Thinking naughty Brucie Wayne thoughts cause you KNOW he sluts around in order to maintain that playboy reputation.
Imagining Brucie on an evening gossip show and he's playing a game where he's sharing light-hearted secrets with the host. It's called some shit like...I dunno, "I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours!"
"Okay, we gotta be careful with the wording here because we're on live television," the host laughs, "but I have a question."
"Ask me anything, baby, I'm an open book," Bruce purrs. The live studio audience whistles and cheers.
"What's your darkest sexual fantasy? I'll tell you mine —"
"IF YOU TELL ME YOURS!!" The audience shouts, clapping and cheering with ridiculous enthusiasm. Bruce, who has impeccable control over his body's nervous system, turns beet red and covers his face. His heartbeat is still as steady as a war drum. World's Greatest Detective and also World's Best motherfuckin Actor.
"oh shit," he mutters. The cheering gets even louder. "I can't say it out loud. I've never told anybody this before, it's insane."
The host is Locked The Fuck In. Exclusive information nobody else has about Brucie Wayne, Gotham's precious prince? He can smell the trending hashtags already.
"Oh?" He goads, grinning and leaning forward in his chair. "Is it really bad? Brucie, you dog! I didn't know you had it in you! We gotta know, now!"
"Skip," Bruce says shyly, "next question!"
The audience boos and starts chanting some iteration of "tell us! Tell us!" The host shushes them and says it's fine, he'll go first and they'll both be a little embarrassed about it. No big deal, it's just a fun game! What's a little spicy secret between friends, we're all friends here, it's fine!
The host's is boring. Something like Toes or edible underwear. Bruce shyly says he can't say it, and asks if he can write it down instead. The host is like yes, absolutely, someone fetch this man a pen and paper RIGHT NOW.
Brucie writes it down. The host reads it. He gasps.
"Okay everybody, shhh. This says...I want to — BRUCE?"
Bruce reddens more and is as curled up as he can possibly get in his big chair. The audience is feral at this point.
"It says "I want a priest to give his virginity to me." Bruce Thomas Wayne!!!"
There's an uproar. People are whistling. Women are screaming. Catholics are clutching their pearls. There's so much clapping. Some people are laughing. When everybody settles down enough to let him explain, Bruce, still red in the face, just stares meekly at the ground and mutters:
"I dunno, it's so wicked. I wanna be like Lucifer with the apple. I want a son of God to turn away from His light and be tempted into my bed. If God is actually homophobic and being gay gets you sent to Hell, — first of all, fuck that guy — and second of all, at the very least I want him to get a taste of Heaven in the sheets, y'know?"
#DamnedByBrucie is the number one trending topic for the next four days. Priests are coming out of the woodwork and sending him genuine offers to take their virginity. Hal buys a priest outfit immediately. Bruce is so down to roleplay this even though that wasn't even close to his darkest sexual fantasy.
