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@msdevil333
About this blog!
Hello! Firstly this blog is strictly for 18+ viewers, so no minors allowed!
I mainly repost other people's amazing writings, my current fandom fixations are COD, FNaF, JJBA, Slashers and just all things monster related.~
Like an Animal (Bruce Wayne x F!Reader)
A/N: Hey guys!!! So Itâs 2:00amâŚand I only proofread this once. Iâm getting pretty lazy with proofreading, so Iâm sorry if itâs loaded with mistakes. Iâll check back tomorrow. Anyway, hereâs the sex pollen fic!!! I really hope it doesnât totally suck. Itâs based on âCloserâ by Nine Inch Nails. I wouldâve titled it âCloserâ but someone else already has a Bruce fic under that name so it didnât feel right :) Anyway, enjoy!
Summary: After the Riddler strikes again, he leaves some unusual clues behind for you and BruceâŚincluding a strange green dust.
Warnings: SMUT! Itâs completely consensual (and there is mutual pining), but bc this is a SEX POLLEN fic, imma give a dub!con warning. 18+, cursing, violence, grammar mistakes, and once again, some canon divergence with a Nightwing!reader/life long friend!reader but itâs not really important to the plot at all so you wonât even notice.
Word Count: 4,407
You swallow firmly as your boots clunk against the ground. The music blaring from the DJ booth below echoes off the walls of the club, the sound ricocheting through your eardrums and back out again. The metal floors of the balcony vibrate underneath you, threatening to fall onto the packed crowd on the dance floor.Â
Keep reading
â MAN ON WILLPOWER â
KINKTOBER â25, DAY 1: APOLOGY SEX. PRAISE KINK.
PAIRING: bruce wayne x female! reader
SUMMARY: bruce is a hardworking man, and sometimes you feel lonely, even your slutty pajamas arenât enough to get him to fuck you⌠so thatâs precisely why you sleep on the couch one night⌠and bruce canât have that!
CONTENT WARNINGS: 18+ CONTENT, rough sex, hair pulling, tit sucking, doggy style, creampies, dominant! bruce wayne, ass slapping, apology sex, lingerie, praise kink, couch sex, bruce is apologetic (even if heâs a bit mean about it)
AUTHOR'S NOTE: first day of kinktober! inspired by sabrina carpenterâs âmy man on willpowerâ because itâs such good song + album of the year, and I love to write apology sex because itâs absolutely delicious. bruce is a little ooc at the beginning but trust! he gets better!
bruce wayne was a hardworking man; you knew this the moment you began dating the billionaire by day, vigilante superhero by night. his schedule was full of philanthropic efforts, training one of the new robins, and detective workâ and somehow? he made space for you.
except the times where he couldnât. sometimes his schedule was too busy for any attention to pay to you.
of course, the bat tried. keyword; try. you two shared a bed, he made sure you were taken care of physically and mentally, and he spent as much time as he could give you⌠but one thing he couldnât do? sex.
and having sex with bruce wayne was the best thing youâve ever had, and thatâs why youâve been so on edge. you want him, but he seemingly doesnât want you.
some nights the bed was warm, other nights it wasnât. some nights, you had the manâs arms wrapped around you, his size dwarfing yours, while other nights the arms wrapped around you was your own.
it got hard sometimesâ scratch that, a lot. it was hard to handle a lot of the time, but you pushed through, because when bruce was able to make time for you, it was heavenly and youâd never take it for granted. but the distance hurt, the wait was excruciating but it was worth it⌠even if it hurt to suffer through.
so you began to try to get creative. if bruce wasnât going to pay attention to you regularly, youâd find ways to get him to pay attention to you.
putting his hand higher up on your thigh when heâs driving his car? didnât work. pressing your ass up on his crotch when he finally gets to bed? you heard him grunt but again, didnât work. when he was in the bat cave and you sat in his lap as he worked in the console? heâd kiss your cheek, gruff a simple âhey babyâ in your ear then go back to work. you began to lose your patience⌠not even wearing one of his shirts could get him to have sex. the kisses lingered, they tasted good but you wanted more, you needed more.
then, one night, you took it up the notch. and it finally workedâ but not the reason you thought.
bruce finally came to bed when you went to bed, murmuring something about the city being safe that night, since heâd sent dick and jason out and they could handle the city themselves. you decided to wear a specific pair of lingerie, his favorite color too! the lace that you knew made him go crazy, and mentally prepared yourself for both sex and disappointment, keeping an open mind for both because for the last month and a half? itâs all youâve known.
he turned off the lamp, the moonlight sprawling into the room as he got into bed. so far⌠nothing. he had looked at you with the small smile youâd seen too many times that itâs practically became the smile he had only for you, a smile designed just for you. he slides into his spot on the bed, his fingers brushing against the lace of the bra you were wearing, and he locked an arm around your waist and dragging you to his chest.
moments pass⌠your ear pressed against his chest, listening to his heart beat. nothing. absolutely nothing⌠no squeeze of your ass, no making out⌠just sleep.
you keep your thoughts in your head but youâre pissed. you canât handle him ignoring you like this⌠even your sexy lingerie for pajamas donât even affect him. thereâs only so much a woman can take. you work hard and he works hard, and youâve tried initiating but absolutely nothing.
thatâs it.
the moment you hear bruce drift off to sleep, seeing through the moonlight his eyes close and the slow rise and fall of his chest, youâre able to slip out of his grip. heâs always held you tight when he slept, like he didnât want to lose you, but you were successful in your little escape.
you stand up, stretching out your body as you look over your shoulder, seeing bruceâs eyebrows furrow but he doesnât respond. my god.
padding over to a random shirt on the floor, you slide it on and slowly walk to the door, opening it and slipping out of the bedroom. the wayne manor is cold, you could feel it hit on your legs as the shirt (which was bruceâs, like he knew it was the first one youâd grab) fell down to your thighs, covering your lacy panties ass.
stepping down the stairs, the ice cold tiles hit the heel of your feet but you find yourself to the couch. you flopped onto it without any character, face in the cushions. you didnât want to cry, bruce didnât make you cry⌠itâs just hard trying to initiate sex with a man so hardworking that sex is an afterthought.
it took bruce all of five minutes to realize you were gone.
he could feel the shift of weight to the bed when he went to put his other hand in your hair and shocker⌠you werenât there. he shot up, senses high alert. no windows were cracked, no signs of a kidnapping⌠thatâs good. now the âhardâ part; finding where you were, but thereâs only so many places in the manor for you to be.
he got up, pants riding down on his waist as he walks over to the door, opening it and feeling the cold wisps of air.
walking down the banister, he immediately smelt your scent. it was distinct to his senses⌠perfume or not perfume, your natural scent, he knew instantly and walked over to where his body took him; the couch.
the living room was dim, moonlight shooting through the curtains from multiple angles as his eyes laid upon you. a rush of anger shot through him⌠not at you, but at himself for allowing you to sleep on the couch.
âangelâŚâ he mutters, stepping close as he looks at your body.
youâre half asleep, you know heâs there, and you know your shirt is revealing enough of your ass to him, but itâs not like heâs actually going to do anything. he hasnât done anything for a month and a half so why now?
keeping your eyes close, you feel his hand brush against your cheek as he bent down a little, his thumb rubbing against your cheekbone. he sighs at seeing you on the couch. he hated it. he hated not having you in his arms. he knew heâs been fucking up, he knows he needs to be giving more attention to youâ itâs just that schedules changes and especially for the billionaire himselfâŚ
âwhat are you doing here?â he asks, voice low, you could sense the roughness and the intensity of his question despite it being so quiet.
you crack open your eyes, feeling his fingers go down from your cheek to the back of your neck. âhmmm⌠bruce?â you whispers.
he nods. âyes, hun, itâs me⌠what the hell are you doing?â he asks you, keeping a gaze on you. he finished. âon the couch. why are you not in bed.â
âbecause⌠because you wouldnât care.â you murmur, knowing damn well the game youâre playing but you didnât care. you were sick and tired of waiting⌠ây-you havenât cared for a month and half, âprolly two nowâŚâ you add, somehow quieter.
bruce looks at you, his eyebrows furrowed. he listens to your words⌠he soaks them in⌠and youâre not wrong; thatâs what hits him the hardest. itâs not that he didnât care, but itâs because his time already had an owner, but thatâs no excuse for his lack of interest in you for the last month and a half.
âbaby. thatâs not true.â he says to you, looking up and down your body. the sight of your lingerie hits him. he knows itâs his favorite, the one you wore for your anniversary that made him bend you over the bat console.
your eyes open up a little as you roll to your left side, hand under your head. âbut it is, bruceâŚâ you shoot back, no venom but no gentleness either. âa month and a half⌠no touching at all⌠itâs like you donât want me anymore.â
bruceâs expression hardens, putting his left hand on the back of the couch as he leans in. âbaby, you know thatâs not true.â he mutters, his eyes piercing yours.
âwell your schedule certainly makes me believe it.â you tell him, trying to stop feeling so wet at his face being close to yours for what it felt like forever. you wanted to be mad at him, but you couldnât find the will to.
he shakes his head. âlet me prove it to you.â he mutters and before you could think, his lips were against yours. it felt good. it felt right.
you hated how easily he made you melt, but you wrapped your left arm around his neck as he kept your body on your side, the kisses turning into less soft, chaste kisses and more sloppy and bruising kissesâ the one you knew bruce meant.
his hands bypass the shirt you were wearing, his plan worked to make you wear it, as his fingers touched all up on the lace, a soft groan leaving his mouth in between kisses.
âwore my favoriteâŚâ he puts.
you smile at the acknowledgement. fucking finally. âitâs the only way I couldâve gotten your ass to finally fuck meâŚâ you hiss back, feeling his lips leave yours, leaving behind a line of spit that stick to his scruff as he kisses onto your jaw.
he groans at your words, and with a seamless move, the shirt was on the floor. âIâm sorry, sweet girl⌠didnât mean to⌠didnât mean for my schedule to get so busyâŚâ he tells you, leaning down and pressing kisses onto the top of your right breast. âgood fucking god⌠love âem.â he mutters, his tongue laying flat on your nipple through the lacy bra.
you shudder at his tongue, but you respond to his first handful of words. âfuck the schedule.â you groans, putting your hand in his hair as he sucks on your nipple through the bra, the black lace becoming wet with his tongue.
it doesnât take long for his fingers to reach behind your back and snapping it off. the lacy bra relaxes as he slips it off, your breasts spilling out. his hand throws the bra to the floor somewhere in the dark living room.
his hands covered both of them, his hands so easily grabbing them no matter the size. âfuckinâ hell.â he mutters again and before you knew it, his mouth was on your nipple, this time on your left as his right thumb circled your nipple.
âoh bruceâŚâ you moan, your legs involuntarily spreading and he wastes no time, slotting himself in with his right leg, his left foot on the floor and his knee pressing into the edge of the couch.
his fingers squeeze your breasts, his thumbs stroking the underside as his lips sucked on your hardened nipple, swirling wetness on the nub and before you knew it, he alternated to the other breast. heâs addicted, he always really loved your breasts, more than your ass (but not by a lot. you in general, bruce loved and desired)
âbruceâŚâ you moan, your face flushed as his tongue continued to swirl around your nipples and squeezing your breasts.
he keeps his mouth on you, but his eyes look up. the cock of his left eyebrow is the replacement for words.
âfuck me already.â you beg, hands tugging at his black hair as you press against his crotch, your right leg hiking over his side, heel digging into his lower back. âbeen too long since⌠since youâve fucked meâŚâ
bruce grunts, retracting his mouth from your boobs and before you knew it, you were on your knees, hands fisting the cushions as he puts you on your knees, elbows pressed into the couch.
he pulled down his pants, stuffing his right hand past the waistband and grabbing his cockâ which was half hard when he began to suck on your tits but now itâs rock hard.
âsince you asked so nicely, angel.â he murmurs, grabbing the sides of your panties and shoving them down your thighs. you moan at how quick heâs doing this, as if heâs making up for lost time, and you couldnât be more excited.
you look over your shoulder, moaning lowly at the sight of his cock. âbruce⌠mhm⌠bruce⌠pleaseâŚâ
he puts his tip to your folds, his left hand sprawled on your lower back as his right hand held onto the couch. âmy fucking god, princess, youâre fucking soaked.â he whispers, feeling how wet you are just by lining up with your pussy. âthis poor pussyâŚâ
you nod, lifting your right hand to hold onto his forearm. ây-yeah⌠and itâs your fault⌠y-you neglected meâŚâ you grunt back.
bruce stiffens at your words, his eyebrows furrowing as each inch pushes into you. youâre tighter than he suspected⌠he really left you too long. he groans as your walls clench around his thick cock, his thumb stroking up and down your lower back.
you canât help but moan with each push of his cock, hands trembling as your pussy is stretched. it burns in the best way possible, it feels so good, you want to cry at how much you miss it. your face digs into the couch cushions as your mouth stayed agape.
âthere you go.â he sighs, bottoming out as his balls press against your pussy, his tip going deeper within your cunt. âtaking me so easily⌠my good girlâŚâ
your head leans back, tears pricking at the edge of your eyes as he slowly begins to fuck your walls open. âbruce! oh bruceâŚ!â
his grin is wolfish, his right hand moving off the couch and grabbing a chunk of your hair, pulling your head back to see his face. you donât need to tell him to go faster, itâs like he knows. he knows what you want, he knows exactly how you want it⌠he doesnât make you waitâ heâs made you wait a month and a half.
his hips begin to snap back and fourth, the couch squeaking under you as his fingers remained in your hair. heâs fucking you quick, no need to wait, and your moans fill the living room.
bruce kisses your cheek, licking the sweat that beads down the side of your head. âIâm sorry baby, Iâm sorry for making you wait. I take the blame, baby, I take the blame for leaving this pussy alone for a month and a halfâŚâ
you nod your head, veins pumping with pleasure as your left hand grips the back of the couch, your right hand reaching back to hold his hand thatâs in your hair. âitâs okay b-bruce⌠itâs okay⌠y-youâre here now⌠oh fuck!â
he shakes his head. âno. itâs not okay that I left you alone for so long.â he says as his cock drills deeper, his hips relentless and your pussy fluttering with each thrust. âitâs not okay I ignored you⌠you deserve better than that⌠better than me.â
âI-I donât- ah! d-donât want anyone else besides you, bruceâŚâ you moan back, squeezing your eyes close as your body becomes closer and closer to your orgasm.
his chest grinds against your back, balls slapping with each harsh thrust. âgood, âcause no womanâs pussy will ever be this good.â
you canât help the sharp moan that leaves your mouth. it doesnât mean to leave so broke and so⌠reactionary, but he picks up on it.
âyou like that, donât you, angel?â he murmurs, somehow picking his hips faster, you donât know how the vigilante does it. âyou like when I sweet talk this pussy?â
you nod, eyes rolling back with each drill of his cock, his tip kissing your g-spot. âb-bruce⌠Iâm gonna cum! f-fuckkkk!â
he didnât try to stop you, who would he be to stop you? his hips donât stop, his cock twitches as his fingers tighten in your hair, lips pressing onto your shoulder as his teeth graze the skin.
your vision whites out, neck straining as your pussy clenches, it feels so damn good, it feels better than ever. your nails dug into the back of his hand deep, leaving clear crescent marks on top of his veiny hand as your knees shake.
a soft smile appears on his face at seeing your orgasm, not caring how deep your hand went in his hand. he kept his thrusts going, his own balls tightening as your pussy clenched around his thickness. âthereâs my girl⌠fuckinâ good girl.â
you roll your eyes back into position, your eyes half lidded as you look at him. spit falls down your chin, nails losing its grip on him as you grind against him involuntarily due to the overstimulation of his cock.
âb-bruceâŚâ you moan out, arching because of how heâs still going, your pussy no longer clenching around him. âplease⌠cum⌠cum in me, bruce⌠please.â
he smiles, brushing his hand in your hair as he gives you one last thrust, going as deep as his hips would allow. âthatâs the plan, angel.â he mutters as his balls tighten one more time.
and soon, you feel cum filling your womb. itâs hard and harsh, itâs filling and itâs so good as your abdomen feels warm, his hand still brushing your sweaty hair.
âthere you goâŚâ he coos, leaning down and pressing the back of your head. he grinds against you, more and more cum sputtering out of his cock. âgood girl⌠taking my dick just well⌠âm sorry again, baby⌠for ignoring you⌠ignoring your needsâŚâ he adds, leaning to his right to press a kiss to your temple. ânever again, I promise, baby.â
and when he pulls out, and carries you back to the bedroom? you donât need to worry. you arenât worried as you cuddle into his chest, as his arms wrap protectively around you.
you donât need to worry that bruce wayne will ignore your needs.
main masterlist | kinktober masterlist
day one of kinktober doneeee. bruce is so fine, I wanna eat his bicep. I couldnât figure out a color to give this mf, so I just did purple because why not!
⌠comments and reblogs are always appreciated! âŚ
MURDOCK-SLVT 2025!
Kinktober Day 2: Mirror Sex
Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader
Word Count: ~1k
Notes: Mirror sex, established relationship, lingerie courtesy of Mr. Wayne himself, sweet words from a feral Bruce who loves you.
Itâs not often Bruce Wayne gets the chance to really relax or have a night off. Those times are few and far between, and even more so as the nights go on. But no matter how many nights have passed, no matter what has gone down, Bruce always manages to make it up to you. Thatâs just the kind of lover he is. Generous, giving, passionate, and most of all-
The Dress
Bruce Wayne x f!Childhoodfriend!Reader
Mind if I indulge my biblical neediness for Bruce Wayne? Good, âcause this is a selfish piece lol. I am a fiend for a good beefy Bruce fic. Thank you to my fabulous long lost twin, @barnesandnoblecauses , who this is dedicated to. Iâm glad I could get you on the Bruce Wayne train! Thank you for beta reading. Dividers by @strangergraphics , pics sourced from comics and Pinterest.
synopsis: At a Wayne Foundation gala, Bruce Wayne freezes when he sees youâa childhood friendâin a stunning gown. The sight makes him realize the feelings heâs hidden for years. Tension builds through lingering glances and quiet moments togetherâwhen the crowd fades, Bruce finally gives in to what he wants, turning the night far from innocent.
warnings: 18+/MDNI! LONG FIC!! Maybe ooc!Bruce, pet names (darling, sweetheart, baby, Brucie) alcohol consumption, cursing, very brief (slight) harassment of reader, angst if you squint, fingering, size kink if you squint, unprotected sex, p in v sex, creampie, some dialogue is inspired by bat x cat comic panels. I think thatâs it! Please let me know if I missed one.
Crystal chandeliers cast a golden light across the vast ballroom of Wayne Manor, their reflections glittering across polished marble and champagne glasses. Gothamâs elite gathered for the annual Wayne Foundation charity gala. Politicians, socialites, business leadersâall dressed to the nines with polite smiles. At the center of it all stands Bruce Wayne, effortlessly playing the role the world expected of him. Billionaire, playboy, hopelessly eccentric. A perfectly curated mask for what was lying beneath his fortified surface.
Bruce leans casually against the bar, one large hand wrapped around a glass of bourbon he hasnât sipped in nearly five minutes. A charming smile curves his lips as he listens to an investor talk about renewable energy initiatives, nodding almost to the beat of the manâs voice. To anyone watching, Bruce looks perfectly at easeâcomfortable and confidentâGothamâs prince-bachelor enjoying another glamorous evening in his impressive home.
The truth is that Bruce feels anything but comfortable, and decidedly less confident the moment he caught sight of you. His childhood companionâthe daughter of a maidâwho became so much more to him after the death of his parents. Across the ballroom, the crowd shifted just enough for him to see your familiar form step through the tall archway leading in from the corridor. Conversation around him blurred into background noise as his gaze settled on the full sight of you.
The dress you wore caught the chandelier light like liquid. Elegant, and undeniably bold, it was the kind of dress that demands attention without trying too hard. For a moment Bruce forgets the investor mid-sentence, forgets the dozens of press cameras scattered around the room, forgets the careful persona he wears like armor at events like this. He simply stares, his eyes following you as you glide into the room. It takes him a second too long to realize the man in front of him has stopped talking. âAre you feeling alright, sir?â Bruce blinks, quickly forcing his attention back to him. His easy grin slips back into place with a practiced sort of ease. âIâm sorry,â he says smoothly, lifting his glass slightly, âI mustâve lost focus.â The investor lets out a puzzled sigh, continuing his explanation, but Bruce is only half listening. His eyes drift again, almost against his will.
You were moving through the crowd now, greeting familiar faces, your smile warm and genuine. A few guests turn to look as you passedâboth admiring and curiousâbut none of them look quite the way Bruce is looking. He notices everything. The way the fabric of your dress moves when you walk. The way your face lights up when you laughâsomething that had always made his heart flutter. The way your hand rests lightly on someoneâs arm as you spoke. Bruce takes a slow sip of bourbon, finally returning to it after minutes of observing you. You look delectable, edible, divineâdangerous. Not just because of the dress, though that certainly wasnât helping, but because he knew he wouldnât be able to hold himself together tonight.
Bruce has known you long enough to understand that being around you has consequences. You make him forget himself in ways that areâŚinconvenient. And Bruce Wayne, the filthy rich ladiesâ man and secret guardian of Gotham, did notâcould notâforget himself. Not at galas. Not in front of donors. Not when half the cityâs press was watching. Yet somehow, the moment you step into the room, the carefully constructed walls he keeps around his emotions lower. Again.
Bruceâs jaw tightens slightly as he forces his attention back to the investor, nodding politely at whatever point the man was making. He delivers the appropriate response, vague and agreeable, exactly what everyone expects. But his eyes betray him. Because every few seconds, without fail, they drift back to you across the ballroom. And the worst part? You havenât even noticed yet. Heâd have to change that.
âExcuse me, Iâve spotted an old friend. Call me with your proposal?â Bruce says, handing off his glass to the investor, already setting off towards you. âWill ya answer, Wayne?!â The investors calls after him, bewildered. Bruce smiles, turning over his shoulder, âWayne Enterprises always answers!â Shuffling his wide shoulders through the crowds of patrons, Bruce makes his way to you, standing against a wall near the refreshment tableâever the wallflower. âMr. Wayne,â you greet with a smile, a perfectly manicured hand curled around a champagne flute. âDarling, so nice to see you here,â he replies. You chuckle, lashes fluttering, âyou invited me.â Itâs Bruceâs turn to chuckle, âI suppose I did.â You hum in response, setting down your glass on a passing waiterâs tray. âItâs curious though, isnât it, Mr. Wayne? Inviting the daughter of a servant to a charity gala? I have noâŚsurplus of charitable funds, you could say,â You say, running a hand against his shoulder, doe-eyed. âYouâre incredibly successful, sweetheart. That gig at Gotham Gazette is going well, no? Surely the Batman gives you plenty to report,â he replies, taking the hand lingering at his shoulder in his. Suddenly, Bruce pulls you close, one large hand splaying against the expanse of your hipâthe other still gripping your hand. âMay I have a dance?â He asks, voice husky with that undeniable charm. âOf course, Mr. Wayne.â
Bruceâs hand rests warm and steady at the swell of your hip, guiding you effortlessly across the floor as though the orchestra were playing just for the two of you. His other hand holds yours with an ease that came from years of familiarity. Childhood familiarityâdangerous familiarity.
You tilt your head slightly, studying him with a look that had always meant trouble for him. âTell me,â you murmured, voice soft enough that only he could hear, âhow many women did you abandon tonight to drag me onto the dance floor, Mr. Wayne?â Bruce shrugs, âabandon implies they had a chance.â His thumb brushes lightly over your knuckles as he guides you into a slow turn. When you come back against him, you feel the quiet strength in the way his hand tightens around you. His gaze dropsânot at all subtlyâto your accentuated cleavage. Your gown had been chosen with care. Silk in a magnificent color, highlighting every curve before spilling into a soft sweep of fabric. The neckline dips just enough to make several Gotham socialites choke on their drinks when you entered. Bruce had noticed almost immediately. You lean into his chest, your voice teasing. âCareful, Mr. Wayne.â His eyes flick back up to yours, and if you didnât know better, youâd say he was blushing. âIf you stare any harder, people might think Gothamâs golden boy has poor manners.â His expression softens in that ruined way it only ever did around you. âDarling, you wore that dress,â he says calmly despite the heat rising within him, âknowing exactly what it would do to me.â
A laugh slips from you before you can catch it, âDid I? And what exactly is it doing to you?â Bruce leans in slightly as the music slows, bringing you closer still until the space between your bodies evaporates. Your breath brushes his jaw. His voice lowers, âtesting my self-control.â Your pulse falters. You recover quickly thoughâyears of knowing Bruce Wayne has taught you how to handle his charm. Most of the time.
You tilt your head, letting a strand of hair fall over your shoulder. âMy dear Mr. Wayne⌠struggling with self-control?â Your fingers slide lightly up Bruceâs shoulder toward the back of his neck as you continue your dance. âThatâs a headline Iâd love to see.â His breath catchesâbarelyâbut you feel it, his hands gripping ever so slightly at your waist.âYouâre enjoying this, arenât you sweetheart?â he murmurs. You bat your eyelashes, tongue darting out to lick your lips, âI amâimmenselyâMr. Wayne.â You spin again, skirts flowing, and when he pulls you back the momentum brings your face impossible close to his. The orchestra swells around you, but the room seems strangely quietâalmost as if itâs just the two of you. âYou know,â Bruce says, studying your face like itâs something precious, âwe used to dance in this manor when we were kids.â You nod, âwe were twelve. And you stepped on my foot.â
âI was distracted.â
âBy what?â
His eyes darken.
âYou.â
Your laugh comes quieter this time, âyouâre laying it on a bit thick tonight, even for a playboy.â Bruce doesnât laugh. He simply takes you inâreally looks at youâin that steady way that had always made your chest feel a little too tight. âIâve been in love with you since we were sixteen, darling,â he says, like itâs always been a known truth. Your eyes widen, betraying your surprise. Youâd known. Youâd both known for a long time, but the moment never seemed right. Not until now. Bruce flashes you a faint, crooked smile, âso yes,â he adds gently, âI might be trying a little harder tonight.â The orchestra shifts then into a slower melody. His hand slides slightly lower along your hip, respectful but intimate, guiding you until your bodies moved in perfect rhythm. Your voice drops to an even quieter whisper. âIs that what this is?â you ask, âa campaign?â
Bruce leans in to the side of your face, his lips near your ear. âIf it is,â he mumbles, âIâm fully committed.â A shiver erupts across your skinâbut you recover in record time, a mischievous spark lighting in your eyes. âWell,â you sayâmatter of factâ âI suppose I should ask the obvious question.â Bruce raises a thick brow, âand that would be?â You tap your finger once against his lapel like a reporter punctuating a question. âAre you wooing me, Mr. Wayne, or the Gotham Gazette?â Bruce blinks. You continue innocently,âbecause as flattering as this all is,â you gesture between the two of you with your free hand, âI do happen to be the top journalist at the paper.â A slow smile spreads back across your face, âand I know how much Gotham loves a positive Bruce Wayne headline.â Bruce stares at you, starstruck for half a second. Then he scoffs, low, offended, almost hurt, âyou think Iâm âseducingâ you for media coverage?â A beat of silence passes, both of you locked into a staring contest, before you finally break. âIâm a journalist, Mr. Wayne,â you say smugly. âI consider all motives. Especially when Iâm invited to lavish galas by billionaire bachelors trying desperately to woo me.â Bruce leans closer as the music flows, his voice dropping into something teasing. âAlright,â he concedes, âletâs examine that theory.â
Your brows lift, âshall we?â Bruceâs hand tightens slightly around yours as he maneuvers you into another spin, bringing you back against him just as suffocatingly close as before. âIf I wanted good press,â Bruce says, âIâd donate another ten million to the orphanage.â You click your tongue thoughtfully, feigning a look that says Iâm-totally-buying-that. âTrue,â you add.
âIf I wanted a glowing article,â he continues, âIâd schedule a formal interview with you, sweetheart.â You hum, trying to disguise your amusement, âalso true.â You tilt your headâtime for the kill shot. âSo what does dancing with me accomplish?â Bruceâs eyes hold yoursâdark, steady, almost unbearably sincere. âIt gives me an excuse,â he said softly, âto hold you close.â Your heart stutters, hammering against your breast in a way you pray he canât feel. Bruceâs hand shifts and a thumb brushes slowly against the small of your back, sending a warmth shooting straight up your spine. âAnd if it helps my reputation,â he adds with a quiet smirk, âthatâs just a bonus.â
You narrow your eyes playfully, âdangerous answer.â
âIs it, darling?â
âBecause now I have to decide if youâre being charmingâŚor manipulative.â You conclude. âAfter knowing me for twenty years,â he growls, âyou still canât tell?â You shake your head, half in disbelief, half in surpriseâblinking slowly. âI know you,â you sigh, your fingers sliding slowly down his lapel, âbut I also know a good story when I see one.â Bruceâs gaze flicks briefly to your lips, âthen write one.â
âAnd what exactly should I write, Mr. Wayne? Another glowing review? Or perhaps a scandalous exposure piece?â His gaze softens, but shiftsâburning with something deeper. âWrite about the billionaire whoâs been hopelessly in love with the same woman since he was sixteen,â he replies, maybe a little too loud. Your eyes widen again, shocked at his heightened toneâvigilant of who may be listening. Bruce leans down, your foreheads almost touching now as the music reaches its final notes. âAnd how,â he says, voice turning to gravel, âheâs still trying to convince her to give him a chance.â For a moment, you say nothing. Then a slow, teasing smile returns to your lips. âHmm,â you chirp, âthat chance will depend.â Bruce looks puzzled, âon what, sweetheart?â Your voice shifts into that silky, sultry tone you know drives him crazy, âon whether Mr. Wayne plans to kiss the journalistâŚor keep giving her quotes.â Bruceâs sputtersâhis careful, respectful demeanor slipping.
The music stops suddenly, instantly pulling you from the heated exchange. Around you, other couples slowly begin drifting apart, applause rippling through the room. Bruce doesnât move yetâneither do youâhis hands still warm against you. He whispers again, âwill I be seeing you at the end of this gala?â You narrow your eyes, pretending to consider it. Your fingers swiftly adjust his tie, smoothing it down his chest. âI suppose,â you begin, âthat also depends.â Bruceâs eyes roll and you meet them with a playful, taunting look, âif youâre good.â
For a moment Bruce simply looks at you. Then that cocky, confident smile appearsâthe one that had charmed all of Gotham. âThen I will be seeing you at the end of tonight, darling,â he asserts. Your stomach flips in a way that annoys you slightly. He knows just how to get under your skin. Bruce squeezes your hand gently as you begin to pull away, desperately needing the air his flirting had deprived you of.
The rest of the night goes by agonizingly slow. More droning talk from investors, some genuineâmost just trying to get their hands on Bruceâs money. A girlâŚseveral girls will walk by occasionally, throw themselves at him, and are sorely disappointed when he doesnât reciprocate. The usual. Except itâs anything but usual. Youâre still hereâsomewhere. Bruce can practically feel it, your presence sizzling through his veins, a left over need burning through him. Heâs lost sight of you for now, your silhouette having been swallowed by the large crowd. From where he stands, propped up against a marble column, youâre a phantom. Bruce resigns himself to pouting, checking his watch every couple of seconds. Youâd be backâyou had to. He brings his wrist up to check the time again when he hears it, your voice. Itâs polite, but he can sense the annoyance that lurks beneath it. Years of knowing you gave him that advantage. âI think youâve had too much to drink, sir. A dance, perhaps, isnât the best idea. After all, there isnât any music!â You laugh, and suddenly Bruce can see you through the shifting crowd. Across the ballroom, you standâtoo close for Bruceâs likingânext to some hot shot no-name lawyer, his grubby hand holding your wrist tight. Youâre trying to shrink back, but the man only pulls you closer, slurring god-knows-what into your ear. You grimace and thatâs enough for Bruce. He pushes off of the column, making his way to you in record timeâanger, jealousy, possessiveness bubbling beneath his practiced reserve.
âDarling! There you are!â Bruce exclaims, hoping he comes off as charmingâhe feels anything but charming. Reaching between you and the scumbag currently holding your wrist hostage, he pats the manâs hand, âso sorry to break this up sir, but our lovely guest is needed elsewhere.â Before the man can reply, Bruce is dragging you towards the grand staircase that leads up to the rest of the manor. âWho needs me? Where are you taking me, Mr. Wayne?â You huff, struggling to keep up with his rushed strides. âThe party is over. Alfred will see to it that everyone is escorted out, especially that jerk,â he replies, offering no real explanation. âEnding a gala an hour before its scheduled end is highly unusual, you know! So is throwing out some poor guy fishing around for a lay. I had also hoped there would be fireworks after the party,â you poutâhalf serious, half jesting. Bruce pauses, halfway up the staircase. He turns over his shoulder to look back at you, your hand intertwined with his, âtrust me, sweetheart, there will be fireworks.â
The door to Bruceâs bedroom clicks shut behind you, the sound echoing impossibly loud in the halls of the manor. For a moment neither of you speak, just breathe heavily under the weight of the nightâs tension. Bruce stands a few feet away, his tie hung loose around his neck, and thereâs something almost vulnerable about the way he looks at you nowânothing like the untouchable man the world believed him to be. âKiss me,â he says quietly, though he makes no move towards you. You raise an eyebrow. âYou just told me you love me, donât you want to talk about that? Or the fact that you left me to be groped by a sleaze?â His jaw tightens, a conflicted breath leaving him. âOf course, darling, and for the record I am sorry. We can talk, we will, about it all. After.â You step closer. The room is dim except for the soft glow of a moonlight seeping in through the tall windows, mingling with the shine of a single lamp. It catches in his eyes, making them look even darker, deeper. They seemed to glow in a way that made your pulse quicken. âMr. Wayne,â you say softly. He looks away like your voice alone is enough to shake himâlike heâs bracing to lose you, to watch you refuse and run out. âI know,â Bruce exhales, âI shouldâve told you a long time ago. I shouldâve scooped you up the moment you walked in tonight and let you know that I have loved you every waking moment of my life since you came into it. Shouldâve thrown out that bastard for even looking at you. But for now, please. Kiss me.â You move forward and stop directly in front of him. A moment passes where you simply look at himâreally look at him. The shy boy who you used to play tag in the manor with, the lanky teenager who stomped on your feet when you danced, all wrapped up in the man stood before you. It was simple, youâd loved him then and you loved him now. Every iteration of him, every phase. All yours. Your Mr. Wayne. The air between you felt charged with your realization, like the moment before a storm breaks.
âI do love it when you beg, Mr. Wayne,â you murmur, smiling. Bruceâs brow furrows, âwhat?â You sigh, a little giggle at his obliviousness slipping between the two of you, âyou donât think that I love you as well? That I didnât when Iâd put up with your antics as a girl? That I wasnât swooning over you as a teenager? Iâve loved you since the moment I saw your dorky smile.â Something in his expression cracks thenâyears of restraint slipping just enough to reveal the man underneath. His hand comes up like he means to touch your face, then hesitates midair. âYouâve felt it all this time?â he asks.
âAll this time.â
The words barely leave your lips before Bruce surges forward, closing the distance. His hands settle on your waist, firm but careful, as if he was still giving you time to pull away. When you donât, his grip tightens around you, drawing you closer until your chest becomes flush with his. The warmth of him was overwhelming. His smell, his hands, his breathâeverywhere. Just when you start to crave more, running your hands through his raven hair, he pulls back just barely, lips still brushing yours. âI must be dreaming,â he whispers, voice low, his tongue darting out to lick your bottom lip. You shake your headâno.
That was all the reassurance Bruce needed. He kisses you like a man starving, aching, longingâcarefully at first, almost hesitant, but beneath it was a fire, a hunger that made your knees weaken. One hand slides from your hip up your back, pulling, while the other comes up to tilt your chin just enough to slip his tongue between your parted lips. The controlled, composed billionaire the world saw was gone now. In his place was a man who kisses you like you were the only thing grounding him. He breaks the kiss just long enough to rest his forehead against yours, his breathing coming out in jagged, labored puffs. âYou have no idea what you do to me, my sweetheart,â he whispers. You smile faintly, brushing your thumb along his jaw, âI believe I do, something about losing your composure? Sound right, Mr. Wayne?â A quiet laugh escapes himâsoft, almost disbelieving, âQuit calling me that, you tease. Iâm your Bruce, I always have been.â Then he kisses you again, slower this time, lingering, like he wanted to memorize the moment.
âI seem to recall that I was promised fireworks,â you quip, pulling back just enough to speak. Bruce chases your mouth, stealing one more peck before he replies, âyou were. What my darling wants, I am more than happy to give her. Turn around for me, please.â It takes all of your restraint not to throw yourself around, face first into his bedâyou manage a shaky turn, slightly fumbling over your heels. Bruceâs hands come up to brush over your shoulders, moving until they find the zipper of your gown. âMay I?â He whispers, leaning down to rest his chin in the crook of your neck. You manage to hum a response, something akin to the resounding âyes!â echoing through your mind. Bruce leaves a warm, firm kiss where his chin had rested against your neck before his hands find their way to the zipper of your dress. He pulls it down with one large hand, the other stroking the skin thatâs revealed.
âYouâre so beautiful, sweetheart. Always so beautiful. Want to step out of this for me? Iâll help you out of your heels,â Bruce whispers, watching with hungry eyes as your dress pools around your hips. You turn to face him, a mousy smile spreading over your lips. âOh, sheâs shy now? Whereâs that little vixen that sauntered into my bedroom, hmm?â Bruce says. He always did know how to read your expressions, as oblivious as he could be. You step closer instead of responding, pulling your dress down until it falls in a puddle at your feet. Stepping out of it, you let him guide you until your knees hit the back of his bed. When you fall back with a soft thud, Bruce kneels in front of you like a man prayingâdevout, worshipful. He slides your feet out of your heels, letting his fingers linger over your ankles. When he looks up at you, eyes sparkling and wide, mouth agape with anticipation, he glides his touch up to the waistband of your panties. âAnd these,â he says with a tsk, âI think these should go, what about you, darling?â Your hips wriggle involuntarily, winding around with a mind of their own. âY-yeahâŚyes. Yes they should, misterâI mean Bruce,â you whisper. At your expression, he continues, swiftly removing your underwear and turning to your bra. When you nod, he unclasps it, leaving you bare beneath him.
âYou next?â You prompt, tugging Bruceâs tie with a new found urgency. He smiles, lifting himself off the bed. âWill you say please? You used to have such good manners,â he purrs. âPlease, Brucie?â you respond. Brucie. Your childhood nickname for him resurfaced like a melody that his heart recognized before his brain could catch up. It drives him wild. With quick hands, he rids himself of his suitâforgotten next to your clothes on the bedroom floor. Before you can help yourself, your jaw drops, and Bruce blushes. He follows your gaze down to his dick where it bobs against his lower stomach, pre-cum glistening in the lamplight. âItâs all for you, darling. If you want it, itâs yours.â You smile, pulling your lower lip between your teeth. âMine?â you whisper, planting your feet on the bed and spreading your legs. âYours,â Bruce says, and he means it.
âOh god,â you whine, velvety walls clamping around two of Bruceâs thick fingers. Heâs slotted between your slick thighs, spreading you open with his hands. Heâd already coaxed an orgasm out of you, muttering something about âgetting this pretty pussy ready for meâ. It doesnât matter to you, the moment his fingers found that searing spot within you, all thoughts melted away. A spasm of your muscles pulls you back into the moment. âNeed you,â you whimper, reaching up to cup Bruceâs face, pressing a kiss to his lips. âI donât want to hurt you, sweetheart. Wanna make sure youâre ready.â Heâs already panting, running his nose over your cheek, using his free hand to grip your jaw. âPlease, baby? Iâm ready, Brucieâfuckâneed your dick in me,â you say, eyes pleading, boring in to his steely blues. âYeah? Fuck, okay. Iâll give you just what you want,â he grunts.
Bruce pushes into you with a hiss, your pussy still sinfully tight around him despite his efforts to ready you. âYouâll tell me, god damn, youâll tell me if it hurts, yeah?â He says, and you nodâthe air punched out of you with every thrust. Bringing your knee up, he presses it up towards your shoulder, deepening the angle of his hips. âFuck baby, I canât I-â you cry, and heâs all over you. Broad shoulders, raven hair, warm handsâall over you. Kisses press into your jaw, âYou can. I know itâs big darling, but youâre taking me so well. My pretty girl. Doesnât hurt?â You shake your head no, clawing at his back, one thigh bouncing where itâs wrapped around his hip. âBe a good girl, roll over for me. Yeah sweetheart?â Bruce groans and you doâof course you do.
Now on your knees, spine arched, with your arms stretched in front of you, Bruce lines himself back up. You curse when he bottoms outâthe stretch of him stinging, delicious, everything youâve ever wanted. âDarling,â Bruce says, his hands gripping your hips, âI love you. Fuck, I love you. Iâm gonna give you everything, whatever you want itâs yours. Iâm yours. Shitttttâforever.â His words, the strangled noises of his pleasure ripping through him, it all has you tightening around him, squeezing him like a vice.
Bruce can see it now, a giant diamond glittering on your ring finger.
Thrust
Your gorgeous face lit up with a smile as you walk down the aisle towards him.
Thrust
Coming home from nightly patrols to your warm, sleeping form in his bed in your bed.
Thrust
His forever. You.
Thrust
Youâre getting close now, Bruce can feel itâyour ass wiggling against him, pussy fluttering around him, moans and cries spilling from your parted lips. With a strong arm he pulls you up, chest to your back. âCum for me, sweetheart, please, I need to feel it. God, fuck, I need it,â he groans, warm breath fanning against your ear. Thatâs all it takesâyouâre gushing around him, screaming his name. When you glance back, throughly fucked out, and whimper a tiny âbaby, cum in meâ Bruce loses it. Still crushing you against his chest, he buries himself deep, warm release coating your cervix.
Itâs all a blur, really, how you ended up clean, snuggled into one of Bruceâs t-shirts. He had carefully eased you on to your back, disappearing off and remerging with a warm, damp cloth. Bruce was gentle with you in this state, lightly wiping you down, hushing your whines of overstimulation with, âshh, youâre okay, Iâm here,â and âneed to make sure my girl is okayâ. He has you tucked into his chest now, fingers tangled in your hair, whispering sweet nothings against your forehead. Thereâs promises of a bath later, his other hand massaging your hipâhe quietly checks in with you, âdo you need water? A snack? Anything you want, Iâll have it brought for you.â You grumble, something about dinner sounding nice. He smiles and tells you itâs on its way. When you finally do fully come back to your senses, you gaze up at Bruce, a dazed look in your eyes. âBrucie?â you whisper. He grunts a response, âyes, darling?â You giggle, âall this over a little olâ dress?â Bruce rolls his eyes but responds anyways, âall of this over you.â
âBrucie?â
âYes, darling?â
âI love you too.â
One Last Time (Alternate Ending)
Bruce Wayne x Reader
Summary: (SPOILERS FOR THE PREVIOUS ONE-SHOT) You thought that you were done for, that you had taken your last breath. So suffice to say youâre quite shocked when you wake up and find yourself in a strangerâs bed. Reader is gender-neutral.
Warnings: Angst because itâs Bruce, but mostly fluff
Word Count: 5550
A/N: I didnât plan on writing an ending to this one-shot, let alone a happy one, but there were a few of you who wanted to have a happy ending and I just couldnât deny you. And I also had a lot of fun writing this so it was a win win!Â
Also my deepest apologies for this taking like a year. I canât even begin to tell you how that happened.
The first thing you notice is the ringing in your ears. It drowns out your thoughts and, it turns out, the pain, as that is the second thing you notice. A grunt leaves your lips as you slowly regain consciousness. There is a stiff ache that jolts through your body when you move, but otherwise the pain is pretty subdued.
And then your thoughts return.
At first, you have trouble remembering what happened to you. Your eyelids feel heavy and youâre too tired to open them. But the fog in your brain begins to clear and suddenly everything comes rushing back to bring your mind back to life.
You were shot.
The tiredness is shoved aside and your eyes blow wide open. What happened? Where am I? you think. The first thing you assume is that you must be dead. You vaguely remember the feeling of dying, the eternal darkness consuming you, but you push those memories to the back of your mind. For now, theyâre too painful and terrifying and you still have no idea where you are.
Youâre in a bedroom. A huge, beautiful-looking bedroom, so it definitely wasnât your own. Youâre lying in the softest bed imaginable which leads you to conclude that yepâyou are definitely dead. This must be heaven.
You take in more of your surroundings. The bedroom seems untouched. Clean but not lived in. There are no personal items, just the essentials to define it as a bedroom. But then you become aware of a sound. You turn to your right and suddenly your heaven theory crumples into dust.
Next to the bed is a heart monitor with the steady beeping of your heart emanating from the machine. You see an IV drip and look down to your right arm to see the IV. So that would meanâŚ
Keep reading
18+ drabble, minors dni.
i literally couldnât get this scenario out of my mind so i HAD to write it. cw for ovulation mention/breeding kink and somnophilia mention.
What if Megatron was using that mass displacement device, and maybeeee reader was infected by another aphrodisiac. But reader was begging for him to be bigger, so he gradual increases his size while inside them (obviously stopping when needed.) s i z e k i n k x 2 Theyâre both into it, and you cannot convince me otherwise /j đ
I adore your writing so much. Youâre the reason I finally decided to read MTMTE!!
á°.á mtmte megatron x human fem reader 18+
-> warnings/tags: minors dni. aphrodisiacs, size difference, slight pain kink, a bit of degrading language, mirror sex, dirty talk, multiple rounds/orgasms, squirting. 6.5k words
ouuuughhhhhhh this has been sitting in my inbox just WAITING FOR ME. i knew it was delicious the moment it came in, but i wanted to take my time (itâs like a reward). mmmmm rubbing my hands together like a fly, i love mtmte megs soooo big. i hope you enjoy this as much as i did writing it >:)) also, i'm so glad you read mtmte. it's SUCH a good comic, idgaf if it's considered glazed LOL
this can be read as a continuation of chapter 18 of across the divide or as a standalone fic!! it's 6k+ words of just pure filth fr
Tucked into your freshly washed sheets, you quietly wheeze little breaths through your nose as you're sleeping after tonight's activities.
The aphrodisiac lit a vicious fire that raged through you, demanding to be extinguished by Megatron, and by Megatron only. The two of you fucked for hours, and it was the purest form of debauchery you've ever known. You were so riddled with toxins that once they were clear from your system, you could hardly move.
Remember your oneshot where ATD reader gets sent back in time? Walk with me on this.. reader is sent FURTHER back in time and pays a visit to our dear Megatron during his mining days?đ
You donât have to write anything on this, This has just been lingering in my mind since reading the first one LOL Hope you have a wonderful day and thank you for spoiling us with every fic you write!!đŠśđ
âšË.* miner/gladiator megatron x human fem reader
-> tags: suggestive content. 3.7k words ouuughhh anon i like the way you THINK!! nothing explicitly freaky happens in this chapter, but as the ask implies, it exists in the across the divide universe â enjoy!âĽď¸
Sitting on your haunches with your hands planted on the cold, metal floor, you peer up at the gargantuan enclosed environment you find yourself in. Your hands ball into fists, your nails dragging up some of the dirt and grime from the floor. The air here is musky and thick, every breath is a fight to survive.
The walls that tower above you are made of metal, but are arched with some skeletal-looking decor that lines the length of the corridor. It's as though you're in the ribcage of a fearsome mechanical beast. The light is low, making it difficult to make out anything. Your breath leaves your lungs as quickly as it enters them, acute dread starting to sew itself through your nervous system.
Perhaps you're destined to constantly be at the receiving end of physics-bending portals that love to spit you out into different periods of time. Right now, that's the only logical conclusion you've come to.
You can hear a muffled, booming sound from a fair distance away. It rumbles through the floor, vibrating through your hands and shins. It sounds like cheering, but it doesn't really help you understand where you are.
18+ drabble, minors dni.
cw: breeding kink, slight lactation kink
đžđŻđ¨đť đ°đ đ¨đ°đŤđŹ-
Met SG! Orion?
SG! ORION PAX x Life on the Other Side! Reader
For non LotOS readers, context is that you, a human, transmigrated to pre war TFP as a high caste Aide.
WARNINGS: Infantilization towards Reader, Extortion, Take SG! Orion as a warning itself.
WC: 2.7k words
Heyy I had a request. What if Optimus Prime is cuddling with a human woman, and he notices that she's ovulating and gets aroused by it? And he kind of inspects her body
Optimus Prime cuddling is not something I knew I would ever need this much, also this is a long one. 5,404 words
Bayverse! Optimus Prime x (Human Female) Reader | 18+ âSomething Moreâ
âYouâre so tenseâŚâ The warmth of his neck cabling felt so alive under the pads of your finger tips. Beneath the soft mesh of the cabling was a rigid mass. Surely this was akin to something like a cramp to humans. As you pressed harder the mech winced beneath you.
You hadnât meant to make his pain worse at all, prompting a wave of guilt washed over you. You straddled him while sitting, his chassis hot against your bottom. His backstrut tensed against the soft coverings you spread across the floor for him. The feeling of them was unnatural, but they helped ease the strain of his many cycles without a well adjusted recharge.
You turned your attention to the other side of his neck cabling and his optics followed your movements. âAre you still with me, Optimus?â He nodded his helm tiredly in response. The metallic lenses of his optics fluttered and you couldnât help but be encapsulated by his mannerisms. He was so different, yet so similar. His expressions, gestures and tone all registered to you as if he were human too. You mentally disciplined yourself to focus on helping rather than staring.
Optimus would be the type to fuck like if he was about to loose you later on that same day. In the sense of keeping you close, way too many hugs, way too many kisses, but with a constant back-of-the-head thought of him being too selfish for using precious time that he could be using towards the autobots cause, for his and your pleasure, but he just cannot help himself, you feel so good, he feels so good, and he just loves having you so close to him.
And you could absolutely see it on his face, he would have the most stupid face every time he was inside you, all blushed, grunting, keening and sometimes tearing up. He would hide his face with the excuse of kissing your neck and shoulder, but he would be absolutely melting, trying to not tighten his grip on you or change his pace and accidentally hurt you, truly a test to his self control.
And he would also constantly choose all of the missionary adjacent positions, not because he's a vanilla mech (which he kind of is) but because he just loves seeing those expressions on your face with every move he makes. It just reels him up.
Which bot do you think would be into cockwarming? Not the mouth kind, but keeping you still on their spike while they do other tasks. Like piloting, paperwork, studying, a meeting, etc. especially if reader falls asleep sat on them and it turns into the BOT being the needy one.
Ahhh I can see so many of them loving the intimacy of it, especially if their partner is just drowsing against them while they work, completely relaxed and trusting themself to their Cybertronian. đ MDNI Mass displaced mech đśď¸
Warm
MTMTE Megatron x Reader
⢠Stylus scratching on his datapad, his free hand shifts against your butt and he glances down at you. Rumbling softly at the sight of your eyes closed, cheek against his chassis. Knows heâs probably not the most comfortable place to sleep when heâs all hard lines and angles and everything about you is soft. So itâs an honor that youâre trusting him as you yawn, a thigh sliding against his hip as his spike pulses inside you. Venting softly as he makes another note, he knows heâs already so lost. Addicted to the feel of you, your scent and taste. The slick heat of you wrapped around his spike. Needs all of you.
I need some awesome sauce writing with Megatron to cope with work pls T-T
Sure! đ Mass displaced mech đśď¸
Stress Relief
MTMTE Megatron
⢠âNo, come here right now,â you demand and he vents, turning to frown at you and that tone. But youâre just holding out both arms where youâre sitting on his berth among your blankets as he paces. Thereâs no denying you. Crossing his habsuite floor, he joins you and mass shifts, vaulting up. And goes down on his knees, bending to lean his head into your lap as you laugh. âRodimus, again?â You ask as his arms curl around you and he vents to pull your familiar scent deep.
Invisible Monsters
MTMTE Megatron x Reader- therapy
đđśď¸ storyline, eventual sparked reader
⢠Megatron is just tired. And over it. It being Rodimus. The co-captain currently on the bridge singing off key to whatever Earth music Swerve had spliced into the ship wide comm as Megatron slowly vents and reminds himself that heâs a pacifist now. So he canât strangle Rodimus. Or push him out an airlock. Rising from his seat, he heads deeper into the ship. Toward the most irritating part of his day.
Was about to sleep but then I remembered the events in RID (2015) where they revived Optimus and was wondering what if like Meg's human feeling the bond come back... Op's human goes thru the same thing cause Op got revived by the Primes..
It's like Meg's angst but worse â¨ď¸â¨ď¸ (cause Op been ded 3 yrs before RID happened)
Context:
So basically TFP Optimus died in the movie Predacons Rising and then the events of RID (2015) happened wherein the Primes made Op go thru some kinda afterlife avatar training and when he passed the test, the Primes took part of their sparks and revived Op... kinda like some mech jesus. đ
Just curious how TFP Op's human would deal with the bond and Op coming back after all these years đ I like to imagine that Op and Megs human end up having some co-parenting type of situation considering they've both lost their conjunx đ¤
Anyway thats all lol sorry for rambling
Stay healthy and hydrated always đŤĄđ¤
(Idk if i effed up my ask for this cause I clicked wrong earlier but uhhh if you see 2 versions of this ask my bad I fat fingered my phone đ )
Yâall sure do like some angst đ¤Ł
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RID 2015 Optimus Prime x Reader
⢠Everything he does is for you. To get back home. Thereâs no real sense of time here, no real here either. About the only constant at all is the frustration. The need to get back to you, to his home. To his son. Keeps searching for even a hint of you, but all he can sense is the ragged edges of his bond. An aching nothing where you should be. Did you survive his death? How could you have? Thatâs the worst part. Not knowing. All heâs sure of is that youâre not here with him. Spent so long searching, torn between hoping youâre here and hoping you survived somehow. The Primes wonât tell him, only wanting him to train. To focus. To learn.