A Cure for Insomnia: Bruce Wayne x Reader
Shout out to @timeforsmut for editing and co-writing
Sleep was not something that came easy in Wayne Manor. Not for anyone. Almost every soul that lived there was damaged in a way. Sleep doesn’t come easy to the damaged.
Not for you.
Not for Damien
And certainly not for Bruce.
You huffed out as your tossed in turned in the bed, unable to find a comfortable position. You went to bed an hour ago, but you couldn’t seem to sleep. Yes, you were tired, but every time you closed your eyes your could only go in a dreamless sleep for about 5 minutes. It didn’t help that Bruce’s side of the bed was empty and cold, as he had been spending all night in his cave for days.
Finally you gave up, flinging your arms and legs around, kicking the covers off of you before rolling off the bed. Pressing your head a against the cool floor you sighed a bit before pushing yourself up and making your way to the closet across the room. You blinked what little sleep you had out of your eyes as you turned on lights, illuminating the rows of suites and shoes on Bruce’s side. Your fingers brushes over the soft fabrics of his clothes as you trailed to the back of the closet. When you reached his shoes all neatly lined up in a row, you tugged on the bars of the rack the false wall pulling away to reveal an elevator to the cave.
The walls reclosed as you pressed the down button before leaning on the back handel, sighing as you closed your eyes.
Suddenly all you saw were those maddened blue eyes. How dead and piercing they were. That god awful blood red smile spread across his face and painted on his cheeks. That tumble of green hair contrasting against pale white skin. All you could hear was that god awful maniacal laughter as he taunted you. Tore at you. That hideous purple suit, the acidic smell assaulting your nose.
You leaned forward and gasped, pale and shaking as sweat dripped from every pour at the vivid memory. 30 seconds. All you did was close your eyes for 30 seconds. The elevator dinged open, and you tried your best to steady your breathing and calm your heart as you exited, heading down a ramp to the main platform.
There Bruce sat, working on some analysis at the Batcomputer.
He paused, hands hovering over the keys as he heard footsteps approaching. Too soft to be Alfred’s, too heavy to be Damien’s. No clicking. Barefooted.
“Y/N.” he spoke, acknowledging your presence without looking up, continuing his work. Even so he couldn’t help but to smile a little when he felt you lean on him and press a kiss to his temple.
Naturally, Bruce was cautious about his relationship with you. He doesn’t want you to get hurt, or worse, because of him. No one knew about you. He didn’t want the public to know about you because he didn’t want to ruin your life or privacy, and he certainly didn’t want any villains finding out. God knows what they’d do to get to him though you.
Selena was huffy, and Damien didn’t like you. But then again, he doesn’t like anybody, so you didn’t really mind.
“You should be sleeping.” he remarked, not reacting to your body circling his.
“So should you.” you retorted as you wedge yourself between him and the computer.
“Y/N…” he began sighing as he lifted his hands for you to squeeze in.
“…..Crime doesn’t sleep.” you said in unison with him, although yours was more mocking.
“I know. I know. And Batman doesn’t either.” You bit your lip and leaned in “But, Bruce Wayne does. And right now Y/N L/N needs her hero.”
He eyes went soft, hands moving away from they keys to your hips.
You smiled as you removed his cowl and kissed him. “There he is.” you whispered quietly as you were met with that tumbling black hair and those soft, yet calculating dark brown eyes.
“Here I am.” he quietly replied before returning the kiss, titling you back ever so slightly.
You hummed to yourself as your fingers slid up the back of his neck and tangled themselves in his dark locks. You wondered how many people got to see him like this. Not as “The Batman” or “Bruce Wayne: Billionaire Playboy.” But regular old Bruce Wayne who liked Jazz and sweatpants and everything in the color black.
Bruce’s kiss started out gentle, but you soon found yourself being laid down on the keyboard, back arching as his fingers roamed on all the right places. He obviously didn’t care about his work any more as he trailed down your neck, hands pressing roughly into your hips as you wrapped your legs around his waist. He hoisted you up, shedding more clothing as he walked toward the elevator.
You gasped as you felt the coolness of the elevator press against your now bare back. You couldn’t remember when he took it off, but honestly you didn’t care. All you could see was him. All you could feel was the pressure of being pressed between him and the wall. The fitness of his scarred chest pushed against yours. The way his mouth pressed against your hot skin, or how his fingers dug into your thighs.
His mouth was on yours again as he navigated the closet, you still in his arms, without breaking the kiss. He bumped into a couple of racks, the noise probably alerting Damien and Alfred, but he didn’t care. Not right now. He entered the room, dizzy and high on lust. You were far more intoxing than Poison Ivy .
You shrieked and giggled as Bruce tossed you on the bed. You bit your lip as he kicked off his pants, the view of his tented boxers obvious. You scooted back as he slid forward between you legs, hands pulling down your night pants.
He inhaled your scent, pressing a kiss at your ankle before working his way up, littering kissed as he rose up your legs. You whimpered out as he softly bit into the sensitive spot on your things, hands kiting themselves in his hair as his broke away to press a kiss against your still clothed womanhood. Slowly, oh so slowly, he pulled down your panties with the crook of his fingers, humming as he did so. Instead of tossing them, he let them dangle of his figure a bit before balling them in his hand.
“Bruce?” You questioned as you sat up do to that lack of physical contract. “What are you up toooo-Oooh!” you moan out as he suddenly has his lips on your clit, sucking hard. You bucked forward, hands harshly gripping at his hair as he dipped into you folds. He was slow, lazy even, taking his time as he pulled moan after moan from you with his tongue. Your thighs wrapped around his neck as you grinded up, burying his face.
“B-Bruce!” you gasp out when he hits a sweet spot. “My Gods! Yes, right there.”
He whined, shifting so that his tongue pressed right in against it, humming softly. The vibrations from it cause you to cry out, back arching. His fingers dug into your thighs, pulling you down, groaning as he moved his hips lightly against the bed sheet, giving himself some sort of stimulation as he pleasured you.
Suddenly a sharp knock at the door caused the both of you to still. “Master Bruce? Miss L/N?” Alfred called out, sounding quite annoyed. “Is everything quite alright?”
Before you could even say a word, Bruce reached up and shoved your panties in your mouth, one hand covering them.
“Yes Alfred!” He responded, doing his best to keep his composure as he freed his length and placed one hand on your stomach, sliding achingly slow inside of you. “Everything is-oh- fine!”
His head dropped as he bit back a curse, when he was fully sheathed. You whimpered quietly, but Bruce’s fingers, gripped your cheeks in a silent command to be quiet.
“Go back to-ahh- bed.” he said, quietly groaning as he moved his hips slowly,grinding into you.
“As you insist.” Alfred spoke, the eyeroll practically audible through the door, before retreating down the hall.
Once he was sure Alfred was gone, he hitched one leg over his shoulder, titling you sideways before pulling almost all the way out at a slow pace, then slamming back in with such speed it rocked the bed. Your cries were muffled by the panties and his hand, but even so your eyes rolled back and your hands clawed at his body above you.
He repeated his movements groaning and hissing out as he felt you clenched a bit tighter every time he pushed in at that perfect angle, hitting your g-spot.
You moan out as he drilled you, pushing hard against that spot with every other stroke. You grabbed him by the nape of his neck and bought his head down, pressing forehead against yours.
His eyes were clouded and half lidded, and his pale skin was flushed. Sweat covered him and his lips were red and bruised from him biting them. Your nails left red angry lines against his skin and his breathing was heavy, quiet moans breaking cutting in the sporadic pattern. Dark hair fell forward, clinging to his face as he whispered your name like a prayer.
He had never looked more charming.
The hand he had clamped over your mouth loosened just a little bit, but that was enough of a window for you. You shifted, legs wrapping around him before you threw your body weight, flipping over so that you were on top. He was dazed for a moment as you snatched the panties out of your mouth and leaned down to kiss him. He responded immediately, challenging your act of dominance. Your hands trailed down his arms, guiding them up his body to the head board, breaking away for air.
“I expect you not to move, Mr. Wayne.” you teased, stretching the elastic of your panties to tie them around his wrists and the headboard. You both knew that he could easily rip them apart.
“And ruin a perfectly good pair of panties? Bruce smirked tugging lightly on his makeshift restraints. Oh yeah he could defiantly snap these. “Never.”
“Well now,” you chuckled as you kissed him “We’ll just have to see by the end of this.”
Hands raked down his chest as your body slid down his, inching slowly towards his length. His hips bucked slightly when he felt your hand wrap around his shaft, pumping ever so slightly before lining him up with your entrance. You both moaned out in pleasure as you slid down, balancing your hands against his abdomen.
“Mmnf, Y/N.” he hissed out bucking upwards. “Ride me!”
You obliged, bouncing steadily above him. The room was echoing the pants and grunts and hissing moans escaping you both as you rocked and bounced along Bruce’s dick. Your nails dug into his chest as you rocked your hips, teasing him endlessly.
Bruce groaned and glared at you for toying with him. “Y/N, just fuck my cock, already!” He growled.
“But I am, Bruce,” You moaned, smirking to him. “You feel so good.” You watched him groan and thrust his hips upward, trying to pick up the pace. “Something wrong?” You teased. He finally growled and tugged at your underwear, easily ripping it and pinning you under him. Before you could cry out in pleasure, bruce’s lips closed over yours, swallowing the moan with his own as he thrusted hard into you.
You shook and cried out, his hips pushing his cock-head right against your g-spot and making you shake before you were orgasming under him. He moaned as your walls clamped tight around him, milking him for his seed. He whined and pressed his mouth against your ear, moaning and panting softly. The sound of him unhinged and wanting intensified your own pleasure as your eyes watered up.
You tugged his hair hard and keened out his name before he grunted and groaned out your name, pulling himself away. You watched him fist his cock as his seed spurted out over your shaking thighs and stomach. You whimpered and whined, watching him before smirking and swiping up some of the sperm with your fingers, sucking it into your mouth.
Bruce let out a whine as he caught his breath. You sat up and kissed him, cupping his face lovingly. His hands closed over your waist gently, keeping you to him. You hummed as he held you to him, laying on the bed as he kissed you dearly.
He watched you curl against him, humming softly before your breaths soon fell into soft, even snores. He watched your face, peaceful and innocent as your bruised lips parted. He had gotten so used to seeing you whimpering and crying out when you seldom do sleep, the sight of you was a shock to him. He sighed and kissed your head, pulling the blanket over the two of you.
Maybe just…one night of sleep with you wouldn’t hurt.