DCEU Prompt Post #1

[dceu_kinkmod]

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] Bootleg, 3/5? [Bruce/Clark, kidnapping and Superman merchandise]

[(Anonymous)]

It was unlikely that General Tso's compared to the five-star epicurean gourmet whatever that Bruce usually encountered in his circles, but Clark had promised and Bruce had accepted graciously, give or take an ominous prediction of an MSG hangover and assurances that he wasn't so ascetic that he didn't eat something deep-fried now and then.

Not so gracious was the way he'd browbeaten Clark with all kinds of frustratingly reasonable and not at all ironic concerns about associating where they might be seen together, until he'd agreed that they would eat at Bruce's transparent box of a house.

But, Clark thought, there was something nice about the place on a typical Gotham Sunday. The fire spat and popped in the hearth; outside, hazy rain condensed on the lakehouse windows and gathered into rivulets. Against all odds, Bruce had admitted defeat first and was currently slumped back against the couch with his shoulder pressed to Clark's, his breath slow and steady like his heartbeat, his socked feet propped on the glass coffee table among the takeout cartons.

"So, how long did it take to get all the glue off?" Clark asked, going ahead and pilfering the last wonton.

"Not as long as you'd think."

"You shaved your arms." Clark meant it as a joke, but Bruce shot him such an offended look he had to swallow his mouthful fast so he could laugh. "Oh my god, you did shave your arms."

He ran his fingers down Bruce's forearm and sure enough, it was smooth. Bruce's skin rose in bumps at his touch.

"The compound I used to dissolve the tape also dissolves body hair," Bruce said primly, but he didn't take his arm away. "Laugh it up, Kent. Tell me again how funny it was."

"You were a sight to see," Clark said, and cleared his throat. The visuals had certainly stuck with him, pun maybe intended this time. He felt his ears grow hot.

Bruce looked at him steadily, and without breaking eye contact, leaned over to retrieve something from beneath the sofa. There was a slight but detectable uptick in his heart rate as he revealed what it was.

A roll of duct tape.

Duct tape covered with tiny bat symbols.

"Oh," Clark said. There were several ways the afternoon could proceed from here. He let his tone slide into mild curiosity. "Where'd you get that?"

"You're not the only one who has bootleg merchandise, Superman."

Bruce peeled a length of tape from the roll. The noise it made bounced through the lakehouse with foreboding. Bruce sat up and turned, his knee dipping the couch cushion and Clark prepared to have the tape plastered over his mouth in perfectly-calculated revenge, but as Bruce's movement unfolded fully, it became apparent that wasn't his immediate intention.

He traced the line of Clark's throat with his thumb and leaned in. "Fast or slow?"

"Slow?" Clark hazarded.

"Figures." Bruce rested his fingertips along Clark's jaw, and unhurriedly kissed him. His chest rose against Clark's in a deep inhale and the soft press of his lips was just a little too practised. Clark fell into it with a shiver of exhilaration regardless, but he couldn't help wonder what he'd have gotten if he'd asked for it fast. A rough hand gripping his chin, the other already unbuckling Clark's belt; something biting and ruthless and over as quick as a gag being ripped off.

He made a wordless sound and lost his chopsticks so he could grip Bruce's hair maybe, or cup the back of his head and commit to something more… more. He wasn't sure, and didn't get the chance to find out because Bruce broke the kiss and caught his hand up.

He wrapped a length of tape tight around Clark's wrist, once, twice.

Clark furrowed his brow. He was up for iterating on the kissing for as long as it took, but this was a game he didn't get. "You know this won't hold me," he said.

"Won't it?" Bruce drew Clark's wrists together in front of him and methodically bound them, each lap of tape evenly spaced. His voice was warm and matter-of-fact. "I noticed the situation the other day had something of an impact on you. That got me to wondering, but we could see about a more faithful reconstruction, if you want."

Clark could recall the events of the kidnapping rescue clearly, but an eidetic memory was no use if cognitive bias had set in. He'd been calm and collected, hadn't he? Bruce had been the flustered one, for a given value of flustered. Clark shifted in his seat and the tape pulled against his skin. It wasn't a uncomfortable sensation for him, just an odd one. "This is--this seems fair," he said.

"Fair." The ever-present crease between Bruce's brows deepened.

Clark looked down at his hands. The tape was layered neatly over his wrists and down to his knuckles, bats upon bats. He made a fist as best he could without tearing anything, and looked back up at Bruce.

"This seems," he said, as the realization broke that this was a thing he could do. "Good."

Bruce nodded at that, much more pleased, then took to his feet and hooked Clark up by his duct-taped hands. He brought them through to the bedroom. "Get comfortable," he said, with the authority of someone who had an unfathomably strong person restrained with nothing but a meter of tape and his own tremendous will.

Clark put his shoulders against the angular struts of the headboard, not unlike how Bruce had been seated at the radiator. Bruce slung a leg over Clark's thighs, bent Clark's arms above his head and taped him securely--if he had been anyone else--to the frame.

Bats flitted in Clark's periphery, black on yellow: warning, danger. Bruce leaned back to admire his handiwork; his gaze raked along the boundary of his tape job but not much lower, despite the fact that Clark was, at this point, inconcealably hard.

"So. Am I restrained to your satisfaction?" Clark asked, and was speared with a look that Bruce usually reserved for people who were being gauche near him at parties.

"This isn't for my benefit," Bruce didn't even try to sound like he wasn't lying.

Clark grinned. "Is that a yes?"

Bruce reached out and touched Clark's wrist. The sensation was muted through the tape. He could detect the pressure of Bruce's fingertips, but not the whorl of his prints.

"It's not a no," he said.

"Come on, then." Clark tightened his hands into fists and watched Bruce track the flex of muscle and sinew in his forearms.

In single smooth motion, Bruce shifted his weight across Clark's hips. Clark rose against this sudden windfall of pressure. "This seems to be doing it for you," Bruce observed. "Is it the bondage specifically, or the illusion of helplessness?"

"Specifically? You need to deduce further."

"Careful, I might come to the conclusion that you're a duct tape fetishist."

"I'm not the one who keeps a roll under my couch."

A loud rip cut through the room and Bruce bore down on Clark with a strip of tape. This time he smoothed it over Clark's mouth, thumbs sweeping over his cheeks, then leaned in to press a light kiss against the impression of Clark's lips.

"An improvement."

Clark's skepticism was muffled somewhat.

"So, how do you want to do this," Bruce said. "Thoughts?"

Well, we're already doing this, Clark would have said if he weren't gagged. Bruce obviously had some ideas of his own, or he would have asked first, taped later--or maybe he had anticipated Clark's backtalk.

Of course, if Clark wanted to make a suggestion, all he would have to do was open his mouth. He tilted his head and shrugged as nonchalantly as he could manage.

"Carte blanche?" Bruce said. "Brave man."

Re: [FILL] Bootleg, 3/5? [Bruce/Clark, kidnapping and Superman merchandise]

[(Anonymous)]

:DDDDDDDDDD Gold star right off the bat for "epicurean gourmet whatever", anon, I snorted audibly! And oh, man, there's nothing that isn't lovely about takeout and a fire at the lakehouse with relaxed sock-footed Bruce, how wonderfully cozy. ... Which naturally turns into a conversation about escape techniques and glue solvents, and of course impromptu (well, okay, semi-impromptu, oh, Bruce, WHEN DID YOU PUT THAT TAPE THERE) bondage makeouts. OH YOU GUYS. ♥

Seriously, though, I love all the callbacks, the deliberate role reversal, fast or slow and Clark's wayward imagination going to "quick as a gag being ripped off" - and the element of honor bondage in here, because of course it's almost always going to be with Superman, just, hng. *__________* And I just can't even begin to tell you how thoroughly I admire the balance between the humor in the dialogue and the sheer hotness of the descriptions, the TOUCHING and Bruce STARING and the "windfall of pressure", I just. SO GOOD. A+. THUMBS UP.

Re: [FILL] Bootleg, 3/5? [Bruce/Clark, kidnapping and Superman merchandise]

[(Anonymous)]

Okay, listen, my favourite thing is super-strong people choosing to be restrained when they could easily break free. Especially when that super-strong person is Clark <3