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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Comments

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

[(Anonymous)]

Clark's early, but Bruce is ready. He feels somehow overdressed when he flies in at Superman to see Bruce waiting for him in one of his perfectly coiffed suits, standing at attention as if he had anticipated Clark's arrival all along. It would almost seem if Bruce was the one with all the power if Clark's powers of observation weren't so great; he can see the way Bruce's hand won't stop fiddling in his pocket, the way his jaw clenches and unclenches at an almost perfectly rhythmic beat, because even when stressed, Bruce is nothing if not consistent and methodical.

"Hello to you too," Clark says, mostly because he's at a loss for what else can be said.

Bruce, never one for pleasantries once stripped down to his bare bones, says, "You wanted Kryptonite."

It's not phrased like a question, but Clark knows Bruce well enough by now to know it is one. He had hoped this would be up for discussion when he came, hoped so hard that it was distracting throughout the rest of the workday as he tried to hide the bulge forming in his pants as he so much as thought about it, but hadn't dared think that it would be possible to get Bruce to agree.

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.

"Yes," Clark says, voice cautious. "I do. But... look, Bruce, if it's not something you're interested in, just forget --"

"I'm not. Not interested." He says, and his voice is uncertain, halting, and Clark realizes with a lurch that Kryptonite means a lot more to Bruce than it does to him, somehow. Sure, it had buried Clark, but Bruce is the one who had watched him be buried. Clark has seen his fair share of bodies being buried and knows, intimately, that it's so much worse.

Bruce almost looks angry at his own indecisiveness, so Clark finally closes the distance between them, placing his hands on his shoulders, looking him in the eye. They could have an honest conversation about their feelings, true, but they could also have an honest conversation about something... else.

"You're so hot when we fuck," he says, voice low, breathy. "You fuck me so hard. I want to feel it."

It's not entirely honest - I want to bleed is probably not the sort of thing to bring up yet - but it's honest enough. Clark almost thinks it doesn't work until he hears the way Bruce's heartrate suddenly spikes, sees goosebumps rise on his exposed flesh.

"Wait here," Bruce growls, and he suddenly manages to sweep off as dramatically as if he were wearing a cape, and Clark's left to his own thoughts until Bruce all but tackles him to the wall, forearm pressed deep into his throat as he leans in and kisses him.

Clark can feel the Kryptonite held in Bruce's hands right away. It dulls everything else different about him, special about him; he can't hear as well, can't see as well, can't do anything as well except feel. And feel he does as Bruce kisses him deeper, firm and hot, and for the first time, knows what it's really like for Bruce's stubble to scrape against his cheeks, knows what it's like for him to bite and suck on his lower lip. He doesn't mean to moan, but he does anyway, trying to take ownership of the kiss back and utterly failing as Bruce begins to kiss him with a vengeance, sucking almost hard enough to hurt before he tears himself away.

Bruce drags his index and middle finger across Clark's mouth and Clark pants, breathless, reaching out to suck on them when Bruce suddenly yanks his hand away.

"Your lips look sore." There's something deep and hungry in his gaze, one cheek twitching as he takes in the sight in front of him. Clark already looks debauched, hair mussed and lips red, panting coming uncharacteristically strongly, a bead of sweat dripping down his forehead and hard as hell. Bruce's eyes rake across him like he's trying to memorize it, and Clark can practically feel his gaze in a way that has absolutely nothing to do with the Kryptonite.

"Get undressed," Bruce says afterwards, voice quiet but commanding, an almost imperious tilt to his head. Clark doesn't move for a moment, so he adds on, sharply, "Now."

Clark scrambles to obey, realizing with mortification that the inside of his suit is sticky with precum. His mortification quickly fades when he realizes that he actually does have to scramble to obey; his limbs are slow, and clumsy, and he has to fuss with the latches of it before he peels his suit off of himself and stands nude before Bruce.

Bruce fondles himself almost absently through his suit, then surges forward again. "Better," he mutters, and leans in to kiss him again, just as hard as before, only this time, he links their legs together and grinds.

Clark moans, and even if all they've done is kiss, he's so hard it hurts, desperate to get off, but even more desperate to just feel more of this, this beautiful thing that human beings get to feel every day, feel the intoxication of being with someone who could hurt him. Bruce has had the Kryptonite all along, could have attacked him at any moment, and even if it shouldn't, the very thought practically drives him out of his mind.

He moans, grinding right back into Bruce and getting that expensive suit filthy as he leaks right through it, inwardly reveling in the foreign feeling of fabric scratching against his cock, grinds to just that side of painful. It's incredible, and he leans in and begins to rub back and forth into a hard, steady rhythm, pressing down so deeply that a weaker man than Bruce would crumple underneath the pressure.

"Yeah," he chants, pace becoming more and more urgent as he feels his balls tightening, and it feels so good, too good, that he can't even think about the fact that he wanted to feel Bruce inside him, he just wants to come, and he wants to come now. "Yeah, yeah, yeah -- "

He lets out a small, strangled sound as Bruce steps away from him again, and has to catch himself on the wall. He shoots Bruce a deeply betrayed look, but Bruce stares back, rolling the Kryptonite between his fingers. Clark watches as it almost hypnotically dips between Bruce's fingers, and he can't help but think about where else he'd like those finger.

"You got what you wanted. Get over here," he growls. "On your knees. Clean up the mess you made of my pants."

Clark doesn't even think twice before obeying, dropping almost instinctively to his knees and shuffling towards Bruce. He leans forward and laps at the wet spot on Bruce's trousers, tongue rasping against the fine material as he works his way up to where Bruce's cock is (and god, Bruce is just as hard as he is) and traces the outline of it with his tongue. He trails his tongue along it until he finds the head and stops to suck at it through the fabric, gently at first, and then harder, more insistent afterwards until Bruce's willpower finally crumbles and he hurriedly unzips his fly and pulls his cock out, leaving it to hang full and heavy right in front of his nose. Clark breathes in the scent of Bruce, of clean skin and soap and the salty, musky scent of his dripping cock, but he doesn't get to enjoy the moment for long.

To be fair, he enjoys the moment after a lot more. Still holding the Kryptonite, Bruce grabs onto his head and fists his hands in Clark's hair.

For the first time, Clark understands what getting his hair pulled feels like. It hurts, the shorter hairs being dragged further from his scalp, and it hurts even more when he's tugged unceremoniously onto Bruce's cock and held into place and Bruce fucks into him mercilessly, leaving his eyes to well up as he chokes around it, silently luxuriating in the fact that his throat feels sore. The Kryptonite is hard against the back of his head, and it makes him feel weak and shaky and oh so good.

"That's it," Bruce mutters, eyes rolling towards the expansive ceiling above them. "That's it. Look so good -- you don't know how good you look like that."

When Clark's hand drifts towards his own cock to take some of the edge off, Bruce's voice is sharp, and the hands fisted in his hair jerk his head back a little, a jarring, painful reminder of who's in charge.

"Don't. That's mine to take care of."

After that, Clark balls his hands into fists on his knees and relaxes into the weight of Bruce's cock on his tongue, lets everything but the smattering of pain, the soreness of his jaw, and Bruce's grunts fade away. He closes his eyes, losing himself in it when suddenly Bruce’s pace quickens erratically -- but, with a sound that suggests it’s almost painful to do so, drags his cock out of Clark’s mouth, leaving Clark’s mouth questioningly open, ready to be filled up again.

Bruce makes a low, hoarse sound in the back of his throat at the sight of him, as if his own throat’s been ravaged instead of Clark’s, and cups his twitching cock in one hand.

“I’m not as young as you are these days,” he says, wryly, loosening his tie and pulling it over his head before neatly taking off his jacket, folding it, and draping it over a nearby table, so unlike Clark’s uniform still crumpled messily on the ground. “We finish this the right way. To the cot, now.”

Until now, Clark’s let Bruce give out all the orders. Hell, it’s what he’d wanted in the first place. But he looks over at the cot, and while it’s not nearly as cushy as the bed in Bruce’s master bedroom, the covers are soft and expensive, the pillows perfect for burrowing your face into -- Clark would know.

He feels the hard ground beneath his knees, feets the way stray rocks dig into them, and inhales deeply. “We could,” he says, imagining how it would feel to have Bruce’s cock rocking him insistently into the ground. “Or we could do it here.”

Bruce pauses in unbuttoning his pulling his pants off and tossing them on top of his shirt, almost completely nude now. “Here,” he repeats, a touch questioningly, the first sign that he’s not quite as confident with this as he’s presented himself to be.

“Yeah,” Clark says, only tangentially aware that they’re speaking monosyllabically at each other. “Here.”

One moment of indecision was, it seems, enough. In an instant, Bruce is behind him, large, strong, calloused hands pushing down between his shoulderblades, hard, forcing Clark’s head to smack against the stone below. He lets out a quiet hiss of pain, and there’s far, far too much good humour in Bruce’s voice as he pushes down on the back of Clark’s head, forcing him to push harder and harder against stone and grit. “Remember,” he says, leaning down so that his breath is hot in Clark’s ear. “You asked for this.”

Clark doesn’t have any time to center himself before two lube-slicked fingers (Bruce has a sadistic streak; he’s not so unreasonable as to fuck him dry) plunge into him, twisting and fucking into him as roughly as if Bruce had been preparing him a long time before then. With the sickly green glow of the Kryptonite so close-by, Clark feels every inch of it, the almost-painful stretch, the burn where Bruce’s fingers are just a little too thick, the scrape of his rough callouses against his skin. He lets out a sound that’s almost embarrassing, a stuttered whine crossed with a moan, but it feels too good for him to feel even the slightest bit self conscious about it.

Bruce yanks his fingers out soon afterwards, and while even the emptiness, cooler and more uncomfortable than usual, is a welcome change, the feeling of Bruce shoving his cock into him is so, so much better.

He doesn’t need Bruce to press his head into the ground for him to do it himself, closing his eyes to the grit pebbling against his forehead, losing himself in the tight burn of Bruce inside him; even lubed up, his cock is too thick for comfort, his thrusts too hard, and Clark loves it. Loves the way his knees are getting scratched up, loves the burn, loves the way that Bruce hasn’t so much as bothered to touch Clark’s cock, that he’s too busy pushing in, and in, and in, chasing down his own pleasure and nothing more.

He feels nearly ready to explode with the sheer pleasure of it, but he’s not quite there -- it’s not enough. “Harder,” he pants out, and Bruce quickens his pace, digs his fingers deep into Clark’s hips, and he can feel it like he wanted to, the unfamiliar sensation of bursting blood vessels underneath Bruce’s thumbs. Bruce has set an almost punishingly quick pace, but it’s still not enough.

“Come on,” Clark says, as if he’s not the one face down on the ground, cock bobbing in mid-air, swollen and leaking steadily onto the ground as Bruce punishes his prostate again and again. “I know you can do better than that.”

Bruce grips onto him harder, a growl more Batman than Bruce escaping his throat as he digs in deep and starts pounding into him mercilessly, balls slapping noisily against his ass as he takes what he wants. Clark can pinpoint the exact moment Bruce digs his nails into his skin tighter than he meant to, scratching him longer and deeper than anticipated, because once he feels blood emerge from his scratches, hot, and wet, the pain as sharp as the pleasure, he becomes overcome by the fact that he’s well and truly at Bruce’s mercy and finally comes with a guttural groan, practically sinking to the ground as his elbows give way, coming and coming and coming until there’s nothing left in him.

Just because Clark’s done doesn’t mean that Bruce is. As Clark loosens up, fucked boneless, Bruce fucks all the harder, not bothering to keep himself from digging his nails into Clark’s scratches again and again until he too cries out, coming, and then allowing Clark to simply fall to the ground.

A small, distant part of Clark thinks that it shouldn’t feel so good to lie face down on solid rock in a mixture of his own come and sweat, but he feels too blissful to consider it deeply. Bruce’s own panting as he presses his forehead to Clark’s spine barely registers, and it’s only after he feels the coolness of his bare back exposed to the air that he realizes that Bruce has left, taking the Kryptonite with him and locking it away in whatever lead chamber he’s got hidden away.

Bruce comes back shortly thereafter, crouching beside where Clark is still lying, tracing his thumbs against the scratches once more, but gently this time. Without the exposure of Kryptonite, they’re already starting to heal, but slower than if they were out in the sunlight.

Bruce’s expression is needlessly concerned, but Clark’s quick to remedy that as he sits up, purposefully rubbing at the sorest parts of his body.

“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.

“Of course you do,” he says dryly. “Now get up; even if you like lying on the ground, I’ve got a warm bed waiting for me.”

Laughing, Clark gets up and follows him there, and for the moment, he is content.

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

[dceu_kinkmod]

I screened the comment with the html screw-up for easier reading, hope that's okay. :) Love your fill, that was super hot.

[(Anonymous)]

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

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

[(Anonymous)]

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.

[(Anonymous)]

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.

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

[(Anonymous)]

This was absolutely awesome, thank you so much for such an awesome fill!! I can't even pick out a favourite part, but Clark wanting to feel things, the way you describe everything he's experiencing for the first time when Bruce kisses him, and the actual sex itself is AMAZING (also the image of Clark too well-fucked even to get up afterwards is one that appeals to me XD)

Thanks again for this hotness :)

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

[(Anonymous)]

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