Mary Jane Watson x Bruce Wayne

Summary: Mary Jane Watson, part-time model and journalist. Bruce Wayne, billionaire prince of Gotham. What happens when these two meeting during a turbulent time of MJ and Peter's relationship? 

Let's just say Peter won't exactly be getting his girl back.

**********

Spider-Man: The City That Never Sleeps, a long expected story between Peter Parker and Felicia Hardy AKA the Black Cat. She convinced him they had a kid together. She convinced him to act on her whim.

All the while Mary Jane Watson sat at the sidelines.

All the while Mary Jane Watson let loose a certain piece of information during the story.

Mary Jane Watson sat cross-legged on her couch, her phone warm in her hand as she stared at the screen. She’d been dialing Peter before she even realized what she was doing.

“Hey, MJ.”  

His voice hit her ear like the last rays of summer sunlight. However, she had to focus. See, before this, she had been acting...less than rational regarding Pete and Felicia. She had been jealous. Angry. And now, she wanted to apologize.

Apologizing for Mary Jane Watson was not easy.

“First things first—head to this address,” MJ said, voice firm, rattling it off like a seasoned pro. She’d pulled it from a reliable source, one she’d grilled for hours. Well, bribed with coffee and sarcasm, but that was practically the same thing. “It’s the last-known address of the Costa family safe house. If my source is right, they have the final data drive.”  

“MJ, listen—”  

“No, you listen.” She cut him off, words rushing out before she could stop them. But she couldn’t help it. It had been eating at her ever since their last conversation. “I kind of over-reacted the last time we talked.”  

“Not at all,” Peter shot back, his voice climbing over the rush of wind. “You reacted exactly how I would have—”  

“We weren’t together at the time.” MJ steamrolled over his chivalry. “And it’s not like I didn’t date other people.”  

There it was.

Other people.

The words were out. Too casual, too breezy. She didn't comprehend what she said until Peter's confusion.

“Right,” Peter said, and there was the faintest pause before his next words. “Wait, you dated ‘people,’ like, like plural…?”  

She winced. Her brain screamed at her to backpedal, to smooth things over, but instead, she leaned into it. Better to push through.  

“The point is,” MJ said, waving a hand to no one, “we’re adults. And there’s a kid in danger—so let’s get to saving him.”  

There was silence on his end. For half a heartbeat, she thought maybe she’d overplayed her hand. Then his voice came back, softer.  

“I don’t deserve you.”  

Her heart did a little somersault, but she didn’t let it show. “I know,” she said coolly, pressing the power button on her phone and ending the call before he could ruin it.  

She exhaled slowly, her grip on the phone loosening. Her gaze drifted to the far end of the living room. 'Adults, huh?' The words echoed in her head. She meant them, sure, but part of her knew she was throwing Peter off his game. He was always so… earnest. It wasn’t that she didn’t love him—she did. But it was complicated.  

Her thumb hovered over her contacts list. Peter Parker was a great boyfriend, truly. Dependable, kind, funny, and, well, Spider-Man. But in the bedroom? Let’s just say his talents lay elsewhere.  

She scrolled down, her eyes landing on a certain name. She didn’t click it, didn’t dare, but her mind wandered anyway. Him. Mr. “Absolutely Ruined Me for Other Men.” The guy whose sheer presence made her knees weak, whose cock she still occasionally thought about late at night. That man had set the bar so high Peter was still fumbling to reach it.  

MJ shook her head, a wry smile creeping across her lips. She could practically hear Peter’s nervous voice in her head, asking, “Wait, like, plural?” Poor guy. He had no idea.  

But this wasn’t about that. Not now, anyway. There was a kid out there who needed saving, and she’d work with Peter, whatever it took. Still, as she tucked her phone away and grabbed her laptop, she couldn’t help but feel a little twinge of satisfaction. 'Adults, Pete. We’re adults.'  

And if being an adult meant occasionally revisiting memories of him while also being with Peter, well… She’d deal with that.

***

It was years ago. A month passed since her break-up with Peter. How many men had she hooked up with in that time?

...numbers wouldn't do it justice.

Peter had a Boyfriend Dick. Nothing wrong with it, it was a respectable four inches long and decently thick.

Vacation Dick was exactly what it sounded like: much bigger than a Boyfriend Dick and unrealistic for long term use. Like a vacation, it was better used every now and again.

Hook Up Dick was bigger than even the Vacation Dick. Why? Because it was a one and done deal where you go for the great dick and nothing else. While Vacation Dick would work as a narrow substitute  Boyfriend Dick would not. The gap in size was too vast. 

Seriously, imagine flirting with a guy, brushing shoulders with him, making remarks about his body, only for him to drop his pants and spring out a four inch cock. No offence to Peter, of course, but that would be a complete waste of any party girl's time, and Mary Jane Watson, from high school to college, was a party girl.

“The name's Paul—”

“Not interested.”

More guys came and she sat there, wanting to sigh and leave. She was no longer in New York, she was in Gotham. She was doing her degree in journalism and, well, one thing led to another and she was here. In jeans and a black t-shirt shirt, red hair tied back, and a complete smoke show.

She swirled the cocktail in her hand as she tried to tune out the overly eager voice of the man beside her.

“So, I was saying, I’ve got a loft in Tribeca,” the guy—what was his name? Trent? Trevor?—prattled on, leaning in far closer than necessary. “Floor-to-ceiling windows, killer view. You should come by sometime.”

MJ forced a polite smile, her patience wearing thinner with each passing second. She’d already declined his offer for a drink three times, but the man clearly wasn’t getting the hint. She eyed his crotch. Yep, as a certified party girl, she could say this man was the same as Peter: Boyfriend Dick.

“That sounds...great,” she said, her tone laced with enough sarcasm to hopefully send him packing.

It didn’t.

“You have a model look about you,” he added, his eyes scanning her in a way that made her skin crawl. “Bet you’ve heard that before, huh?”

'Yeah, about a million times,' she thought, gripping her glass tighter.

Just as she opened her mouth to deliver a sharp rebuttal, a deep, velvety voice cut through the noise.

“She has, but not from anyone worth her time.”

MJ turned toward the voice, her irritation melting into curiosity. The man standing there was tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed in a tailored black blazer with white pants that probably cost more than her rent. Dark hair, piercing blue eyes, and a jawline so sharp it could cut glass—he looked like he’d stepped straight out of a magazine.

Her eyes dipped down.

Not boyfriend, not Vacation Dick...

'Hook Up Dick.'

How did she know? Call it a woman's intuition. Her thighs rubbed together.

“Bruce Wayne,” he introduced himself, holding out a hand to her and completely ignoring the now-awkward Trent-or-Trevor.

MJ took his hand, her brows lifting slightly. “Mary Jane Watson.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Mary Jane,” Bruce said, his lips curling into a small, confident smile.

The guy beside her stammered something about needing to be somewhere and slunk off, leaving MJ alone with Bruce.

“Well, you have my gratitude,” she said, raising her glass. “That guy was relentless.”

“I couldn’t stand by and let you suffer,” Bruce replied smoothly, signaling to the bartender. “Can I buy you a drink?”

She hesitated for a moment, studying him. She’d heard the name before—everyone had. Bruce Wayne, billionaire philanthropist, Gotham’s golden boy. But seeing him in person was something else entirely.

Especially because he was the total opposite of Peter. Where Peter had personality, this man had classic arrogance of a rich man. Where Peter had superpowers, this man was ordinary.

'Where Pete has a Boyfriend Dick...'

Well, that was what she was here for. Partially anyway.

“Sure,” she said finally. “Why not?”

Bruce ordered for both of them, a neat whiskey for himself and a refill of her cocktail. As they waited, he turned his attention back to her.

“So, what brings you to Gotham?” he asked.

“Work,” she replied, resting her chin in her hand. “I’m a rookie journalist under a mentor. I’m here chasing a lead.”

“Ah, a journalist,” he said, his smile widening slightly. “Beautiful and ambitious. Dangerous combination.”

She chuckled, tilting her head. “And what about you? Billionaire playboy—what’s that like?”

“Exhausting,” he said with mock seriousness. “Though it has its perks. Like meeting fascinating people at bars.”

Their drinks arrived, and MJ took a sip, letting the warmth of the alcohol settle in her chest. She wasn’t usually one to fall for charmers, but something about Bruce was different. He was confident but not overbearing, charming but not sleazy. And, of course, the whole “richest guy in Gotham” thing didn’t hurt.

“So,” she said, setting her glass down. “Do you use that line often? The whole ‘saving women from obnoxious men’ thing?”

“Only when it works,” he replied, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

She laughed, genuinely this time, and for the first time that night, she felt herself relaxing.

An hour later, they were walking out of the bar together, the cool night air brushing against her skin. Bruce led her to the curb, where an impossibly sleek black car was waiting.

“Nice ride,” MJ said, arching a brow. Peter didn't even have a car, he rode on a scooter.

“Thanks,” Bruce replied, opening the door for her. “Want to see how it handles?”

She hesitated for a moment, glancing down the street toward her hotel. But then she looked back at Bruce, at the way he stood there, confident and unhurried, like a man who always got what he wanted.

“Why not?” she said with a grin, sliding into the passenger seat.

The interior of the car was just as luxurious as she’d expected—soft leather, subtle lighting, the faint scent of expensive cologne. Way, way different than what Mary Jane Watson of the middle class could offer. Bruce slid in beside her, and moments later, they were gliding through the city streets, the hum of the engine almost silent.

He had his own driver. Damn.

“So, what’s your story, Bruce Wayne?” she asked, turning to face him. “What’s a guy like you doing in a place like that?”

“Sometimes, even billionaires need a break from the boardroom,” he said, glancing at her with a smirk. “And sometimes, they get lucky enough to meet someone worth their time.”

She rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t help but smile. “Smooth.”

“I try,” he said, his voice softening.

As the car sped through the city, MJ found herself relaxing even further. Bruce was easy to talk to, easy to be around. And for the first time in a long time, she felt like she wasn’t carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.

She didn’t know where the night would lead, but one thing was certain: Bruce Wayne was going to make her time in Gotham very interesting.

Eye contact was made. Her eyes went down to his crotch. Fuck, she could see how tight it was. How big it was.

A hand found its way on her thigh. Smirking, she pulled him into a kiss.

Bruce Wayne happily accepted.

"Mm...so eager," Bruce said after a brief pause. MJ just smirked and continued. While her hand slid from his thigh to his crotch, their lips were locked and wringing in a passionate kiss. MJ moaned softly into his mouth, her fingers threading through his hair. Bruce's hands explored her curves, igniting a fire within her that she couldn't control.

Oh yeah, she was going to fuck this man. Sorry Peter.

Suddenly, she was straddling him, hotly making out with this total stranger. Her black t-shirt was without a bra so her full D-cups were pressed to him. It was why so many men approached her: those boobs were obviously not contained by silly little undergarments. Meaning, she was looking for something.

The door opened. A butler, maybe. Breathing heavily, the evening air entering the limo, MJ haughtily pulled away. "Already here, hm?" she whispered, her breath hot against his ear. "Or do you want to stay here and fuck?"

The answer? Smack. MJ let out a chilly breath when his hand came upon her jean-tight ass and squeezed. "Inside," Bruce murmured, smirking. "Now."

Oh. Oh god. Was that his cock rubbing against her stomach? Mary Jane Watson, ex-girlfriend to the great Spider-Man, was lit aflame by greed.

Greed for a big, fat cock.  

******

They kissed. They groped. They breathed onto each other. Then, while massaging that big cock of his, Mary Jane stopped in the hallway. "Mm, so big, aren't you? Some sort of rich man secret?"

“You have a boyfriend?”

“Had one.”

Bruce smacked the dumptruck ass the way it was supposed to be. "Past tense, hm? An ordinary man, I presume?" Throb, throb, twitch, twitch. His white pants were bulging tight, a thick member running down his thigh. It rose. It poked her.

'Mm, Peter's cock never did anything like this.'

Grinding up against Peter, she would have to cup and squeeze his cock. But this thing...this monster cock....

A giggle. "You presume correct. His cock was much smaller than yours is."

"Who said anything about size?"

Smirking, MJ slithered and crouched down in front of him, her fingers dancing lightly over his white pants.

Ziiiip!

Down came the zipper and then...yank!

"Ah!"

Thwap!

A huge eight inch cock flopped onto her face. Mary Jane Watson was a party girl. Before Peter, she had seen her own fair share of cocks. But this thing...

She could only smile and go wide-eyed.

"It's bigger than ex-boyfriend's," Mary Jane remarked, "and while flaccid too. What do you feed this thing, tiger?"

Her hands wrapped around it. Her fingers didn't connect. So unlike Peter's. So much bigger and better. She began stroking. Her technique was flawless and fast. From base to tip her hands went. There was no fear, no shock, only respect and love. Mary Jane Watson was the type to say, "The bigger, the better." 

The bigger the scoop, the better her reputation.

The bigger the cock, the better the pleasure.

Same principals. Same outcomes. It was why Peter fell in love her: the redhead model-journalist was truly a woman of principal. Smiling, she removed one hand, stuck out her tongue, and erotically licked the palm. She immediately got back to jerking him off.

Bruce let out a small breath. Schlap, schlap, schlap! "Careful," he warned, his voice strained. "Or we might never make it to the bed."

Slowly, he got hard. Slowly, her eyes widened with more enthusiasm. From eight inches, Bruce Wayne grew to twelve inches. A foot-long monster cock that was over double that Peter's size. Yes, that's right, Spider-Man was only five and a half inches. She heard complain once or twice about how the spider-bite did nothing for his dick size and that on some patrols, he encountered men in alleyways fucking their girlfriends with huge cocks.

So much jealousy. At the same, she would kiss his balls, suck him, and extract a nut to tell him everything was okay. She was a professional at it.

"Who said anything about the bed?"

Mary Jane Watson smirked like the devil. Without another word, her tongue met the tip of his cock and the billionaire went slack.

The first swirl of her tongue, targetting every inch of cockhead earned a groan and a stumble. They were in the hall right beside Bruce Wayne's room. It was a big, lonely mansion so to be loud here was okay. Mary Jane could lick his cock like a lollipop and make him moan like a little girl and nobody would say anything. His old man butler wouldn't say anything. To the contrary, he probably knew what his master was up to and allowed it.

"Ngghh~! Y-you slut....!"

"Haahhh....!" Mouth open, she showed her steamy saliva and flexible tongue. "Aw, too much?"

Then she got back to it. She didn't suck him off, she was pleasuring him. Teasing his cumhole, wetting the underside of his glans, doing whatever she could to cause and applying everything she had learned. His cock was fucking big though. She had to stretch her mouth like never before.

"Mmmmh~! Sshh's like two Peters....!" 

MJ's expert ministrations brought him quickly to spurt out pre-cum, his massive cock jutting out proudly. She didn't just want to use her tongue. Soon, her hands joined in. It was a double-handed twisting jerk-off maneuver that against Peter and every one of her hook-ups would make them cum in one minute.

Bruce lasted much longer than a minute. He lasted over two minutes. A record.

Schlap, schlap, schlap!

Bruce grit his teeth, his back to the wall for support. Her head bobbed up and down his cock. Her hands cast a balls-emptying spell on him. "You were taught well. Nngh!"

"Mwah!" She kissed the tip of his cock. So far, she had not dared to deepthroat or really suck him off. She was doing something new. Through hooded eyes, she smirked up at him. This hot, slutty redhead and her damn tongue....

Bruce throbbed so hard that the tip of his cock smeared pre-cum all over her tongue. MJ's reaction? She licked her lips, laughed, and casually proceeded to suck him off.

"Y-you redheads....! Fuck....!"

The sudden change in tactics threw him for a loop. Her hands working in tandem with her mouth to bring him closer to the edge. Bruce's hips bucked involuntarily, his control slipping with every passing second. MJ reveled in his reactions and one hand went down to stroke his balls.

One hand jerking him off, a tongue sucking him off, and one hand massaging his balls.

Who the fuck was crazy enough to break up with this woman?

"God... yes..." Bruce growled "Don't stop... don't you fucking stop..."

MJ's heart raced with excitement, knowing she had him completely under her spell. She increased her pace, sucking him off more aggressive and jerking him harder and harder. The throbbing of his cock was insane. Redder and harder and bigger than anything MJ had ever experienced.

'P-Peter is so much smaller and lesser than this! Mmmppph, are they even of the same species!?'

A five inch cock versus a twelve inch cock. A slender little thing versus a 2L coke bottle. The way she had do everything was different.  

"Cumming!"

Even his cum was different. Each spurt and shot of cum was thicker than a teaspoon, thicker than anything Peter had every given her. MJ swallowed every drop eagerly, her eyes locked on his as he came undone in her mouth.

"Mmmppph~!"

However, again, this was different. She couldn't anticipate or adapt. Cum burst out and even though she kept trying, she failed. Bruce Wayne was spitting out webs of cum and Mary Jane Watson just couldn't keep up.

In that moment of draining his balls, she finally glanced down at his family jewels.

Well. No fucking wonder the Wayne family was worshipped here. One nut, one plant of their seeds and their genes would sprout.  

When he finally relaxed, MJ pulled away, wiping her lips with the back of her hand. Thick lines of cum fell everywhere. MJ kept that classic smile of hers, however. "Well?" she asked, sultry and horny. "Was it good for you?"

Bruce's breathing was still uneven. "The best I've ever had," he admitted grudgingly.

MJ grinned triumphantly. "Then maybe we should see how long you can last next time."

...

...

...

The Wayne Manor's walls were thick. If a man and woman were nude and doing what they did, the chances of being heard was low.

"CUMMING! CUMMING! YOU FUCKING STUUUD, YOU'RE MAKING ME ORGASM LIKE A WHOOOORE~!"

Hot damn.

Those chances did not apply to do this nude couple. Hot damn. That was the only other way to describe the sloppy, sweaty lovemaking occurring in the Wayne Manor.

"Unh! Nnnnghhh! Yes, yes, yes, yes, yesssshh~!"

A huge cock and a fat booty bouncing along with it. Every time, the cock disappeared as if her hole was already rearranged to fit for it. As if her very purpose to fuck this meatstick and revel in it.

"SO! MUCH! BIGGER~! HAAAH~! NNNGHHH! THIS IS A REAL COCK!"

Mary Jane’s hips snapped down onto him with a force that made the bed frame creak. His hands gripped her waist tightly, fingers digging into the soft curve of her hips as she rode him like a woman possessed. Her fiery red hair cascaded down her back in wild waves, strands sticking to her glistening skin as she threw her head back, letting out a moan that was part pleasure, part triumph.

Bruce Wayne was known to participate in many extracurricular activities. Sky-diving, rock-climbing, you name it, he did it.

"T-this damn slut...!"

Here was one advantage with fucking Spider-Man: building stamina. Peter had a lot of stamina. So did Mary Jane. She could fuck for hours without stopping.

Thrust!

"Gah!"

So could Bruce. More than that, he could read her. He could understand her. Unlike Peter, he was skilled at sex!

Thrust, thrust, thrust!

CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—!

"C-C-C-CUMMIIIING~!"

"Hrn." Bruce smirked. Now he was in control. Arms behind his head, he casually thrusted and casually made her cum. Peter "Just how long have you gone without dick?"

"Haahhh~! Hnnnghhh~! T-three days! Three days~!"

"Was that with your boyfriend?"

"N-noooo~! A hook-up! A manwhore at college!"

"Poor guy."

Mary Jane was a dick-riding beast. Through his thrusts, she recovered, so Bruce grabbed her hips and thrust harder. Mary Jane was weakened, unable to help herself against his rocketing hips. That recoil on that booty though! God, he couldn't get enough of it.

Gasping and moaning, eyes wild and teary, Mary Jane leaned forward slightly, her palms pressing against Bruce’s broad chest, feeling the taut muscles beneath her fingertips. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her heart pounding so hard she thought it might burst. Every bounce of her hips sent shockwaves through her, the fullness of him stretching her in ways she hadn’t imagined possible. God, he was huge. The thought flickered through her mind, but she didn’t linger on it—she couldn’t. All she could focus on was the way he filled her completely, the way his thick cock hit every single spot inside her with unerring precision.

Bruce’s eyes were locked on hers, dark and intense, almost predatory. He wasn’t just watching her; he was studying her, memorizing every hitch of her breath, every twitch of her body as she moved on top of him. His jaw clenched as he fought to keep control, but it was slipping fast. Spider-Man—Peter—had barely lasted a few minutes when she did this. She mentioned it at the start.

But Bruce? Bruce was different. Bruce tempered himself. He did not rely on natural ability. He relied on self-discipline.

Jumping and bouncing on dicks was something MJ was an expert on, so eventually, he removed his hands from her hips and let her do her thing. In fact, he stopped fucking her all together and waited. Panting, gasping, MJ giggled through the strands of her hair.

"You're gonna regret that."

"Trust me..." Smack! Jiggle, jiggle, jiggle. The audio of slapping her ass was more than enough. "I won't."

CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—!

"Haahhh~! Fucking hell....!" Mary Jane stared down at the billionaire who appeared unfazed. "Just who, haaah, are you?"

He responded with classic, hedonistic Wayne smirk. "Hrn."    

MJ’s thighs burned with exertion, but she didn’t slow down. Instead, she ground her hips harder against him, rolling her pelvis in tight circles that drew a low groan from deep within his chest. A different way of fucking. Slower yet equally as passionate.

“You like that?” she purred. She already knew the answer, but she wanted to hear it again, needed to know she was driving him as crazy as he was driving her. "This is what I did for Peter when he wanted to cum as fast as possible."

Bruce’s hands slid up her sides, calloused fingers brushing over her ribs before cupping her breasts. He squeezed gently, thumbs grazing over her stiffened nipples, and MJ let out a sharp cry, her nails scraping lightly against his chest.

Her breasts were big. D-cups, he suspected, worthy of a redhead supermodel.

"Can't believe that idiot broke up with you."

"Actually, I broke up with him." She smirked, her confidence surging as she watched the usually composed billionaire unravel beneath her. “You see,” she whispered, leaning down to nip at his earlobe, "I only deal with men that can handle me. I deal with hung studs."

Her words ignited something in him, and suddenly Bruce flipped them, pinning her beneath him. MJ laughed as if expecting this. Oh yes, Peter did this often with his super strength. Bruce, it seemed, could do the same. She gasped almost immediately, back arching as he thrust, his cock buried deep inside her. But before she could tease or flirt, he was kissing her, his mouth hot and demanding against hers, swallowing her moans as his hips began to move.

She orgasmed.

In that orgasm, that MJ found herself thinking back to how this had all started. Just one month ago, she had been with Spider-Man. A literal superhero. Fucking him, sighing when he muttered he was about cum early, and ending in disappointment.

Then and now, during sex, there was always disappointment.

So through the guise of saying he was overprotective, she broke up with him.

And now she was here in a billionaire's manor. She didn’t care about the ethics. About the men that came before or after. All she cared about was proving to Peter that was more than him.

Mary Jane Watson was not tied to Peter Parker. She was tied to herself. She could fuck, mate, and breed with whoever she wanted. That was what it meant to be a person.

Let Peter see what he’d been missing. Let him watch as Bruce brought her to heights Peter never could.

MJ’s hands clutched at the sheets as Bruce shifted positions again, pulling her legs up over his shoulders as he pounded her. "Ngghhhh~! Cummiiiiing~!" Her toes curled, her entire body trembling as the pressure built inside her, coiling tighter and tighter until she thought she might shatter. “Oh God,” she whimpered, her voice breaking as the first wave of her orgasm crashed over her, dragging her under.

Folded up like a pretzel and getting fucked was new.

'Twelve inches of cock, twelve inches of cock...' Gasp and a moan. 'Twelve inches of cooockkk!'

She was hooked. That was the only way to describe Mary Jane with her eyes rolled back and her tongue lolled out. Her voice couldn't scream as it did before. If only it could.

Bruce groaned, his pace faltering for just a moment as he felt her pussy clench around him. “So damn tight! Your boyfriend really didn't fuck you properly, hm?"

"Hnnnhh~!"

Thrust!

"Y-yes! H-he couldn't FUCK me PROPERLY~! Gah! Bruce! BRUCE! CUMMING!"

She screamed his name as the second wave hit, her back arching off the bed as pleasure surged through her, drowning out everything else. Bruce wasn’t far behind, his thrusts becoming erratic. His balls tightened. "Gonna cum....!" When it finally hit him, it was with a force that left them both gasping, his seed spilling deep inside her as she milked every last drop from him.

MJ barely remembered anything after that. She was too busy riding out the aftershocks.

But she could remember was that they definitely didn't stop. No, they fucked way into the night until the sun rose and they had to sleep through the afternoon.

When she woke up, she decided to leave the bed and take a shower. She went nude too. No clothes. She recalled how cold it was and how her boobs jiggled when she ran to the open bathroom door.

She was barely able to turn on the shower when she heard it.

Thwap! Thwap! Thwap!

A swinging cock. Bruce Wayne.  

Mary Jane giggled when he arrived. Bruce Wayne, six-foot-three and two hundred pounds. Much bigger than Peter and not just in the cock department. In comparison, MJ was 5'8 with a slim busty build and weighing 120 lbs.

In other words, when he walked in and she looked at him, they looked like the perfect couple. A tall, hung male and a beautiful big-titty female.

She had that look—the one that made Bruce think she was about to do something wildly unpredictable.

"Well, well, well. Couldn't keep yourself away from me, hm?"

Bruce entered the shower to see what she would do. "Thought you ran off to your boyfriend," he said. "A bit unwise, wouldn't you say? His cock won't be able to fuck you at all."

"He's got a good heart."

"A good heart doesn't make up for a good cock."

MJ put a hand on her hip, smirking and facing him. She was a gorgeous pale woman. Hard on the eyes only because she was the full package. Big boobs, a dumptruck ass, and an amazing, flashy smile.

Bruce was a handsome man for sure. Jacked and muscled. Mary Jane was used to that though. What mattered about Wayne was his cock, still flaccid but undeniably impressive, hanging heavy between his legs. Eight inches of soft flesh, thick and imposing, even at rest. It was a stark contrast to Peter’s six-inch erection, which now felt like child’s play compared to this.

Mary Jane’s breath hitched, her gaze dropping involuntarily to the sight before her. Peter who? she thought, a sly smile tugging at her lips. "If that's the case," she said softly, stepping closer, her bare feet squelching on the wet tiles. "Then do you want do, Mister?"

The shower was on. Raining down on them, wettening them, making everything hotter. Her words hung in the steamy air like a dare, and Bruce couldn’t help but chuckle under his breath. He watched her with those piercing blue eyes that seemed to see right through her. He knew what she was thinking, and damn if it didn’t turn him on.

Mary Jane took another step forward, her fingers trailing lightly down his chest, skimming over the ridges of muscle beneath the water-slicked skin. She looked up at him through her lashes, her green eyes glinting with that same teasing confidence that always drove him wild. "Wanna fuck?"

"Hrn."

And then, without another word, she dropped to her knees.

The moment her knees hit the wet floor and she grabbed his cock, Bruce let out a slow, appreciative groan. Almost immediately, he was at full past. Almost immediately, he wanted her to do something.

She did.

Mary Jane jerked him off strongly. She tilted her head, studying him with curious, hungry eyes, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. Jerking him off was just...heavenly. Having a big fat cock to play with was just so much fun.

"God, Bruce," she whispered, more to herself than to him, "you’re… massive."

Her voice was awestruck, almost reverent, and it sent a jolt of heat straight through him. She wasn’t exaggerating—even flaccid, his cock was more than Peter, the kind of size that made men jealous and women gasp. And right now, it was all hers to explore.

Slowly, deliberately, her tongue slid upward, tracing along the underside of his glans. Her hands kept going, stroking him relentlessly. Two different paces, two different methods of pleasure. He could feel every inch of her hands and her tongue, every millimeter of pressure, as she explored him like she was uncovering some long-lost treasure.

"Jesus, MJ," Bruce growled, a hand flat on the shower wall for support. He wasn’t used to feeling so… vulnerable. But with her down there, her tongue making his cock feel tiny, he felt like he was about to combust.

"Haah...!" Then she swallowed his cock, taking five inches with ease. Then she went deeper, eight inches.

Holy fuck, this redhead was phenomenal.

Lips stretched into an O-shape, her fuck-me eyes locking onto his. "You like that?" she teased, without saying it. His chest rose and fell faster now. If she keep looking at him like that, he was not gonna last long. His giant cock throbbed and her only response was a throaty chuckle. She drew in a breath. The smell of him—clean, masculine, intoxicating—sent a shiver down her spine.

She pulled back until her lips were smooching his cock. Until she split away and gave a kiss. "Mwah...!"

The first touch of her lips was like fire, igniting every nerve in his balls. Bruce stared down at her. Mary Jane slammed down on him.

No woman had ever taken his cock balls-deep this fast.

Mary Jane Watson did.

Her mouth glided effortlessly up and down his length. Up and down, up and down. Somehow, she wasn’t rushing, wasn’t trying to get him off quickly—she was savoring it, taking her time, letting him feel every millisecond of her attention. Slow withdrawals and insertions of his cock.

Her tongue swirled around him, hot and wet, as her hands came up to cup his balls, gently kneading them. The dual sensation was almost too much to bear, and Bruce he fought to stay upright.

"You… you’ve done this before."

She pulled off him just long enough to give him a smirk, her cheeks hollowed as she prepared to take him deeper. "Only the best," she replied, her tone dripping with confidence. And then she swallowed him whole, her lips sealing tightly around the base of his cock as she took him all the way in.

Bruce’s entire body tensed, his toes curling against the wet tiles as he felt himself slide deeper into her throat. She wasn’t gagging, wasn’t struggling—it was like she was born to do this, her muscles working perfectly in sync to accommodate him.

"Christ," he grunted, his voice almost a growl now. "You’re incredible."

Mary Jane hummed around him, the vibrations driving him insane, as she began to pick up the pace. Her hands moved to the base of his shaft, stroking in tandem with her mouth as she double-teamed him, her movements precise and unrelenting.

Bruce’s vision blurred, his thoughts scattering as the pleasure threatened to overwhelm him. He could feel the tension building in his balls, the telltale signs of an impending orgasm creeping up on him. And yet, he didn’t want this to end—not yet. Not when she was giving him something so exquisite, so undeniably perfect.

"MJ," he groaned, his voice breaking as he tried to find the words to tell her to slow down. But she wasn’t listening. If anything, she was speeding up, her mouth and hands working in perfect harmony to drive him closer to the edge. Her hair clung to her face in wet strands, her cheeks flushed, and her eyes locked onto his as if daring him to stop her. But he wasn’t going to. He couldn’t. Not when she was this close, not when every movement of her lips threatened to unravel him completely.

She plunged down on him again and again. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, the water pounding against his skin doing nothing to cool the fire building inside him. She moaned softly around him, the sound vibrating through his length, and he nearly lost it right then and there.

"Jesus Christ," he gasped, his hips bucking slightly as he tried to hold himself back. But she wasn’t having it. Her hands tightened around his base, steadying him as she pulled back, only to dive down again. Over and over, she worked him, her mouth and throat relentless in their pursuit of his climax.

And then it hit him. A wave of pleasure so intense it felt like it might drown him. His entire body tensed, his toes and balls curling as he felt the first surge of his release. MJ must have sensed it too because her movements changed, becoming even more deliberate as she swallowed every last drop, her throat convulsing around him as she took it all.

For a moment, neither of them moved. The world outside the shower stall seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them in that quiet, intimate space. Bruce stared down at her, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. She looked up at him, her lips swollen and glistening, and smiled.

"Mm, and still hard?" she said with a flicker of her eyes. "Want to keep going?"

She stood up and walked behind him.

He didn’t argue. How could he? Not when she was looking at him like that, her fuck-me eyes so heavy with lust it almost hurt to look at her. Instead, he stepped closer, letting her work her magic.

Her hands slid over his shoulders, down his chest, pausing to tweak his nipples before continuing lower. When they reached his hips, she hesitated for just a moment, her fingers tracing the curve of his hipbones before she gripped him firmly. She was jerking him off for another loud.

Bruce grunted, his cock twitching at the sensation of her hands on him. She was so soft, so warm, and goddamn it, she knew exactly what she was doing. Her hands squeezed, her fingers stroking him with a rhythm that left him breathless.

"Haah....you want another load?"

"I told you," MJ said, "I only deal with big cocks." Her other hand slid between them, her fingers finding her clit and pressing hard. She was leaning heavily against him now, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps as she pushed herself closer to the edge.

"Then let this big cock fuck you."

He didn’t hesitate. With one swift turn, he lifted her, her legs wrapping around his waist as he pressed her against the tiled wall. Her gasp was loud in the small space, the sound swallowed by the rush of water as he sank into her in one smooth thrust.

They both cried out at the same time, the intensity of the connection hitting them like a freight train. Bruce buried his face in the crook of her neck, his cock fully inside this tight pussy. He grunted and then began to move, his thrusts deep and deliberate.

MJ clung to him, her nails digging into his shoulders as she met each of his thrusts with equal intensity. "Haaahhh~! Hnnhghhh! Yesssss! That's it, tiger! Come on!" Her breath came in shallow pants, her voice breaking as she whispered words he could barely make out. But he didn’t need to hear them to know what she was saying. He could feel it in the way her body trembled against his, in the way her walls tightened around him with every thrust.

"Bruce! Bruce! Bruuuce!" MJ moaned, her voice cracking as she threw her head back. "God, I’m gonna—"

Her words were cut off by a strangled cry as her orgasm hit her. Bruce held her tightly, his own release building as he continued to move, driving them both higher and higher until he finally tipped over the edge, his body jerking as he spilled inside her.

How long did they last? Thirty seconds. Thirty seconds of quick, rapid thrusts and desperation.

Yet, when Bruce lowered MJ to the ground, leaned into him, her forehead resting against his chest as she let out a shaky laugh. "That," she sighed, "that was better than anything I ever had with Peter."

A moment later, a knock came on the bathroom door and that was the end of that. Bruce had to go to a meeting and MJ had to meet up with her co-op mentor.

They never saw each other again. MJ came back to Peter and that was the end of that.

Right?

*****

After the Black Cat incident, after the whole ordeal with Hammerhead, it was time to think again.

Mary Jane Watson sat on the edge of her bed, tapping her manicured nails against the phone in her hand. The dim glow of her bedside lamp cast a soft light over her New York apartment, highlighting the travel guidebooks and folders of research scattered across her desk. Symkaria. A country in turmoil, on the brink of collapse, and the perfect subject for her next groundbreaking story. If only she could get there.

"Peter, this would be huge," she'd told him earlier that day, pacing the living room as he perched on the couch, mask in hand and worry etched on his face. "This isn’t just about Hammerhead anymore. It’s about the bigger picture—how his operations tie into the conflict there. If I can report on this firsthand, it could change everything."

He’d nodded, his usual supportive self, but then came the inevitable: "I’d help if I could, MJ, but…"

She’d cut him off with a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I know, Pete. You’re saving lives, not raking in cash. Don’t worry, I’ll figure it out."

And now, here she was. Figuring it out. Or more specifically, scrolling through her contacts and landing on the one person who could make this happen: Bruce.

'Bruce.' Just thinking his name made her lips curve into a smirk. He wasn’t just rich—he was obscenely, disgustingly wealthy. The kind of guy who could buy a private jet on a whim and still have enough left over for an island.

She wasn't cheating or even thinking of cheating. She was just...asking for a favour. From an ex. A hung ex. That was all.

She tapped the call button and waited, the phone pressed to her ear. When his deep, familiar voice answered....

"So you picked up. Hello, Bruce."

...she didn’t even try to hide the sultry edge in her tone.

"Mary Jane Watson." His voice carried that effortless charm she remembered so well. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

She bit her lip, leaning back against the headboard and letting her voice drop just enough to make her intent clear. "I need a favor."

"Don’t you always?" he teased, though she could hear the amusement in his voice.

"This one’s big," she admitted, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. "I need to get to Symkaria. Like, yesterday. Flights, accommodations, the whole thing."

There was a pause on the other end, and for a moment she wondered if she’d miscalculated. But then he spoke, his tone laced with curiosity. "Symkaria? You’re not exactly the war correspondent type, MJ. What’s this about?"

She launched into her pitch, explaining the story, the stakes, and why it mattered. She painted a vivid picture of the chaos, the human suffering, the untold stories waiting to be uncovered. By the time she finished, she could practically hear him smiling.

"Still in journalism, hm? I did enjoy hearing you attack about it."

Right, she mentioned it when he switched from fucking her pussy to her anus.

"Does that mean you’ll help?" she asked, her voice sweet and hopeful.

"Of course," he said smoothly. "I’ll have my assistant book everything. First class, naturally. But…"

She tensed. There was always a "but."

"I think we should discuss this in person," he continued. "I'm already at a hotel in New York. We can go over the details."

Her lips curved into a grin. "I’d love to."

An hour later, MJ stood in front of her mirror, adjusting the neckline of her dress. It was one of her favorites—sleek, black, and just revealing enough to make an impression. She smoothed her hair, applied a final coat of lipstick, and stepped into her heels.

'This is just business,' she reminded herself as she grabbed her clutch and headed out the door. 'Flirting is part of the job.'

Still, she couldn’t deny the thrill of it. The way her heart raced as she pulled up to the hotel. Up the elevator she went, guided by the butler named Alfred. The same man who drove her to the manor last time and then broke them up.

The door opened. Bruce Wayne was there, his eyes lighting up during the greeting.

"Mary Jane," he said, his gaze lingering appreciatively as he took her in. "You look stunning."

"Thank you," she said, her voice warm. "You’re not so bad yourself."

He led her inside, his hand resting lightly on the small of her back. The hotel was opulent—high ceilings, marble floors, and everything else Peter's home didn't have. He poured them both a glass of wine and they settled into the plush leather couches in his living room.

"So," Bruce said, handing her a glass, "you quit modelling?"

She laughed, taking a sip. "That was only ever part-time. Journalism was my real interest."

"Wasn't it fun? All the attention? The...looks?"

At her ass? Surprisingly, yes.

"Modeling was fun, but it wasn’t... fulfilling. I wanted to do something that mattered."

"And journalism does?" he asked, one brow arched.

"It does for me," she said firmly. "I guess you could say I was inspired by my boyfriend."

"Boyfriend?" Bruce echoed, leaning back with a curious smile. "Oh, yes. You did have one before, didn't you? Is this a new one or...?"

She hesitated for a fraction of a second before shrugging. "The same."

Bruce smirked. "Peter Parker. The photographer."

"You looked him up?"

"Of course I did. No wonder you couldn't compare."

"He’s a good guy," she said, though her tone lacked conviction. She swirled her wine, avoiding his gaze. "Sweet."

"And...?"

"Just sweet."

Just sweet. Not satisfying. Not great.

Bruce chuckled, a low, knowing sound that sent a shiver down her spine. "That’s unfortunate."

"It is what it is," she said lightly, crossing her legs and leaning forward. "But enough about him. Let’s talk about Symkaria."

They spent the next hour discussing logistics—flights, accommodations, contacts on the ground. But beneath the professional veneer, there was an undercurrent of tension. The way his eyes lingered on her, the way her laughter came a little too easily.

When the conversation wound down, Bruce set his glass aside and stood, offering her his hand. "Let me show you something."

She took his hand, letting him lead her through the house. They stopped in front of a massive floor-to-ceiling window that overlooked the city skyline.

"Beautiful, isn’t it?" Bruce said, his voice soft.

"It is," she agreed, though she wasn’t looking at the view.

He turned to her, his gaze intense. "You know, MJ, you’ve always been... extraordinary. I hope your boyfriend appreciates that."

She smiled, stepping closer. "He tries."

Bruce tilted his head, his lips quirking into a smirk. "But not enough?"

She didn’t answer. She didn’t need to.

Instead, she reached up, brushing a strand of hair from his face. "Thank you for helping me with this," she said softly.

"Anything for you," he replied.

Then he grabbed her ass and slapped it. Jiggle, jiggle, jiggle.

MJ did not become angry. No, MJ ended up thinking that sometimes, you had to break the rules to get the story. She let him grab her ass and do much, much more.