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dceu_kinkmeme2016-04-14 12:37 am
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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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FILL: tell all the truth (but tell it slant); Bruce/Clark, fake dating (8/?)
(Anonymous) 2016-05-24 11:30 pm (UTC)(link)oh my god someone stop me
But for all that he's picked up the pace a little, Bruce still doesn't kiss Clark until the sixth date.
Clark begins to think something's up almost right away. Bruce is different from the start, though Clark's not sure how to measure it: a certain intensity to his face, or maybe the way his gaze follows Clark from the second Clark gets into the car with him. He leans back into the limo seat and looks at Clark with dark eyes, the barest hint of amusement slanting the line of his mouth; and now Clark's looking at his mouth, oops.
Clark clears his throat and glances deliberately out the window. "Where to this time?"
"I thought perhaps modern dance," Bruce says, in his smoothest, warmest Wayne voice—and he's doing it on purpose, Clark knows that, which makes it even more annoying that Clark finds himself wanting to lean toward it. Jesus. He absolutely cannot afford to let Bruce Wayne start messing with his head.
"Modern dance," he repeats, inane.
Bruce shrugs, an easy shift of the shoulders—the line of the suit obscures it a little, Clark thinks dimly, but of course he knows what they look like anyway, Bruce's shoulders: Batman's been sprayed with acid at least twice, has had to disassemble the body armor around his undersuit, and why is that what Clark's thinking about right now—
"You seemed to enjoy the ballet."
Clark blinks. "Yes, I did." He hesitates, but—but there's no reason not to say it, is there? "That's very thoughtful. I—thank you."
And that, of all things, seems to trip Bruce up, a brief instant of total stillness like a hitch in his step—but then he smiles at Clark smugly and relaxes back into the seat. So maybe it was just Clark's imagination.
"No need to thank me, Clark," Bruce says, and then, voice dipping, "At least not until we're somewhere a little more private."
Typical, Clark thinks sourly, but that doesn't stop the heat rising into his face. "You're terrible," he tells Bruce. It doesn't come out nearly as flat as he wanted it to.
Bruce smiles, and still—still—doesn't look away. "And yet you're still here, in my car, wearing—" and oh, here it comes: Clark tries not to squirm under the scorchingly thorough onceover— "a very, very nice suit. So I must be doing something right."
"Oh my god," Clark mutters, and steadfastly ignores Bruce's melodramatic wince when he sticks a finger into his collar and tugs to loosen it. Somehow it's always really hot in Bruce's cars.
The performance is a reprieve in more ways than one. Bruce is merciful, he doesn't just stare at Clark through the entire thing the way he was in the car; and truthfully, it's absorbing enough that Clark can let everything else fade into the background. He's not even sure what the name of the troupe is, and it's not as though he's any kind of expert, but to his untrained eyes the dancing is spellbinding—wrenching in its intensity, sharp and loud and desperate right up until it all breaks open for an unexpected moment of quiet grace. It pulls him in so completely that he's almost disoriented when the stage empties and the lights come back up.
He sits back in his seat and breathes while people file out around him; and Bruce—
Bruce doesn't rush him. Clark expects him to make a joke, to tell Clark that if he takes any longer they're going to miss their reservation. But Bruce doesn't say anything until Clark finally turns to look at him; and then all he does is smile, just a little, and say, "You liked it."
"Yes," Clark says.
"Good," Bruce says, low, and then abruptly stands, raising an eyebrow and holding out one hand like Clark is a princess he's helping out of a carriage. "But if you take any longer, we're going to miss our reservation."
Of course. Clark grins helplessly at his knees, shakes his head, and then he stands up, too; and he pointedly doesn't take Bruce's hand, but he doesn't shake it off when Bruce settles it at the small of his back, either.
After all, it's not going to hurt anything, Clark reminds himself. Maybe if they're lucky, somebody in the lobby will take a picture.
By the time they reach the restaurant, Bruce is turned up to eleven again. Clark can barely even remember what they get, and it's possible he lets Bruce order for him; it seems like the only thing in his brain is the look in Bruce's eyes when he holds out a mouthful, the way he lets Clark wrap a hand around his on the fork but then doesn't actually yield it.
"What—"
"Try it," Bruce murmurs, and the tone of his voice fills Clark's gut with something Clark would really, really like to call anxiety. The angle of his mouth turns just a little wicked, and then he adds, "You'll like it. I promise."
Jesus, Clark thinks, sweet hopscotching Jesus, but there's nothing else for it: it seems weird and rude to just—leave the fork hanging there, and Clark's not going to use the strength on Bruce over this. It's just food, Clark tells himself; and he closes his eyes while he ducks down to close his mouth around the tines, but it doesn't matter. He can hardly taste it for picturing the expression on Bruce's face.
And anxiety is definitely not the word for what it does to him to sit back up and open his eyes again only to watch Bruce watch him swallow.
He clears his throat and then drains half his water-glass in one pull.
(It doesn't occur to him for another couple minutes that he never actually told Bruce what he thought of the food; but Bruce doesn't seem to mind.)
The entire dinner passes almost in a haze. They talk about something, Clark's pretty sure, but all his attempts to start a fight are twisted around into banter instead, or else Bruce somehow manages to reply with outrageously ridiculous compliments that only make Clark laugh. And Clark can't concentrate well enough to keep trying, because Bruce keeps—keeps touching him, brushing their hands together when he passes Clark things, wrapping his fingers around Clark's the same way Clark did to him earlier when Clark belatedly offers Bruce a taste of his own meal.
And Clark's not an idiot. He realizes this is the Bruce Wayne Show he's getting, one hundred percent grade A extra-dark. It's just that knowing what it is doesn't stop it from working. There absolutely is a tiny cynical part of Clark's brain wondering how many people Bruce has used this or that line on before, whether he prefers the swoons he usually gets to Clark's snorting—whether Clark would be able to tell if he did. But it's slowly drowned out by the accumulating touches of Bruce's hands, by the almost narcotic intensity of having Bruce Wayne's completely undivided attention, by the heavy simmering feeling of being—not half-hard, quite, but maybe a quarter, right on the edge of getting somewhere, in suit pants Bruce bought for him in the first place.
(Clark had already realized this was starting to get to him in ways he hadn't anticipated. But the sixth date is the first time he understands: when this comes apart, when this ends, it's—it might actually hurt.)
Bruce kindly waits until Clark's swallowed the last of his extremely good glass of wine to say, in the same warm, intent tone he's been using all evening, "I'm going to kiss you by the doors."
To his credit, Clark thinks, he manages not to startle too much. "What?"
"I'm going to kiss you by the doors," Bruce repeats, unapologetic. "In the entryway. We can't put it off very much longer. We haven't been interrupted, you haven't had to leave early—it's a good night for it."
It's like the flip side of the night on the roof: Bruce Wayne's talking, but the words are Batman. Strategy, tactics, planning.
(Clark wishes vaguely that that made more of a difference to his dick, but he's starting to discover that it doesn't.)
"Not outside?"
"Outside is where we'd kiss if we were putting on a show," Bruce says.
"Oh," Clark mutters, "of course."
"You go and wait for me," Bruce says, still in that same low heated tone; in case anyone's trying to eavesdrop, Clark realizes, close enough to hear that but not the actual words. "I'll take care of the bill and then catch up to you. We'll talk quietly for a second, and then I'll kiss you—close enough to the doors for somebody to catch a partial. That's the best we can do."
It should bother Clark a little, probably, to hear it laid out step-by-step like a sports play. But he's looking at Bruce Wayne and listening to Batman, and it's like the combination, knowing both of them, lets him see what Bruce really means. That's the best we can do—Bruce is trying to find a balance, to make this as painless as possible. Give the media a decent kiss without forcing Clark to fake it really publicly: half-shielded by the restaurant doors, a glimpse instead of a full frontal.
It's kind, is what it is; so when Clark stands up, he lets himself touch Bruce's hand and say, "Thank you," before he walks away.
Batman's plans usually work; this one's no different. Clark waits just inside the restaurant doors—they're wood and glass, enough that he can see the crowd of photographers outside, which means they can also see him. He wonders whether Bruce timed all this, had Alfred call someone to tip them off so they'd be waiting. Probably.
The footsteps that come up behind him then are Bruce's; he wastes a second wondering why he's so sure, whether it's the heartbeat and breathing he's recognizing, or maybe the faint scent of Bruce's cologne, or it's just that he actually has learned what Italian leather and custom soles sound like.
And then he turns around, and Bruce is—Bruce is right there. Bruce is close and stepping closer, lifting one hand to settle his fingertips against Clark's throat, his thumb against the line of Clark's jaw. "This is so trite you should probably slap me," he murmurs, "but you have the most astonishing eyes."
He doesn't even give Clark a chance to reply. He just leans in, and Clark's eyes close before he can stop them.
Bruce starts slow: one brief hot brush, another; and then a firmer press of mouths. It's—they're—they really are kissing, and the thought, the fact of it, makes Clark breathe in sharply—makes him part his lips, in other words, and that's the beginning of the end.
Clark almost wishes, after, that he could tell himself it had done nothing for him and mean it—that knowing Bruce was doing it all for show had ruined it before it began, and allowed the whole thing to leave Clark cold.
But it doesn't. Bruce is good at this, endlessly good: his mouth is hot and his tongue is clever, and the way he uses his teeth, God. He can't make Clark bleed, not like this, but Clark almost wishes he could. And surely he's doing all this on purpose, but the way it feels, the way he starts out so light and sweet and then licks in deeper, a sudden desperate plunge like he can't stop himself, before easing back again—
When it's over, all Clark can think is that he wants another. He wants another and another and another, he wants to drag Bruce back and shove him into a wall and—
He opens his eyes, and a flash goes off—not the first, surely, just the first Clark's noticed. (Clark can't stop himself from tracking down the picture later: the photographer caught the two of them just staring at each other, intent, too close, the barest shine of wetness on Clark's lower lip.) Bruce turns and laughs, pushes the restaurant door open and shields his eyes, just barely in time for the flurry of followups, popping white lights strobing across his face; and then he smiles at Clark, smug and sly and Wayne straight through, and leads him toward the car.
Re: FILL: tell all the truth (but tell it slant); Bruce/Clark, fake dating (8/?)
(Anonymous) 2016-05-24 11:58 pm (UTC)(link)I love how Bruce is really starting to get to Clark, which is exactly what I wanted from this prompt, really - Bruce being ~Bruce Wayne~ and Clark being kind of annoyed an STILL falling for it. And ouch, Bruce covering up any real feelings with innuendos, of course.
and he pointedly doesn't take Bruce's hand, but he doesn't shake it off when Bruce settles it at the small of his back, either.
After all, it's not going to hurt anything, Clark reminds himself. Maybe if they're lucky, somebody in the lobby will take a picture.
Haha, oh Clark, right, they're doing it for the press, of course. ;D Even if Clark is enjoying himself so, so much. Seductive Bruce is so, so much fun to watch. Especially from Clark's POV.
And Clark's not an idiot. He realizes this is the Bruce Wayne Show he's getting, one hundred percent grade A extra-dark. It's just that knowing what it is doesn't stop it from working.
YES YES YES. So you basically said what I just rambled about in my comment, but better. Braintwin. :D And the entire following paragraph is beautiful, and then that line about how when this ends, it might actually hurt, oh Clark. Clark. Bruce had better not hurt him, I'm feeling protective here. ;)
It's like the flip side of the night on the roof: Bruce Wayne's talking, but the words are Batman. Strategy, tactics, planning.
(Clark wishes vaguely that that made more of a difference to his dick, but he's starting to discover that it doesn't.)
The first line is such good identity porn, the second line made me cackle. :D And I love how calmly Bruce announces this. But my favourite thing must be Clark realising that Bruce is trying to make this as easy on Clark as he can. My heart. <3
AND THEN YOU HAVE HIM TOUCH CLARK'S THROAT!XKJF BGDFIRGBDIPGD AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS. BEST FIRST KISS EVER, ANON, THE BEST! Clark gets so carried away and Bruce is a great kisser of course, and the thing about Clark wanting to bleed, unf, and Clark wanting more - I'm with Clark here, I WANT MORE. ;D And the Wayne smile at the end, oh my god. I'm wibbling. I need to know they're going to be happy together (okay, you said this would have a happy ending, but I need to know how). (Don't mind my whining, of course, you are an absolute saint for updating this amazing WIP so often. <3)
/OP who would like to, like, fake marry you for real or something like that ;)
Re: FILL: tell all the truth (but tell it slant); Bruce/Clark, fake dating (8/?)
(Anonymous) 2016-05-25 11:19 pm (UTC)(link)Oh, I'm so glad, OP, you have no idea - like I said, this part is definitely what I had in mind when I first decided to write something for this prompt, so I'm THRILLED that it's hit the spot you wanted to see hit! \o/ SUCCESS, BRAINTWIN.
oh Clark, right, they're doing it for the press
Of course they are! WHY ELSE WOULD THEY POSSIBLY DO THIS. I HAVE NO IDEA.
Bruce had better not hurt him, I'm feeling protective here
... Well, only a little? :D I mean, what's a happy ending without a good bout of angst first, right?
AND THEN YOU HAVE HIM TOUCH CLARK'S THROAT
:DDDDDDDDDD Honestly my absolute favorite thing about filling this prompt has been getting to fill it with these two idiots in particular, because you just KNOW Bruce is rationalizing the hell out of getting to do things For Strategic Reasons That Are Sensible that he desperately wanted to do anyway. But, of course, ~Bruce Wayne~ has to be the one doing them, not Bruce. /o\ OH BRUCE.
You have absolutely nothing to fear, I swear - we're headed for pining and communication failure, if I manage to stick to my outline, but they will 100% work things out by the end! You are a great prompter and such a kind commenter and I'm so glad we share this delightful little fandom. ♥
/fill author who would fake marry you any day (or at least your prompts :D)
Re: FILL: tell all the truth (but tell it slant); Bruce/Clark, fake dating (8/?)
(Anonymous) 2016-05-25 03:36 am (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: tell all the truth (but tell it slant); Bruce/Clark, fake dating (8/?)
(Anonymous) 2016-05-25 11:21 pm (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: tell all the truth (but tell it slant); Bruce/Clark, fake dating (8/?)
(Anonymous) 2016-05-25 10:08 am (UTC)(link)And that, of all things, seems to trip Bruce up...
I can’t decide how I feel about this; I love it clearly. But I don’t know whether Bruce just doesn’t know what to do with genuine courtesy or if it’s just an extension of him figuring out Clark.
Oh, my! Six dates and already Clark can predict Bruce’s jokes. I love Clark’s point of view, but I can’t help wondering what’s going through Bruce’s head throughout it all. I can see the Batman of it—Clark liked the ballet. Take him to a recital to put him in a better mood for the kissing! But I can’t help but wonder if tailoring the date more for Clark’s enjoyment is less a calculated move and more something else? O.o
Sweet hopscotching Jesus! Clark internal dialogue is adorable!
Guh… Bruce feeding Clark. Just…Clark being so flustered!
I am of the opinion that Bruce is unapologetic about not putting off kissing Clark for more than his stated reasons.
Give the media a decent kiss without forcing Clark to fake it really publicly. I am also of the opinion that yes, it may be a calculated kindness, but I have to believe that it’s also calculated to be as close to private and just for Bruce to have, without raising Clark’s suspicions. :-D That, and Bruce has probably figured out by now that Clark can’t to lie or fake his way out of a paper bag.
Somehow, I don’t think it’s Bruce Wayne turned up to 11 that’s remarking on Clark’s baby blues.
The kiss. Guh. For the record, so worth the buildup. And, yeah. Just, yeah.
Poor baby! He’s already starting to tear himself up with analyzing the “Bruce Wayne Show.” Being self-aware sucks.
Thanks for my daily dose of happy (heartbreak)!
Re: FILL: tell all the truth (but tell it slant); Bruce/Clark, fake dating (8/?)
(Anonymous) 2016-05-25 11:33 pm (UTC)(link)No worries, anon, that is pretty much the direction I had in mind - I don't imagine that many people tell Bruce Wayne "thank you" as sincerely as Clark, and probably he's also a little startled to have Clark call him "thoughtful" when he's mostly spent their dates hitting on Clark and being mildly annoying. :D
But I can’t help but wonder if tailoring the date more for Clark’s enjoyment is less a calculated move and more something else
:D It's Bruce, so probably both - I don't know if I'll get around to writing a companion piece in Bruce POV, but I imagine the line between "things he can plausibly do for Clark because they're fake dating" and "things he's wanted to do for Clark anyway" is getting blurry ... Which, yeah, totally also would apply to the kiss: on the one hand, he can absolutely come up with an objective rationale for why it's best to do it this way - and on the other hand that's the way he WANTS it to happen, not that he'll let on.
So basically your opinions are good and you should feel good. :D
/o\ Oh, thank you so much, anon - haha, I'm glad you liked the line about Clark's eyes (again, yeah, totally a thing Bruce is finally getting to say because he's "under cover"), and it has taken SO RIDICULOUSLY LONG to get to the kissing, I'm so grateful to hear it feels like it was worth it! \o/ I'm so very pleased you're still enjoying this, and, as always, so delighted to hear your thoughts! THANK YOU. ♥
Re: FILL: tell all the truth (but tell it slant); Bruce/Clark, fake dating (8/?)
(Anonymous) 2016-05-25 06:29 pm (UTC)(link)the way he starts out so light and sweet and then licks in deeper, a sudden desperate plunge like he can't stop himself,
*SILENT SCREAMING* BRUCE TOTALLY COULDN'T HELP HIMSELF. GOD.
I swear I want to cry in frustration from this. Because I'm not the one getting wined and dined and kissed by Bruce, because Clark aches so beautifully, so painfully. And so does Bruce! Which just makes everything worse. But also better, because UST = <33333 even when the Unresolved Feels just about slay me.
That kiss was so hot, so hot, ugh *ugly sobbing* I HATE EVERYTHING, BUT MOSTLY YOU.
Re: FILL: tell all the truth (but tell it slant); Bruce/Clark, fake dating (8/?)
(Anonymous) 2016-05-25 11:40 pm (UTC)(link)HE SUPER COULD NOT AT ALL. OH CLARK, WHEN WILL YOU REALIZE. /o\
I feel like I shouldn't be saying "YAY I'M GLAD" when you tell me things like "I want to cry in frustration", and yet YAY I'M GLAD. :DDDDDDD I haven't really wallowed in UST to this degree before (it's a kinkmeme, my id is starting to show), so I'm basically just SO EXCITED IT'S NOT TERRIBLE \o/ and your extremely kind compliments are taking me over the edge into seal noise territory.
:D YAY I HATE YOU ALSO ♥ not really though, you're actually awesome