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"When I was princess, men worshipped me." Your drag your nails across his scalp. His mouth works against you patiently, dutifully.
"They'd do anything to be in my presence, to see my body, to touch me, to taste me," you sigh. "I could get two to lick me at once and they'd thank me for the experience."
The knight licks harder, brow knitted in concentration.
"I could never touch their cocks at all and they'd still kiss my feet in gratitude. Making me cum? Touching my tits? That was a reward in itself." Your rant continues. "When I was gracious enough to let them cum? To touch them? Jewels. Treasures. Adoration."
The knight's hand presses at your opening, two fingers sliding in and crooking-
"I saved my virginity for your king." You stroke the man's hair again. "And his three fucking inches. Flops on top of me every night and still no heir. It's no wonder: the little thing struggles to even get inside me and stay at attention. All I wanted out of a husband was a nice cock. I should have let my tutor marry me. He was thick and eager--"
The knight sucks hard and your body goes rigid. A quiver comes over you as you realize you're to cum.
"Yes, pet, like that-" you gasp. "Are you jealous?"
"Yes." He growls it into your dripping cunt, never fully breaking away. "Do not think of other men while I'm pleasing you."
"I only think of their cocks."
"You say that as if I do not have my own to offer,"
Tags:fingering (f), orgasm denial, mentions of a buttplug, allusions to sex.
Dom! Bruce xBrat! Reader
Reblogs and comments are appreciated!
For the fifth time this week, he was late. Again.
You understood how important his work was, hell, you never even complained about all the things he had missed because of it.
But not today. You were determined to give him an earful for missing your carefully scheduled night together.
It was almost quarter past three in the morning when he finally came back to your penthouse.
He was met with the sight of you sitting on the bed fuming instead of being peacefully asleep like usual.
"Why are you always late?! And don't give me the excuse that something somehow came up again!"
You almost yell.
He steps forward towards the bed, trying to placate you.
"Something did come up, sweetheart. I'm here now," he says in his infuriatingly hot voice. Hearing him speak always made you slightly wet.
But you weren’t letting it slide tonight. You push at his chest when he gets close, glaring.
“Don’t ‘sweetheart’ me. You think you can just show up whenever and I’ll forgive you?”
He catches your wrist mid-push, his grip firm. “Careful,” he warns, his voice dropping lower, the sharp edge in it making heat pool between your legs despite yourself.
You try to yank free, only for him to shove you back onto the bed in one swift movement, straddling you.
"That's enough."
His tone is stern now, and it makes you shiver. One of his hands pins both of yours above your head while the other brushes against your pussy beneath your shorts.
"Wet already? Did you want me to put you in your place?" he mocks.
His fingers wander further down, and he lets out a pleased hum when he feels the cool base of your buttplug.
When his touch comes back up to your clit, he starts rubbing in slow, taunting circles. The friction makes you arch your hips, desperate for more, but he pulls back just enough to leave you aching.
The most infuriating smirk graces his face as he feels how drenched you are.
He’d been fingering you for over an hour now, dragging you up to the very edge of climax before cruelly pulling away. Every time you thought release was within reach, he denied you, leaving your cunt clenching around nothing. Slick coated your thighs, your sheets damp with your need.
Your throat was hoarse from begging, moaning, and whining, each sound more desperate than the last. Every stop-and-start made your whole body tremble with frustrated arousal.
"Tantrums don't earn you orgasms," he chides when you try to grind against his hand for friction.
You whimper, hips twitching uncontrollably, but he just laughs low in his throat, enjoying the way your body betrayed your defiance.
Meanwhile, you couldn’t keep your eyes off the bulge in his pants. You wanted him to fuck you, to finally fill you, to bully that heavy cock into the spot that made you see heaven.
The next morning, you could feel the soreness in your pussy. He had made sure to fuck you to your heart’s content after torturing you for so long.
You buried your face into his chest. Maybe you should throw tantrums a bit more frequently.
Tags:fingering (f), orgasm denial, mentions of a buttplug, allusions to sex.
Dom! Bruce xBrat! Reader
Reblogs and comments are appreciated!
For the fifth time this week, he was late. Again.
You understood how important his work was, hell, you never even complained about all the things he had missed because of it.
But not today. You were determined to give him an earful for missing your carefully scheduled night together.
It was almost quarter past three in the morning when he finally came back to your penthouse.
He was met with the sight of you sitting on the bed fuming instead of being peacefully asleep like usual.
"Why are you always late?! And don't give me the excuse that something somehow came up again!"
You almost yell.
He steps forward towards the bed, trying to placate you.
"Something did come up, sweetheart. I'm here now," he says in his infuriatingly hot voice. Hearing him speak always made you slightly wet.
But you weren’t letting it slide tonight. You push at his chest when he gets close, glaring.
“Don’t ‘sweetheart’ me. You think you can just show up whenever and I’ll forgive you?”
He catches your wrist mid-push, his grip firm. “Careful,” he warns, his voice dropping lower, the sharp edge in it making heat pool between your legs despite yourself.
You try to yank free, only for him to shove you back onto the bed in one swift movement, straddling you.
"That's enough."
His tone is stern now, and it makes you shiver. One of his hands pins both of yours above your head while the other brushes against your pussy beneath your shorts.
"Wet already? Did you want me to put you in your place?" he mocks.
His fingers wander further down, and he lets out a pleased hum when he feels the cool base of your buttplug.
When his touch comes back up to your clit, he starts rubbing in slow, taunting circles. The friction makes you arch your hips, desperate for more, but he pulls back just enough to leave you aching.
The most infuriating smirk graces his face as he feels how drenched you are.
He’d been fingering you for over an hour now, dragging you up to the very edge of climax before cruelly pulling away. Every time you thought release was within reach, he denied you, leaving your cunt clenching around nothing. Slick coated your thighs, your sheets damp with your need.
Your throat was hoarse from begging, moaning, and whining, each sound more desperate than the last. Every stop-and-start made your whole body tremble with frustrated arousal.
"Tantrums don't earn you orgasms," he chides when you try to grind against his hand for friction.
You whimper, hips twitching uncontrollably, but he just laughs low in his throat, enjoying the way your body betrayed your defiance.
Meanwhile, you couldn’t keep your eyes off the bulge in his pants. You wanted him to fuck you, to finally fill you, to bully that heavy cock into the spot that made you see heaven.
The next morning, you could feel the soreness in your pussy. He had made sure to fuck you to your heart’s content after torturing you for so long.
You buried your face into his chest. Maybe you should throw tantrums a bit more frequently.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
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Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Tags:fingering (f), orgasm denial, mentions of a buttplug, allusions to sex.
Dom! Bruce xBrat! Reader
Reblogs and comments are appreciated!
For the fifth time this week, he was late. Again.
You understood how important his work was, hell, you never even complained about all the things he had missed because of it.
But not today. You were determined to give him an earful for missing your carefully scheduled night together.
It was almost quarter past three in the morning when he finally came back to your penthouse.
He was met with the sight of you sitting on the bed fuming instead of being peacefully asleep like usual.
"Why are you always late?! And don't give me the excuse that something somehow came up again!"
You almost yell.
He steps forward towards the bed, trying to placate you.
"Something did come up, sweetheart. I'm here now," he says in his infuriatingly hot voice. Hearing him speak always made you slightly wet.
But you weren’t letting it slide tonight. You push at his chest when he gets close, glaring.
“Don’t ‘sweetheart’ me. You think you can just show up whenever and I’ll forgive you?”
He catches your wrist mid-push, his grip firm. “Careful,” he warns, his voice dropping lower, the sharp edge in it making heat pool between your legs despite yourself.
You try to yank free, only for him to shove you back onto the bed in one swift movement, straddling you.
"That's enough."
His tone is stern now, and it makes you shiver. One of his hands pins both of yours above your head while the other brushes against your pussy beneath your shorts.
"Wet already? Did you want me to put you in your place?" he mocks.
His fingers wander further down, and he lets out a pleased hum when he feels the cool base of your buttplug.
When his touch comes back up to your clit, he starts rubbing in slow, taunting circles. The friction makes you arch your hips, desperate for more, but he pulls back just enough to leave you aching.
The most infuriating smirk graces his face as he feels how drenched you are.
He’d been fingering you for over an hour now, dragging you up to the very edge of climax before cruelly pulling away. Every time you thought release was within reach, he denied you, leaving your cunt clenching around nothing. Slick coated your thighs, your sheets damp with your need.
Your throat was hoarse from begging, moaning, and whining, each sound more desperate than the last. Every stop-and-start made your whole body tremble with frustrated arousal.
"Tantrums don't earn you orgasms," he chides when you try to grind against his hand for friction.
You whimper, hips twitching uncontrollably, but he just laughs low in his throat, enjoying the way your body betrayed your defiance.
Meanwhile, you couldn’t keep your eyes off the bulge in his pants. You wanted him to fuck you, to finally fill you, to bully that heavy cock into the spot that made you see heaven.
The next morning, you could feel the soreness in your pussy. He had made sure to fuck you to your heart’s content after torturing you for so long.
You buried your face into his chest. Maybe you should throw tantrums a bit more frequently.
summary ☆ you went to celebrate with your best friends your promotion, only to wake up naked between them the next morning
warnings ☆ mdni, threesome, p in v, fingering, pussy eating, dirty talk, alcohol, mention to anal sex
a/n ☆ i am obsessed about writing threesomes when i personally never experience one. also i'm definitely writing more scenarios about this three. i know that Clark tecnically can't get drunk but i don't really gaf
main masterlist | letterboxd
"I will definitely remember this tomorrow!" you said with the biggest smile as Bruce poured you your fourth martini before sitting in the armrest closer to Clark, whose arm was resting lazily in your waist.
✶✶✶
Your head hurt so much that it took you a while to realize you had four arms of two men built like trucks wrapped around your body. Bruce had his chest against your back, one of his legs between yours, and one arm holding your waist, the other above your head. Clark was nestled against your neck, one hand on your hip and the other intertwined with yours. You were touching them too. You all formed a tangle of limbs and breaths that left you speechless.
You didn’t remember how you’d ended up in that situation. You stayed very still, first to organize your thoughts, and second because the men’s bodies were warm and it was cold. Because, obviously, the three of you were completely naked.
Clark let out a low sound against your chest and snuggled closer, freezing you for a moment as his dark curls tickled your collarbone.
You forced yourself to remember. You remembered you had just gotten a raise after closing a sale that would add some zeroes to your company’s earnings. You remembered telling your only two friends who could understand how important it was to you. You remembered Bruce inviting you all to the mansion to celebrate.
Jazz was playing softly on the record player, and there was alcohol. Between the first and second drink, only you moved to the gentle rhythm of the music while talking and laughter grew. Then Clark joined you with his third whiskey, wrapping his arms around your waist as you rested your cheek against his chest, glass still in your hand.
Of course, Bruce refilled the fourth glass and when he finished it, he pressed himself against you from behind, almost imitating the position you were in now.
The last thing you managed to remember was Clark kissing you on the lips while Bruce traced your neck.
Now, you try to move very carefully, wishing to escape that tangle of bodies without causing greater chaos. But as soon as you try to turn your head a little, Bruce growls in discomfort at the interruption and shifts slightly, pressing you tighter against him.
“Shh…” Clark whispers in a hoarse voice. “Don’t move.”
You try to take a deep breath, but the pressure of their bodies, the heat pressed against your skin, and the sound of their breathing make you hesitate. Still, you decide you need a little space, even if just to think.
You try to lift an arm carefully to separate yours from Bruce’s, but then his strong hand closes around your wrist and pulls you back, nestling you again between them.
Bruce, half asleep, opens his eyes a little and with a deep, hoarse voice, a mix of complaint and sleep, says:
“You’re leaving already? It’s still early.”
Clark looks at you with sleepy eyes but full of a tenderness that melts you, and traces a finger along your cheek as if to make sure you’re okay.
The movement breaks the delicate balance and, unintentionally, you end up moving a leg abruptly. Bruce stretches like a cat, and you take advantage to slide slowly to the side, between them.
“What did we do last night?” you ask slowly, clearing your throat.
The room is dimly lit, only a few sun rays coming through the curtains. You try to find some of your clothes, but the floor is clear. When had you gotten undressed?
“Don’t you remember?” Clark raised an eyebrow while Bruce placed a hand on your waist to keep you close.
You shook your head slowly, turning to look at them directly. Clark had propped himself up a bit, back against the headboard, his bare torso shining with the leftover sweat and cum from the night. Bruce and Clark exchanged a quick glance. Clark tried to smile, but it was more of a nervous grimace.
Bruce brought a hand to the bridge of his nose and murmured, almost guilty:
“I don’t know about Clark, but I remember from the first toast.”
“And the second. And when you started dancing,” added Clark, the smile a bit more honest this time. “You looked happy. We wanted you to stay that way.”
“And then you clung to me like two human muscle blankets,” you scoffed, brushing hair from your face.
“Technically, you let us,” Bruce pointed out calmly. “You leaned on Clark. Then you kissed both of us. It wasn’t one-sided.”
“I kissed you?”
“First Clark,” Bruce confirmed. “Then me, while you still had his shirt in your hand.”
Clark looked down, visibly embarrassed, but not regretful. His voice softened as he said:
“You were so excited about your promotion… you talked about everything you’d sacrificed to get there. You said you never celebrated anything, always moving on to the next goal. You said you wanted something unplanned.”
“And then,” Bruce continued, with the same analytical neutrality as if describing a chess move, “you said if you were going to lose control for one night, at least let it be with us.”
You brought your hands to your face, stifling a moan of embarrassment.
“God. How poetic I get when I drink.”
“Don’t regret it,” Clark said with a slight tenderness. “No one here regrets it. It was… well.”
You sighed, massaging your temples. “Wish I knew what.”
Bruce and Clark exchanged another glance, more knowing, with a lighter smile. Clark lifted his back off the headboard, moving closer to you again.
“We can help you remember,” Bruce whispered in a deep voice, a bit more confident now, brushing your skin with fingertip in a slow, deliberate path from your thigh to the curve of your hip.
“If you want,” Clark added, getting too close to your back.
You felt his breath on your neck and knew he was perfectly hearing how fast your heart was beating.
You recalled some sensations: Bruce’s firm touch sliding along your back, his fingers confidently exploring every inch of your skin; Clark’s touch trailing down your neck to your collarbone, his deep breath by your ear; jazz music wrapping the room, the dim light tinting everything amber.
You nodded slowly, first looking at Bruce and then Clark over your shoulder. “Okay,” you whispered shyly.
Bruce slid his hand from your waist to your thighs, squeezing deliberately while Clark’s fingers climbed your abdomen, playing with the edge of your ribs, exploring gently but firmly.
“Remember this?” Bruce murmured in a deep voice as he laid you on his chest.
With one hand he caressed your breasts, nipples reddened and already nibbled by them. You found yourself sensitive to every touch of those four hands, wondering how they’d treated you last night.
Clark kissed you first. Not like the previous night, not awkward or hesitant. This time he kissed you hungrily. With the certainty of someone who had already tasted you and wanted to do it again, slowly, without the filter of alcohol or euphoria. His lips moved rhythmically over yours, with intention. His hands circled your waist, and you felt the electric contact when he slipped between your thighs.
And Bruce was behind you, his hands on your hips, his mouth on your neck. He kissed you like marking territory, like reminding you he was there too. That he had been there since the first toast.
Clark pulled away from you with a trail of saliva between you, wiped the rest off your corner of the mouth, and leaned over again, this time catching Bruce’s lips a little above you.
You were about to say something, but Clark’s hand had already slipped between your thighs, exploring your wet folds. You covered your mouth with your hand, stifling a moan. Bruce, without removing his tongue from Clark’s mouth, took your hand off your mouth, intertwining it with his own.
When they separated, it was natural, as if this wasn’t new to them. As if it wasn’t the first time you saw them like that. You felt a strange flutter in your stomach. It wasn’t jealousy, not exactly. It was something more like vertigo. Like peering into a part of them that had always been there, waiting for you.
“That happened last night too?” you asked quietly, swallowing.
Bruce slowly turned his head toward you, still holding your hand. “Yeah.”
Clark nodded, his blue eyes fixed on you. There wasn’t a trace of discomfort in his expression. Only calm, like you could finally talk about it without hiding.
“It’s nothing new,” Bruce noted, kissing your collarbone again.
You made a motion to sit up though Bruce’s hand was still fixed on your waist. “I’m not getting in the way, am I?”
Clark let out something like a laugh, shaking his head. “Don’t say nonsense.”
You couldn’t say anything more as Clark slid between your legs with his tongue already on you. Your hand went straight to his black curls. He settled between your thighs and opened you with both hands like you were something sacred. He licked slow at first. With a patience that hurt, making slow, soft, deep circles. Then he began alternating pressure and rhythm, playing with you until your body arched involuntarily toward him.
“You’re trembling,” Bruce murmured, now with one hand on your breast and the other holding your waist tight against him.
“Fuck, Clark,” you tried to speak but stopped when Clark slipped a finger inside you.
Bruce smiled against your cheek. He released your breast and lowered his hand to your clitoris, pinching it with little delicacy. Clark kept licking you, his hands marking your thighs while Bruce abused your clit and kissed your neck.
“Clark, please! So good, so—Mmh!” You tried to arch your back. “Bruce, gonna—I’m gonna cum!”
“Come for us, darlin’,” Clark whispered against your pussy.
You felt a whip down your spine, squeezed Bruce’s hand as you moaned with Clark’s face still buried between your legs. You ground against him, your red clit against his nose and tongue inside you as you came on his face.
Clark didn’t pull away. He kept going until you trembled a second time, weaker, your whole body vibrating and voice completely broken.
When he finally stopped, he climbed up your body and kissed your mouth softly. You could taste yourself in him. And you kissed him like you could thank him with your lips. You caught your breath, running a hand through Clark’s hair and stretching your arm behind your shoulder to cradle Bruce’s cheek with your hands.
“Did we only do this?” you asked with a small smile.
Bruce and Clark looked at each other. You knew Bruce had his stupid smile, and Clark had blushed a little before letting out a joint laugh. The Gothamite spun you easily, now your back was on the mattress, Clark on one side and Bruce on top of you.
You pulled Bruce to line up with you, eager for him to fill you. But it was Clark who put a hand on Bruce’s chest to stop him while massaging your breast.
“Slow down, doll. You might be a little sensitive,” Clark explained, caressing your left cheek.
“Mmh?” you managed to say, feeling Bruce’s cock against your throbbing cunt.
“You took us both last night,” Bruce said, kissing your knee.
You blinked, scolding yourself for not remembering anything.
“Did I?” you asked anyway, fluttering your eyes.
“You were… beautiful,” Clark said, half-closed eyes as if remembering it more clearly than he wanted to admit.
“You asked for it,” Bruce added, moving his mouth from your knee up to the center of your body, where his breath began to ignite something you didn’t even know you could endure again. “You said you wanted to lose your mind. With both of us.”
Clark leaned to kiss your cheek, then your temple, then your forehead.
“You said you didn’t want it to be easy. That you wanted it to hurt from pleasure. That you wanted to feel us for days.”
You felt a shiver run down your spine. From shame. From surprise. From desire.
Bruce looked up. His lips were red, his eyes dark. “You left us breathless.”
His gaze dropped again, like admiring something valuable. His fingers slid down your thigh to the center of you, opening you carefully. He watched you for a second before looking into your eyes.
“You’re still a little swollen,” he murmured, as if talking about a work of art, not you.
Clark swallowed beside you. His fingers stroked your cheek. He looked at you like you might disappear at any moment.
“We can stop if you want.”
“I don’t want to stop,” you said without much thought. “Just don’t wanna forget it again.”
Bruce climbed on top, settling over you. He aligned his body with yours slowly, letting his erection rest against your entrance, warm, hard, ready. He looked you in the eyes as he lowered his head to kiss you.
He entered you with a slow, steady movement. This time without alcohol’s filter, without the low lights of the living room, without the music. Just him, you, and the way you fit together with an almost painful perfection.
Clark positioned himself by your side, hugging your waist, pressing his body to yours. His breath brushed your ear, his fingers caressed your side with a tenderness contrasting with the strength with which Bruce pushed inside you.
“You’re perfect like this,” Clark murmured, kissing your earlobe.
Bruce gasped each time he entered, deep, sure, as if he knew exactly what you were feeling and wanted to push you to that edge again.
“Later,” Clark said, against your ear, his voice trembling. “I want to enter you when you still have Bruce inside. Like last night.”
“Mmph—You fit so good, baby,” Bruce groaned. He clenched his teeth. Pushed harder.
Clark kissed your neck while his fingers moved down your abdomen, nearing your center again. He massaged your clit, sometimes brushing Bruce’s cock.
“We took our time. You were so brave, so beautiful…” Clark whispered, then laughed softly. “You said you wanted to know how your name would sound from our mouths at the same time.”
Bruce started moving faster, panting over you. “Keep talking, Kent.”
Clark smiled, sitting up to kiss him while controlling the rhythm of his thrusts, slower and deeper, making you feel every vein of his cock. You were completely undone; memories came to you occasionally, only making you arch your back. Clark kept his hand on your clit while you clenched on Bruce.
“You behaved very well,” Clark continued, tracing imaginary lines on your chest that contrasted with how hard Bruce was fucking you. “Both of you,” he added, glancing sideways at Bruce. “Jesus, look at him. You should’ve seen him last night, whining like a bitch when I fucked him in the ass while he fucked you like this.”
Bruce groaned deeply, pounding into you as he pushed your head further into the pillow.
“Holy shit,” you breathed, looking at Clark. He caught your lips without letting you scream their names as you came.
“I—fuck,” Bruce stopped himself, seeing Clark devouring you while you came, your eyes glazed and sweat shining perfectly over you. “You are so fucking pretty, I’m gonna—”
Bruce tried to pull out even though you were sure that night he definitely didn’t, but Clark and you held him so he could spill his seed inside you with a few more thrusts. He collapsed beside you, kissing your neck and whispering sweet nothings.
Clark already had a hand between your legs, gathering some of Bruce’s cum to bring it to his mouth. You tilted his head, asking for a taste of his fingers, taking advantage of all the leftover saliva and cum on them. You let them slip out of your mouth with a dry pop and finally rested your head on the mattress.
You stayed there, between the two, breathing hard, body still trembling, heart racing. The silence filled with that intense calm that only remains after unleashing storms.
Bruce rested his head on your shoulder, his fingers still brushing your ribs with an almost unexpected tenderness. Clark kissed your forehead, his warm lips counteracting the cold seeping through the window.
“I’m hungry,” you said, shrugging.
“Hungry for dick or literally hungry?” Bruce asked, making you and Clark laugh.
“I think she means literally hungry, babe,” Clark pointed out.
Bruce sat up a bit, dragging the sheet with him, revealing your entwined naked bodies completely. He looked around, searching for his clothes. You noticed.
“Our clothes aren’t in the room, Bruce,” you whispered, trying to sit up though Clark held you to his chest.
“Fuck, that’s true,” Bruce ran a hand through his hair with a grimace, arms akimbo.
“Where did we start fucking?” you asked softly.
Clark laughed against your neck and let Bruce answer.
“You insisted on sitting on Clark’s face in the living room,” he said slowly. You closed your eyes, a bit embarrassed, running a hand over your face.
“Don’t ever let me drink again.”
Bruce gave you a look before closing the bathroom door behind him and hearing water run.
“But darlin’ I loved it,” Clark said, kissing the corner of your lips. “No need to be ashamed of anything we did.”
“Mmh,” you murmured to yourself. “And you?” you asked, looking at him intently. “Do you want this… to happen again?”
Clark didn’t answer right away. He looked toward the bathroom door where Bruce was still showering, then returned to you.
“I think I want more than that,” he admitted. “But only if you want it too. And if we can do it without losing what we already have.”
“What we already have?”
“Our friendship. The way you trust us. I don’t want to break that over one night.”
You rested your head against his chest, it radiated strong heat. The heartbeat was irregular, different from any human’s.
“And do you think Bruce will want that?” you asked, biting your lip.
“I can assure you we drive him crazy.”
Bruce came out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist, moisture still clinging to his skin, and smiled with that mix of tiredness and desire that made you want to throw yourself at him again.
“You can take whatever you want from the closet, just Clark don’t stretch my shirts too much.”
He looked so calm. You knew Bruce, how he stressed silently, staying awake until dawn, brooding around everyone. Now he was just rummaging in his closet, sliding some grey sweatpants low on his hips and tossing you a shirt long enough to cover your ass with a Batman logo.
Warnings: Edging, fingering, orgasm denial, light choking, very very light degradation, afab reader.
Reblogs and comments are appreciated!
The familiar sirens screamed through Gotham in every nook and cranny, except the Cave.
Here, the only sound was his breathing. Harsh and heavy.
You lay pinned to the cold metal of the console table, your own breath ragged as the Bat loomed over you.
You were hoping for punishment, that's why you decided to steal anyway.
You’d made sure he’d notice you, 450k worth of stolen diamonds glittered somewhere in the evidence locker upstairs. You hadn’t even tried to cover your tracks. You wanted him angry.
Because he fucked you best when he was angry.
His hands had already torn away the bottom half of your suit. Your thighs trembled in nothing but thin cotton panties, damp and clinging to your skin. The cold of the Cave made your nipples pebble under your suit’s remains and that bone chilling stare made your cunt wetter and wetter with every passing second.
"You don’t learn," he growled, voice rough with restraint.
"Maybe I should chain you up here… keep you where I can watch you. 24/7."
His words shot straight through you. Your hole clenched around nothing, your pussy dripping as if responding on instinct.
He pushed your legs apart, hooking one arm around your waist . You were forced to wrap your legs around his hips as he rubbed two gloved fingers against your soaked panties, pressing right where you needed it most.
You gasped, back arching. But the pressure was faint. He was teasing you, how cruel.
"C'mon—" you whined, before his grip on your neck tightened again, silencing you in an instant.
Then you heard it, the sound of his trousers unzipping. If anything, the idea of him hate fucking you made you giddy with joy.
You braced for the stinging stretch, for the hard pounding that usually followed when he was this worked up.
But instead...
He just slid his cock along your slit. Slowly and lazily. Again and again.
His length glided through your folds, catching against your clit just enough to make you squirm and twitch. You whimpered as your whole body quivered with need.
"You thought you'd steal from me and get rewarded?" he murmured against your ear, his voice thick with anger and maybe a hint of amusement.
"No. You get to feel it but you won't have it. Not tonight."
His meaty cockhead tapped your clit once then twice.
You felt your belly tighten, the beginnings of that sweet sweet pressure building inside and then he stilled.
You stared at him, confused, panting. His jaw clenched harder. You realised you weren't getting anything.
He grunted as he came. Hot, thick ropes painted your folds, covering over your swollen cunt like he owned it. You gasped, your hips bucking against nothing as the orgasm you’d been chasing vanished.
You tried to speak but he was already stepping back, zipping up without a word.
Warnings: Edging, fingering, orgasm denial, light choking, very very light degradation, afab reader.
Reblogs and comments are appreciated!
The familiar sirens screamed through Gotham in every nook and cranny, except the Cave.
Here, the only sound was his breathing. Harsh and heavy.
You lay pinned to the cold metal of the console table, your own breath ragged as the Bat loomed over you.
You were hoping for punishment, that's why you decided to steal anyway.
You’d made sure he’d notice you, 450k worth of stolen diamonds glittered somewhere in the evidence locker upstairs. You hadn’t even tried to cover your tracks. You wanted him angry.
Because he fucked you best when he was angry.
His hands had already torn away the bottom half of your suit. Your thighs trembled in nothing but thin cotton panties, damp and clinging to your skin. The cold of the Cave made your nipples pebble under your suit’s remains and that bone chilling stare made your cunt wetter and wetter with every passing second.
"You don’t learn," he growled, voice rough with restraint.
"Maybe I should chain you up here… keep you where I can watch you. 24/7."
His words shot straight through you. Your hole clenched around nothing, your pussy dripping as if responding on instinct.
He pushed your legs apart, hooking one arm around your waist . You were forced to wrap your legs around his hips as he rubbed two gloved fingers against your soaked panties, pressing right where you needed it most.
You gasped, back arching. But the pressure was faint. He was teasing you, how cruel.
"C'mon—" you whined, before his grip on your neck tightened again, silencing you in an instant.
Then you heard it, the sound of his trousers unzipping. If anything, the idea of him hate fucking you made you giddy with joy.
You braced for the stinging stretch, for the hard pounding that usually followed when he was this worked up.
But instead...
He just slid his cock along your slit. Slowly and lazily. Again and again.
His length glided through your folds, catching against your clit just enough to make you squirm and twitch. You whimpered as your whole body quivered with need.
"You thought you'd steal from me and get rewarded?" he murmured against your ear, his voice thick with anger and maybe a hint of amusement.
"No. You get to feel it but you won't have it. Not tonight."
His meaty cockhead tapped your clit once then twice.
You felt your belly tighten, the beginnings of that sweet sweet pressure building inside and then he stilled.
You stared at him, confused, panting. His jaw clenched harder. You realised you weren't getting anything.
He grunted as he came. Hot, thick ropes painted your folds, covering over your swollen cunt like he owned it. You gasped, your hips bucking against nothing as the orgasm you’d been chasing vanished.
You tried to speak but he was already stepping back, zipping up without a word.
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Tags: angst, hurt/comfort, nostalgia, bittersweet ending, themes of emotional codependency.
You stare at him, he looks peaceful for once. His usual stoic facade was nowhere in sight and that's how you liked it. He looked so at peace, asleep beside you just like before when you two were teenagers and didn't know what to do with your lives.
Everything had changed now, you missed how things were ten years ago. When his kisses were sloppier, when you two had to sneak around, when being close to each other was enough. You missed his dorky smile, his shy glances when he held your hand, his constant presence.
Now, his presence is a rare occurrence like a drink of Ambrosia. You still count his eyelashes when you can't sleep. Some would say that's creepy but being in love was slightly creepy.
Tears well up in your eyes, an inexplicable ache in your chest. You missed how things were before he left. Now your chest feels heavy like your heart has melted into a block of thick, suffocating tar and looking at him hurt.
Maybe things would go back to how they were, you hoped they would. You wanted to see him smile again, you needed to hear his laugh, you needed him to feel joy. Perhaps you weren't his joy anymore, maybe his work for Gotham was.
As you stared, the tears rolled down your cheek. You knew he'd disappear again, leaving you alone to deal with the heavy murky block which was supposed to be your heart. When he left, it felt like dying. The tears don't stop, you needed him but you were too stubborn to admit it. You needed him like you need oxygen otherwise your world was as gray as the ash in the fireplace.
You don't realise he's awake, his fingers gently wiping your tears away. Finally, his arm pulls you into his chest as you continue crying. Your tears were hot on his bare chest, your fingers gripping his back tightly as if he'd disappear if your fingers faltered.
So he stays — tired of his own disappearing act. He’d never admit how much he needs you too, but he stays, hoping this time, it’ll be enough.
Tags: angst, hurt/comfort, nostalgia, bittersweet ending, themes of emotional codependency.
You stare at him, he looks peaceful for once. His usual stoic facade was nowhere in sight and that's how you liked it. He looked so at peace, asleep beside you just like before when you two were teenagers and didn't know what to do with your lives.
Everything had changed now, you missed how things were ten years ago. When his kisses were sloppier, when you two had to sneak around, when being close to each other was enough. You missed his dorky smile, his shy glances when he held your hand, his constant presence.
Now, his presence is a rare occurrence like a drink of Ambrosia. You still count his eyelashes when you can't sleep. Some would say that's creepy but being in love was slightly creepy.
Tears well up in your eyes, an inexplicable ache in your chest. You missed how things were before he left. Now your chest feels heavy like your heart has melted into a block of thick, suffocating tar and looking at him hurt.
Maybe things would go back to how they were, you hoped they would. You wanted to see him smile again, you needed to hear his laugh, you needed him to feel joy. Perhaps you weren't his joy anymore, maybe his work for Gotham was.
As you stared, the tears rolled down your cheek. You knew he'd disappear again, leaving you alone to deal with the heavy murky block which was supposed to be your heart. When he left, it felt like dying. The tears don't stop, you needed him but you were too stubborn to admit it. You needed him like you need oxygen otherwise your world was as gray as the ash in the fireplace.
You don't realise he's awake, his fingers gently wiping your tears away. Finally, his arm pulls you into his chest as you continue crying. Your tears were hot on his bare chest, your fingers gripping his back tightly as if he'd disappear if your fingers faltered.
So he stays — tired of his own disappearing act. He’d never admit how much he needs you too, but he stays, hoping this time, it’ll be enough.
Warnings: arranged marriage au, not proofread, sexual frustration, masturbation (f), fingering, Bruce being neglectful, piv sex, slight intoxication, creampie, pussy eating and wholesome fucking.
Reblogs and comments are appreciated!!
Having Bruce as your husband was almost like a dream come true. Even if the marriage was technically a business deal, you had everything you could dream of.
The shopping sprees with his black card, the ridiculously expensive tasting menus, the most extravagant vacations. You loved it all.
But the only thing which bothered you was the lack of attention from him, to be particular, his lack of sexual interest in you.
Sure, you two had nearly fucked on your honeymoon in Italy. It was a frustrating yet toe curling memory.
The way his mouth had latched onto your nipple after what felt like an eternity of kissing, hov his fingers had disappeared underneath your lace panties to tease your clit. You were practically dripping for him, your brain felt like it was melting as soon as his lips had latched onto your clit, sucking and licking with fervor which was unlike him.
You could feel how hard he was through his shorts. You had been giddy with joy, knowing that he was about to fuck you silly. That was until he received an unavoidable voice call.
You still fumed at the memory of him just leaving you high and wet dry for some stupid business call.
Soon, the frustration took a toll on you. Your self control had been admirable; even you were amazed at how long you'd held off on touching yourself. After one night of drinking a little too much of Montrachet Grand Cru, you'd ended up in your bed with your hands working furiously in between your thighs.
Your whines and whimpers were muffled by the pillow you had buried your face into as you rubbed tight circles around your throbbing clit. The pleasure was a welcome sensation, making your toes curl. You were so lost in your wanton need for pleasure that you had failed to register the sound of footsteps, his footsteps, nearing your room.
The door quietly opened and your husband was met with the sight of you with your legs spread, fingering your cunt like there was no tomorrow while your face was buried in the sea of pillows on your bed.
Bruce froze at the sight, shocked to see you trying to get off in such a desperate state. His cock twitched at the sight of you.
Hesitation was the only thing holding him back from joining you on the bed and fucking you into oblivion. He didn't even know if that was what you wanted.
So he took a chance, he cleared his throat to make you aware of his presence. You snapped out of your haze of self- inflicted pleasure as soon as you heard him. It was as if God had finally answered your desperate, frustrated prayers.
He could see the eagerness in your eyes, the barely hidden joy in them at his presence. Your heart skipped a beat as he slowly climbed into the bed.
His hand slowly took ahold of your chin as his eyes looked into yours, silently asking for your permission. You gave a slight imperceptible nod.
A flicker of relief crossed his face before he leaned in, pressing a soft, tentative kiss to your lips. His touch was gentle at first, almost hesitant, as if savoring the moment before fully giving in. You could feel his lips moving gently against yours as if he was afraid of hurting you.
His tongue could taste the wine you'd drunk, along with the lingering taste of you. His hand moved from your chin to your breasts, gently gliding across them.
He continued to kiss you as his cold fingers found your nipples, twisting and pinching them. When he broke the kiss, both of you were left panting, a string of saliva still connecting your lips.
He started kissing from your neck to your collarbones, licking sucking and savoring the taste of your skin. His mouth moved lower, trailing kisses to your breasts, then your stomach, before finally reaching your mound.
You felt his hot breath ghosting against your cunt as he threw your legs over his shoulders, spreading them slightly farther apart in the process.
He spread your folds apart and licked a tentative stripe from your clit down to your leaking hole, gathering the wetness on his tongue. Your light whimper egged him on.
He started lapping at your cunt, savoring the taste of you, engraving it into his memory. His tongue circled your throbbing clit before latching onto it, suckling as your moans grew louder and more desperate.
The pleasure made your mind go hazy, which in turn made you feel hotter and hotter. Your hips bucked against his face as your peak approached.
You let out a strangled moan of his name as your peak hit you like the waves of a tsunami, your juices dripping down his chin as he rode you through your high.
He pulled his face from between your legs as he sat up; he could still see the burning need in your eyes. His hands made quick work of his trousers and boxers, freeing his hard cock.
Your pupils dilated at the sight of his cock, something which you had wanted for so long. He gripped your hips as he positioned his cock at your dripping entrance.
Slowly, he pushed in, making sure to minimize any pain you might've felt. He started with shallow thrusts, giving you an inch with each movement until he was fully seated within your warm, tight and wet confines.
Both of your pants filled the room as he stilled, trying to catching his breath. He started to fuck you at a hard yet pleasurable pace, his cock bumping against that spongy spot that made your wanton moans grow louder in volume as each second passed.
The electric heat of pleasure made you feel like your spine was melting as his thrusts became more erratic. His fingers found your clit, rubbing it as if his life depended on it.
Your second peak crashed over you, making you scream his name in pleasure as his thrusts grew more erratic -until his hips finally stilled as he came inside you.
Both of you were spent and satisfied. Bruce collapsed beside you, not bothering to pull out his softened cock from inside you.
It was safe to say that your husband had made up for his neglect that night. The evidence of it was clear the next morning in the form of hickeys littering your throat and the limp in your gait.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Warnings: arranged marriage au, not proofread, sexual frustration, masturbation (f), fingering, Bruce being neglectful, piv sex, slight intoxication, creampie, pussy eating and wholesome fucking.
Reblogs and comments are appreciated!!
Having Bruce as your husband was almost like a dream come true. Even if the marriage was technically a business deal, you had everything you could dream of.
The shopping sprees with his black card, the ridiculously expensive tasting menus, the most extravagant vacations. You loved it all.
But the only thing which bothered you was the lack of attention from him, to be particular, his lack of sexual interest in you.
Sure, you two had nearly fucked on your honeymoon in Italy. It was a frustrating yet toe curling memory.
The way his mouth had latched onto your nipple after what felt like an eternity of kissing, hov his fingers had disappeared underneath your lace panties to tease your clit. You were practically dripping for him, your brain felt like it was melting as soon as his lips had latched onto your clit, sucking and licking with fervor which was unlike him.
You could feel how hard he was through his shorts. You had been giddy with joy, knowing that he was about to fuck you silly. That was until he received an unavoidable voice call.
You still fumed at the memory of him just leaving you high and wet dry for some stupid business call.
Soon, the frustration took a toll on you. Your self control had been admirable; even you were amazed at how long you'd held off on touching yourself. After one night of drinking a little too much of Montrachet Grand Cru, you'd ended up in your bed with your hands working furiously in between your thighs.
Your whines and whimpers were muffled by the pillow you had buried your face into as you rubbed tight circles around your throbbing clit. The pleasure was a welcome sensation, making your toes curl. You were so lost in your wanton need for pleasure that you had failed to register the sound of footsteps, his footsteps, nearing your room.
The door quietly opened and your husband was met with the sight of you with your legs spread, fingering your cunt like there was no tomorrow while your face was buried in the sea of pillows on your bed.
Bruce froze at the sight, shocked to see you trying to get off in such a desperate state. His cock twitched at the sight of you.
Hesitation was the only thing holding him back from joining you on the bed and fucking you into oblivion. He didn't even know if that was what you wanted.
So he took a chance, he cleared his throat to make you aware of his presence. You snapped out of your haze of self- inflicted pleasure as soon as you heard him. It was as if God had finally answered your desperate, frustrated prayers.
He could see the eagerness in your eyes, the barely hidden joy in them at his presence. Your heart skipped a beat as he slowly climbed into the bed.
His hand slowly took ahold of your chin as his eyes looked into yours, silently asking for your permission. You gave a slight imperceptible nod.
A flicker of relief crossed his face before he leaned in, pressing a soft, tentative kiss to your lips. His touch was gentle at first, almost hesitant, as if savoring the moment before fully giving in. You could feel his lips moving gently against yours as if he was afraid of hurting you.
His tongue could taste the wine you'd drunk, along with the lingering taste of you. His hand moved from your chin to your breasts, gently gliding across them.
He continued to kiss you as his cold fingers found your nipples, twisting and pinching them. When he broke the kiss, both of you were left panting, a string of saliva still connecting your lips.
He started kissing from your neck to your collarbones, licking sucking and savoring the taste of your skin. His mouth moved lower, trailing kisses to your breasts, then your stomach, before finally reaching your mound.
You felt his hot breath ghosting against your cunt as he threw your legs over his shoulders, spreading them slightly farther apart in the process.
He spread your folds apart and licked a tentative stripe from your clit down to your leaking hole, gathering the wetness on his tongue. Your light whimper egged him on.
He started lapping at your cunt, savoring the taste of you, engraving it into his memory. His tongue circled your throbbing clit before latching onto it, suckling as your moans grew louder and more desperate.
The pleasure made your mind go hazy, which in turn made you feel hotter and hotter. Your hips bucked against his face as your peak approached.
You let out a strangled moan of his name as your peak hit you like the waves of a tsunami, your juices dripping down his chin as he rode you through your high.
He pulled his face from between your legs as he sat up; he could still see the burning need in your eyes. His hands made quick work of his trousers and boxers, freeing his hard cock.
Your pupils dilated at the sight of his cock, something which you had wanted for so long. He gripped your hips as he positioned his cock at your dripping entrance.
Slowly, he pushed in, making sure to minimize any pain you might've felt. He started with shallow thrusts, giving you an inch with each movement until he was fully seated within your warm, tight and wet confines.
Both of your pants filled the room as he stilled, trying to catching his breath. He started to fuck you at a hard yet pleasurable pace, his cock bumping against that spongy spot that made your wanton moans grow louder in volume as each second passed.
The electric heat of pleasure made you feel like your spine was melting as his thrusts became more erratic. His fingers found your clit, rubbing it as if his life depended on it.
Your second peak crashed over you, making you scream his name in pleasure as his thrusts grew more erratic -until his hips finally stilled as he came inside you.
Both of you were spent and satisfied. Bruce collapsed beside you, not bothering to pull out his softened cock from inside you.
It was safe to say that your husband had made up for his neglect that night. The evidence of it was clear the next morning in the form of hickeys littering your throat and the limp in your gait.
Warnings: arranged marriage au, not proofread, sexual frustration, masturbation (f), fingering, Bruce being neglectful, piv sex, slight intoxication, creampie, pussy eating and wholesome fucking.
Reblogs and comments are appreciated!!
Having Bruce as your husband was almost like a dream come true. Even if the marriage was technically a business deal, you had everything you could dream of.
The shopping sprees with his black card, the ridiculously expensive tasting menus, the most extravagant vacations. You loved it all.
But the only thing which bothered you was the lack of attention from him, to be particular, his lack of sexual interest in you.
Sure, you two had nearly fucked on your honeymoon in Italy. It was a frustrating yet toe curling memory.
The way his mouth had latched onto your nipple after what felt like an eternity of kissing, hov his fingers had disappeared underneath your lace panties to tease your clit. You were practically dripping for him, your brain felt like it was melting as soon as his lips had latched onto your clit, sucking and licking with fervor which was unlike him.
You could feel how hard he was through his shorts. You had been giddy with joy, knowing that he was about to fuck you silly. That was until he received an unavoidable voice call.
You still fumed at the memory of him just leaving you high and wet dry for some stupid business call.
Soon, the frustration took a toll on you. Your self control had been admirable; even you were amazed at how long you'd held off on touching yourself. After one night of drinking a little too much of Montrachet Grand Cru, you'd ended up in your bed with your hands working furiously in between your thighs.
Your whines and whimpers were muffled by the pillow you had buried your face into as you rubbed tight circles around your throbbing clit. The pleasure was a welcome sensation, making your toes curl. You were so lost in your wanton need for pleasure that you had failed to register the sound of footsteps, his footsteps, nearing your room.
The door quietly opened and your husband was met with the sight of you with your legs spread, fingering your cunt like there was no tomorrow while your face was buried in the sea of pillows on your bed.
Bruce froze at the sight, shocked to see you trying to get off in such a desperate state. His cock twitched at the sight of you.
Hesitation was the only thing holding him back from joining you on the bed and fucking you into oblivion. He didn't even know if that was what you wanted.
So he took a chance, he cleared his throat to make you aware of his presence. You snapped out of your haze of self- inflicted pleasure as soon as you heard him. It was as if God had finally answered your desperate, frustrated prayers.
He could see the eagerness in your eyes, the barely hidden joy in them at his presence. Your heart skipped a beat as he slowly climbed into the bed.
His hand slowly took ahold of your chin as his eyes looked into yours, silently asking for your permission. You gave a slight imperceptible nod.
A flicker of relief crossed his face before he leaned in, pressing a soft, tentative kiss to your lips. His touch was gentle at first, almost hesitant, as if savoring the moment before fully giving in. You could feel his lips moving gently against yours as if he was afraid of hurting you.
His tongue could taste the wine you'd drunk, along with the lingering taste of you. His hand moved from your chin to your breasts, gently gliding across them.
He continued to kiss you as his cold fingers found your nipples, twisting and pinching them. When he broke the kiss, both of you were left panting, a string of saliva still connecting your lips.
He started kissing from your neck to your collarbones, licking sucking and savoring the taste of your skin. His mouth moved lower, trailing kisses to your breasts, then your stomach, before finally reaching your mound.
You felt his hot breath ghosting against your cunt as he threw your legs over his shoulders, spreading them slightly farther apart in the process.
He spread your folds apart and licked a tentative stripe from your clit down to your leaking hole, gathering the wetness on his tongue. Your light whimper egged him on.
He started lapping at your cunt, savoring the taste of you, engraving it into his memory. His tongue circled your throbbing clit before latching onto it, suckling as your moans grew louder and more desperate.
The pleasure made your mind go hazy, which in turn made you feel hotter and hotter. Your hips bucked against his face as your peak approached.
You let out a strangled moan of his name as your peak hit you like the waves of a tsunami, your juices dripping down his chin as he rode you through your high.
He pulled his face from between your legs as he sat up; he could still see the burning need in your eyes. His hands made quick work of his trousers and boxers, freeing his hard cock.
Your pupils dilated at the sight of his cock, something which you had wanted for so long. He gripped your hips as he positioned his cock at your dripping entrance.
Slowly, he pushed in, making sure to minimize any pain you might've felt. He started with shallow thrusts, giving you an inch with each movement until he was fully seated within your warm, tight and wet confines.
Both of your pants filled the room as he stilled, trying to catching his breath. He started to fuck you at a hard yet pleasurable pace, his cock bumping against that spongy spot that made your wanton moans grow louder in volume as each second passed.
The electric heat of pleasure made you feel like your spine was melting as his thrusts became more erratic. His fingers found your clit, rubbing it as if his life depended on it.
Your second peak crashed over you, making you scream his name in pleasure as his thrusts grew more erratic -until his hips finally stilled as he came inside you.
Both of you were spent and satisfied. Bruce collapsed beside you, not bothering to pull out his softened cock from inside you.
It was safe to say that your husband had made up for his neglect that night. The evidence of it was clear the next morning in the form of hickeys littering your throat and the limp in your gait.
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