#clark kent thought

[hanasnx]

MINORS DNI 18+

Begging CLARK KENT to hit it raw for months but he’s always been too nervous. “We shouldn’t, baby, it’s not safe.”; “I don’t feel comfortable putting you at risk like that, let’s just wait a little longer.”; “I know it’ll feel good, I can’t help but worry about you though.” You thought guys jump at the chance of going without a condom, but Clark’s been frustratingly insisting your safety matters more to him. When your birthday rolls around, your handsome farm boy carries in loads of perfect gifts, all thoughtful and sweet, stuff that was on your list and stuff he picked out himself. One oddly shaped box sticks out among them, and you vaguely recall what it could be, furrowing your brows as you pull the carefully folded wrapping paper apart. Your cheeks heat up at the unmistakable color. He bought you a Plan B. You throw your arms around his neck while he laughs at your reaction, and gives you your last unwrapped gift all night long.

[frownyalfred]

a nosy socialite at an event, leaning down: “Oh Richard, it must be so hard for you in that house, what with Bruce’s…proclivities for nighttime guests.”

Dick Grayson, fully aware at age 13 that Bruce Wayne is a Loser™ whose only “nighttime guest” is Clark Kent, who comes over to “review cases” with Bruce before/after patrol while both of them awkwardly ignore any and all tension between them: “Something like that.”

[theerurishipper]

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I tried something new

Part 1 -> Part 2

Masterpost

[st4rfckerz]

clark kent is the kind of guy to plan out his entire future with you while he’s balls deep and absolutely pussy drunk. his body is pressed against yours with his head buried in the crook of your neck, breathing heavily while making scarcely comprehensible promises in your ear. the fantasies swirl in his mind, becoming more vivid as he gets closer and closer.

“ ‘m gonna marry you, a-and we can have a farm of our own, ah- and a big house with kids, fuck…jus’ want it all with you please.” and then in true clark fashion he gets a tad embarrassed about what he said after he’s done, but you both know he really means it.

[t00thpasteface]

this comic was brought to you by (1) my mom insisting we need to watch the 1989 tim burton batman and (2) me wondering why on god's green earth they got prince to do the music. and for the record i fucking love prince (and grew up listening to him), i just would not in a million years think to make that connection on my own. anyway please listen to Erotic City it's a good tune

[sisaloofafump]

In case it seems like every third comic has Batman in it... you're not wrong. He's been in 38.6% of DC issues since 2020, with a stark increase of 8% each decade since the 90s and surpassing Superman in popularity. Despite this, there's been a massive drop off of comics where he is teamed up with Superman or a Robin (although the amount of group team ups between Batman Family members has increased, as well as Nightwing solos).

[colossrat]

Bruce wayne and Clark kent having a relationship kinda silly. Just small dates after interviews with lovely talks about anything, like weather or the people of gothan/metropolis. They can spend hours just yapping

And on the other side we have superman going feral when batman flirts with Clark

Superman: I-- HES DATING!!!

Batman: I still have a chance

Superman: No you-- WHAT?!

Batman: He already broke up with lois once. That new playboy is just a fase

Superman: He really likes that playboy!!

And batman fully knows that clark and supe are the same person. He likes to play with him and receive confirmation that he is a good man

Another day, Batman appears to save the night and finds Clark as Clark protecting some civilians, and he go very flirty mode, but Clark DONT fuck with that

Clark: Thank you for saving us, Batman. I am very happy that i can go back to my BOYFRIEND who is the PRETTIEST and SMARTEST of the WHOLE Gothan... Batman: You are welcome... Want me to take you home first?

And bat tries to pull a seductive smirk, only to make clark go red angry wanting to go back for his bf to talk shit about the bat even though they are friends

I would love to read a fic like that, idk if already exists

[duckchef]

[38sr]

young smallville meets young gotham

[hanasnx]

MINORS DNI 18+

CLARK KENT doesn’t look like it but he loves playing with that pussy until it’s flushed with the color of overstimulation and puffy from ache. until he can feel your pulse beating through the soft down of tissue. until you’re writhing and fighting his grip on you while he pins you down with one hand, shooting powerful electric shocks up your spine with every slot of his fingers in you. he can keep you down with an arm strapped over your hips while his head dips between your legs, sucking on your sore clit while his digits are bullying your guts. he doesn’t tell you, but he wants you to squirt in his mouth while he’s down there. even if you think you can’t do it, even if you say you don’t have anything left, he’s persevering and curling those knuckles in you like he knows you go crazy for. “c’mon, baby, just a little longer,” he breathes against your cunt, the tip of his tongue flicking your sensitive bud in his haste. he ends it with a lazy kiss, a string of mixed fluid breaks from his lip when he rears, but his fingers are still plowing you. “you look so pretty like this…”

[frownyalfred]

“Bruce Wayne’s superpower is money” Bruce Wayne’s superpower is the ability to actively have a full-fledged panic attack and still look Superman himself dead in the eye without any of his vitals changing. Heart rate is a solid 60 BPM. You can’t even see him breathing. Put some respect on my man’s name.

[robingivesmemagic]

stop me if youve seen this before

[the-brash-spud]

It just hit me that Clark, as a farm boy, definitely knew how and did drive a quite large number of different vehicles at a very young age.

Imagine witnessing Superman backing up a truck with trailor like he is a professional truck driver with 29 years experience, but in reality, his dad was doing that large landscaping pond project once and needed hands so naturally a 5 year old Clark got himself a promotion on the farm

[duckysprouts]

dc injustice is messed up because they write such refreshing yet disgustingly awful takes on every single relationship and person. like how do u misunderstand the core of every character?? can only be consumed when removed from the context of all canon

anyway take 2 people make em obsessed yada yada hand in unlovable hand or whatever

[neuro-psyche]

I think there would be a major disconnect between the bats and the rest of the JL/super powered folk due to injuries and pain.

Let me explain.

I saw this post and it made me think of the healing factor/invulnerability of most of the JL. Clark is practically impervious, Diana’s worst injury is a paper cut at her day job, and the Green Lanterns have a passive force field, so on and so forth. But Batman bleeds. The only one who’s got any sort of healing factor is Jason, but it’s nothing compared to the flashes.

I can imagine Batman nursing some sort of injury like a broken rib from a punch he took from some super villain of the week, whereas Diana, who took the same punch, just shook it off. Batman isn’t jealous. He’s not bitter or angry. He just notices it. He knows he’s not as unmovable as them. But no one else sees that.

But I think it would really become an issue with his kids. Seeing all of his kids participate in a superhero team at some point, most of which start those teams or lead them at some point, because he trained them harder than anyone else. Because they’re not invulnerable.

And the turning point would be if one of those kids gets hurt. Like if Dick broke a bone or something and needed to have it reset in the field, Batman telling him “Scream if you need to” and it actually happening would really make the supers around them take notice. The bats aren’t invulnerable. But they’re the most dangerous of the JL.

Idk I just thought it would be interesting. I might write something with the concept because I could go on about it.

[sunsburns]

imagine trying to keep up with clark 🤯 (18+)

clark kent is an undeniably gentle lover—clumsy at times, almost bashful, his movements hesitant in a way that’s endearing. sometimes, he looks to you for reassurance, those soft blue eyes pleading, asking if he’s making you feel good.

and he always does.

he knows your body so well it’s almost frustrating. his hands, his mouth, the way his voice drops just slightly when he whispers your name—it’s enough to leave you trembling every time.

he always tells you that you do. “perfect,” he murmurs against your skin, his breath warm and uneven as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. his voice is wrecked, raw in a way that makes you believe him—for a moment.

but there are things you’ve started to notice.

like the way he lingers for just a second too long, his lips brushing your temple as if hesitating to pull away or draw you closer. or how his hands tremble slightly when they release you, the strength behind them still careful, too careful. then, there are the moments he waits for you to fall asleep—the soft creak of the mattress, the shuffle of his feet as he slips out of bed, barely disturbing the air.

it’s always the same. the quiet click of the bathroom door, the faint rush of water as he turns on the shower.

you know what he’s doing in there.

and it eats at you, imagining him under the stream of hot water, head tilted back, his chest heaving as he works through the need that still claws at him. need that you weren’t able to fully satisfy.

once, you caught him. half-asleep and bleary-eyed, you stirred when the bed dipped, his weight returning as if nothing had happened. his skin was still damp, his hair darker and curling against his forehead.

but you want to be the one to help him blow off that steam.

“just blowing off some extra steam,” he said softly, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

no, you need to be the one.

you want him completely undone—panting, his chest heaving, red staining his cheeks while he’s too wrecked to say anything but your name. you want him shaking with pleasure, the same way he leaves you, winded and unable to think of anything else.

you want him gasping, moaning louder, his voice breaking apart as he tries to keep himself together. you want to see spit pooling at the corners of his lips, his body shuddering uncontrollably. you want him to blow load after load—on you, with you, inside you—until neither of you can take any more.

you just have to make sure you don’t turn the tables on yourself.

“you got another one for me, hun?” clark pleads, his voice soft but ragged.

his curls stick to his forehead, damp with sweat, and his face is flushed deeper than you’ve ever seen. his big hands hold your hips gently, fingers twitching as if he’s trying to resist gripping you tighter.

you’re blubbering, incoherent, your eyes unfocused as your nails scrape at his shoulders. it’s ridiculous trying to leave marks on steel skin, but the feeling of him, the weight of him, makes it impossible to stay still.

you’ve finally managed to corner him. after weeks, nearly a month of easing him into the idea that you could keep up with him, he let you try. and now he’s showing you a side of himself you’ve never seen before.

his body trembles against yours, his movements are frantic, urgent, a stark contrast to the measured pace he usually sets. your legs ache as you struggle to keep up, your body pliant and exhausted, while he bucks up against you, doing most of the work after you had given up on riding him.

he moves you easily, up and down his cock, his strength apparent even in his restraint. his head falls back against the headboard, blue eyes locked on yours, his glasses long discarded.

in all honesty, you don’t know if you have another one in you. you’d lost count three orgasms ago. you must’ve been delusional thinking you could keep up with clark kent, a man who is finally breaking a sweat, his broken moans and soft whimpers starting to turn into ones you’ve never heard from him before. even after cumming countless times, making a mess of your sheets, he still wants more, asks for it, begs for it—he needs more, he can take more, wants to give you more.

the slow drag of his cock, sliding in and out of you, has you mewling, tears staining your cheeks as the pleasure mounts again. his grip is firm but careful, guiding you, ensuring you can take everything he’s giving.

he makes you feel so good. your body trembling in his hands, every nerve alight and melting under his touch. you’ve become putty for him to mould.

it’s a little embarrassing, honestly—that he’s got you like this. you were supposed to be the one pleasing him, breaking him down, undoing him. not the other way around.

but he seems perfectly satisfied with the way things are right now.

you’re fully collapsed onto him now, your strength all but gone. his hips jerk upwards, his movements frantic and desperate, breath puffing hot air against your ear.

“can you… can you look at me?” he pleads, his voice cracking as his hands shift from your hips to cradle your face, tilting your head so you’re staring into his glassy, almost desperate eyes. “look at me while you come—it’ll make me come, too. please.”

you mean to whine, his touch burning against your skin, but the sound catches in your throat when you see him.

he looks utterly wrecked.

his eyes are clouded, unfocused, his lips slick and parted, his brow furrowed with something between pain and pure desire. you imagine you look much the same—spit glistening on your chin, cheeks flushed and tear-streaked, wetness trailing down your thighs.

he holds your gaze for a moment, his thumb brushing your lower lip before slipping into your mouth.

then, both of you move at once—you surge forward to kiss him, capturing those perfect, pink lips, your movements slow and languid while he remains restless. he adjusts to your pace, pulling you impossibly closer.

his blue eyes roll back as he thrusts into you again. one hand traces lines up your spine while his lips devour yours, leaving you trembling and teetering on the edge within minutes.

his kisses turn softer, trailing to your cheek, his teeth catching on your skin as he nips gently. “i’m not hurting you, am i?” he murmurs, his voice trembling. “i know it’s sensitive, baby. tell me if it’s too much, okay? i can stop if—”

“no, please,” you whimper, terrified he might actually stop. “it’s so good.”

you’re drunk with desire, clenching tightly around him.

“you feel so good, baby. so fucking good. you’re taking me so well.” his next thrust is sharp, deep, dragging a cry from your lips as he stills, buried to the hilt. “you’re gonna make me come again,” he groans, his voice breaking.

“fuck, please—”

“i want you to come for me again,” he interrupts, his desperation bleeding through. “you’re so tight and hot when you do. i need it again—please, baby, one more for me. can you give me one more?”

“i—yeah,” you nod, trembling, your body already vibrating on the verge of release.

he hardly gives you a moment to recover before he’s crooning, “one more, just one more, please, please, please—”

clark kent is completely undone.