❝ WHAT’S NEXT FOR GOTHAM’S HOTTEST COUPLE? STAY SEATED UNTIL OUR NEXT DESTINATION RIGHT HERE .ᐟ ❞
PLAYLIST ─── breathe on me. up down suite. bedtime story.
─── FASTEN YOUR SEATBELTS, gothamites. this time, we’re flying high as billionaire bruce wayne and his girlfriend shock us again with their latest romantic escapade. are we surprised, though? they’re all over each other. all day and night. we’ve seen gotham’s hottest couple in the most scandalous pictures! sharing sexy kisses in the middle of the day and touching each other while leaving no room for god! you can just tell their sex life is as crazy and we are absolutely OBSESSED.
the private shopping spree remains their most iconic display of affection and we’re yet to see something as sexy as bruce wayne on his knees, kissing his girlfriend’s ankles in a picture that went viral on social media. talk about passion! the wayne heir is head over heels in love with his younger lady and she loves every moment of it. she’s as spoiled as anyone would ever expect her to be.
who are you to judge? you wish you were in her place, we know you do. so stop being so jealous, gothamites, it’s not good for your skin. is that a wrinkle i see right there? that’s what you get for calling mrs. wayne—should we call her future mrs. wayne? (we’re already expecting a grand proposal) — a gold digger.
we’re being fed well. she loves the cameras. she doesn’t shy away and she always talks to our paparazzi about her latest activities. remember when she and her billionaire boyfriend went to monaco and we spotted her tanning with no bikinis on? (again, we can’t show you that, stop asking!) she had the biggest smirk on her face when we told her about it.
‘don’t ask me obvious questions... i’m not gonna talk about the size of my boyfriend’s dick size! how come you don’t know this? i’m so disappointed!’ she said it herself while tsk tsk-ing our paparazzi for asking dumb questions. we spotted her leaving a givenchy store.
─── DESTINATION: PARIS. a little bird told us the couple boarded wayne’s private jet, departing as early as 5 a.m. one of our sources claim the flight to the city of love was hot and nasty and oh, well… they even admitted that the nor the pilots or small crew could focus on their jobs. our source claims the staff was practically forced to play loud music through the speakers in order to muffle the noises coming out the back of the jet.
COMING NEXT! WE CAN’T BELIEVE OUR EYES! DID BILLIONAIRE BRUCE WAYNE JUST REVEAL A MASSIVE KINK WHILE DRIVING AWAY FROM THE GALA WITH HIS GIRLFRIEND?
lazying cross-legged in your leather seat, you keep bouncing your foot, restless and on top of all horribly needy, one jimmy choo pump dangling in the air off your heel. you’ve been chewing on the same piece of cherry gum for what feels as just about an eternity, blowing bubbles in a poor attempt to get a crumb of bruce’s attention.
you stare through the small window and a hint of your reflection gleams faintly; a pair of eyes stare back at you with the same obvious boredom you’re experiencing. you’re on top of the world, above all clouds, a heaven of white tranquility stretches infinitely under your feet. yet, it’s scandalous how bored you are.
the paparazzi must’ve already seen your departure to paris and you expect a front page upon your return to gotham city in a week. but nevertheless, you don’t worry about that yet. bruce has told you to keep the facade of his spoiled younger girlfriend— he doesn’t insist on it, he never does truly. if there is one aspect you’ve grown fond of, is being in the spotlight. and truthfully, it’s never a facade. bruce said it himself.
you love the attention.
reading the disinterest plastered all over you face, one of the two attendants tells you something about four hours being left, right as she leans down to hand you a glass filled with sparkling fizzy gold liquid. you mumble a thanks and return to your mindless window staring. boring. you put the champagne back on the table.
already on your fifth glass, this has become its own form of protest against the business of your older boyfriend. perhaps you’ve snuck in the bedroom to drink another glass. he already knows about that most likely, given the glance he gave you a while ago right when you asked the attendant for another refill and a pack of sour candy. being bruce wayne’s girlfriend means he will remember every single detail about you, even the smallest, including the uncopious amount of candy you like to eat.
you’re not really sure if it bothered him that you’re drinking or that you’ve decided to mix one of the most expensive champagnes out there with sour candy, gum and dark chocolate. he doesn’t question it anymore. but it’s definitely an interesting choice.
bruce promised you a trip to france and so, here you are, battling the boredom of an eight hour long flight from gotham city to the paris.
the engine purrs fill the entire cabin, blending with smooth jazz tunes you melt in your comfortable seat, jet black leather, buttery soft. every corner of this plane is of a rare elegance and sublime allure. each piece of furniture has been exclusively made for this plane and you can’t imagine how expensive this might’ve been.
but then again, there’s nothing expensive enough in the entirety of this world for the ceo and owner of wayne enterprises.
who, as usual, is stressed. preoccupied.
there’s a constant, nearly palpable weight on the shoulders of gotham’s modern day atlas. the man holds the city aloft and indubitably, there is a continuous sense of duty that persists, even when the city is miles away, on a different continent. bruce keeps a bunch of papers stacked in his hand. his eyes scam some reports thoroughly.
he hasn’t moved in about twenty minutes. not an inch. just some slight movements, adjusting himself in the seat across from you. looking through his papers. it’s really unsettling how long he can sit still. if it weren’t for the reports and ocassional facial expressions, you’d presume he’s marble sculpted into the most perfect statue. untouchable.
you hate it.
but you have to admit it. it’s undeniable. despite the scandalous lack of attention you’ve been receiving in the past fifty minutes (poor you!) bruce wayne is painfully sexy when he’s stressed and working. there is something otherworldly attractive about his features when he’s poised, jaw and muscles tensed, fingers resting at the edge of the papers and his tailored two piece suit hugs his body deliciously good.
a watch stays strapped around his wrist, hidden under a neat linen cream suit and golden cuff links — his intensely focused blue eyes stay filled with heavy concentration and a frowning look falls upon his face; the visible stress flows out of each of his pores.
all you can think about is what hides underneath his suit pants when he adjusts himself and, oh, his big frame and so veiny, muscular arms that could easily manhandle you around the cabin while he takes care of your pussy nice and slow. just the mere thought makes you ache to your every core and so, you squeeze your legs tighter, feeling the fabric of your panties friction against your clit.
you could blame the champagne too for the increased libido. the more time passes, the more the alcohol kicks in and the cabin feels like a sauna. you would do anything to have your clothes taken off.
earlier, bruce excused himself to pick up a call from dick in the bedroom and, upon his return, he leaned down to press a soft kiss on your forehead and right back to his business he went. and you, his needy girlfriend, can’t simply resist a second without being dotted on.
you want him now.
“i’m bored!” you exclaim and his gaze meets yours. his eyebrow raises when he looks away from his papers.
“behave.” there’s no anger in bruce’s tone when he says it. he knows you’re up to something. it’s not likely for you to stay still during the entire flight. it would be rather strange of you to keep quiet while he’s working. it doesn’t sound like the woman who just happens to be his girlfriend.
you want him now and you’ll get his attention somehow.
bruce looks through the window and that’s exactly when you make your first move.
you drag your the sole of your high heel up his suit trousers, teasing him where the hem meets the fine polish of his shoes. you work your way up his leg slowly, right until you reach his thigh. you let the feeling settle in and his anticipation to grow.
“make me.”
you drag your shoe up to his clothed cock and you press the jimmy choo heel on it. bruce’s large hand locks around your ankle, the other one still holding the papers.
you cage your lower lip between your teeth, tasting the faint sweetness of your red lipstick. you keep a sly smirk on your face, the corners of your mouth curled up. his gaze shift to you and another cherry bubble pops out of your lips. “i dare you.”
“you don’t know when to stop, do you?”
your heart pulses faster when you look right into the depths of his heavy stare, the seriousness and rigidity of it all, and back to where the slender high heel rests unbothered on his crotch, his hand locked around your ankle still.
“why won’t you pay attention to me?” you whine, pressing you heel down just a bit, “i’m so bored.”
his shoulders relax and his eyes soften, blue tones warm up with love as he puts the papers aside. he pushes your high heels off his crotch and he pats his thigh twice, “come here.”
that’s the only permission you needed to jump in his lap, arms wrapping securely around his neck. you waste no time and you lean in, crashing your lips against his in needy, sloppy kiss. your lips are sweet with cherry gum and a faint aftertaste of champagne lingers— how much you’ve been longing for this. to consume him, hot and messy and for bruce to answer you with a devastating kiss.
“…need you so much, honey.”
you breathe him in, every single inch. his stress is beyond visible and you’d do anything to make sure he can relax for a few moments. you want it to stop. but your mind and heart both know that’s simply not possible. you grow upset with his need to focus on his plans. on being bruce wayne. on being batman. you’re so used to it, it has become a habit for you to pester him until he gives up and lets you have it your way.
but there’s one issue. two, actually.
“make them go away,” you break the kiss, out of breath, your lips brush softly against his ear when you whisper your words, talking about the two flight assistants minding their own business.
“you’re stressed,” you murmur and soft breaths hike up bruce’s skin when you sink your face in the crook of his neck, lips starved and greedy, bitting and sucking.
your hand travels freely on his chest, exploring, like a yearning being of its own, knowing exactly what is has to do and what sensitive spots to touch. his chest. his neck. his inner thigh. your palm against the warmth of his body burns scorching and you let your fingers slip past the buttons of his white shirt. his big arms wrap around you and his massive hands fall down your ass, landing a hungry spank that makes you whimper.
“…i wanna take care of it.”
you lick you lips and low grunt betrays bruce’s composure when you palm his crotch with raw thirst in your eyes. with you cradled in his lap, one arm slips off your waist and he lifts it up: the two flight attendants look at him immediately. he gestures towards the cockpit and so, in the blink of an eye, the two women disappear behind the door that separates the cabin from the cockpit.
“better now, princess?”
you nod and slide off bruce’s lap and you sink on your knees, thigh length stockings cushioned on the chocolate carpet. you pull your dress up and your hair out of your face. your eyes seek his in desperate need of approval. he offers it to you, gleaming pupils and blue irises under the warm golden lights of the private jet.
this is how you like it the most— the soft bossiness and authority in bruce’s eyes when you get on your knees for him. it makes your stomach twist and core ache sticky with an awful need to be split open and fucked right on the spot. it’s almost painful how much you want it. images of being bent over against every surface of this private jet flash through your dirty mind, panties dangling low your ankles and high heels still on.
but first, this. you must take care of the growing tent forming in bruce’s pants. you ought to distract him from his never ending fight with the stress of being bruce wayne.
you lean forward, working your way through his cream trousers, unzipping and unbuttoning them. you pull them down, together with his boxers and you gulp at the sight of his thick cock and you whisper a so big.
you put one hand in a fist around the base of its length and you lock your lips around the sensitive tip of his cock. the taste salty precum leaking out fills your mouth. you let some saliva drip down past your lips, making it easier to fist his length. you keep looking into his eyes, intoxicating and intimidating as usual. you drag your tongue wet around his balls, taking them in our mouth and sucking them off. then, you play lazily with your tongue from the base, back to the tip.
you push the tip of his cock past your lips, swirling your tongue around it. he lets you have it, doing everything at your own pace, swallowing it whole and making it disappear down your throat with loud gagging noises. tears prickle warm down your sweet cheeks. your eyes sting from the unhealthy amount of mascara you’re wearing and suddenly, you regret the decision of wearing a full face look. bruce grunts, head pushed back, his hand resting on his thigh, on top of yours.
the sight itself could make any man cum: you, on your knees, ready to please your so terribly stressed older boyfriend, needy for a crumb of his attention; with big teary eyes and lips locked around his thick cock, both hands now fisted firmly around its base.
you pussy drips wet just from getting down on your knees in such a public place, when you know four crew members wait behind the cockpit door, fully aware you’re completely turned on by your billionaire older boyfriend, shamelessly suck his dick like it’s your only purpose. oh, how you love it.
you manage to slip a hand under your skirt and your fingers drench in the warm heat oozing out of your sweet cunt. you draw soft circles around your clit, all in a desperate attempt to alleviate the wet, aching pain between your legs. you try to leave out a moan, but it comes out muffled; you eyes roll with pure pleasure while you finger yourself with bruce’s cock stuffed deep down your throat.
suddenly bruce pushes your head off, “no. not like this. get up.”
bruce offers you his hand to stand up and not long after, you find yourself in his arms, carried towards the door of the bedroom. he pushes past the door handle to get you both in and you’re welcomed by a room in which rests a huge bed, covered by a satin duvet and perfectly arranged stacks of pillows.
it is by far the most luxurious room you’ve ever seen in a private jet. and it’s far beyond anything you could ever imagine. the intoxicating sandalwood scent enraptures you and the soft vanilla and patchouli notes melt your senses.
this wouldn’t be the first time you and bruce have sex here. the walls of this private jet hide many secrets, including the ungodly amount of times you’ve fucked like rabbits during your flights.
“i want you like this.”
bruce doesn’t hesitate to throw you on the bed. he stands right in front of you at the edge of it, hands locked around your waist, pulling you closer to his body. he turns you around with too much ease, rough and strong and you arch you back, sinking your face in the satin duvet, drooling as you know you’ll finally feel bruce’s cock. it doesn’t take him long to remove both his suit jacket and button up and then, he leans down do kiss your back softly.
you’re so perfect for him. even when bruce can’t see you, all he can think of is the pretty eyes that hide away from him and your lips wrapped around his cock, ready to take the stress away from him. you shy away from him and you moan timidly when he finally works himself inside you pussy, streching you out to your limits, forcing you to grip the silk sheets between your fingers.
at first, because then, the way thrust his cock inside your cunt is brain melting and you no longer care. you fill the entire jet with your moans, screaming loudly and begging him to fill you to the brim with him cum, mind empty, acting like a slut who just can’t live without her older boyfriend’s big cock stuffed inside her needy little cunt.
that’s what you think. that’s your fantasy. you crave to feel dirty and to be fucked by bruce wayne, an older billionaire who is almost twice your age. that is your ultimate fantasy. at this point, he doesn’t even pump his cock inside you. he stand still, hands on your waist, helping you fuck yourself and your pussy milks him mindlessly.
“want it deeper… p-please.”
bruce finds it enticing; how much of brat you are. how much you beg him to fuck you, pushing his boundaries and distracting him from his work. it’s a never ending game. you’re bored and he’ll make sure you no longer complain, balls deep inside your pussy, making sure you’re fucked properly before your arrival in paris.
where, as matter of fact, a penthouse is waiting for you. he’ll get on your knees for you, nose and lips stuffed between your folds, savoring the sweet moans and taste of his pretty girlfriend. you’ll get a nice break, sure, but he’ll make you come on his tongue again and again.
all of a sudden, the jazz tunes star getting louder and that can only mean one thing. the crew members can hear you all the way to the cockpit. you’re aware because, naturally, this isn’t the first occurence.
“b-babe, i think we’re too loud!” you barely manage to say through countless moans.
he doesn’t stop.
truthfully, you have no shame and he does neither.
“b-bruce! the music!”
“why are you so preoccupied by the music today? should i fuck you harder, darling?”
he turns you around again and this time, when you face him, bruce’s mouth crashes against yours in a deep kiss, tongue pushed past your lips. he keeps going, cock slammed hard and deep until in almost hits your cervix. the pleasure is painful.
“m-mhm, please!”
and so, he does it. for three hours, not a corner of the cabin is left untouched. on top or under him, bent over a table or riding him in his leather seat, your pussy remembers the shape of bruce’s cock; you take him so well. as if you were molded in his dreams specifically for him. his name comes out your mouth so erotically when he spreads you wide open; it makes his cock twitch and you come all over it, shaky fingers glued to your puffy clit.
────────
the eiffel tower stands grandiose and beautiful right in front of your very two eyes. you sit on the terrace of your penthouse, the french sun shines bright against your skin and you savor each moment of it, stuffing your mouth with tiny colorful macarons and taking a sip of coffee every now and then. you and bruce took a nice bath together and now, you enjoy the warm weather in a pink silk robe, some fluffy slippers and a towel covering your freshly washed hair.
“bruce, this is beyond amazing. my god, i love it so much.”
“anything for you, my sweetheart.” bruce places a kiss on his forehead and he wipes a few crumbs away from the corner of your mouth. you’re so messy. then, he returns back to reading his boring fench newspaper, his hand on your tight, rubbing his thumb up and down your soft skin.
clark kent has sent you a message.
clark kent: seems like you and bruce are having a LOT of fun in paris. even my colleagues are talking about you!
you: wanna interview us? ;)
clark kent: you know i don’t write gossip :(
you: clark. no. that’s not what i meant. let me be more specific. would like to have sex with me and bruce in paris?
you: as in… a threesome :p
clark kent: i’m sure bruce would love that 😆
you: let me ask him ;)
clark kent: no! i was being sarcastic! don’t ask him that!!
you: he said yes ;) come over or he’ll change his mind, clark!
you: HURRY UP !!!!!!!!
ivy’s note: SURPRISE we’re getting eiffel towered in front of the eiffel tower 🩷 bone apple teeth or whatever 🍴i am soooo sorry the ending is highkey rushed but i was supposed to post this last month and busy busy busy week awaits ahead of me );
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