dceu_kinkmeme | DCEU Prompt Post #1

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DCEU Prompt Post #1

Welcome to Round One of the DCEU Kink Meme!

Please have a look at the extended rules here.

The important rules in short:

Post anonymously.
Negative comments on other people's prompts (kink-shaming, pairing-bashing etc.) and personal attacks of any kind will not be tolerated.
One prompt per comment. Warnings for common triggers and squicks are encouraged, but not required.
Prompts should follow the format: Character/character, prompt.
Keep prompts to a reasonable length; prompts should not be detailed story outlines.
No prompt spamming.

Please direct any questions to the Ask a mod post. For inspiration: list of kinks .

Prompt, write, draw, comment, and most importantly have fun! Please link to your fills on the fill post.

Here's the discussion post for all your non-prompt/fill needs.

We now have a non-DCEU prompt post for any prompts in other 'verses (comics, animated series, other movies or TV shows etc.).

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Inspired by "Is 'Batman vs Superman' Really Just Lex Luthor's Gay Fanfiction?"
http://uk.complex.com/pop-culture/2016/03/batman-v-superman-is-very-gay

Lex orchestrates things so he can surreptitiously watch Bruce and Clark 'launch themselves into each other’s upsettingly large arms', and then writes about it in his journal while he jerks off.

Bruce and Clark are getting it on, Alfred watches them (probably from another room, but they're aware he's watching).

Bonus if past Bruce/Alfred was a thing or is maybe still an on-and-off-thing, though I don't really ship them as sleeping with each other regularly by the time the movie happens.

Bruce is not the type to say "I love you" or to let anyone say it to him. That doesn't mean he doesn't have other ways of showing that he cares about Clark, and it doesn't mean that Clark won't find other ways of letting Bruce know how he feels about him. Could be a Five Times fic?

Thank you so much, on both fronts! I was really wishing for that edit button after I hit submit.

Inspired by the Bruce/Lex threads over at FFA. Lex wants rough, dirty sex with Bruce, but Bruce doesn't feel comfortable unleashing the kraken on a younger, skinnier, seemingly-super insecure guy.

And Lex can't just tell him to get over it because he's playing a . . . seemingly insecure guy.

Judging by all the press stuff, Henry is a huge flirt. Every time he opens his mouth, a dirty comment comes out.

Eventually, Ben takes him up on all that flirting and kisses him. (Bonus if Henry did not expect that, at all, but is very happy to role with it.)

I can't believe there's no prompt for this yet! ;)

Bruce gives Lex a long, hard bare-bottomed spanking. It would be great if it was actual punishment, but I'll take what I can get.

Bonus for Bruce inserting a butt plug, fingering Lex or milking Lex's prostate afterwards.

Clark hates seeing Bruce's public persona flirt with everyone. He knows Bruce has a reputation to maintain, but that doesn't mean he's not going to fuck Bruce hard and mark him all over to remind him who he belongs to.

Basically, I want PWP where Lex kidnaps Clark and keeps him weak enough with kryptonite that he can't escape... And then has his way with him.

Bonus points if Lex also gets off on being able to make marks on Clark's body, i.e. scraping his nails down his back just hard enough to leave scratches.

Don't care for which one of them, I just have a soft spot for first time with a guy fics. All that inexperience and eagerness and enthusiasm and being overwhelmed by how good it feels. :D

Nonny! OP here, I only just saw this and it's so great. :D

Instead, what he got was every ounce of Batman's laser focus, hot and heavy, and one hundred percent on him. Bruce seemed to regard getting Clark off as a job, and one he intended to do well.
This is so perfectly Bruce, I love it. And the description of Bruce looking feral and vicious, yessss. <3 And Clark getting off fantasising about Bruce bruising him is so hot.

And ooooh, no, they're so bad at communicating, aren't they? Idiots. I'm glad Bruce figured it out anyway. :D

Then again, ever since he got back from the dead, Bruce had been every inch as disgruntled with him, but incredibly bad at telling him no.
Love this line, too. Oh, Bruce. :D And unf, fuck, the sex itself is so hot, love all the descriptions of what Clark feels. And Clark suggesting they fuck on the floor, dfgdifgbd I don't even have words. So fucking hot.

“I’ve got more ideas for next time,” he says, touching his forehead lightly against Bruce’s, and Bruce’s returning grin only lasts for a fraction of second, but it’s filthy.
Does that mean you also ahve more ideas for next time, anon author? Because I'd love to read more from you. :D Are you going to link this on the fill post, too? Would be a pity if people missed it.

Man, however the hell it has to happen (extended dream vision? interfacing with freaky Kryptonian tech? horrible Kryptonian zombies? Lex getting waylaid from the whole "make Batman and Superman fight" plot by his own huge issues with metahumans and theology?) but I totally want to see more weird stuff with Lex creeping on not-so-dead Zod. Or hell, dead Zod, if the filler feels up to it, but I am just delighted by the idea of him relishing having his very own Kryptonian in his metaphorical pocket at the same time as he's full of fascination and horror at this alien's alien-ness. It can even be in that weird fluidy/tentacle-y ship interior, if you want to go wild with it. (Dubcon and noncon are both fine by me, but not obligatory.)

Wow, I just came here to post a Lex/Zod prompt!

Yeah, the way Lex strokes Zod's (DEAD) face before the Doomsday thing is, uh. A little bit creepy and a little bit hot.

Watching Bruce flirt with Diana in public the first time had been bad enough: the way his eyes had followed her out of the room, as though Clark wasn’t even there. After everything, though, when they’d gotten to know each other better, when Clark had finally, through some miracle, navigated the minefield of Bruce’s prickly nature into Bruce’s bed? That was worse.

Clark knew it was an act. ‘Bruce Wayne’ was an act, one that was decades-old, that smile, the clothes, even the way Bruce stood, slightly hunched, making his imposing height look less threatening. The blank look in his eyes, the limp handshake, the lazy guileless smile: they were all as much Bruce’s armour as his suit’s vambraces and cowl. Some days, though, watching Bruce work the rounds, Clark wasn’t entirely sure if Bruce himself remembered where the mask stopped and where the real Bruce bled in. The ballerina’s lipstick left a red smear on Bruce’s pristine white collar, and Bruce looked at it and laughed, delighted, drunken. Clark looked away, a sour clench in his gut. He was going to have to leave or something was going to break.

Bruce’s ridiculous fishbowl of a house was oddly warm at night, and Clark wasn’t even sure why he’d flown there. Alfred had made himself scarce after a curt welcome: Clark knew that he still unnerved Alfred, deep down. He could understand. Coming back to life had somehow managed to upset more people than his actual death had. He’d lost friendships, alliances - hell, he’d lost Lois.

Only Bruce had remained unafraid, and that, more than anything, was probably why this had even started. Clark kicked off his shoes and hung up his coat, but didn’t bother with the rest of his clothes as he lay down on Bruce’s bed, breathing in his scent, closing his eyes. He wasn’t the only one who’d shared this bed with Bruce, not by a long shot. Clark had read the TMZ tell-alls, the tabloid scoops, every sordid little anecdote.

Bruce Wayne, bleeding into Bruce.

Clark dozed off, and woke up to Bruce yawning as he climbed over to get to his favourite side of the bed, knees and elbows everywhere. Bruce had showered, and he smelled of soap and hot water, unselfconsciously naked, and he frowned at Clark and batted at his hands as Clark rubbed a palm up his thigh.

“Tired,” Bruce said brusquely. “Party ended late.”

Clark eyed the digital clock by the night stand, which told him that it was an utterly ungodly hour in the morning. “You could’ve left earlier.”

“I could’ve,” Bruce said disdainfully, “But there was enough press in that gala to keep the gossip rags happy for another month or so, and I need some peace and quiet to work on the Black Hand matter.”

“You take appearances too seriously,” Clark ignored Bruce’s irritated hiss, rolling them around such that he was on top, between Bruce’s thighs. “Speaking as a reporter? You don’t actually need to keep your ‘public persona’ going like that all the time. Since what you did with the Swedish handball team? You’ve got enough ‘bad press’ for a lifetime. You could take up a new suitably frivolous hobby and it’d still be the same.”

“Yeah?” Bruce glared up at him. “Who died and left you in charge of PR?”

“Leak photographs of you playing golf in the Himalayan Mountains, things like that. Something. You’re not the only billionaire in the world.”

“Only the most high profile one living in Gotham.” Bruce narrowed his eyes. “What’s your problem?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit, you left the party early, I saw you.” Bruce had a hand clenched down over the back of Clark’s neck. “We had an agreement, Kent.”

In normal circumstances, Clark would have winced at ‘Kent’ and backed off, apologetic. Now, however, his blood was up and he was still annoyed, and Bruce’s indifference was making it worse. “You seriously don’t know?” Bruce opened his mouth and Clark kissed him, almost hard enough to bruise: it would be easy to bruise him, to mark him, and the seething violence of that thought should’ve been shameful. It almost was.

But then Bruce twitched against him and Clark heard it, that stifled little groan that died unvoiced in Bruce’s throat, heard Bruce’s heart rate pick up. Arousal was something that Bruce always tried to keep under control, like everything else. Clark could hear it anyway. He kissed Bruce until Bruce started to relax, until the hand around the back of his neck dropped down, fingers unbuttoning Clark’s shirt. By the time Clark was stripped bare he had bruised a mark on that pale neck, on those powerful shoulders, on the first scar that led down from Bruce’s collarbone towards his breastbone.

“What’s gotten into you?” Bruce asked, though there was amusement in his voice, a darkly lazy purr, so close to bridging Bruce Wayne to Bruce. Clark growled and bit Bruce in response, above a nipple, nearly breaking skin, and felt Bruce twitch and hiss beneath him, cock sliding up against Clark’s thigh.

“I don’t like seeing you with other people,” Clark admitted mulishly, groping in the side table for lube and condoms, and Bruce laughed again, teeth bared, and now this was more like Bruce, less like the playboy. This was Gotham’s animal, laughing, eyes narrowed in challenge.

“What are you going to do about that?”

“We’ll see.”

Some days Clark wondered if Bruce was like this with his other playmates. Impatient, hungry to get off, primed on efficiency, like sex was something he did to scratch an itch, like there were a million other things Bruce would rather be getting around to. Bruce cursed him and grabbed at his hair as Clark pinned him to the bed and gave him the slowest blowjob he’d ever tried, all languid root-to-tip licks, spending time braced on the very tip, lapping the slit until he could taste bitterness on his tongue, even tucking Bruce’s hips up into the air to roll Bruce’s balls slowly in his mouth.

“Fuck you,” Bruce gasped, though the animal was still laughing. “I’m not - agh - getting any younger- fuck-“

“Don’t make me gag you.”

“Ooh, we’re down to threats,” Bruce bit back, “You really scare me, ngh, you and your vanilla farmboy- ouch!” Bruce jerked violently in Clark’s grip as he bit down hard, in the juncture between his thigh and pelvis, hard enough to lick blood onto his tongue. “Watch your goddamned teeth!”

“I’m watching,” Clark shot back, blood still pressed coppery on his tongue as he let Bruce down, as he kissed Bruce roughly, rolling the taste between them. He felt Bruce stiffen under him, as though in shock, heard another moan stutter and die in Bruce’s throat. He’d break that reserve. He’d-

“Now you’re starting to get interesting,” Bruce purred, and Clark was glad that he hadn’t been holding on to Bruce’s hips: his hands clenched involuntarily on the sheets, hard enough to rip them. Insanely, instead of flinching away - that could’ve crushed bone and Bruce probably knew it - Bruce laughed instead, lower now, dangerous. Fingernails scraped down over Clark’s shoulders as he bent back to suck Bruce’s cock into his mouth, hard enough that Bruce was probably hurting his fingers, scratching at unyielding skin. Clark sucked him in a slow rhythm, bobbing up, lavishing attention on the tip, taking him back down, showing off, smirking each time he took Bruce in to the root, backing off to nip at his thighs whenever he felt Bruce getting too close.

Bruce held out for a long time. The clock had ticked an hour closer to the morning by the time Bruce let out a tiny, wrecked sound, passing an arm over his eyes, his shoulders trembling against the bed. It wasn’t so much surrender as a hostile ceasefire. He could see the animal there still, glaring, as Clark obligingly let go, allowing Bruce to buck into his throat, to chase the edge, listening to his heart beat pick up almost to critical - then he pulled off, holding Bruce down.

“Fuck-“ Bruce gasped, wide-eyed, but he was already too close, his hips jerking in Clark’s grip, heels digging into the sheets as his cock spat a wet line of come over his belly.

“Didn’t say you could come,” Clark said breathlessly - Gods above, Bruce was gorgeous, even like this, shaking from a ruined orgasm, furious and desperate all at once. Fingers clawed against Clark’s shoulders as Clark leaned up for a kiss, as Clark slicked up a finger to press it into Bruce’s hole, not waiting for the come down.

“Jesus,” Bruce blinked, his breath hot on Clark’s cheek. Dazed.

“Okay down there?”

Bruce squeezed his eyes shut, his teeth gritted. “Hope you’re pleased with yourself.”

“A little,” Clark admitted. He paused, a little concerned, and Bruce growled, squirming down over his finger. “Hey, you never know, you might get it up again.”

“Fuck you, asshole. That fucking boy scout attitude, all a fucking lie,” Bruce hissed, “Fuck fuck fuck,” he added harshly as Clark pressed in another finger.

“That mouth of yours. Needs a gag.” Clark wouldn’t do it, though. He liked hearing Bruce like this, pinned naked under him, stripped of everything but his acid tongue and temper. That very last inch of defiance made any conceded ground all the sweeter.

Bruce went silent as Clark stretched him out, his breath evening out despite it having to hurt when Clark got to four fingers. He didn’t even make a sound as Clark turned him over onto hands and knees, but when Clark groped for a condom packet, Bruce let out a hoarse laugh. “Save it.”

“What?”

“I’m clean. Besides, it’s not like you can catch anything.”

Clark had to hastily grab at the root of his cock to fight off the sudden spike of visceral lust. “Are you sure about this?”

“Pretty sure my self-control died an early death the day I decided to let some cocky asshole with super-strength into my bed.”

“You,” Clark swallowed his grin, lining up, and Bruce let out a soft exhalation as Clark pushed in, and this had to be hurting Bruce, he was still too tight, but as Clark hesitated, ready to pull out and try more prep, Bruce swore and grabbed at his hip and tugged. Skin to flesh, with Bruce beneath him, this seemed far too intimate. Clark had to be hallucinating.

“You’re mine,” Clark breathed out, as Bruce arched against him, hands fisted on the bed. Bruce didn’t answer, and Clark nipped at one of his scars, the one close to his spine. “Do you hear me?”

“Fuck off.” Bruce hissed.

“I could,” Clark drew out an inch before shoving abruptly back in, hard enough to jerk Bruce up against the bed. He pulled an arm around Bruce’s waist, holding him flush. “Could stay like this too,” he added, as Bruce shuddered and squirmed. “You’re so hot and tight… I think I could stay hard like this for hours. Make you sleep off the day plugged up with my cock. I could spend the morning inside you.”

“Christ,” Bruce gasped, disbelievingly. “What happened to the nice innocent farmboy?”

“You pissed him off?” Clark suggested against the shell of Bruce’s ear.

He didn’t expect Bruce to answer, or to bite out anything but a sardonic answer, but Bruce bowed his head against the pillows, his breaths hissing out in shallow gusts. “All right,” Bruce said gruffly. “Sorry.”

“That’s the least convincing apology I’ve ever heard.”

“What the fuck do you want me to say? I’m sorry, fuck. Fucking move. You’re killing me.”

Clark obliged, if only because it was always possible that Bruce wasn’t entirely joking. That tension in his arms and shoulders spoke of some kind of strain. His back, maybe. Bruce huffed out in annoyance as Clark pulled out and flipped them over, though he tipped his head back, biting down on his lip, as Clark shoved back in, lifting Bruce’s hips. Ankles caught over Clark’s shoulders and Bruce shivered in relief as Clark started to take him, all deep, punishing thrusts. Clark fucked him until Bruce’s hands were shaky on the sheets, until his handsome face went slack with pleasure, until the first tiny, helpless moans slipped past Bruce’s fraying control. Clark had always known that he could break Bruce like this if he wanted to, with lust, with a little kindness. But that had never been the point.

Bruce let out a small and grateful sound as Clark got a hand on his cock, letting it stiffen the rest of the way, then he choked out a whine as Clark shifted, nailing his prostate. “All right there?” Clark asked, his own voice thick. Bruce managed a nod, and Clark grinned, driving in faster, bruising him, the bed frame knocking against the wall. Bruce started to squirm weakly, sensing that Clark was getting close, nudging back against him, and he hissed as Clark started to come, orgasm cored out of him in waves.

“Shit,” Bruce gasped, as Clark pulled wetly out, “C’mon, I’m still-“ He tried to touch himself, but Clark pinned his wrists down to the bed. “Clark.”

“Said you’re mine,” Clark breathed against his mouth, and this time Bruce didn’t curse him, trembling instead, quiet. This was probably as much acquiescence as Clark could get. He pressed his thigh against Bruce’s cock and felt disbelief shake through Bruce, chased by annoyance and then by desperation, and Bruce rubbed against him, breaths stuttering, all uneven thrusts until he was coming against Clark’s leg.

Exhausted, Bruce dropped off to sleep, and didn’t even wake as Clark kissed his cheek, then his mouth, didn’t flinch as Clark touched the puffy edge of his hole, dipping fingers in the fluids seeping out. Bruce would learn. But Clark could sense that it was going to be a long and difficult lesson - not that he’d have it any other way.

I'll do so, thank you for the reminder -- and I'm so glad that you liked it! :) If I get hit with the inspiration, I'll definitely try to do more; I wanted to work in a little more bloodplay in there, but I couldn't wrap my head around it... yet.

Not the OP, but jesus, that was fucking hot.

Nightmare scene. Evil Superman captures Batman and has his wicked way with him. Bondage (preferably various restraints and positions other than the ceiling chains in the movie), non-con, physical abuse, the works. Bruce has been a very bad boy and Superman wants to punish him. Severely.

Sorry, don't know how to edit the subject line in the original post. (edited here to follow proper format)

So if Bruce feels like he owes Clark something, after the funeral, and sends Alfred to the farm a few times to make sure Martha has everything she needs... and the two of them hit it off... and eventually maybe move in together at... wherever Alfred lives now that Bruce lives in a big glass box by a lake... and Martha mothers Bruce a little, because he clearly needs it SO MUCH and she needs someone to mother...

And then Clark comes back... and they're this weird blended family and it's super awkward. Can be Clark/Bruce or stick to gen (or Bruce/Diana or Clark/Lois.) I just want weird family, with Clark and Bruce last remembering trying to fight each other to the death, and now being expected to have Thanksgiving dinner together. :D :D

this is amazing omg, all the love for this prompt op!

Oh god this is so amazing and hot!!! I've always been fascinated with that Kryptonite scene because the way Bruce scratched Clark's cheek with the spear is just so slow and languid it almost feels sexual, and Im sure Clark will remember it forever. Damn, Clark is definitely the kind to get off on pain, because he rarely feels it so he kinda craves the sensation, I think, and you describe it greatly in your work.

Also I love how Clark and Bruce communicate in such few words yet they just understand what the other needs. And the mutual trust is truly amazing. You've captured them perfectly! I can't wait to read more, if you're interested in continuing this :D

OP here and HOLY SHIT, THIS IS SO HOT! I CAN'T EVEN HANDLE HOW HOT THIS IS.

I love possessive, grabby, angry Clark who needs to make a point, and I love how much Bruce is into it, how much Bruce is getting off to Clark getting all possessive and rough and demanding. Fffffffffffuck. Fuck, anon author, you write amazing porn. Thank you so much for filling this.

Clark had always known that he could break Bruce like this if he wanted to, with lust, with a little kindness.
Oh, and this line? This line is just fucking great. <3

This was awesome! :D Are you gonna link to it on the fill post, too?

Bruce just wants to show her a low-key good time, but his issues are totally bleeding through. (Bonus points: she totally gets it, even if they can't really talk about it in frank terms.)

This is not at all inspired by the We Hate Movies thing with him wanting Martha to tell him he's a good boy... not at all... that would be ridiculous.

So apparently they got to be good friends during filming. Gal said they "slept together" before she corrected herself and meant a sleepover. She has also admitted to having a girl crush on Amy right before taking her hand to hold and grinning at her. And they were so huggy on the red carpet!

So just give me all the moments in between filming and the press tour and their beautiful blooming friendship.

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Page 2 of 99

DCEU Prompt Post #1

Bruce/Clark/(Lex), voyeurism, masturbation

Bruce/Clark + Alfred, voyeurism

Bruce/Clark, saying "I love you" without ever saying it

no subject

Bruce/Lex - tender sex, much to Lex's annoyance

[RPF] Ben/Henry, flirting

Bruce/Lex - spanking

Bruce/Clark, possessiveness/jealousy

Lex/Clark, Kryptonite Noncon

[RPF] Ben/Henry, first time with a guy

Re: FILL 2/2 (without the italic screw-up, if it's too distracting!)

Lex/Zod, low-key xeno

Re: Lex/Zod, low-key xeno

Fill: Teachable Moments [1/1]

no subject

Re: Fill: Teachable Moments [1/1]

Nightmare scene

Re: Superman/Batman: Nightmare scene

Alfred/Martha + Clark & Bruce as awkward "brothers"

Re: Alfred/Martha + Clark & Bruce as awkward "brothers"

Re: FILL 2/2 (without the italic screw-up, if it's too distracting!)

Re: Fill: Teachable Moments [1/1]

Re: Fill: Teachable Moments [1/1]

Bruce Wayne/Martha Kent, mommy issues and/or kink

[RPF] Gal/Amy