Batman Kink Meme
THE BATMAN KINK MEME
nanakibh here~! For those of you who don't know what these are, allow me to explain. It's a place where you can request fics anonymously and have your deepest, darkest desires be fulfilled. Anon A requests and Anon B writes for the prompt. Easy as that.
★ Request anonymously. Or not. It's really up to you, I suppose.
★ Clearly state ( Read more... )
nanakibh here~! For those of you who don't know what these are, allow me to explain. It's a place where you can request fics anonymously and have your deepest, darkest desires be fulfilled. Anon A requests and Anon B writes for the prompt. Easy as that.
★ Request anonymously. Or not. It's really up to you, I suppose.
★ Clearly state ( Read more... )
He had been hit quite hard on the head, that much he knew.
But everything else was a blur, images whirlwinding through his mind.
He was on a routine patrol as Batman.
Skip forward to being face down in an ally, desperately begging consciousness to stay, but it left anyways.
Rewind to tripping a goon who was trying to run away from him. But then the goon was gone and Bruce was moving, but was still at the same time. Was he in a car?
There was the feeling of being followed.
Someone was laughing, constantly laughing.
BAM, Bruce saw stars. Someone stuck him from behind.
His vision exploded in little white lights and he slipped soundlessly to the ground.
And that laugh, it just kept on.
First is was generic, could have belonged to anyone.
But then it rose in pitch and had more of a melody, but at the same time was disjointed... insane.
Bruce gasped. The memory returned.
He had been chasing another nameless goon, had tripped him. Bruce couldn't even recall his crime, but the detail was unimportant at this point.
But when he went to deliver the final, though not fatal, blow, Bruce was attacked.
By who, he was not sure, but as Bruce's body connected with the pavement, someone lifted his prey up onto their feet and dragged them away.
Then suddenly Bruce himself was being lifted as he failed to fight off whoever had him. Whatever hit him got him good.
He slipped into darkness just as his captor tossed him into the back of a van.
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Finally Bruce seemed to be in the present. His eyes were shut, but he was aware of his surroundings.
He breathed in. The air around him was cold, unpleasant.
His head ached. He could pinpoint the location of the lump without moving; it was the center of the dull throbbing that spread throughout his skull.
'Time for some damage assessment,' Bruce immediately thought. But when he tried to move his arms, he found his wrists were bound above his head.
He didn't expect positive results, but he tried moving his feet next. Bound as well, at the ankles it felt like.
He was laying on his back on what was probably a table, but he couldn't be sure. He was strapped down though. No obvious escape.
Finally he tried to open his eyes.
Success, but he regretted the decision immediately. There was a bright light hanging just above him.
And now someone had grabbed it, shined it in his face.
"Well good morning, Batman!"
Bruce groaned in reply. Shapes started to form, fuzzy at first but no longer unseen.
He was in a small room, possibly part of a basement. No windows. Stone walls. He was on a table, that was certain now.
And his captor... was exactly who he expected him to be, once his sense started to come back.
"Did we have a good nap?" The voice questioned. Then there was sarcasm-laced sympathy. "You sure were out for a looong time. I hope I didn't the wee Bat too hard on the head."
Another shrill cackle. It tore through Bruce's every nerve and made his hair stand on end.
Of all the people to be held captive by, it had to be the goddamn Joker.
Bruce wasted no time. "Where am I?"
The Joker dropped the light. It swung from the ceiling lazily a few times before settling. "That's my secret, Batman. You'll find out soon enough though, don't worry, don't worry."
"How did you escape?"
"Arkham? God, it was eaaasy. But again, my secret. Don't think I'll be sharing that one though."
"What do you want?"
"So many questions, Batman! Relax." Bruce began to protest, but a purple-gloved hand silenced him. "Shhhhh. No talking now. Just listening."
The Joker grinned, wide and horrible. "Now, a lot of people say I'm a monster, a freak." He spread his arms out, displayed himself. "No humanity left in me. And they are probably right. No, they are right." A giggle bubbled through him, and Bruce desperately wanted to recoil. "But I have the same desires as anyone else. Needs, you might say."
"What do you-" The hand clamped over Bruce's mouth again.
"Listening, Batman! It's a crucial life skill. Now, I have a... proposition... for you." The Joker looked Bruce's entire body over, analyzing.
Bruce hadn't the faintest idea what was going on, but he was suddenly aware that he was still suited in his armor and helmet. Relief, whatever little he could feel in his current situation, washed over him.
The Joker gazed back into his eyes and, satisfied with his lack of noise, continued.
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"Let me... have my way with you--" a twitch of the eyebrows "--just tonight, and you'll live to cherish the memories forever." His tongue darted out familiarly to lick awaiting lips.
... He couldn't have said what Bruce thought he just said. It wasn't possible.
The Joker's hand still covered Bruce's mouth, but he yelled loudly into it anyways.
"Quiet, quiet, quiet! You haven't even heard your other option yet!" Another giggle, but the Joker seemed to repress it this time.
"Resist me, and I'll pop off that pretty mask of yours, camera rolling, for all to see. You'll be GCN's hottest topic for months."
Finally the Joker removed his hand, giving Bruce a chance to speak. He was in panic mode, and his words came quickly.
"Are you insane?!" The Joker gave him a look. Bruce didn't care. "You can't possibly mean what I-- there's no way. No way!"
"So you are choosing option B then?" The Joker carefully slid the tip of his blade under the space where Bruce's helmet met his chest plate.
The earlier blow must have caused something to malfunction, because no electric jolt awaited him.
"No! Stop!" Bruce tried to jerk away, with little success. "You can't--"
The Joker interrupted. "So option A then?"
Bruce couldn't fathom it, so he did not speak.
"Come on now, I want to hear you say it." Again, Bruce was silent. Without warning, the Joker drew back his arm and delivered a swift blow to Bruce's side. "SAY IT!"
Instead, Bruce cried out, then winced.
He found words, for fear that the Joker would keep striking him. "How do I know you won't take off my mask either way?"
"Now now, Batman. Was that part of the original terms? I am a man of my word. If I say you will walk out here, secret i-dent-i-ty intact, you will." The Joker raised and lowered his eyebrows, almost comically. “C'mon. C'moooon. Choose.”
Bruce didn't see any other choice. He closed his eyes tight, gritting his teeth. "Do whatever you want with me, Joker."
"Thatta boy. That. Uh. Boy! Excellent choice, Batman." The Joker clapped his hands together. "Let's get to work, shall we?"
Surprisingly deft hands disassembled the armor all around Bruce's body, until he was left with nothing but his helmet and the thin body suit he was wearing to cover him.
His first thought was a scenario where Lucius Fox simply shot him upon sight for such a travesty to his work, but then he realized how ridiculous that was.
He was almost completely naked, bound, and in the hands of the most criminally insane of any he had ever faced, and his first thought was about was how mad Lucius would be. It was absurd.
"My, my, my! Look at all of this wonderful muscle!" The Joker simply cut a slit through whatever fabric remained on Bruce's body and slid it off with ease. He admired the skin that was revealed.
It was bruised, cut, scarred. But these were battle wounds. Much different from what was probably self inflicted on the Joker's body. Not that he could remember.
Carefully, almost lovingly, the Joker dragged the very tip of his blade from Bruce's chest to his public bone. His hand wasn't nearly heavy enough to deeply wound, but he drew blood.
Bruce hissed, struggled, arched his back until he was off the table then slammed back down.
The Joker let out a frustrated growl, deep and savage. "DON'T! MOVE!" He brought his fist onto the table with a BANG. Bruce froze.
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He could only shudder as The Joker drew a sloppy red grin on his abdomen.
"Let us see what we have to work with now." The Joker sudden brought all of his attention to the most intimate of Bruce's body parts. There was no arousal whatsoever, which seemingly disappointed the other man.
"With all the beatings you bring upon yourself, Batman, I would think you'd enjoy a little pain, get off on it even. Don't tell me you're in it just for the heroics!" The Joker cackled again, suddenly grabbing Bruce's member.
Bruce felt a wave of nausea rush over him; he was still in disbelief that any of this was happening. The Joker dipped his head and planted a few wet kisses on the tip of Bruce's cock before taking it into his mouth and gently sucking.
Bruce could clearly feel where the Joker's trademark scars began at the corners of his mouth. It was a strange feeling, to have such uneven flesh rub against him. In spite of his absolute horror, Bruce's body responded to the Joker's touches.
"There we go," the Joker moaned into him, clearly amused. He lifted his chin, looked straight into Bruce's eyes. "I knew a darker... nastier part was hiding in there." He stood then and reached for the straps that held Bruce's legs down.
"I am going to release these and move you. Try anything, and the deal is off. Capisce?" Bruce could only nod, still feeling sick. The Joker undid the bonds around his feet, then moved to get the ones at his wrists. Again, he looked into Bruce's eyes. "No. Funny business."
He freed the strap around his wrists then, but Bruce found his hands were still tied together by a separate rope. The Joker had no intention of changing this. His eyes narrowed into slits, deadly, threatening.
"Now flip over onto your stomach."
Everything in Bruce screamed. Warning bells were going off, his body refused to move.
He winced again, but finally complied. After all, his flesh was exposed, prime for the stabbing at the Joker's will.
Tormented, he struggled to roll onto his side. What seemed like hours of stillness left his muscles stiff and almost unresponsive.
The Joker, content with this show of submission, helped with the process, if somewhat forcefully.
Soon Bruce was bent over the edge of the table, feeling utterly helpless.
Bruce could see none of what the Joker was doing now.
He must have taken his gloves off, because now the hands that were exploring his back and obsessing over the curves of his muscles were warm, rough. Skin on skin.
Bruce shuddered again as he gently ran his fingertips over the base of his spine.
He listened as the Joker finally unzipped his pants, freeing what must have been a very bothersome erection, judging by the pure lust in the sigh that followed.
Bruce refused to try and see what was going on.
He kept his eyes closed and head down, cheek pressed flat against the surface of the table.
He heard the sound of wheels though, a cart of some sort. The opening of drawers. The pop of a cap and squirting of a liquid, and without warning, Bruce was being fiercely lubed up. The Joker seemed almost desperate.
"Wouldn't want to make this too painful of what, I imagine, is a first time for you, Batman." He grunted, and Bruce could only assume he was focusing on himself now. "As much as I would enjoy that."
Then the Joker was pressing against him, fully aroused. Bruce braced himself, knew that he couldn't escape any of what was about to happen, clenched his jaw and balled his fists as best as he could.
The Joker snaked his arm around Bruce's hip and was inside him with a violent thrust.
Nothing could prepare Bruce for the sensation. He cried out, which only seemed to excited the Joker more. He kept no particular rhythm, bucking his hips wildly. At the same time, he brought his knife to Bruce's skin, flicked it repeatedly, created small cuts all across his back. Bruce flinched with every slit. The Joker dug his nails into Bruce's hips, growled and gasped with every movement, all of it seemed like it was stretching on for eternity--
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“I want you back on your back. The reactions on your face will make this all the more... enjoyable, don't you think?”
And with that, the Joker turned Bruce around and pushed him back onto the table, was strapping his arms back down before Bruce had time to even comprehend what was going on.
Then the other man was back at the end of the table, poised to enter Bruce again. He threw one of his muscular legs over his shoulder, admiring the almost perfect structure before thrusting into him. This time he seemed to have a particular pace, watching Bruce's face contort with pain and horror. It filled him with glee and pleasure and drove him oh-so-crazy.
“Tell me that--” he accented every word with a thrust “--You. Want. This.”
He pushed himself as far as he could go into Bruce then. The other man only roared, defeated by his complete lack of control. Rage boiled inside of him, and he finally dared to look at the Joker, eyes filled with murder. The Joker gasped, delighted.
“There it is! You know, I just love it when you are angry, Batman.” He leaned forward, inches from Bruce's face now, breath hot and stinging over his cheeks. “You're at your best when you are filled with... hatred. All your self-righteousness disappears, and all that's left is someone just as horrible and violent as I am.” The Joker roughly kissed Bruce then, forcing his tongue into the other man's mouth, vehemently biting at his lip until he drew blood. “So admit that you like being like this, as craaazy as me.”
That appeared to be the breaking point for him, because his thrusts became wild again. He lost whatever control he had until, pump after agonizingly savage pump, Bruce's thighs and stomach were covered with the Joker's seemingly acidic seed.
Panting, the Joker withdrew again. He licked clean all of the mess on Bruce's stomach, even the blood from earlier. He curled and uncurled his fingers, anxious to do something else with his hands, but apparently holding himself back.
“Now see, Batman, that wasn't so horrible, was it?” He breathed in the scent of Bruce's skin, rubbed his cheek slowly against it, savored every moment of contact he had with it. Then the Joker was at Bruce's lips again, kissing him softly this time. Bruce could taste the mixture of the Joker's fluids and his own blood, both from his lip and the Joker's tongue, and it made him want to vomit. He could only whimper into the other man's mouth, silently begging him to stop, to release him.
The Joker drew away, eyes closed. He spoke slowly. “Maybe it's time for you to go then. You fulfilled your end of the deal, and I have to fulfill mine now.” He reached for he cart again, and Bruce could finally feel some peace, he would be free and away for this horrible place and--
The Joker interrupted his thoughts, pressing a cloth to his face. Bruce inhaled sharply and darkness consumed him.
When Bruce awoke, he was disoriented and sore. The Joker had dressed him in a black robe, dumped him somewhere in the city. Bruce panicked then, sat up and looked around wildly.
He was in no danger of being found though; apparently, in the Joker's increasingly ironic sense of humor, he had thought it was a good idea to hide Bruce away on the roof of the MCU, feet away from the now-destroyed Bat signal. No one had been up there for weeks, there was no need. In fact, the door that was directly in his line of sight was padlocked shut.
The Joker had been kind enough, if kind could describe it, to pack all of the various parts of Batman's armor into a box. He even labeled it: “The Bat” covered every inch of cardboard in wild red script.
Bruce got into his feet awkwardly then, body protesting in every way possible. That's when he noticed one of the Joker's famous calling cards pinned to the fabric over his heart. Bruce shuddered at the words, and finally he could no longer help himself. He doubled over, spilling sick onto the gravel below him, as the card fluttered from his hands and gently landed onto the ground:
“Thanks for the good time, stud. Call me when you wanna PLAY again - The Joker”
Edited to fix a rougue punctuation mark, haha
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Always happy to write smut, lolol
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Hope s/he likes it :D
Thanks for the compliment!
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DEAR LORD WAS THAT HOT! gah, i feel like a need a cigarette after reading that and I don't even smoke. thank you so much for fulfilling my request.
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You're quite welcome.
This was a wonderful idea, this meme.
Glad you were (*ahem*) satisfied with my reply. ;D
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