raw from crying. “ ’m fine... I just need... you.” Your head drops against his chest, body heavy with fatigue. His chest tightens, guilt eating at him. He wasn’t here when you needed him most. “Let’s get you out of here.” he says softly. “Come on, let me help you, my love.”
Your legs wobble as you try to stand so Nanami scoops you up in his arms, carrying you bridal-style. He sets you carefully on the counter, grabs a clean towel from the shower rail, and wraps you in it. By the time he lays you down on the bed, you’re half-asleep only dimly aware of him sliding fresh underwear on you with a pad, then pulling his shirt over your body.
Your heart warms when you feel his big hands rubbing medicated oil into your stomach, easing the cramps. He pulls on the mismatched socks you love, even though perfectly paired ones are stacked neatly in the drawer. He doesn’t say a word, just tucks the blanket around you and presses a kiss to your temple.
“I’ll grab a hot pack and clean up the bathroom, alright, honey? Then we can cuddle, watch a movie, maybe eat some sweets. How does that sound?” He waits for your reply, because he needs your voice. he always does.
“Don’t be too long, baby... I want you,” you mumble, fingers clinging to his collar.
He smiles gently, brushing your hair back. “Just ten minutes, my love. I won’t be long.”
When he returns, hot pack in hand, you’re curled up in bed, calmer now. He slips the warmth against your stomach, sets your pills on the nightstand, looking back at you, gaze softened before he disappears into the bathroom. Nanami pours out the water, flushes away the blood, cleans the basin, and throws away the used pad without even flinching. Not a sigh, not a grimace. Just a quiet care.
By the time he comes back, fresh from the shower with damp hair slicked back, you’re already reaching for him in your sleep. He climbs into bed, wrapping his arms around you from behind. You stir and pat the sheets blindly.
“Baby...”
He chuckles softly, taking your searching hand and lacing your fingers with his, resting them on your stomach. “I’m here. Did you feel better, my love? I’m sorry I was late. One of my workers was hospitalized for food poisoning, and I had to cover the meeting. I’m so sorry, my wife.” His voice breaks against your hair, full of remorse and regrets.
You let out a small laugh, squeezing his hand. “You’re here now. That’s all I wanted. I just hope I’m not burdening you... making you take care of me like this.”
His breath catches. “Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that, honey. You’re my wife. Taking care of you is not a burden—it’s my responsibility, and my honor. Please, don’t hurt me with words like that.”
You smile softly, patting his hair. “Alright, alright. I’m sorry, my husband.” He lifts his head, eyes glassy. “Promise me you won’t ever say that again. You’re the most precious thing in my life and the most important woman in my world.”
You giggle, noticing his pout. You then press a kiss to his lips, “There. You were grumpy because you didn’t get your welcome-home kiss, weren’t you? Now you have one.”
He freezes for a second, then melts, tucking his face into your neck with a groan. “You’re cruel... knowing I get weak when you kiss me like that.” His nose brushes against your jaw, making you giggle again.
Your husband may be whiny tonight, but with his arms wrapped around you and his love poured into every touch, you almost forget about the cramps entirely.
“I love you.” Nanami whispers against your skin. “More than anything, my love.”
⤿ BRUCE WAYNE was convinced he didn't want more kids after the trials and tribulations his adopted children put him through. But then, the two of you got married, and now, five years later, his mornings are consistently interrupted by two little girls who love to crash his chances of making them a sibling.
!! fluff. wife!reader. girl dad!bruce. bruce is so domestic and whipped in this. ugh i love lazy morning intimacy moments. suggestive. bruce loves his kids we all know this. none of them are being crime fighters according to mrs wayne (yet). features two itty bitty daughters. ENJOY.
The morning light seeped gently through the tall windows, brushing against the sheets in a way that made the edges glow gold and soft. You let yourself sink further into the warmth, half lidded eyes tracing the strong, familiar line of your husband's jaw, the way his dark hair caught the sunlight and shimmered faintly at the edges.
Bruce shifted beside you, a low hum escaping his throat as he pressed closer, one hand sliding over your hip with lazy intent. His chest was warm against yours, the slow, steady rhythm of him grounding you in a way only he could.
“You’re warm,” he murmured, his voice husky with sleep, brushing his lips against your temple in the kind of kiss that lingered just long enough to send a shiver down your spine. “It's almost unfairly.”
You laughed softly, your fingers teasing at the edge of his shirt, tugging it just slightly, careful to let the moment stretch, letting your hand drift to the bare skin of his stomach as you murmured against him, “Maybe I like it when it’s unfair.”
Bruce chuckled, low and amused, the sound vibrating against your shoulder, his lips brushing your ear this time, trailing down the side of your neck in slow, tantalizing motion.
“Is that a challenge?” he asked, though the spark in his eyes made it clear he wasn’t serious, or maybe he was, but in the most indulgent way imaginable.
You nipped at his jawline in answer, teasing, playful, letting him feel the light touch of your teeth without any bite.
“Maybe,” you whispered, the word lingering between you, soft and intimate, carrying that sort of private meaning reserved for mornings when the rest of the world didn’t exist, and the house belonged only to the two of you.
Bruce groaned softly, tilting his head back against the pillow, letting his hand drift to your back, fingertips brushing down in slow circles that made your pulse skip, your body leaning into his touch.
“We’re going to regret being awake before the girls wake up,” he muttered, his tone teasing but heavy with the promise of something more, and your laugh filled the small space between the sheets.
“Oh, I highly doubt that,” you hummed, brushing your lips across the corner of his mouth, just enough to make him shiver. “I plan on savoring it while I can.”
He swallowed, eyes darkening just slightly in the morning light, a glimmer of amusement and something sharper threading through the corner of his gaze.
“I might need some assistance with that,” he murmured, letting the words hang there, heavy with suggestion, his hand sliding lower along your waist. “Wouldn’t want it the moment to get away from me.”
You rolled your eyes, feigning exasperation, though your pulse betrayed your grin. “Oh, you're such a gentleman,” you murmured, letting your hand press just a little more insistently against his lower torso. “Always thinking of everyone else before yourself.”
Bruce’s lips quirked, a smirk tugging at the corner as his hand traced upward along your side, teasing the curve of your ribs. “Especially you,” he grumbled softly, voice dropping, low enough that it brushed against your skin like a little promise.
The sheets rustled as you both shifted closer, the world shrinking to the warmth between you, to the soft hum of breathing and the touch of skin on skin. This was the kind of slow, deliberate intimacy that felt like owning time itself, even if just for a fleeting morning.
You traced the stubbled line of his jaw again, letting your lips brush just barely against him. Your kisses lingering against his skin as you pressed your lips to his adam's apple which bobbed in response. His body leaning into yours with that quiet, confident ease that always made your pulse race, even after years of mornings like this.
“I could get used to this,” you murmured, your lips brushing the shell of his ear as your hand traveled down, fingers pressing lightly, teasing, “just the two of us, before the chaos hits.”
Bruce let out a low, approving groan, the kind that promised he agreed entirely and had been hoping you’d say that.
“Mmm, so could I,” he breathed, tilting his head toward you just slightly, lips brushing yours in a slow, soft, intimate kiss that lingered far longer than it should have. His hand threading through your hair, pulling you closer as if the world beyond the sheets might vanish completely if you just stayed like this.
And for a moment, it was just the two of you, and it was soft, and it was slow, and it was everything you wanted before the small, tiny footsteps and the giggles of the two little girls would pull you from your sanctuary of sheets and whispered promises. You loved them dearly, but they had a tendency of interrupting and leaving only the warmth between you and Bruce. The warmth, and the memory of a morning that had started with nothing but love, laughter, and a few well-placed innuendos that would linger far longer than either of you would admit aloud.
The sheets shifted just enough that Bruce leaned against you fully now, his hand sliding lazily and dangerously low. The hum of the morning soft and slow, until a tiny, familiar sound cut through the warmth like a playful warning.
Knock. Knock.
It was a deliberate pattern, and something only you and Bruce knew meant business with it's tiny, confident rhythm that demanded attention.
“Who’s there?” you called, voice sweet and teasing, though your pulse jumped slightly at the reminder that your little ones had already started their day.
“Two princesses!” came the chirped response through the door, high-pitched and brimming with authority, followed by a second, “Open! It's morning!” that carried just enough urgency to make you laugh.
Bruce groaned softly against your shoulder, lips brushing the top of your head. “They’re efficient,” he murmured, voice rough with amusement. “Always on time, never subtle.”
“Sounds like someone else I know,” you whispered back, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw and shooting him a playful wink.
“I think it’s genetic,” he said, smirking, voice low, almost suggestive, the glimmer in his eyes promising he had already decided there would be some more little ones down the line who carried on his drama.
Another set of tiny knocks rapped sharply on the doorframe, accompanied by more high-pitched declarations. “Open! It’s urgent!”
“You hear that?” you asked, rolling onto your side to face him properly, a lazy smile tugging at your lips. “Urgent. I think we better comply, Mr. Wayne.”
Bruce shifted just slightly, a quiet chuckle escaping him, one hand tracing a slow line from your hip to your waist.
“I suppose the fate of the world — or at least ours — depends on it,” he teased, lowering his voice to just above a whisper. “Shall we answer together?”
You laughed softly, brushing your lips across his in a lazy, teasing kiss. “After you,” you murmured, letting your gaze linger in a way that made him smirk knowingly.
He leaned in anyway, brushing a slow kiss over your mouth, teasing, soft, a whisper of intimacy in the quiet morning, before pulling back just enough to let you hear the tiny voices again.
“Alright... let’s see what all the commotion is about,” he said, tone low though that didn't mask the grin that was spreading across his face.
You both rolled out of the sheets just enough to rise, Bruce’s hand never leaving yours as you moved toward the door. The two of you shared a look that was a quiet acknowledgment.. and acceptance.. of your the fate on the other side of the heavy wooden door.
As soon as the door swung open, your 5 year old barreled in first, arms spread wide as if to tackle both of you in a single move. “Good morninggggg! You two need'ta see what I found!” she shouted gleefully, eyes sparkling with mischief and pride.
Right behind her, the toddler followed with tiny, wobbly determined steps, hands waving wildly as she added, “Daddy! Up! Up!” in a voice that carried the perfect mix of urgency and excitement. She climbed onto Bruce’s leg almost immediately, wrapping her arms around him with all the weight her little chubby body could manage, and he caught her effortlessly, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest.
“And here I thought our quiet morning would last,” Bruce murmured, voice still husky from sleep, brushing a hand through the toddler’s hair, eyes flicking to the older daughter with a mock glare. “You’re conspiring against us, aren’t you?”
“Maybe,” your daughter said with the same cheeky grin Bruce sometimes had, “but it’s very important!” She leaned closer, lowering her voice dramatically. “We found treasure.”
Bruce tilted his head, pretending to consider the gravity of this announcement. “Treasure, huh?” His hand reached to press a gentle, lingering kiss to your temple as he shifted the toddler so she rested comfortably against him. “And I suppose this treasure is too valuable for me to see first?”
The toddler let out a tiny squeal in protest at being adjusted, squirming happily in Bruce’s arms as if insisting on being part of the conversation. You laughed softly, brushing a hand down her back.
“I think the adults get to see it together,” you said, voice teasing but full of warmth, leaning into Bruce as he held your youngest securely.
The older daughter sighed dramatically but clearly delighted, hopping in place as she led you both toward the living room, her hands gesturing wildly like a conductor guiding the orchestra. “Follow me! It’s really amazing! You’ll want to see it before anyone else!”
Bruce let out a soft groan, playful and indulgent, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before murmuring, “I don’t know how I survived before I had you girls to ruin my mornings.”
“‘Ruin’ is one word,” you whispered, brushing your lips against his jaw, letting the tip of your nose nudge his cheek. “Brighten is another.” You punctuated your words with a gentle kiss to your toddler's cheek.
He caught your gaze and held it, a slow, private smile tugging at his lips, his hand lingering at your hip just a fraction longer, the warmth between you undeniable even amidst the whirlwind of little stomps and excited chatter, a momentary bubble of intimacy that belonged just to the two of you before the house fully came alive.
“Alright,” Bruce said finally, voice low, rich, and teasing as he shifted the toddler in his arms. “Lead the way, Miss Treasure Hunter. But be warned, if this treasure is anything less than spectacular, there will be consequences.”
The girls erupted in laughter, the sound filling the hallway like sunlight, and you pressed close to Bruce, letting him feel your warmth, your hand finding his, your lips brushing his cheek as you whispered, “You’re going to spoil them too much, y;know.”
He smirked, brushing a kiss to the top of your head. “Not a chance. Someone has to keep them properly… motivated.”
And with that, the four of you moved toward the living room, a soft, chaotic, and absolutely perfect morning unfolding around the two of you.
𝟷𝟾+ 🪧 must be of age to read !! ࿐ ⊹ ׂ older ❜ leon’s back giving out during sex.
the wet slap of your skin against skin is the only loud sound in the room, a steady, slick rhythm he dictates with his hips. he shoves your legs higher, hooking them over his shoulders until you’re practically folded in half, taking every thick inch of him as he pounds into you.
then he gives one last, gut-punching thrust, so deep you feel the blunt, bruising pressure of him ramming right into your cervix. it steals the air from your lungs, your vision going white at the edges from the sheer, overwhelming feeling of being so completely filled.
but the grunt he lets out isn’t one of pleasure. he shifts his expression subtly, changing the atmosphere in the room.
his whole body goes rigid above you, every muscle in his back bunched and locked tight. he’s a statue made of sweat and straining sinew, completely still.
“leon?” you pant, cupping his face, your own orgasm still buzzing.
a low, frustrated hiss escapes his gritted teeth. “fuck. my back.”
he’s just dead weight now, a warm, heavy presence still buried balls-deep inside you, but completely immobile. the great leon kennedy, taken out by a bad back mid-fuck.
♡⸝⸝ tales: they were called Sunshine and the Shadows by the town—she's radiant, skipping along the sidewalk with daisies in her hands and the scent of flowers trailing behind: while, Bruce's s quiet, soot clinging to him, a small smile never flattering while he stays beside her. They were everything to each other until Gotham decided they couldn’t be.
♡⸝⸝ content warning: childhood trauma, parental loss, betrayal, divorce mentions, childhood best friend to strangers to lovers, bittersweet themes, absolute!batman aus, 18+
so easy (to fall in love) ft. chef!reader x divorce lawyer!nanami @mononijikayu
illicit affairs ft. married!reader x sukuna @yuujispinkhair
forbidden fruit ft. vampire knight!choso x princess!reader @luorcais
love’s ransom ft. sheriff!nanami x reader @mysteria157
ONE-SHOTS
mental health hurt/comfort ft. nanami by @nanamineedstherapy
best friends to lovers ft. gojo by @leclercloveletters
the gojo family ft. megumi by @meiieiri
angsty smut ft. sukuna by @caramelluxe
shut up and drive ft. F1 driver!gojo by @revolvingsaturn
SERIES
the good life masterlist ft. actor!nanami x reader @mononijikayu
serial killer ft. serial killer!nanami x reader @indiewritesxoxo
by the hearth ft. Emperor!nanami x princess!reader @gingerteawrites
royal flush roulette ft. jjk men x syndicate operatives!reader @caramelluxe
I’m so much better than him ft. sukuna x reader @suku-enthusiasts
loved and lost ft. arranged marriage w/ gojo @joemama-2
five more minutes ft. tutor!reader x choso @alexiroflife
DRABBLES
aftercare ft. nanami by @eirasera
hangover fluff ft. sukuna by @creamcut
periods hurt/comfort ft. nanami by @waynedoll
emotional nanami by @satoruined
modern au ft. sukuna by @yuujispinkhair
Choco’s yapyap: mb if it seems there are too many fics for Nanami or mostly fluff smut kinda makes me feel scared unless it is like hyperspecific fics lol also I hope the authors don’t mind me tagging you I’m sorry 😞 </3
hope you enjoy the rec and please please check out the authors!! a reblog works as well to share their works :)
You perch on Bruce’s lap in the middle of the night humming an unknown tune, scrolling mindlessly through Instagram as Bruce rubs slow circles on your back. His head rests in the crook of your neck, breathing smooth and calm, as if he isn’t fighting the bone-deep exhaustion he desperately needs to give in to.
“Baby, should we sleep now? I’m getting sleepy waiting for your little shopping time,” he murmurs. His hand stills on your back before he lifts his head from your neck, cupping your cheeks gently and tugging your attention away from your phone.
You pout. “I didn’t get what I want yet, Brucey.” With an exaggerated sigh, you fall against him dramatically, one hand on your chest to add to the act—anything to lure him into spending more time with you after patrol. “Still got lots to think about. What to buy. It’s stressing me out.”
“Sweetheart…” Bruce sighs, brows furrowing, lips pressed into a thin line as his body sinks into the leather chair. “I just got home from patrolling… cut me some slack, please, baby. I… really need rest this time.”
That’s new. Bruce is never this desperate for rest, at least not with you. He usually despises stopping even for a moment. After patrol he’d normally head straight down to the Batcave, analyzing Wayne Enterprises data or scanning for new Gotham crime patterns. But now… his eyes are already half-lidded, lips forming that soft pout he gets when he wants attention. His face leans into your small palm before his eyes flutter shut, his body going slack.
That’s when you know—you better be a good girl and not mess with his mood.
So you mumble an “okay,” slipping off his lap. He groans at the loss of warmth, but you quickly grab his hand, pulling him up from the chair and guiding him toward the bed. You push him gently by the shoulders, and he blinks at you in confusion.
“What is this about…? Are you mad at me, baby?”
You chuckle softly, shaking your head as you help him lie down properly, adjusting the pillow under his head before settling beside him with a tired huff. You slide one arm under his chest, the other around his torso, your chin tucked on top of his head.
That’s when he realizes—
“Am I the little spoon today?” he murmurs, amused at your attempt to be the big spoon, even though your arms barely reach halfway around him.
You mumble sleepily, “Yeah… wanna be the big spoon even though I’m clearly the princess one here. But that’s okay. Wanna spoil my man tonight.”
A small smile tugs at his lips, his heartbeat quickening as he feels your hands patting his back—the same way he always does when you fall asleep. You press a soft kiss to his forehead before murmuring a good night.
Bruce’s eyes soften in the dark. He leans in, resting his weight against your chest, wrapping his arms around you tightly as he whispers back, “I love you, baby.”
You perch on Bruce’s lap in the middle of the night humming an unknown tune, scrolling mindlessly through Instagram as Bruce rubs slow circles on your back. His head rests in the crook of your neck, breathing smooth and calm, as if he isn’t fighting the bone-deep exhaustion he desperately needs to give in to.
“Baby, should we sleep now? I’m getting sleepy waiting for your little shopping time,” he murmurs. His hand stills on your back before he lifts his head from your neck, cupping your cheeks gently and tugging your attention away from your phone.
You pout. “I didn’t get what I want yet, Brucey.” With an exaggerated sigh, you fall against him dramatically, one hand on your chest to add to the act—anything to lure him into spending more time with you after patrol. “Still got lots to think about. What to buy. It’s stressing me out.”
“Sweetheart…” Bruce sighs, brows furrowing, lips pressed into a thin line as his body sinks into the leather chair. “I just got home from patrolling… cut me some slack, please, baby. I… really need rest this time.”
That’s new. Bruce is never this desperate for rest, at least not with you. He usually despises stopping even for a moment. After patrol he’d normally head straight down to the Batcave, analyzing Wayne Enterprises data or scanning for new Gotham crime patterns. But now… his eyes are already half-lidded, lips forming that soft pout he gets when he wants attention. His face leans into your small palm before his eyes flutter shut, his body going slack.
That’s when you know—you better be a good girl and not mess with his mood.
So you mumble an “okay,” slipping off his lap. He groans at the loss of warmth, but you quickly grab his hand, pulling him up from the chair and guiding him toward the bed. You push him gently by the shoulders, and he blinks at you in confusion.
“What is this about…? Are you mad at me, baby?”
You chuckle softly, shaking your head as you help him lie down properly, adjusting the pillow under his head before settling beside him with a tired huff. You slide one arm under his chest, the other around his torso, your chin tucked on top of his head.
That’s when he realizes—
“Am I the little spoon today?” he murmurs, amused at your attempt to be the big spoon, even though your arms barely reach halfway around him.
You mumble sleepily, “Yeah… wanna be the big spoon even though I’m clearly the princess one here. But that’s okay. Wanna spoil my man tonight.”
A small smile tugs at his lips, his heartbeat quickening as he feels your hands patting his back—the same way he always does when you fall asleep. You press a soft kiss to his forehead before murmuring a good night.
Bruce’s eyes soften in the dark. He leans in, resting his weight against your chest, wrapping his arms around you tightly as he whispers back, “I love you, baby.”