being such a dirty liar and telling your family that you’re oh, so excited to visit the wayne manor over the weekend. that you’re not available for any visits. they’ve likely assumed you’re in some sort of relationship with dick grayson and you won’t admit it for a reason unbeknownst to them— you make the story seem so plausible: your childhood friend, dick grayson, is coming over to spend a few days away from blüdhaven. what you didn’t tell your parents before hanging up the phone, is that dick never planned to leave blüdhaven in the first place.
instead, you lay flat on your back on this large mahogany desk, right inside the study of your father’s best friend. more specifically, bruce wayne’s study— pretty and fully naked, with both legs on bruce’s shoulders, and arms pinned over your head with a striped neck tie wrapped around your wrist. tightly enough to keep them in place. bruce, in his usual attire; a white button-up, with the sleeves rolled up and his black suit pants, unzipped— his girthy cock stuffs your pussy to the brim and he pounds into your walls with slow, controlled and hard strokes. needless to say, you let your dad’s best friend fuck your pussy sore the entire weekend.
i’ll slowly start reworking my bruce gossip series and i reaaaally need your input angels <3 which one should i rework first? i’m thinking yacht sexcapade, but let me know <3
post wedding drunk sex with bruce wayne | [1.3k] 18+ MDNI, smut, fem!reader, established relationship, unprotected p in v, mention of alcohol consumption
you couldn’t wait for the day to end. not that you weren’t happy, it was quite the opposite actually, but after being awake since way too early in the morning, the ceremony, the dinner, and the party, you wanted to hit the hay as soon as possible. which would’ve been great if it wasn’t for the fact that both you and your now-husband were absolutely shit faced drunk and somehow full of energy after being awake for almost twenty-four hours.
the party had long ended, the alcohol was still buzzing through your system and bruce somehow had never looked this good. his jacket was missing, shirt slightly unbuttoned at the top, the bottom partly out of his dress pants, tie sitting around his neck untied, hair a complete mess. but the best part of him was that gold band shining on his ring finger under the elevator light.
your daydreaming was interrupted as bruce hooked a finger to the fallen strap of your party dress, slowly bringing it back onto your shoulder. his head rested on the elevator wall and with a loving gaze matching yours, his eyes traveled down to your neck, smirk quickly turning from love to lust.
his fingers trailed over your shoulder and slowly moved his hand to wrap gently around your neck, calloused fingers rough against your hot skin. he gave you a gentle squeeze, just enough to get your chest all warm and fuzzy, and pulled you closer to start devouring your lips.
it was sloppy, hot, wet, and charged with the teasing game you decided to start playing earlier; tongues fighting for dominance and teeth clashing, his hand moved at the back of your neck and kept you flushed to him, squeezing whenever you tried to pull away to breathe with the right pressure to make your knees buckle. he tasted so sweet, almost saccharine, that you couldn’t stop kissing him, and you couldn’t help but whine when the elevator rang and bruce pulled away to lead you out and into your room. thank god it wasn’t far.
bruce pushed the door open and swiftly closed it behind him before shoving you against it. his mouth trailed down your neck, leaving wet kisses on his wake. your hands roamed his body, feeling hazy as you dug your nails into the skin of his shoulders to bring him impossibly closer to you. a small fuck left his lips before resuming on biting and sucking into the side of your neck, leaving red marks behind.
lost in the moment, you gasped at the unexpected change of pace when he grabbed at your arm and threw you on the bed with vigor. you tried to turn around and face him, to be more comfortable to undress yourself, but he pushed you back down onto the mattress with his large hand covering almost the whole small of your back.
“god, you’re so fucking hot like this,” he whispered while pushing your dress up to your hips. you giggled, teasing him by wiggling your ass in the air, knowing your tight short dress was now exposing your white ruined thong. but your snickering didn't last long. one of his hands came in contact with your ass, a harsh slap echoing through the room, sure of the red print left behind.
“my wife,” he said placing one knee onto the mattress, “my beautiful fucking wife” as his other knee followed. the surface dipped slightly under his weight, feeling his body against your back when he leaned forward, his hands coming to rest by your head.
you grinded on him as much as you could, bare ass now making contact with the hard on in his pants and grinding. the sensation paired with the comforting weight of his body on top of yours was driving you insane, alcohol enhancing your lewd thoughts.
you wanted to beg him to touch you, have his hands on your body, do something about the ruined white lingerie you had put on just for him. you didn’t manage to utter a single plea that his carnal desire had already matched your silent desperation and he couldn’t hold himself back from taking you just like this.
bruce removed himself from atop of you to unzip his pants, fumbling slightly with his belt for the alcohol put him in a dazed state. he never thought it was possible to ever crave you this badly, this intensely, but you were his wife now and you looked divine, goddess-like, fully dressed in white, with a shiny rock on your finger, and his last name engraved inside. and it was all turning him on even more.
pants and boxers lowered enough to free his aching cock, he brought two fingers to your core, spreading your wetness around before moving aside your thong string to tease your entrance. your moans were muffled by the duvet underneath you, but that didn’t stop them from making his cock twitch in anticipation and push his fingers further inside of you.
you called out his name in pleasure, in plea, to stop teasing you and just stuff you full of his cock, but your cunt was squeezing his fingers tight and he couldn’t stop looking at the effect he had on you.
“bruce, please i need you,” you whined.
and he slowly pulled his fingers out, getting a taste of your sweet arousal before stroking his cock, tip red and leaking. he lined up with your cunt and rubbed himself through your wet slit, your mouth falling open in a silent moan as he slowly slid himself inside your dripping wet cunt until he bottomed out.
bruce held you in place, your ass in midair, and started slamming into you—slowly and rough and with deep strokes, his hand keeping your back firmly arched into the mattress. you felt too fucking good he could cum inside you right now, yet your screams had him going harder, enjoying this feeling for as long as possible.
his pace quickened and you cried out against the bedding, the rapid slapping noise of his body dominating your sounds. he palmed you softly with his free hand before smacking the round of your ass, which had you letting out a staggered moan. you sucked in a deep breath as he leaned down to press his lips next to your ear, "luckiest man alive. i get to have you like this for the rest of my life."
he raised back on his knees and pumped his hips hard, grabbing and kneading at your hips and your backside. the perfect view of your body as you took him whole, cunt squeezing him with each stroke, made him wither. his increased speed faltered with each pulse of your walls around his cock and it took him only a few more to come undone.
you whined as he filled you up with his cum, your orgasm coming not long after as he pushed his load deeper and deeper inside of you until he guided you down flat on your belly with his hand. you were half-crushed under his body weight, but you couldn’t care less, you were on cloud nine.
as he kissed along the back of your neck and ran his fingers softly up your arm, he removed himself from you and you hissed at the empty feeling. bruce stood up by the edge of the bed, cock already half hard again watching your spent body. you turned around and plopped yourself back on the mattress, admiring the man in front of you, sweaty and panting, with a soft smile on your lips.
“you ready for round two? because we’re gonna go all night,” he bit at his lip, ridding of his wrinkled shirt. and you knew he really meant it when he picked up the discarded tie from the floor.
being bent over older.ᐟ bruce wayne's knee with your pretty ass sore from spanking, hidden inside the intimacy of his office. the tenderness of his lips pressed in gentle kisses after each precise hit; it makes you squeeze your pussy around the two fingers he’s stuffed inside your stretchy walls— how simply irresistible you are, with your dress pulled up your waist and high heels adorning your feet. no panties.
you’re needy on top of all, always sinking your teeth down your soft lip, eyes lit with ingenue excitement for something that’s supposedly meant to discipline you and fix your attitude. it’s something bruce always corrects with a gentle sweetheart, and you already know that it’s time to stop messing with your lips.
and it wasn’t already enough, he presses the tip of his thumb just at the entrance of your mouth and greedily, you suck on it. relax. focus. focus on how this is all making you feel. feel the palm of his rough hand massaging and soothing your aching skin. focus on the anticipation of each slap landing on your sore ass, pain and sweet pleasure vibrating through your entire body.
stop biting your pretty lips. don’t even lick them. let bruce tease and stretch your pussy with his fingers. his nature is to discipline, but he indulges, oh, how much bruce spoils— always keen to have you squirm in his lap, with the pleasure of submission, pressing the tip of his fingers right on your sweet little spot.
Venus Retrograde is an astrological event in which Venus appears to move backwards in the sky. This event happens every 18 months for 40 days and serves as a cosmic time period for introspection on love, relationships, personal finances, and self care. More specifically, it's a time period in which you resolve unresolved emotional patterns and relationships.
or,
You laugh, a small puff of air more than an actual sound. “That’s not how questions work. I asked first so you–”
“[Name],” Bruce cuts you off, the shape of your name sweet on his tongue. He pauses for a second when you slowly still, meeting his gaze with wide, innocent eyes. “[Name],” he says again, resting his head against his palm held against his temple. “What do you miss about me?”
a/n: please listen to 'Lover, You Should've Come Over' by Jeff Buckley as you read :) (that's the vibes i was going for but you do not actually have to listen
Good morning Gotham and thanks for choosing to tune in to BAAT 103.7FM! If this is your first time listening in, welcome and if you’re a long time listener, hello again! Today, we have two very special guests joining us for a crowd favorite segment: Bone Deep.
Tune in at 12PM as we speak with the most highly requested Bruce Wayne, and [Full Name], the couple that had once turned every head in Gotham before their breakup two years ago. We’ll get to hear them both as they ask each other questions about their former relationship and how their lives are doing now as they reconnect. This interview will also be available in video format on our Youtube channel by the end of the week so be sure to check that out!
I won’t say anything more to preserve the surprise. Now here’s Jeff Buckley with his song, ‘Lover, You Should’ve Come Over.’
x.
Someone hands you a set of plastic cards, questions written in dark bold letters across the white cardstock. Across from you, Bruce looks over at his own set of questions, his blue eyes darting from one side of the page to the other as he reads. Another set of hands adjust the microphone in front of you to the proper height before handing you a pair of headphones.
The host looks over at the both of you, smiling. “Are we ready?”
You nod.
Bruce clears his throat lightly, his eyes flicking over towards you once, unnoticed by anyone in the room, before nodding. He slips his headphones on, adjusting the cuffs of his button down as he turns back towards the mic, your own silhouette just before him.
If he tried hard enough, he could reach out and hold your hand again – but he won’t.
The host hums in satisfaction. “Perfect!” They glance at the window booth behind them, the sound tech manager holding his hand up.
“And we are back in 5–“
Bruce looks at the purse perched next to you on the end of the wooden table.
He’s quite certain he bought you that Lady Dior — you had been eyeing the limited edition but had refused to buy for some reason that you always refused to articulate, even when Bruce had offered to buy it for you, even when your personal shopper had specially set it aside for you.
So he bought it for you anyway – and you had thanked him with stars in your eyes and millions of kisses pressed on his cheeks and his lips, and he distinctly remembers thinking he would buy you everything in the world if it made you always smile like that.
“4–“
You stare ahead into the mesh of the microphone, willing yourself not to look over at Bruce.
Your eyes drop down to the sleeves of his shirt, catching the way his platinum cufflinks gleam in the light.
You’re pretty certain that’s your favorite one of his, bought from a private jeweler you had dragged him to at a jewelry show.
He told you he didn’t need another set of cufflinks to go with his massive collection already.
He only wore this set after you had given it to him, the rest of the cufflinks be damned.
“3–“
Bruce can still smell your perfume like you had just sprayed it, notes of wild figs and white cedar, despite the rush of wind coming from the air conditioner, despite how long it’s been since he’s last smelled it.
“2–“
He still cracks his knuckles when he’s nervous, you notice.
“And we’re back! Once again, thank you all so much for tuning in to BAAT 103.7FM! I’m sure we’ve all been waiting for this segment, so without further ado, welcome to Bone-Deep. Today we have Bruce Wayne and [Full Name] joining us.” The host swivels slightly in his chair to face you. “You two have been one of the most highly requested guests to appear on our show. Thank you both so much for coming!”
You smile, nodding along enthusiastically. “Thank you so much for giving us the opportunity to be here.”
“So, have either of you ever listened to a ‘Bone Deep’ segment before?”
“I have.” Bruce answers, his voice smooth as he speaks into the microphone. “It’s been very entertaining.” He avoids your gaze as he finishes his sentence. “I look forward to our time on air with you today.”
“Awesome! Now, in front of you two, you each have a set of questions to ask each other — and there are no repeating questions within each set. You’ll each take turns asking the other about the relationship and how things have been since you have last seen each other.”
The host gestures for the two of you to pick up the cards. “But before we begin, let’s start off with an easy question for the both of you. Could each of you tell me one thing about the other person that might surprise people?”
Your hand squeaks on the wood of the table.
For the first time in too long, you look up into Bruce’s eyes, the same shade of blue you spent two years trying not to think about. He holds your gaze steadily for a few seconds before dropping it, looking back towards the host.
“She’s very fast at connecting the dots so she has a tendency to start a conversation midway.”
“That’s what some people call ‘quick-witted.’” The host grins. “It’s a trait I wish I had.”
“Me too.” Bruce says softly.
Your heart beats a little faster in your chest, pressing against your ribs.
“And you, [Name]? What about Bruce?”
You don’t look at either of them, choosing instead to focus on a tiny spot next to the mic stand of the host. “Bruce is very funny — much more than people realize.”
Bruce works up the courage to look at you, really look at you — but you avoid his gaze. Instead, you force a smile on your cheeks, careful to crinkle the lines around your eyes, your voice upbeat. “Shall we get right into it?”
“I couldn’t have said that better myself.” The host gestures towards Bruce. “Bruce, why don’t you start?”
He nods, picking up the cards in front of him. The edges of the cardstock dig into his fingers, little pinpricks of pain that he barely registers.
With a deep breath, Bruce begins to read.
x.
It’s too easy to fall back into old rhythms.
Bruce tells jokes that you’d only laugh at if you knew him well enough — and you hate that you do, because you end up holding back your giggles like an idiot.
You give him that little glare that makes him sigh in defeat whenever he tries to deflect a question before answering honestly.
He pretends like he doesn’t notice your foot gently pressing against his leg, the fabric riding up his calf when you cross and uncross your legs.
You pretend like you don’t miss the way he taps his fingers gently on the arm of his chair, a rhythm that only he could hear but you knew by heart nonetheless.
You stare at the last card in your hand.
The question is predictable, to say the least – but then again, of course it would be. Bruce’s publicist had approved of every question to be spoken or unspoken.
Is there anything that you hope they’re happy with now?
You bounce your leg softly, slowing to a stop when you feel the tips of your heels brush against the fabric of Bruce’s pants again.
His eyes flit towards you at the motion despite being in the midst of his answer to the last question you had asked (what’s one misconception that the public had regarding the relationship?) before returning his attention back to the host.
Bruce adjusts in his seat, sliding closer to the front of the chair.
Underneath the table, you can hear the shuffle of his shoes as he moves. You glance down, forcing yourself not to roll your eyes, the corners of your lips already pulling up at the ends when you notice the black tips of his leather shoes suddenly half an inch closer to your foot than it was before.
Bruce gently taps his fingers on the table, pulling your attention back up just in time to meet the host’s gaze when they look back towards you.
“Now! We’re beginning to wrap up our segment. I’d like to thank the both of you once again for coming. It has truly been an honor. I’d like to take the last few minutes of our segment to talk about something a bit more recent. Bruce–”
The host swivels around in their chair to face him. “You’ve got a charity gala next week–”
You hum, tilting your head slightly to the side.
“Actually,” you interrupt the host before they can burst into a long spiel about the guests attending. “I have two more questions I’d like to ask Bruce.”
The host blinks. “Well, that is… unprecedented, but sure! As long as Bruce agrees–”
“I do.” He says quietly.
“Oh!” The host laughs nervously, curling their hand around the mic stand. “Well, I suppose there are no objections. Ask away.”
You lean forward, pressing yourself against the edge of the table. Across from you, Bruce raises his eyebrow ever so slightly before leaning in just as much.
“Do you miss me?”
Silence.
The static in the room seems to grow in volume.
The host whips their head nervously around back towards you. “Oh– oh, that’s not one of the preapproved questions–”
You ignore them, keeping your eyes steady against the weight of Bruce’s gaze seemingly trying to swallow you whole.
“Bruce.” You call his name softly. “Answer the question, please.”
You watch as his Adam’s apple bobs up and down, his nostrils flaring ever so slightly as he exhales through his nose. Somewhere in your peripheral vision, you watch as Bruce brings his hands back under the table, his finger rubbing against his empty left ring finger.
He looks up at the big red ‘ON AIR’ sign lit up. All of Gotham, all of Metropolis, all of the tristate area was listening.
He answers anyway.
“... Yes.”
His answer makes your heart do a somersault.
You refuse to let up.
You tap the tips of your shoes against his, gently pulling his attention back towards you. The host seems to disappear, along with the rest of the world until there is nothing left but Bruce and you alone in the room with the soundproof walls and secrets that disappeared as quickly as they were thought of.
“What do you miss about me?” You ask, quieter this time.
Somewhere behind the plexiglass, the sound manager fiddles with a few knobs as he tries to pick up the softness of your voice, the quiet of your question disappearing in the corners of the room.
Bruce raises his eyebrow. “Do you ask that question to all your exes?”
You shrug, finally leaning back in your chair, crossing your arms over your chest. “You’re deflecting again.”
“And you’re asking inappropriate questions.” Bruce says back. “How about you go first?”
You laugh, a small puff of air more than an actual sound. “That’s not how questions work. I asked first so you–”
“[Name],” Bruce cuts you off, the shape of your name sweet on his tongue. He pauses for a second when you slowly still, meeting his gaze with wide, innocent eyes. “[Name],” he says again, resting his head against his palm held against his temple. “What do you miss about me?”
You worry your bottom lip in between your teeth, all the words in the English language suddenly failing you.
You missed everything about him.
You missed too much of him.
You wet your lips despite the dryness of your mouth. “I miss…”
“I miss your voice.” You finally whisper, pressing your lips into a thin line after the sentence slips out. You keep your gaze steady on the wooden grain of the table before opening your mouth again, heart threatening to leap out your throat. “You have a very nice voice, and it was always very calming.”
“And I miss the way you’d say my name.” You continue on slowly, your eyes suddenly staring at something very far away. “It was always said so kindly, even when you had been upset with me.” You pause, exhaling. “I liked hearing it.”
You clear your throat, shaking your head slightly. Bruce watches your hair gently rock back and forth with the motion, your bangs falling in front of your eyes, soft strands of your hair sweeping past the smooth column of your neck.
You give him a polite smile. “Satisfactory?”
He nods, the tiniest of smiles playing across the edges of his lips.
“Now it’s your turn.” You look at him expectantly, folding your arms across your chest. “What do you miss about me?”
Bruce takes a breath, the ribs in his chest expanding before he exhales. “I miss your laugh.”
You nod, gesturing for him to continue.
“You had a very nice laugh.”
Even the words seem to surprise him. Bruce blinks, both eyebrows raising before he continues. He straightens, his shoulders rolling back.
“I miss how you’d call for my help whenever you saw anything you didn’t like – a bug, a book that’s too high on the shelf, a dinner you could no longer finish.”
He looks past your shoulder.
“I miss your smile.”
You lift your eyes slowly, taking in every word. Bruce meets your eyes, a steady, sincere gaze that you love so dearly.
“I miss your books left all over the manor – always half-read, never to be finished.”
You hum. “Go on.”
“I miss the way you’d shove your cold hands down my back to make me flinch.”
“Keep going.” You laugh, remembering the cold winter days in the Wayne manor, a fireplace always kept burning in the large space of Bruce’s office, the feeling of his skin warm under your icy fingertips, the ripple of his muscles as he jerked away from your touch but never straying too far.
“I miss how you’d have me lay on top of you like a weighted blanket.”
The small smile on your face grows a little wider. “Keep going.”
“I miss how you’d raise your arms when you wanted to be hugged.”
“Another one.”
Bruce chuckles softly, shaking his head. “You are being very greedy.”
You roll your eyes, mouth open to retort but it never comes.
Bruce finally meets your eyes once more, the blue of his eyes bright under the fluorescent lighting of the room, searching, searching, searching – for what, you’re not too sure.
He opens his mouth again before closing it.
And again.
Then, almost reluctantly, almost a slip of the tongue, his eyes still on yours, never once faltering–
“... I miss kissing you.”
Bruce’s confession sits heavily between the both of you, the words heard by thousands of people over the radio, never to be taken back.
You don’t know what to say. The blood rushes to your ears, your mouth parting in surprise. Bruce’s expression holds no answers to the questions racing through your head, each one lost before it could ever reach your tongue.
Bruce doesn’t say anything more.
You’re not sure if you want him to.
The studio hums with the sound of electrical equipment, the confession hanging in the air, waiting to be acknowledged.
And then the host’s laptop rings.
And rings.
And rings.
The soundboard manager looks almost panicked as his board lights up in millions of different colors, thousands of incoming calls streaming in all at once.
Slowly, the world comes rushing back in. The host clears their throat almost apologetically, glancing back and forth between the two of you.
“I… think this is a good place to end today’s segment.”
Neither of you argue.
a/n: this was inspired by a scene in an upcoming indie play called the 'Playback'. More specifically, it was based off of this tiktok edit that I saw and i have linked here
thank you all so much for reading! please also check out the latest chapter of icarus to the sun & december's language is imprecise grief if you can :)
─── in any sort of sub/dom dynamic with bruce wayne .ᐟ even in a romantic relationship, his need to have some form control over you would permeate through absolutely everything, in any sort of circumstance, with no sexual implications. bruce thinks he does you a service by dictating your life around. it would never comes from a place of wanting to make you feel small. it doesn’t make him feel more powerful by depriving you of control, though. his authoritative nature does come from a place of fear, especially given his lack of control during the event that stuck with him throughout his entire life.
to bruce, it’s a natural thing. it all began with “wear pink and silk, they suit you better” to you asking him pick your clothes as your daily routine, followed by outfit checks, all sent at the same hour. routine is good, right? you tell him everything— where you’re headed to. what you had for breakfast. what should you have for lunch? most of the time it’s not even him insisting to control certain areas of your life, but it’s you. unless you decide to brat around and misbehave. you get him used to this routine and then, you deprive him of it. but he’s too smart to be tricked.
then, you crawl and beg him, so he indulges. sometimes, asking bruce to control you makes you all wet and needy. which isn’t exactly what he wants— it’s not about dependency, but it’s a never ending circle in which you find yourselves stuck due to its addictive nature.
sex is obviously involved and sometimes bruce uses it as a form punishment, depriving you of it when you misbehave. he can live without it— without sex, yes. without you? not exactly. but he knows you can’t resist sex and it’s really not your fault that you’re so needy and eager to be fucked. he bends you over his knee inside his office and the palm of his hand lands a few spanks that you count out loud. this shouldn’t be mistaken with sadism, though. it’s just brat taming and behavioral control.
Hello everyone! I am a beta reader for an amazing on-going fic. The concept is of a Bruce Wayne who ends up in Arkham. Recently the 4th chapter was published, and I would be ecstatic if you gave the fic a read.
the abyss gazes also
by goddcoward
The gun fires twice. Blood and pearls fill the alleyway. The boy comes to a resolution. Years later in the mountains of Nepal, while honing his skills beneath the exacting gaze of Ra’s al Ghul, the boy comes to a crossroads.
He makes his choice.
The Batman never comes to be. The more things change, the more they stay the same.
