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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Clark has some biological differences. Up to author whether it's physical (different kind of penis?) or behavioural (mating behaviours?) or something else entirely, but bonus points for creativity/not standard A/B/O dynamics. At first Bruce is interested because he wants to know what he's dealing with. He didn't realize he'd find it so hot.

♥ :D I'm glad - I know you've said you don't mind a long fill, but this is getting a little ridiculous! /o\ And Clark definitely needed SOMEONE to push him on this just a little bit; I couldn't imagine anyone better than Martha. :D Oh, Clark.

You really like hurting me

Only because it's going to make the happy ending better (I hope)! :D I know I said I was always there for maximum pining Bruce, but oh, look, turns out I enjoy pining Clark a whole hell of a lot, too. WHO'D HAVE GUESSED.

I'm now kind of sad that you gave the lake house a guest room instead of making Clark sleep in Bruce's bed

:D Well, even a guest bed is still technically Bruce's? And with that much UST I think even Superman would snap - apparently I'm more interested in dragging this out to a totally unreasonable degree.

I have a weird soft spot for people acknowledging their feelings while also acknowledging that they can, clearly, never ever be with the person they love and trying to force themselves to accept that

... *braintwin high five* Seriously, are you my alter ego? Clone from another dimension? It's okay, you can tell me. ;) I love more traditional pining angst, but it just seems so very fitting for Clark to try to come to grips with it in a way that's about as constructive as it can be, which I ADORE about him. /o\

and eventually fuck while stil being idiots? somehow?

Oh, they're going to fuck, and they are absolutely going to still be idiots about it. *thumbs up* BECAUSE THEY'RE FAILBOATS, AND SO AM I. :D

You are the best as always, OP, I love your prompts (obviously) and your comments and your epic enthusiasm. ♥ ♥ ♥

:DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

Aw, thank you so much, anon! Your trust is an epic compliment, and I hope you aren't disappointed, /o\. (I admit there will not be banging in this next part. But there WILL be banging before the end of this, I swear. THERE REALLY WILL.)

Just give in Bruce, and accept you're doing this for less-than-pure intentions

But then they might actually figure things out and stop misunderstanding each other, anon! WHAT A RIDICULOUS THOUGHT. :D

Oh, thank you so very much - I love Martha a lot, and also really didn't want to fall into the standard "yenta side character" trap (this is a super tropey fill, of course, but I'm hoping not that kind of tropey). So this is wonderful to hear, and I'm so glad she works for you here! Especially because, yes, I have so much headcanon about how well she and Bruce could end up liking each other. :D

I'm so delighted to hear it! Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you like the rest equally well! ♥

PERFECT IDIOTS PERFECT FOR EACH OTHER

THE PERFECT SUMMARY. :DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

More seriously: thank you so much, anon, your reaction is a gift and I'm so glad you're enjoying this. :D ♥

That "17ish" is a very, very rough estimate. I think we're getting closer to the end, but MAN, I DON'T EVEN KNOW, the outline for this thing was about eight parts (HA) before it exploded. *hands* I have an endgame in mind and I don't THINK I'll end up adding too much more to the plan I've got right now. *knocks on wood*

It's every bit as bad—every bit as good—as Clark had imagined. In a way, the lake house kind of is Bruce: sleek modern design above, glass and chrome and shining hardwood; the stark dim expanse of the Batcave underneath; and Bruce himself somewhere inside, temporarily inhabiting one or the other, or hidden between.

Alfred's the one who shows Clark to a bedroom he can use. Bruce says goodnight almost the moment they're inside the door, gives Clark a brief easy smile and then vanishes. And Clark doesn't let himself look around or through anything, he can guess Batman wouldn't appreciate that, but it's almost impossible not to keep an ear out.

So Clark thanks Alfred and smiles, and listens to Bruce's steps echoing around a concrete stairwell. Clark washes his face in the gleaming sink, brushes his teeth with the toiletries neatly laid out on the bathroom counter, and listens to Bruce sigh, to the arhythmic clatter and tap of a keyboard.

And then Clark lies down, still dressed, on the bed (the same size as Bruce's? Sheets the same brand—washed with the same detergent—would it smell the same? Except how could it, when this bed's never had Bruce lying in it—) and stares at the ceiling, and listens to Bruce. Tinkering, now, judging by the clank and scrape of metal, the hums and thunks and occasional absent curses; and the thought makes Clark's chest ache with something close to fondness. It's another of those impossible intersections between Bruce Wayne and Batman: picturing Bruce with a wrench in his hand and black grease on his fingers, with his sleeves rolled up, frowning grumpily down into the guts of the Batmobile in the small hours of a Saturday morning.

Just like Bruce with a half-full wineglass, talking to Clark's mother about the tensile strength of Batman's grappling hooks. Bruce Wayne's smile falling off his face at a reminder of Superman's death. Hell, that was how Clark had gotten into this mess in the first place: Batman had needed his help, so Bruce Wayne had asked him to come to a party.

And even now, even seeing where it leads, he knows with a bone-deep resignation that he would still say yes.

Bruce integrates the late nights, Clark's walk-of-shame mornings, into their schedule as readily as he's managed everything else. And Clark—

Clark adjusts. He learns to be comfortable with Alfred calling him "Master Kent" all the time. He pays closer attention, tries to keep things more even: he matches each time Bruce kisses him by kissing Bruce himself later, somewhere equally public. (He figures that's as good a way as any to make sure he's not doing it too often.) Now that they're—going steady, for lack of a better way to say it, Bruce usually sticks to light brushes; but sometimes when Clark kisses him first, he hangs on a little longer, switches to openmouthed without much warning. Clark doesn't ask why. (If he does, maybe Bruce will think he minds—maybe Bruce will stop.)

And he—he works a little harder. He surprises Bruce at his office now and then with lunch; he can't manage the kind of massive bouquets Bruce keeps landing on his desk at the Planet, but Bruce accepts his bright handfuls of carnations, three irises from Mom's garden, a single rose. (Pink. Clark doesn't even let himself pause in front of the red ones.) With the memory of the aquarium in mind, he's increasingly comfortable asking Bruce to come with him to things like Smallville's town fair; the boardwalk just outside Metropolis's city limits; a drive-in place he finds about a half-hour away that only shows movies old enough to be in black-and-white. And he doesn't startle anymore when Bruce leans in across a restaurant table, or the armrest between their seats during an intermission, and murmurs, "Stay the night."

Half the time what Bruce means by it is "there's League business to discuss", anyway. Clark learns his way around the Batcave, at least the upper levels; and they stay up sometimes discussing tactics, arguing about hypothetical ethical dilemmas. Clark sticks with the same guest bedroom every time, and after a few more nights it's practically Clark's, his clothes in the closet, his socks in the drawers. Just so he doesn't have to go back to his apartment in dirty clothes.

It's easy. Convenient. It solves a lot of problems. And it's never any use offering to leave, even though Clark could be back in his Metropolis apartment with about ten seconds of mild effort.

("I'm infatuated with you," Bruce tells the wall of the Batcave absently, frowning down at a gauntlet, the first time Clark tries. "I wouldn't let you out of bed until morning."

"... Right," Clark says, and then has to clear his throat.)

It's also a huge mistake, of course. Getting used to any of it is a terrible idea. Bruce scowling and distant over a table of blueprints isn't for Clark, doesn't belong to him and never will. Bruce barefoot in the morning, drinking disgustingly black coffee—attentive and smiling over breakfast, lunch, dinner—touching Clark easily, casually (but only when someone else is there, only when a stranger might be looking)—

None of it belongs to him. But he's going to lose it all no matter what he does, and he—he might as well enjoy it while he has it. He might as well be happy, for as long as it will last.

(It isn't that he thinks Bruce is actively uninterested. Clark's not unattractive—Moira, her talk show audience, and about two-thirds of the internet seem to pretty much agree on that—and Bruce has commented on it like it's a fact regularly enough that Clark's almost sure he's not lying about it. He's never reluctant to kiss or be kissed; his heartrate, his breathing, back up the idea that he enjoys it, at least to some degree.

It's just that Clark is—Clark is where he is when it comes to Bruce because he didn't know Bruce before. Not really. He's learned, slowly, that Bruce can be not only smarmy and obnoxious but seductive, charming—thoughtful, kind—uncertain, briefly unguarded, if only on special occasions. He's—he's discovered Bruce, a bit at a time, and the path he followed to do it shows how he got here. But Clark—

Clark's been the same person the whole time. Clark's been no one but himself for as long as Bruce has known him, and Bruce never really seemed to like that guy much. It's probably a little better by now, granted. They've spent a lot of time together, all these fake dates, and odds are Bruce doesn't dislike Clark anymore.

But if he were going to fall in love, he'd have done it already. There's no secret part of Clark Bruce hasn't found, no hidden thing waiting that will suddenly open Bruce's eyes or cast Clark in a new light for him.

If he were going to fall in love, he'd have done it already; and there's no reason Clark can come up with for why he might do it now.)

Helpfully, the world doesn't put itself on hold for Clark's emotional crises. The League provides him with plenty of distractions.

Not even always supervillainous in nature—they end up helping with a lot of normal disasters, too. Clark's actually in the middle of staring at a display of calla lilies, wondering whether it's been long enough since the last batch of flowers or maybe he should wait a couple more days, when the television in the corner of the store decides for him.

It's so mundane, it's almost worse for it: a traffic accident downtown, except this was the kind of traffic accident that had involved a bus, twelve cars, an eighteen-wheeler, and a truck carrying a tank of something that—of course—really, really needs to not catch on fire. Diana's beaten Clark to the scene; she's smudged with black across the line of her shoulders where she must have been bracing or lifting something, and when he gets there she's prying a crushed car door open with a steady squeal of metal.

"Superman," she says, a moment before the door comes free—she tosses it to him and then reaches carefully for the bleeding woman in the car. "I don't know how long we have—we need to get everyone out of range of the tank truck, in case—"

"On it," Clark says, setting the crushed door aside, and he opens up the hearing as wide as it will go and flies up to x-ray the mess from above.

Batman gets there about a minute later—he must keep a spare Batsuit in his office, Clark thinks, there's no way he got to the Cave and then to Metropolis that fast. "Superman," Bruce says over the comms, and Clark shouldn't be so glad to hear Batman's low rough growl.

There's someone in this car, pinned by the dash—broken ribs, too, Clark can't rush it or he might puncture the guy's lung, but—

"There's still someone screaming in the bus," Clark says, "I can't—"

"Got it," Bruce says, and Clark lets out a breath and bends the front of the car just a little further.

"Sorry," he tells the guy, who's conscious even though he's bleeding from the head, and also probably in a lot of pain. "Almost got you—"

"Hey, no problem," the guy says shallowly—and he's doing great, not screaming or panicking, even though his legs are still trapped. "I'm not dead, I got Superman trying to make sure I stay that way—I'm doing pretty okay for a dude in a car wreck."

Clark huffs a laugh, and then holds the guy still with one hand and finishes bending the dash away with the other. "You're doing fantastic," he tells the guy, and eases him up and out of the passenger side, which is the top of the car right now.

There's two other people trapped in another sedan; and Diana's got the driver of the eighteen-wheeler, but there's four people, pedestrians, who got pinned by the trailer when it tipped over the parked cars at the side of the street. (One of them is already dead. Clark gets him out anyway.)

Clark's just turning to check for anyone else left in the central area, and that's when the tank finally explodes.

That's also when he realizes he doesn't actually know where Bruce is.

Though i imagine that if it were a sea creature then Bruce would be disgruntled if Aquaman came to the rescue for once.
HAHAHA! Aquaman deposits soaking wet Clark on the deck, saying, 'I BELIEVE THIS IS YOURS.'

Bruce grabbing him and wrapping him in a blanket, glaring and saying, 'YES IT IS,' and taking him back into the house.

'YOU'RE WELCOME, BY THE WAY,' Aquaman shouts at his back.

Haha, thank you so much, nonnie XD Your comments are SO much appreciated :D

Gah, I shouldn't have read this before going to bed, it sent my heart racing and that is not conducive to sleep, WHERE THE HELL IS BRUCE?! WILL CLARK DO SOMETHING RIDICULOUSLY STUPID AND OBVIOUS OUT OF FEAR OR SOMETHING????? AHHHHH, MY HEART.

Oh no, are you saying that this fic will end some day? D: I am super happy that there are quite a few more parts to come, though. :D I love the Bruce/lake house comparison because I love the lake house for just those reasons. And there are no words for how much I love Clark just lying in bed and listening to Bruce. <3

(He figures that's as good a way as any to make sure he's not doing it too often.)
Ooooh, this is such a nice detail. Clark doing his best to play along and do his part for their charade while also making sure he won't show his feelings. Somehow Clark arranging dates for them is even more heartbreaking because of how hard it must be for him. ALSO CLARK IN THE BATCAAAAAAAAAAVE, I am always here for that, sorry. ;)

("I'm infatuated with you," Bruce tells the wall of the Batcave absently, frowning down at a gauntlet, the first time Clark tries. "I wouldn't let you out of bed until morning."

"... Right," Clark says, and then has to clear his throat.)
Ouch, my heart. Because Clark so needed to imagine that, not being allowed out of Bruce's bed until morning. Seriously, it hurts so much, Clark trying to enjoy the scraps he's getting even though they're not real, he thinks, because that's all he can ever have. You must be my clone from another universe or my alter ego or something because how else would you know how to hurt me so much? And then this, wow, this is utterly perfect and I'm crying a little:
But if he were going to fall in love, he'd have done it already. There's no secret part of Clark Bruce hasn't found, no hidden thing waiting that will suddenly open Bruce's eyes or cast Clark in a new light for him.

If he were going to fall in love, he'd have done it already; and there's no reason Clark can come up with for why he might do it now.
Because Clark's reasoning makes so much sense? (And Clark is also completely oblivious to the obvious possibility that maybe, maybe Bruce already fell in love with him quite some time ago.)

I also really like the dude in the car wreck, thanks for making me laugh in the midst of all these feels. ;D And then, oh no! Bruce! I mean, I know Bruce isn't dead, but Clark doesn't know that! Poor Clark! Loved this part so much, I have no words for how much I appreciate you writing this wonderful fic. <3

/OP (who can't wait for them to fuck and be idiots about it ;D)

Aww, i love the mini scenario. Especially since it features shivering, drenched Clark ;)

And thank you for the fill! I never thought something like this would come of my half joking prompt!

I failed to mention it earlier, but I love Martha. Her relationship with Clark that lends to the teasing. And her relationship with Bruce! How she hugs him and discusses Batman over drinks! Love it so!

"I'm infatuated with you," Bruce tells the wall of the Batcave absently, frowning down at a gauntlet, the first time Clark tries. "I wouldn't let you out of bed until morning."

Bruce being bluntly honest, but Clark reading it as being couched in terms of Batman's plans. It's like when Bruce told him he's a nice person without actually saying it.

Clark's been no one but himself for as long as Bruce has known him, and Bruce never really seemed to like that guy much.

Oof...you mind twisting this knife in my heart another quarter inch?

Poor Clark.

That's also when he realizes he doesn't actually know where Bruce is..

So good of you to accommodate me with that knife. Thanks, again! I appreciate it! :-D

I have this planned as a 5+1 fic, hence 1/6. So far Clark is more surprised and impressed than turned on, but we'll get there.

1. Languages.

Bruce Wayne knew a handful of phrases in about half a dozen foreign languages, but he didn't really speak any of them. That much was public knowledge. He'd joke about how exasperated teachers at his fancy private school had done their very best to teach young Bruce French and German, but the only things he managed in French were to order food and compliment beautiful women, and in German he couldn't even do that. Good thing I've always preferred to do it the French way, right?

He'd quote some clichéd Russian saying at a business partner at yet another high society party, his pronunciation so atrocious that even Clark, who had only picked up a few words of Russian on his travels, winced in sympathy. And then he'd wink, apologise, and explain that he once spent an entire weekend with a ballerina from the Bolshoi, but that sentence was the only thing she'd taught him. At least in the linguistic department, she did show me a few other things I'd never seen before …

He knew a little Italian, with an equally thick American accent, just a few words I picked up from my tailor, delightful little man, his family has been in the business for generations – I've probably been to Italy more often than he has, but then I don't have an Italian wife to cook for me, I actually have to fly over there to get some proper Italian food. He could say “welcome” and “so delighted to meet you” in a few more languages, always with such a charming smile on his lips that all those businessmen and celebrities and politicians he met somehow managed not to roll their eyes at him.

Like most things about Bruce Wayne's public persona, Clark found it utterly obnoxious. He didn't bother to think much about it, though. Most people weren't good with languages, and it was hardly as if Clark was a linguistic genius. Most people just didn't rub their lack of knowledge into everyone else's face the way Bruce Wayne did.

It took a few months of working together for Clark to realise that, as with so many things, Batman was an entirely different matter. He got his first glimpse at that when he asked Bruce to assist him with a case he was pursuing: a mob boss was smuggling something of great value into Metropolis and Clark had reasons to suspect it was kryptonite. Remembering the effects kryptonite had on him all too well, he didn't want to be caught red-handed. That was how he found himself at the Metropolis docks one cold April night with Batman by his side, realising very quickly that while there didn't seem to be any kryptonite nearby, there were facing an entirely different problem. The crew hired for the smuggling was Chinese, and super-hearing or not Clark didn't understand a single word they were saying.

Batman remained unfazed and shot a tiny bug down onto the ship. He had to have an earpiece under the cowl and at first Clark suspected that it was equipped with some kind of translating device, but the only sounds that reached Bruce's ear were the same ones Clark could hear down on the boat.

“You speak Mandarin?” Clark wasn't able to keep the disbelief out of his voice. He knew just enough about the language to know how difficult it was to learn, but Batman merely scoffed at him from underneath his cowl as if Clark had just asked him if he could tie his shoes.

“We need to wait,” Batman just said after listening to the jumbled chatter for another minute. “Their buyer won't be here until midnight.”

The second time, Bruce actually needed Superman's help. Of course he hadn't admitted that, in fact it had been Alfred who had called Clark. Bruce had gone undercover as a Russian arms dealer, meeting up with his cover's counterparts in Gotham. His cover story was airtight, he insisted, they were just making him wait out of principle before he got to meet their suppliers. But while it made sense for an arms dealer to know how to defend himself within reason, he still couldn't be quite as competent as Batman, so having Superman on standby should things go south seemed prudent. At least Alfred seemed to think so, even if Bruce clearly regarded Superman's presence as entirely unnecessary.

That was how Clark found himself hovering above the rooftops of Gotham's underbelly, trying not to get too distracted by all the grime and crime around him while he listened to Bruce drink and gamble and chat with a group of Russian lowlifes. He'd known better than to voice his doubts about the seemingly idiotic plan of having someone whose Russian seemed limited to a commonplace saying or two pass himself off as a native speaker, assuming that Bruce had some ace up his sleeve, and yet he still found himself surprised when he had to listen very closely to pick Bruce's voice out from the group. To Clark's untrained ear, Bruce's Russian sounded flawless. Much more importantly, it seemed to sound just as convincing to the half dozen Russians he shared a gambling table with for several nights before he finally got the information he needed, without any need for an intervention by Superman.

Clark most definitely wasn't surprised that Bruce sent him back to Metropolis with a curt growl and barely conceiled annoyance – and of course without a word of thanks – as soon as he had his intel. Of course Batman didn't need or want any help taking down an entire arms dealing operation, and Clark was still too taken aback to insist.

After that, once he knew to look for it, the examples kept piling up. He saw Bruce Wayne at a charity gala, chatting to a stunning redhead who seemed mostly interested in telling him about that time she'd modelled for Valentino, and while Clark once would have dismissed that as Bruce cultivating his image, he noticed now that he was standing quite close to a group of Japanese businessmen. Not remarkable by itself, except that Bruce somehow managed to stay in their general vicinity for the entire evening – flirting with a different model a bit later, laughing with the mayor, then complimenting the rich widow who'd organised the event. A week later Clark read about a stack of incriminating files the Batman had left on Commissioner Gordon's desk, tying the local branch of a Japanese business tycoon to a recently indicted Gotham politician.

Not much later he was allowed down into the Batcave to find Bruce listening to Ukrainian surveillance tapes while he changed out of the Batsuit. On another night he saw him watching the news in German while he worked on a fake passport for yet another cover identity, and one time he wasn't even entirely sure what language the documents lying on Bruce's desk were in. He wondered briefly if Bruce might be messing with him, but Bruce would probably consider it an unnecessary risk to make an ally believe he spoke a language he didn't actually understand. And Bruce, that much Clark was starting to realise, was all about efficiency.

He still refrained from commenting on the whole thing, knowing how attached Bruce was to his secrets. Clark's access to the Batcave was tenuous enough as it was and he didn't want to have it revoked by prying – tenuous meaning that he was only ever allowed in while Bruce could keep an eye on him, not that he seemed to need more than a fraction of his concentration to know where exactly Clark was at any given time and what he was looking at.

So of course Bruce also noticed the time Clark glanced down at a stack of Spanish transcripts on one of the desks, his curiosity fuelled by the fact that for once he might actually understand what these particular files were about, even if he had to rely mostly on his high school Spanish.

“Something on your mind?” Bruce's voice was sharp and Clark winced, feeling irrationally guilty even though he knew that Bruce, in his endless paranoia, would have no doubt locked those documents away if he hadn't wanted Clark to see them.

“Nothing,” he answered too quickly. Bruce turned around on that monstrosity of a chair to face him. He was wearing a smartly tailored suit – Clark wondered if it was from his “delightful little Italian tailor” - but the look on his face was all Batman. That piercing, unrelenting stare that had nothing in common with Bruce Wayne's vapid, absent look. Like he already knew more about you than you did yourself and planned to find out everything else there was. Clark swallowed. “It's just … How many languages do you speak?”

Bruce smirked, knowingly, and Clark realised he'd been waiting for that question for some time.

“Speak or understand?” he asked as if that was a distinction normal people had to make. He turned back to the computer screens, eyes once more scanning the feeds from several surveillance cameras.

“Either. Both?” Clark counted the ones he knew of in his head and already wondered how any man could keep those straight without ever mixing them up, and that was without taking into account the time it would have taken to learn the grammar, vocabulary, and pronunciation of each one. It would have been an impressive feat for someone who had dedicated their life to nothing but studying languages – for someone who had to have spent years of his life training to fight, it seemed downright impossible.

Bruce seemed to think about it for a few moments, but then Clark realised that he'd merely disovered a suspect on one of his feeds and was now switching around between the cameras to see where he'd come from. Only then did he apparently remember that he hadn't answered Clark's question yet.

“As many as I need to.”

It was no answer at all, obfuscating and infuriating like everything about Bruce once you scratched away the veneer of Bruce Wayne, and Clark had to fight the urge to roll his eyes. But even in his annoyance he realised that he would have believed any answer, no matter how ridiculous or unlikely, Bruce could have given him.

XDDDDDDD I am rolling around in this comment, nonnie, it means so much to me that you're enjoying this XD

Poor, drugged out Clark and poor, desperately trying to keep it together Bruce. They are such adorable idiots, I love this pairing/fandom/everything.

Haha, I am just so glad you're enjoying it XD

And yes, poor soaking wet Clark, having to get towelled off by Bruce and lectured at the same time XD

omg, nonnie, the fleck in Cavill's eye is just the icing on the 'get the fuck out of here' cake. HOW DARE HE. REALLY.

And YES, NONNIE, I DO LOVE YOU! I love everyone in this bar, and I SO appreciate all these lovely comments. Thank you!!!!

Thank you so, so much nonnie, drugged out Clark was WAY too much fun to write, and omg BRUCE, what is happening in your brain/pants. Terrible things!

Thanks again -- I so appreciate all your lovely comments :DDDDDDDDD

:DDDDDDDDDDDD Not the OP, but oh my god, yes, anon, yes yes yes - I love that this is getting filled and this is a fantastic start. ESPECIALLY with Clark's grudging almost-antagonism, and him slowly beginning to learn where the lines are between Bruce's different personae! OH LOOK MY FAVORITE THING EVER. :D I love Bruce's carefully-planned fumbling as Bruce Wayne (rubbing his lack of knowledge in people's faces, what a perfect description!), his crisp competence as Batman, and all the scenarios you've sketched out here to illustrate them both. And I am absolutely just as here for surprised and impressed Clark as I am for any future hypothetical turned-on Clark we may be headed for. :D

A perfect beginning, anon, and I'm so looking forward to the rest of this fill!

In a lot of the fics I've read where Clark and Bruce embark on a sexual relationship before the main events of BvS, there's generally no reveal of Superman. If they're having loads of kinky, wild, rough sex with scratching and biting and sucking, then wouldn't Bruce figure out that there's something about Clark that doesn't add up because all of his marks and bruises disappear the next day. Clark sometimes forget to keep his strength in check when they're NOT having sex, and Bruce can never seem to reach him whenever Superman is saving the day. Also, Clark's a genius. He's thrilled to have someone to talk to that can almost reach his level, and Bruce starts trying to trick Clark into revealing just how smart he is. Bruce gets suspicious. Then he figures it out. I really want to read about Bruce's realisation, and how he tries to make Clark reveal himself, and if Bruce will still go on with his plans or has Clark, somehow, changed his mind? Because suddenly his thing with Clark isn't just a thing at all.

Bonus for Bruce starting a conversation about Superman and they get into an argument but then Clark somehow still manages to make Bruce think that Superman is definitely not what he thought he was. And BFF Lois side-eyeing Bruce Wayne.

SHIT THIS THIS THIS

oh god yes please!

Eeeee competence!kink! I'm so glad this is being filled! I love Bruce's answer, "as many as I need to". That's so perfectly in character. I can't wait to see more of this!

Oh nonnie, this is WONDERFUL. I love the contrast between Bruce as Bruce Wayne and Bruce as Batman: That piercing, unrelenting stare that had nothing in common with Bruce Wayne's vapid, absent look. This is PERFECT.

All the little notes about how Bruce loves his secrets, how he always, at all times only lets Clark see exactly as much as he wants him to see, and Clark being so highly aware of this... I really adore it. The little hints of identity porn make me so, so happy XDDD

And then he'd wink, apologise, and explain that he once spent an entire weekend with a ballerina from the Bolshoi, but that sentence was the only thing she'd taught him. At least in the linguistic department, she did show me a few other things I'd never seen before …
Oh, this is the perfect amount of obnoxious for when Bruce is Wayneing, I love just gorgeously you've drawn the contrast.

Thank you SO MUCH for this amazingness :D

OP here! What a lovely story! I love that there's so much that Bruce doesn't say, but Clark manages to figure him out anyways. And Clark being all touch-starved for Bruce, sex or no, running his hands all over and just soaking in the feel of him.

Then you had to bring in my OTHER weakness into it, Clark's longevity, and GUH. MY HEART. This is everything I wanted and more, thanks so much for the fill!

<3333333

"but sometimes when Clark kisses him first, he hangs on a little longer, switches to openmouthed without much warning."

Ow my heart. Bruce is so obviously letting himself dream it's real for just that minute.

That cliffhanger tho.

Thank you so much! I love identity porn and it was so easy to build that in here, so I couldn't resist. Clark will remain surprised and impressed a lot, but he'll also get turned on because how could anyone not be turned on by Bruce? ;) Thanks for the comment, I hope you'll enjoy the rest of what's coming, too. :)

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Page 25 of 99

DCEU Prompt Post #1

Bruce/Clark, xenophilia

Re: FILL: tell all the truth (but tell it slant); Bruce/Clark, fake dating (12/?)

Re: FILL: tell all the truth (but tell it slant); Bruce/Clark, fake dating (12/?)

Re: FILL: tell all the truth (but tell it slant); Bruce/Clark, fake dating (12/?)

Re: FILL: tell all the truth (but tell it slant); Bruce/Clark, fake dating (12/?)

FILL: tell all the truth (but tell it slant); Bruce/Clark, fake dating (13/17ish?)

Re: Bruce/Clark, depowered!Clark is the biggest damsel in distress - Part Six

Re: FILL: tell all the truth (but tell it slant); Bruce/Clark, fake dating (13/17ish?)

Re: FILL: tell all the truth (but tell it slant); Bruce/Clark, fake dating (13/17ish?)

Re: Bruce/Clark, depowered!Clark is the biggest damsel in distress - Part Six

Re: FILL: tell all the truth (but tell it slant); Bruce/Clark, fake dating (13/17ish?)

[Fill, 1/6] Bruce/Clark, competence kink

Re: Bruce/Clark, depowered!Clark is the biggest damsel in distress - Part Six

Re: Bruce/Clark, depowered!Clark is the biggest damsel in distress - Part Six

Re: Bruce/Clark, depowered!Clark is the biggest damsel in distress - Part Six

Re: Bruce/Clark, depowered!Clark is the biggest damsel in distress - Part Six

Re: [Fill, 1/6] Bruce/Clark, competence kink

Bruce/Clark, Bruce figures it out

Re: Bruce/Clark - Clothing/Naked

Re: Bruce/Clark, Superman's Cape

Re: [Fill, 1/6] Bruce/Clark, competence kink

Re: [Fill, 1/6] Bruce/Clark, competence kink

Re: [FIll] Pilgrim Soul; Bruce/Clark, age difference, sweet sex

Re: FILL: tell all the truth (but tell it slant); Bruce/Clark, fake dating (13/17ish?)

Re: [Fill, 1/6] Bruce/Clark, competence kink