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lady gaga on the charts... women thirsting over robert pattinson.... welcome back 2009

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♱ baby, patience is a virtue. 🔞

pairing: victoria neuman x fem!reader ⚢

⌗⠀ warnings: nsfw (sesbian lex!!!!), mommy kink ahaha…. minor ??? orgasm denial/control, semi-exhibitionism, affectionate degradation, controversial age difference (reader is in their early twenties), power imbalance-ish (boss x assistant)

word count: 3.8k .ᐟ

synopsis: you poor, pathetic thing. you just couldn’t bear to keep your hands to yourself until vicky was finished with her work for the night, could you? and during a zoom meeting no less. oh well; you’re lucky the congresswoman is never one to deny you, so you better not regret being such an impatient brat later.‎

part 2: tba ↩︎

✍︎ author’s note: unfortunately a repost from my other account that i’ve waited nearly two weeks to be unshadowbanned from ): i’m too impatient to wait longer so lol! here’s this again i guess enjoy victoria fans sorry it’s not something new

     work is dreadfully boring. a fact victoria finds herself reminded of far too often these long days she spends cooped up inside her spacious home office, the recent pandemic keeping her restricted to the confines of her admittedly peaceful, cape cod-style house. as much as the congresswoman relishes her time off in the comfortability and familiarity of one of her few safe spaces (god knows how busy her schedule typically is and how rare it is for her to be out of the public eye), she can’t help but feel like she’s going stir crazy. victoria is so used to being on the move, or at the very least absorbed into her duties at the fbsa; always busy.

     she could, in theory, go to the building anyway and resume her work as usual—being the supe she is, victoria has no need to worry about illnesses, diseases, viruses and the like. that’s knowledge a very select few are privy to however, and so, she has to keep up appearances. it wouldn’t look good for a congresswoman of her standing to be going against the mandated quarantine anyway. she needed to set an example as a government figure.

     now it’s all paperwork… paperwork, a zoom meeting or two, and so on. it’s dull, tedious—victoria is convinced that if she has to do this for much longer, she might pop her own head. she hates how… unfulfilling her routine has become. aside from you, of course; her girl—sweet little thing. you’d taken it upon yourself to all but move in at this point, much to zoe’s satisfaction (and victoria’s own). you’d been together long enough that it was going to happen sooner rather than later anyhow. the pandemic simply sped things along somewhat. victoria can see a silver lining in that.

     you provide the congresswoman with a spark she likely wouldn’t survive being stuck indoors without. eager to please, whenever you can—even if it’s simply bringing a smile to victoria’s face or rousing a laugh from her when she’s had to listen to her insufferable colleagues speak down on her for three hours straight. like now.

     the congressmen, who have been bickering back and forth over a new bill that’s been drafted for the last six hours, are finally taking a break from their oh-so productive discussion. for how long? victoria isn’t sure, but she’s grateful for the reprieve regardless. after turning off her camera and muting her microphone on her laptop, she leans back in her plush office chair with a hefty sigh. victoria brings a hand to her hair as she lets her eyelids fall shut, gingerly stroking her fingers through the already semi-tousled strands of her dark brown locks.

     a few moments later, the soft click of the door opening rouses victoria’s attention. she lifts her weary head with a silent breath, tired expression softening when her vision lands on you. a ghost of a smile tugs at the corners of victoria’s lips, dark brown eyes—now having a somewhat possessive glimmer, narrowing at you playfully when they sweep over your nightwear. an old, baggy sweater of her’s from her columbia days—thighs bare to her subtly ravenous gaze. victoria usually wasn’t one for such little pieces of nostalgia, but, the sweater was an article of clothing that she’s never found herself willing to retire, no matter how wash-worn the logo at the center has become. the fabric remains soft.

     it seems she’s not the only one who’s fond of it either. victoria tilts her head a fraction and lifts a thick, sculpted brow at you, clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth before she speaks. her voice is clearly teasing, but having a husky edge to it that lets you know she appreciates the view you’ve given her. “lose your pants on the way down here, sweetheart? can’t say i’m complaining.”

     you look adorable, and absolutely edible—the sweater hangs off of you, but not to the point that she can’t catch a glimpse of your panties beneath the hem when you shift. victoria swallows imperceptibly, and adjusts her posture slightly, sitting taller in your presence, legs moving to manspread. her little jab results in a somewhat indignant huff from you, which the congresswoman expected. she’s already surmised that you’ve come to chastise her, given how late her meetings have been keeping her up for the last couple of weeks; you must be feeling needy. victoria would be lying if she said she wasn’t pent up herself.

     “how much longer do you have to listen to them argue like chickens with their heads cut off?” you ask, tone mildly impatient. you lean against the doorframe, your head pressing into the wood as you hold victoria’s gaze. “you said you’d be done by ten,” you point out as your arms cross over your chest, nails tapping against your forearms. victoria can already feel the attitude rolling off of you in waves. normally, she’d efficiently put you in your place for your testiness with a promise to edge you until you learned your lesson. guilt, weighing somewhat heavily on her shoulders however, stops her this time around. you were right—she’d told you to expect her in bed nearly two hours ago now.

     “i know,” victoria exhales quietly, offering you an apologetic frown before properly apologizing for her absence. “i know, baby, i’m sorry. i can’t help it though—you know how work is for me, especially right now. i’ll make it up to you tomorrow night, alright? i promise.”

     there she goes again, looking at you with those bambi eyes and making you honey-dipped promises. god, usually that’s all it takes to get you to fold to her every whim—after all, how could you possibly do anything else when she looks at you so sweetly? but tonight isn’t usual. no, not in the slightest. your girlfriend hasn’t touched you in nearly two weeks, an (incredibly) active sex life taking a downward spiral to stagnancy. you’re horny, and tonight was supposed to be the night the both of you were finally going to get some much needed time for intimacy.

     you’ll be damned if you let some old, white bastards who can’t decide if the fucking sky is blue deprive you of what you deserve. they get vicky far too much. you’re the one that deserves her attention, and you’re going to get it. so, you move away from the doorframe, and close the door to victoria’s home office behind you, turning the lock, just in case. the implication isn’t lost on the congresswoman, who’s jaw tightens as you take several strides forward until you’re standing between her legs.

     a low drawl of your name from victoria’s lips is her weak attempt at a warning; she has no time to indulge in your desires right now, or her own for that matter, regardless of how terribly tempted she is to have you bent over her desk so she can fill and drill into your pussy from behind with her fingers, her meeting be damned. life is not so fair, though, you aren’t deterred from getting what you want despite your girlfriend’s disapproving mumble, and you slide into her lap as you have so many times before, thighs bracketing her own as you bring your arms around her neck.

     “just for a little bit?” you hum, batting your eyelashes slightly as you trace your nails along the curve of victoria’s jaw. the congresswoman’s cheeks burn red, both out of desire, and embarrassment for just how aroused that simple motion of yours, combined with the pleading lilt to your voice makes her. fuck. victoria doesn’t like to rush—taking her time with you is her favorite thing to do. for example, she could spend hours between your thighs ravaging you, drawing out those mewls and whines of yours that she loves so much; giving you what you want now will start something the both of you surely won’t be able to stop, and with her meeting, she has no leeway for that.

     but then you lean in, lips brushing against the shell of victoria’s ear, voice like silk. “please?” you whisper, making sure your tone is a sweet as it can be, without laying it on too thick.

     to seal the deal, you nip at victoria’s ear once. a wave of something wholly unholy washes over her, making the brunette shiver, and the fraying ends of her restraint snap. victoria grasps the nape of your neck, roughly forcing your head back with a tug to meet her gaze. she leans forward with an almost patronizing sigh, but the heat in her dark brown pools is unmistakable. “tsk. such a needy brat…”

     that said, victoria pulls you down to close the remaining gap between your lips, kissing you feverishly, her free hand cradling one of your cheeks. you melt into her immediately, a soft moan making your lips part, which the older woman takes advantage of. her tongue briefly brushes across your lips before slipping into your mouth, her own slanting. a satisfied sound rumbles in the back of victoria’s throat, and you press forward greedily, encouraged by her response. lifting your hands, you tangle them in her hair, holding onto the strands as you pull victoria forwards, like the two of you could possibly get any closer in your position.

     a few minutes of making out, and you’re already whimpering and whining in her lap, which you’ve started to squirm against, your hips just barely rolling down. god, you must need this more than she thought. victoria pulls you away to break the deep kiss you’re currently sharing, the both of you letting out ragged breaths. a string of saliva still connects you, until she speaks after a beat passes that the two of you use to catch your breath. “you’re getting too worked up, doll,” victoria chuckles, her voice airy and almost mocking, “are you really that desperate for it right now?”

     before you get the chance to respond, victoria is cupping you through your panties, her thumb pressing down against the outline of your swollen clit. whatever words you’d started to speak breaking off into a sharp whine, arching back making your chest push towards the congresswoman’s own. victoria coos in response, the hand on your nape sliding away to grasp your chin, forcing you to look at her again whenever your head starts to fall backward. “you poooor thing,” she croons, the pad of her thumb stroking over your moistened lips. “mommy would love to take care of you, but she’s busy right now. can’t you see that, baby?”

     you can only reply with a pitiful whine—the word mommy falling from victoria’s lips spiking your arousal. victoria coos again, her other thumb rubbing in slow, languid circles against your bud. “i know, pretty girl,” she murmurs, gripping your chin a bit more firmly as she pulls you down to her eye level. “do you have any idea what you do to me? the audacity you have, to walk in here while i’m having a meeting, looking like that… wearing my shirt…” her voice lowers to a husky grumble.

     of course you know. that was the whole reason you’d chosen to don just her sweater and a pair of panties—a little attempt at seduction, and while victoria has always been the more charming and devious out of you, your efforts seem to have worked. you won’t admit such a thing, however. so instead, you opt to change the subject, playing into victoria’s arousal in a bid to get more stimulation from her. “vicky…” you start, your voice shaky. the feeling of victoria’s breath, still fanning gently across your lips makes your head swim. “can’t you feel how wet i am for you?” you whine, “don’t torture me, please.”

     “torture?” victoria echoes with a lighthearted scoff, moving the hand on your chin to cradle the side of your face, thumb brushing against the skin of your cheekbone. “i’m not torturing you, babygirl… you’re the one who took it upon yourself to sit in my lap. i’m only giving you what you asked for.”

     you let out a growl of frustration when victoria speeds up her circling thumb just to bring it down to an agonizingly slow pace that leaves you wanting, her other fingers stroking over the damp patch that’s formed on your panties all while your clit throbs incessantly for victoria’s proper attention. you start to make a witty retort to bring to light your discontent, but the voices of the congressmen return on victoria’s laptop and she tuts. “that’s too bad, i was thinking about giving you a little more too…” victoria leans back slightly, taking in the pout that grows on your face. victoria frowns condescendingly, patting your cheek out of pity. “baby, patience is a virtue.”

     no, no, no! you let out a petulant whine of utter agitation, or perhaps disbelief, and victoria gives a downright cruel laugh in response, her eyes crinkling at you in amusement. oh, you’re going to wipe that look off of her face if it’s the last fucking thing you do—give her a taste of her own medicine. with a grunt you quickly dismount from victoria’s lap, and for a moment, the congresswoman looks shocked—she hadn’t expected you to get up so willingly, but it’s mere moments later that she realizes your true intentions.

     really, she should’ve anticipated this. she knows just how insatiable you can be when you get all hot and bothered.

     you drop down to your knees in one smooth motion, tugging victoria forward in her chair by her legs to bring her closer to her desk. you’re glad she’d decided to wear a skirt today, and that she was still in it. “baby, wait a minute—” victoria begins to interject, but you don’t allow her to finish.

     you hike up victoria’s skirt and pull her panties down her legs with a surprising amount of force, enough that it manages to rouse a rare squeak from the brunette, which you can’t help but smirk at. leaning forward, you waste no time, not wanting to give victoria’s more professional tendencies the chance to interrupt. you press the flat of your tongue against the warm petals of her cunt, spreading them apart to lick up the wetness that had gathered between them before dragging your tongue up to her clit. you find her gaze, watching her expression contort between frustration, affection, and lust through your lashes. the sight of you on your knees, tucked beneath her desk like this and that damn look in your eyes…

     victoria surrenders and buries her fingers in your hair, curling around the strands tightly with a hiss. “god you’re insufferable sometimes, i swear… ah- fuck, you’re pathetic, can’t even wait a bit longer…” she trails off and within the same sentence, pushes your head closer to her. you moan into her pussy, the vibration managing to get a soft moan out of the congresswoman. you lap at her more earnestly, working your whole jaw hoping she’ll appreciate your efforts (she does), and that it’ll lessen your punishment for being so impatient later (it won’t).

     with a shaky sigh victoria tugs you off of her, a gentle pop of your lips removed from her clit following, and you look up with a confused whimper, a glistening strand of her sticky wetness still attaching you to her dripping warmth. fuck, you’re too cute for your own good. victoria’s heart throbs, and she tucks some of your hair behind your ear then brushes her thumb over your glossy lips. “can you be good and manage to be quiet for me, baby?” and of course, you nod, just like she thought you would. victoria hums in approval at your obedience, “that’s my girl,” she murmurs tenderly, and promptly brings your opening mouth to her cunt again. “get busy then. mommy needs this just as much as you do.”

     victoria turns her camera and microphone back on and immerses herself in her meeting; this time, she has something to fall back on when they inevitably begin to argue again. only you and victoria can hear the soft, faint squelches of your warm, pillowy, and sinfully wet mouth devouring her like you haven’t gotten to in ages. you’re so eager, so eager that victoria has to tug on your hair a few times to get you to slow down, otherwise half of congress would be hearing her cry out your name.

     gradually victoria relaxes further in her chair, letting out a content sigh as you suckle on her clit, your tongue tracing gentle patterns against the bundle of nerves at the same time. victoria really did need this just as much as you did; it wasn’t going to be long before she came, and you’d only been at it for ten minutes now. you seem to sense this too, as you double your efforts, eating her out like a woman starved. victoria’s eyes widen at your renewed fervor, and her thighs reflexively squeeze around your head.

     “fuck—” victoria lets out a moan which she quickly covers with a cough as she yanks at your hair in a gesture for you to slow your pace. none of her colleagues notice, thankfully, too caught up in their bickering. but like a fucking brat, you choose now to be difficult. feeling you smirk against her pussy, victoria shifts her gaze down to you with the intention to give you a warning glare, but you just eye up at her cheekily, and start to focus all of your attention to her clit, your slick, hot tongue flicking across the swollen bud quickly. the wrath in victoria’s dark brown eyes fades away rapidly, and her features slacken from pleasure, her lips parting as she sucks in a large breath.

     victoria can’t handle it—she’s been on edge for too long, and you both know it. a little whimper crawls out of her throat, and she props her elbow up on her desk, balling a fist before she brings her arm up, pressing her curled fingers against her mouth to mask her arousal. god, she could only imagine what her co-workers would say if they knew what was going on behind the screen they can see her on. here they are, bickering over some meaningless government spending bill, and she has you slurping at her drenched cunt underneath her desk while she tunes them out. victoria can’t help the way the direction of her thoughts begins to stroke her ego, and she starts to rock her hips against you, her carefully sculpted composure cracking.

     the gratified whimper you reward her with spurs her on as she mushes your face entirely against her pussy—she glances down at you briefly, a sight for sore eyes you are, eyes closed; chin and mouth covered in spit and victoria’s wetness. what would they think of her if they knew she had her thighs wrapped around such a sweet, pretty little thing like yourself? a girl nearly a decade younger than her, and her assistant of all things (she’d admittedly hired you at the fbsa early into your relationship due to your dreadful job at vought-a-burger, a small abuse of her powers).

     oh, they’d scorn her without a second thought, despite their own mistresses and midnight rendezvous. half of them are old enough to be grandfather’s too. victoria nearly scoffs, but she finds her eyes drawn to you again. you working between her thighs is enough to quell any real unrest within her.

     she’s pleasantly surprised to see that at some point, you’ve dipped a hand beneath your panties to touch yourself, and she feels the coil in her stomach start to tighten, knowing that you’re so turned on just from having your face shoved into her cunt like this. victoria is willing to bet that her colleagues never get a view such as this either—like you, and pride flares to life in her chest.

     “fuck, look at you…” victoria murmurs adoringly under her breath with a low growl, fingers stroking through your hair before she grips your locks tightly again. “you love this, don’t you? all wet and whimper-y just from the taste of me… fucking slut— ah—no one else besides me would put up with that damn mouth of yours, but you already know that. and you love being mommy’s slut, don’t you?” she all but demands an answer.

     you nod with a whine, and as if to prove yourself, you start to lap at her with as much vigor as you can muster. victoria chuckles breathlessly and barely swallows down a moan of your name, and she rocks harder against your mouth. “stick out your tongue, brat,” she hisses out the command, her voice barely above a whisper, and you obey, opening your mouth wider so victoria can use the fleshy appendage to get herself off. each pass of her hips makes your nose bump against her clit, and the congresswoman clenches her teeth.

     “vic…” you manage to hoarse out between mouthfuls—your voice trembling. victoria shushes you quietly, and murmurs her approval, knowing that you’re close just like she is. “mmn— fuck, don’t stop,” and you don’t. a couple more rolls of victoria’s hips, and her body stiffens, thighs clamping down around your head and the insides flexing as she bites down on her knuckles to prevent herself from crying out at the force of her orgasm. your own hits not long after, the movements your slick fingers, which had been furiously rubbing at your clit growing jerky. you aren’t as in control of yourself as your girlfriend, however, and are unable to stop yourself from mewling and whimpering.

     with your face still buried in her cunt, slurping up her juices and licking her clean, the sound is muffled, so victoria doesn’t feel the need to chastise you. once the brunette’s legs around your head and the grip she has on your hair relax, you pull away with a heavy pant. victoria turns her camera and microphone off, and grips you by the collar of your sweater seconds later, tugging you up into a wet and messy kiss so she can taste herself on your lips. you moan appreciatively in response, but before you have the chance to kiss back, victoria shoves you away, making your back hit the edge of her desk.

     “upstairs, now,” victoria says while she smooths herself out, talking as if you hadn’t just ate her out like a wild animal. her tone brooks no argument, the low, raspy timbre of her voice making you shudder from anticipation. “i want you naked; on your hands and knees in our bed, and your ass up. i’ll be up in ten minutes.” she then waves a somewhat shaky, dismissive hand at you, which tells you just how frazzled you’ve left her. you swallow hard and rush to do as you’re told, all but sprinting out of victoria’s home office to head to your shared bedroom. you had a feeling that the older woman wasn’t going to be as kind as she had been just now once she joins you.

     that’s fine. you’re a glutton for her punishment.

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Mickey 18 definitely lovessss backshots...i'm thinking mickey 18 is more of an ass guy in comparison to 17 my beloved

anon you might be a genius

where I'd say 17 is more of a tits/thighs guy 18 is definitely an ass man through and through and is SUCH a menace about it.

You absolutely cannot walk past him without getting a cheeky slap on the ass, it's literally a magnet to him.

Oh, and backshots.... Hands down doggy is his favourite position, he loves to be able to see your face but there's something so sexy about taking you from the back and seeing how your ass jiggles with his thrusts (also.. imagine a mirror so he can still see you/watch you guys fucking ... I think he'd be really into that)

It's so versatile too, sometimes he just likes to have you on all fours, him kneeling behind you gripping your hips and giving you a few spanks as he fucks you, but other times it's just sooo intimate. He loves taking you from the back and pressing himself against you entirely, his front against your back and head resting in the crook of your shoulder filling your ear with his grunts and groans.

Sometimes he'll slip a hand up around your throat, not choking you but just holding you there, and loves to make you turn back to sloppily make out with him. It's messy, uncoordinated, pure teeth mashing but it's so sexy.

Sometimes he'll bite your shoulder as he cums to stop himself from being too loud and afterwards he likes to lay there for a while, him still in you, and kiss where he's bit and sucked on your neck/shoulders.

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TO THE ANON THAT JUST SENT AN ASK ABT MICKEY 18 AND BACKSHOTS I LOVE YOU AND THAT'S DEFINITELY GETTING A LITTLE RAMBLE/BLURB TOMORROW OMG 🫣🫣🫣

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JUDE !! — twenty they/them woman lover

disgustingly sleep deprived uni student

masterlist loading.... (coming soon i promise 😭)

FANDOMS (that I'll write for)

interview with the vampire • dceu • mcu • xmen • mickey 17 • everything else i like has dead fandoms 💔

please send asks !! requests or just random messages, i lurv interacting ! i need friends please

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#sad wet cat

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ahhh munch mickey 17 😳 do you think mickey 18 would be a munch too 👀

Real talk, every Mickey is a munch ‼️ but where Mickey 17 savours you, Mickey 18 devours you.

Mickey 17 likes to take his time, I feel like he's most confident between your thighs, it always starts with you two of you already entwined before he sinks his way down the bed, calloused hands brushing against your body on the way. He messages and kisses your calves, working his way up your legs until he's nestled comfortably between your thighs. He likes to hold your thighs as he eats you out too, sometimes hooking them over his shoulders to keep you closer. He's too embarrassed to ask but he loves you sitting on his face, hands massaging soft circles into your hips as you grind down on his face using him. Overall, hes obsessed with you using his mouth to get yourself off, absolutely melting whenever your hands find their way to his hair to pull him deeper to your cunt.

On the other hand, Mickey 18 eats you like you're his last meal and it's about to be taken away. Totally think he's a biter too, where 17 would softly kiss your skin instead 18's teeth graze against it and nibble 100% leaving marks. And in comparison to 17 loving your thighs, I think 18 would love your stomach, if you have a bit of tummy he'd definitely give it a teasing bite as he makes his way down your body to your core. He grips your hips tightly and holds you in place as he eats you out, not going anywhere, and even after you've cum will keep going. He wants to pull everything from you that he can, living for the way your body tenses and shudders against his tongue.

i would add something about them both eating you out at the same time but this fic by bethsvrse is already so perfect sooo 🫣🫣

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do i have a uni deadline next week and need to write like fifty research slides.... yes

am i about to sit down and start writing a proper mickey 17 fic instead...... yes

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“twin bed”

read on AO3 ❤️‍🔥

plot: bruce wayne visits your family home, but you struggle to find time alone together.

pairing: (battinson!)bruce wayne x fem!reader

cw: 18+, mdni, smut, oral sex, fingering, teasing, risky

words: 2.8k

Dinner had been good—great, even. The drinks were never late, the food delicious and warm. The only complication in the whole affair regarded lodging; you were staying at your parent’s house, which they’d insisted upon. This wasn’t the first time Bruce had met your parents, but it was the first trip dedicated to spending time together as a group. The brief initial meetings had made quite the impression, so much so they already considered him a part of the family. 

Meaning? Polite luxuries were no longer afforded, and they had him camping out on an air mattress in your childhood bedroom beside your tiny twin bed. 

Bruce didn’t mind. He was so used to sleeping on a hard cot in the basement of Wayne Tower that the air mattress was a sort of opulence. Most importantly, he thoroughly enjoyed time with your family. Seeing you in your element, getting to know the people who had helped mold you into the person he loved, was blissful. He would’ve slept on cement without complaint.

The first night, two days ago, you’d been so petrified of your parents overhearing that you barely even let him kiss you, despite how badly you craved his touch. He’d been working relentlessly the past month, various charity appearances and meetings about more charity appearances taking up his days, and high-intensity patrols taking up his nights. This week was supposed to be a vacation, but you couldn’t get a true moment alone. Stolen kisses and gripped thighs under tables weren’t enough to satiate your desire for closeness.

Last night you’d prayed for your parents to tuck in early, as they usually did, but they’d kept the both of you up until three in the morning with a deceptively intense game of Monopoly. It had tuckered the both of you out enough to pass out immediately. You’d slept until mid-afternoon, waking to a text from your mother about spending the evening at her friend’s birthday party—and that your sister would visit in their place. 

She hadn’t yet met Bruce, and was entirely enamored. Her eyes glittered every time he acknowledged her. When he excused himself to use the restroom, she leaned in with excited, jealous whispers. The next few hours were a bore.

Bruce caught onto your need for escape like you’d spoken it aloud. He pretended to surprise you with dinner reservations, and hastily made them in the car ride over. Your head throbbed with so much fawning conversation, always surrounded by prying eyes and ears. And you had another four days of this, with a family party pinned at the end of it. 

By some stroke of luck, your sister had abandoned the house by the time dinner plans were completed. Opening the door to an empty, quiet home was a godsend, and you slipped off your jacket and slunk to the bedroom to change. Bruce followed close behind. You fell onto the bed and slipped off your heels, rubbing the side of your foot where they had pinched. Your vision trailed along his legs when he tossed off his dress pants and pulled on a pair of gray sweats. His hips pulled forward as he shrugged off his blazer and yanked on a tee, creating a yummy print against the light fabric. You felt your body flush, and checked the time. It would be at least a few minutes until they got back…

You shimmied out of your underwear and sat on your knees, staring at him hungrily. Maybe it was the fact the room was dark aside from dim, faded fairy lights you’d put up years ago, casting beautiful mountains and valleys across his briefly exposed chest. Or maybe that it had been weeks, and your body felt tight with need, hoarding every second of that time like a grudge. You couldn’t decide what you wanted first—to touch him or him to touch you. For his fingers, or his lips, or…

He walked to the side of your bed, smoothing your hair behind your ear with a calloused hand. His movements were innocent and slow, and you knew he was acting oblivious. There was no universe where he immediately caught onto your boredom but couldn’t tell how intensely you ached to be taken care of now. You vibrated with it, full to the brim, desire so bloomed it blurred your vision. 

Was he waiting for you to beg for it? Would he really make you beg? Or was he playing safe, assuming your parents would be back any second? The thought only made you want to rush, not stall. Only increased the desperate pull for him to be on top of you, or you on top of him or, fuck, anything. 

You started pulling down his pants but Bruce shook his head; he let the rejection hang for a moment, watching the quiet flicker of your eyes across his face, gauging your reaction as he sunk down to his knees. The only sound was the air mattress sliding across the floor with a satisfying shick, and a creak of coils within your mattress as he moved a warm hand to your thigh and spread your legs.

He moved his hands underneath you and hooked around your legs, gently scooting your hips to the bed’s edge. The quilt you laid on cushioned your elbows as you sat up to watch him with wide eyes. Vibrant anticipation made your mouth water, peppering goosebumps up your arms and down your legs. The dim lighting framed his wide shoulders in half-shadow and accentuated the valleys his fingers created in the flesh of your thighs.

His eyes flicked up to yours and all thought vaporized as he brought his mouth to your clit. You held a breath. His eye contact was immobilizing, bringing heat to your cheeks and closing your throat. You only realized his hands had wandered when you felt a squeeze around the fleshy part of your waist. Your attention had been bought and fate sealed when his tongue pressed between the folds of your pussy, sending a soft rumble of pleasure up your core. 

You inhaled sharply as a hand traced down the side of your body, spurring a shiver at the base of your spine. The bedframe creaked as his weight adjusted against it, a finger teasing your entrance. He watched as your breathing shallowed and your subtle, quick nod shook the fragile twin bed. 

He wanted to watch your reaction when… your lashes fluttered as he slid his finger in, simultaneously pressing his mouth firmer against you. God, you tasted so fucking sweet. He suppressed a moan so he could better hear yours when he added a second finger, and oh, his body was unprepared for the sound. Your hips bucked against his mouth, and he let out an involuntary moan as your slick drenched his chin. He pumped his fingers deeper, harder, and suddenly your hands were in his hair.

His eyes dipped down only to pull back and visualize your arousal; your fingers slacked in his hair, a longing whimper slipping off your tongue at the pause. You were puffy, swollen, and the most delicious shade of pink. He drew a long, deep breath, half teasing, half preparatory. He brought his wet, pursed lips a centimeter away; your body tensed in anticipation, the room’s air turned static. 

Tight puffs of warm air caressed your clit, and your elbows slipped as your head fell back; your low groan was his cue to close the distance and lap at you, his fingers motionless inside. He kept a deliberate tempo, every few seconds leaning a little closer, moving his tongue a bit faster. He was waiting for it to be too much, patient for your hands to rip at his hair until it stung. Mmms and ahhs accompanied the thick, wet noises between your thighs, and he nearly lost himself in them. 

Usually you folded before this point, but you were making him work for it tonight—challenge accepted. He broke the suction and slowly withdrew his fingers, reaching for your spare hand. “Look at me,” and you immediately obeyed without protest, not even a sarcastic tease. His heart skipped. Ooh, you needed him. Even in the low light he saw how thrown you were by the width of your pupils and the slack in your jaw. His cock twitched under his sweats, his thoughts loosening. 

“Please,” you pleaded, shifting your hips closer. Bruce grinned when you grabbed the back of his head. He felt the insistence within your palm and obliged, moving his mouth back down. A part of him felt bad—you were never this needy. But the beauty in the trembling arch of your back and the heat emanating off every inch of your skin was so intoxicating he couldn’t resist keeping you here. He dragged his tongue lower, circling your entrance until your grip tightened, but not enough. Not yet. 

The warm, unhurried slip of his tongue against your clit had your moans echo off the walls. His pace was achingly slow, but you couldn’t complain when his mouth knew your body this well. His easy tempo continued for minutes, decreasing each time he felt your walls clench around his fingers. Tension built in your stomach and your back arched higher off the mattress. The sweeping motions of his tongue were languid, but his flicks were hard and calculated. You grabbed another fistful of his hair and yanked as his swipes turned to sucking, and he groaned against it. 

You shrieked as his fingers entered you once more, the come here motion hitting that dull, heady spot over, and over, and… “Fuck,” you cursed, face tense as he worked you to the edge. He was hitting that spot relentlessly, and the noises of your soaked cunt were downright pornographic. 

He felt your pussy clench hard around his fingers, and his mouth separated from you with a pop. “Go, baby.” He coached you as he curled his fingers higher. The room was hazy, his senses attuned only to your face and his fingers. His gravelly voice was strained by his own mounting desire. “Cum for me.”

You bit your lip and fought it; he couldn’t overwhelm you this easily, work you as he pleased. Even though he was right and you were on the edge of completion, almost dangling off the cliff, you wouldn’t let him have it so easily. He didn’t let you have it so easily. Remembering the torturous speed of the past ten minutes… and how fucking perfectly he was nailing you right now. 

Your breathing slowed intentionally when he moved up to kiss you. A whimper slipped from your lips as you held your orgasm at arm’s length, and Bruce’s brow cocked when he realized what you were attempting. “C’mon,” he purred, nudging your jaw out of the way to press a wet kiss to the nape of your neck. Your pulse hammered beneath his lips, betraying you, his hot breath matching the pace of his fingers as they fucked you. 

“Not so easily.” You managed a breathless sentence, the end frayed with a whine as he pulled his fingers out to circle the pearl of your clit. Your teeth made an indent in your lower lip, failing to keep secret how you were putty in his hands. 

His blue eyes bore into yours, framed by his straight, dark hair. His cologne mocked you this close, weakening your resolve. Your body quivered, barely able to keep moans from spilling out in an endless chorus, singing his praises. He grinned, speeding up his pointer and middle fingers. “Let it out, baby.” he kissed along your collarbone, dragging his lips down to your nipple. A moan hummed from his chest as his tongue swirled it, making you yelp. “I can tell you need it.” 

His coaxing wouldn’t undo you, his coaxing wouldn’t… you gasped as his fingers pushed inside again. You shook your head, face heating. He paused and thank god he had, because you needed a split second to contain yourself. “Want me to stop?”

“No.” You pushed your hips down on his fingers and grinded on them, moans and whines escaping full force. The bed creaked under the impact, a laugh mingling with a moan as you noticed his eyes flash, then darken. His jaw dropped open, beginning to pant. It was water. You were water. 

The room spun. He kissed his way down your torso until he could finally taste you again. Impossibly wet, impossible to keep up with the gyration of your hips and the roll of your waist. His tone tempted the Bat when it got this ragged. “Fuck,” he swallowed hard, as if it were the last breath he’d ever take. And maybe it would be, the way you weren’t leaving him room to breathe. 

He wanted to egg you on. Fuck yourself on my fingers, he’d gasp, but he was worried you’d stop. Somewhere the script had flipped and you were teasing him now, commanding control. You always melted him like this. “Take what you need.” 

The words unraveled you. Your body slammed the length of his fingers, jamming the headboard into the wall without mercy. “Another,” you groaned, feeling instantly fuller. His knuckles, the angle of his fingers, and the pinprick pain of hickeys he stained along your skin made you feral. “Please,” you mewled, threading shaking fingers through his sweaty hair. He’d caught your staggered rhythm; you closed your eyes and submitted to the pleasure of each thrust, as sensitive as you’d ever been. 

Bruce felt like you were riding him; he swore he felt each slip of his fingers on his throbbing dick, his hips twitching in unison with his hands. Sweat beaded on his forehead. Broken curses fell from your lips and you tightened around his fingers. His cheeks burned scarlet. He didn’t know if he was still breathing. Everything in the world left him. 

You didn’t have to say anything; he felt it in the tremble of your legs, saw it etched in the crease between your eyebrows. “That’s it,” he coached you through it, feeling you clench so tight his breathing hitched. “Perfect baby, cum for me.”

Your hands landed on his shoulders, nails digging into sweaty, flaming skin as your climax shot through you. Your hips bounced erratically, Bruce’s fingers still fucked you through it, your pussy a useless, trembling, spasming mess. The white-hot release flooded your brain with TV static, a rush which cascaded through every cell in your body. Your mouth opened wider to free a guttural moan when you suddenly felt empty, clenching around nothing, and his hand clamped down on your mouth, muffling you. 

“They’re back,” he whispered, gulping for breath. You writhed, simultaneously wrestling against the forced silence and grateful he’d heard, body contracting and jumping beneath him. “Shh…” he soothed, his dominating gaze quickly placating your throbbing frame. You blinked down the residual high when you heard the front door shut, footsteps entering the hall. 

“Back from the party! Brought you guys some cake.” 

Hearing your parent’s voice so soon after was disorienting; Bruce paused, waiting a second longer to drop his hand. You stared at each other a moment, completely still, until a smile crept on his face and you laughed. 

“I’ll have to wait a minute.” Bruce sat up, adjusting his sweats with a heavy sigh. Your eyes traveled the dark room, catching your breath like you’d just run a mile. His fingers never felt that good before, his tongue never worked such brutal magic. He interrupted your reverie. 

“You okay?” He was breathless too, his shirt limp and stretched haphazardly. He looked dazed, and blushed when you didn’t immediately answer. “Sorry for teasing. You just…” he turned tomato red. 

“Just what?”

“You don’t know what you do to me,” he confessed, focusing on your smile as you leaned toward him. Your hand rested on his knee; his Adam’s apple bobbed.

“Come try it, you two.” 

You felt like a teenager again. “I have an idea.” Your fingers trailed toward his waistband. “You better simmer down, or we’ll get in trouble. Cake tasting’s important, you know.” 

“Evidently…” he tried to measure your parent’s wrath against the ache in his boxers, half shocked he was even considering being so reckless. How soundproof was this room?

“More than okay.” You finally answered, tugging at his drawstring until the knot untied. He drew a quick breath, but didn’t pull away.

“I won’t be able to be quiet,” he admitted, flustered.

The walls narrowed to the space between your lips and his. You knew your parents would soon unwind in the living room across the house, unable to hear a peep—but Bruce didn’t. “Is that a challenge?”

a/n: apparently i have writer’s block but not for bruce wayne smut, so here you go <3 i think it’s cute for Bruce to have the experience of parents interrupting something, since he likely didn’t have that experience growing up !! at least battinson probably didn’t, lmao. also he’s a total munch. a real eater. let me know what you think !!

[bachshot]

i genuinely have not stopped thinking about being sandwiched between mickey 17 and 18 it's driving me crazy😭

oh anon I'm 100% on the same page 😭 the differences between how they would act absolutely makes me go wild too.

I feel like it would give a very much good cop bad cop vibe in a sense, Mickey 17 is so tender but Mickey 18 is a little more rough around the edges and they're definitely fighting for your attention.

17 is softer and more relaxed in his touches, he's had you before and he knows you love him, but there's also a nervous desperation in the way he touches you when 18s around like he's scared you'll pick him instead. He's touchy, they're both touchy, but 17 is so so talkative murmuring compliments and praises as his lips never leave you skin.

18 is more passionate, not exactly violent but you wouldn't be surprised if his grip bruises (not that you'd mind), and he almost growls at the way you affect him. He knows how many times 17 has had you, technically those are his memories/him too but it still makes him incredibly jealous regardless. He seems to constantly be trying to one up 17, he loves when you look at him often gripping your chin to make eye contact. He's less talkative than 17 but not anymore quieter, he grunts, groans, growls, there's something animalistic and unhinged in his reactions but it's intoxicating.

Either way everything they're both doing is entirely for you, focusing on your pleasure more than your own, at first it's a competition but somewhere along the way it becomes a team effort and there's no surviving how well they work together to get you off once they finally click. A perfect ying and yang.

[bachshot]

you’re such a little bitch ; mickey barnes (18)

synopsis (spoiler: do not read if you have not seen the film): wouldn’t you be excited if there were two of me?

cw: NSFW (18+) / spoilers for the film / mickey 18 / neck kissing / fem!reader / p in v (unprotected) / praise / established relationships (every mickey is a real lover) / slight voyeurism (idek now how to tag this, the lines are so blurred, mickey 17 walks in at the end) / mentions of bruising blood wc: 1000 love note: i’m gonna have to watch this film again, but mickey 18 changed my brain chemistry

Mickey Barnes died, yet again. He had printed, yet again. He was laying in your bed, eyes fixated on you as he recuperated from his last print job, yet again. With every Mickey there were some personality quirks— not every Mickey came out the exact same way. Some are nicer than others. Some are fussier than others. But Mickey had never come out with such a pessimistic attitude. 

“Are you feeling okay?” You asked Mickey, his eyes trained on you as you sat on the desk across the room. Everything in this ship was so gray; the clothing, the furniture, the bedding. The only color in your life was Mickey, and every time he reprinted, your heart thumped a little more than usual, and your entire nervous system was thrown off. Nothing about his job, or yours, was that normal. How long would you have with this Mickey before he died? How long would you get to know this version?

“I’m feeling fine,” Mickey told you, running a hand over his face. In only two hours, his knuckles were already scuffed up, his hair floppy, and cheeks chapped. In only two hours out of the printer and he looked like he had already been on a mission, “c’mere, baby”

His accent has dissipated, the Midwestern drawl was fleeting in and out of his words now, losing its charm. Where had it gone? You wondered if maybe this Mickey was a fluke, if they hadn’t plugged in his memories right. Regardless of your wariness of this new Mickey, all you wanted to do was be close to him. To feel him, hands pressed against his naked body, becoming one with this new Mickey would surely make the odd feelings go away.

Kicking off your shoes, you crawled across the bed. Your knees sunk into the mattress, your eyes fixated on Mickey like he was a prize you were about to win. With your body pressed against his (too many clothes intercepting what you really wanted to do with him), you found him muzzling his lips against your neck.

“Oh,” you mewled, throwing your head to the side to offer more skin. His lips were harsh against your neck, sucking in the skin and focusing the tip of his tongue as a soft padding in contrast to the harshness of his teeth. Mickey 17 was always so gentle, but this version of him was rigid, like he had been scabbed over in the printing process.

“Feels good, baby?” Mickey hooked his arm beneath you, pulling you on top of him. Your hand found its way to his hair, fingers hooking the strands and pulling just the way Mickey 17 liked. Quickly, Mickey 18 brought his hand to yours, tightening his grip around your wrist.

“Yeah, yeah. Mickey, feels really nice.” You told him, releasing his hair from your grasp. Never had you needed to rediscover Mickey’s interests, every version of him was so aligned with one another. Hesitantly, you looped a finger in the waistband of his pants, tugging them gently with eyes locked on his reaction.

All Mickey 18 did was nod, offering you full access to him. This Mickey felt so much more self assured, like he knew exactly what he was doing to you. This Mickey knew the kind of physical reaction just one glance from him created. It didn’t take too long to get his pants low enough to release his cock. With an eagerness, you stood from the bed and quickly peeled your trousers from your body, then climbed on top of him. The loss of touch was only a few seconds, but it was enough for you to ache.

Mickey 18 wasted no time, lining himself up with your entrance. He painted the tip of his cock over your slit, using your arousal as lube to slide into you. Of course his dick was the same as Mickey 17’s, but it felt different. It curled into a different spot, exploring your insides like a foreign object. Maybe it was considered foreign, but this was Mickey (and somehow not).

“Only two hours out of the fucking printer,” Mickey grunted, thrusting his hips into you at a consistent speed. Every word was on beat, matching the rhythm of his hips fucking into you. Each time he hit that spot, your eyes rolled back, the pent up frustration threatening to spill over. Tightening around his shaft, you listened to his words, “and Mickey 17 is already making my life difficult.”

You paused, your eyes widening as he steadied your hips with both hands. Grabbing at your ass, cupping it fully, your brain was trying to grasp the meaning behind his words. A Mickey never met another Mickey. Just as you opened your mouth to ask what he could possibly mean, he flipped you over. Hitching one of his legs underneath yours, he began rocking into you leisurely. Squeals collected in your throat, falling from your lips as soft moans. This new side of Mickey, the domineering side of Mickey, made you fall apart around his dick.

With fucked out eyes, you gasped for air. The high of your orgasm clouding your brain, because you knew you were going to ask Mickey something, but the train of thought had disappeared as the unexpected orgasm washed through you.

“Christ,” Mickey said, his cock still tucked inside of you as he glanced at the doorway. The shadow of a person reflected in your peripheral vision, and when you turned to the side to get a better glance of who had found you in such a compromising position, the words were caught in your throat.

“Mickey?” You said, eyes bouncing between the doubles you were seeing.

“Yeah,” Mickey 17 said shyly, the Midwestern accent thick and present in his voice. His hand shot to the back of his neck, rubbing the skin uncomfortably as he watched himself— at least, another version of him— inside of you. He looked slightly beat up. The bruises on his face similar to the pattern knuckles might leave behind, while Mickey 18’s knuckles were rugged and bloody.

“I’m guessing you wanna join?” Mickey 18 interjected, the offer empty and filled with humor.

[bachshot]

saw ur askbox was open for mickey 17 smut.... ummmmm would you be interested in writing something with premature ejactulation..? i feel like he would get soooo embarrassed about it even after reader tells him its fine, and then they work around it with extra foreplay or something... idk i can just see him cumming like the second you stroke him a little (cough cough touch starved..)

omg anon you're absolutely on to something... He'd get so embarrassed about it too, the tips of his ears heating up and not being able to look you in the eye. I’m going to write a little fic for you with the foreplay and reader being nice about it later but right now I’m thinking about just how mean reader could be 🫣

Like yeah, you could work around the premature ejaculation and find a way to stop it/keep him going but the mortified look on his face is just so cute! The first time you discovered his little problem you were making out, straddling his lap and grinding against him, he was so lost in it he couldn’t even bring the words out to warn you. His climax hit him like a truck, letting out a weird strangled moan sound that had you pulling away concerned until you noticed the wet patch forming at his crotch, it was hard not to giggle as he hid his head in his hands.

Really, you should comfort him and tell him it’s fine because it really is but instead a mean streak hits you, you want to see if you can make him do it again. His eyes shoot open as he feels your hands on his waistband, undoing it, and his hands rush on top of yours stopping you with a panicked look. His resolve doesn’t last long however, the lust blown look in your eye has him softening and letting you have your way. Even if you’re being mean you know your words can’t be too harsh, people talk down on him everyday and you couldn’t bring that energy in to here, instead you coo and praise at him.

“Such a good boy, so devoted i don’t even need to touch you, huh?”

The moans he lets out at just your words is enough to fuel you, and you know he could probably cum again from just your words alone. He’s so easy to overstimulate, it doesn’t matter whether you’re using your hands or mouth to tease his cock he shudders and groans all the same and he seems to cum even faster. If you kept going you could probably have him shooting blanks, it doesn’t matter how spent he is his body always reacts to you.

Mickey has never looked as good as he did now, in the dim light of the bunk in the afterglow of multiple orgasms with soft sobs of overstimulation racking through him… you couldn’t wait to have more fun with this discovery.

[bachshot]

I can't stop thinking about Mickey being an absolute munch, there's nowhere he feels more at home than in-between your legs. It doesn't matter where or when, if he can get down there's he's doing it! Before sex as foreplay, after sex when he's too tired to properly go for a second found, a treat in the morning after he knows you had a grueling shift the night before.... The list goes on.

But his favourite time to eat you out, or rather your favourite time to see him eat you out, is usually after he's been reprinted. He's always quiet then, trying to shake off that freshly printed funk and processing his death, it makes him long to be close to you. He always seeks you out after, coaxing you back to one of your bunks if you aren't there already, and it starts off innocently enough with him laying with you, needing to feel you close to him.

He loves your thighs, resting his head on them with his arms wrapped around your waist as you play with his hair. It doesn't take long until he's spicing things up though, giving kisses to your thighs and pulling at your waistband, looking up at you with those puppy dog eyes in a silent 'please' you just can't say no to.

Fresh off the printer he's always desperate, like his sensations are dialled up to ten, and it shows in the way he eats you out like a man starved. He suckles at your clit, hands grasping your hips to keep you close like he's scared you'll run away, and constantly looking up at you for validation. It was difficult not to give him the praise he craved when he had you like this from just his tongue alone. More often than not, he can cum just from eating you out, he tries to hold himself back on regular occasions but he can't stop himself when he's newly printed like this grinding into the mattress as he eats you out, sure he'll cum before you do but they doesn't stop him. He whimpers and groans into your pussy, never one for being quiet, and its impossible not to soak those sounds up.

And, in the end, when you cum he always lifts his head and looks at you with that same glazed over look, his chin wet with your arousal as he breathes out a 'thank you'.