にんげんはせんさいないきもの

MDNI | 22

[kentbun]

MiRA. 22. scorp!o. bi. she her.

decaying doll fawn eyes clark kent’s honey girl twilight grey cats cinema bucky barnes’ safeplace pokemon the bear patrick zweig’s younger gf mitski zendaya d-rider mist thunderstorms free palestine

× ... MEET ME IN WONDERLAND .ᐣ.ᐟ

asks always open

i write mainly smut so dni if you’re a minor, i block!

[kentbun]

clark kent and his nasty little mouth!

“oh babydoll, you look so pretty on your knees”

“thats it sweetheart, just let me take care of you, hm? let daddy fuck it better”

“my pretty, stupid girl.. turn that little brain off f’me”

“god you’re so wet… drooling all over me, pussy begging for me”

“god, baby, your pussy feels so fuckin good… i cant- i cant stop ruining it”

“look at you… you begged for my dick and now you can barely take it, slut”

“ah- honey- feels s’good around me… f..fuck i love you so much”

“every time i sink in this little cunt im reminded how fucking tight you are… made f’me”

“i said beg me to fuck you.. desperate thing like you… wanna know how bad you need me”

[kentbun]

I WANT TO EAT HIM WHOLE

[kentbun]

RECHARGING CLARK KENT 𑁍ࠬܓ

warnings!: vry fluffy, allusion to mental exhaustion, clingy baby needy clarkie, fem reader, pet names

The apartment is quiet when Clark finally comes home, and he’s quiet in the way that tells you he’s exhausted long before you see him. The door shuts with a soft click instead of its usual confident thud.

When you peek around the corner from the couch, you find him standing there like a rain soaked stray puppy. shoulders slumped, eyes half closed behind slightly crooked glasses.

“hey, baby,” you call gently

He doesn’t answer. He just looks at you for a long, long heartbeat. he looks like the sight of you has physically loosened something wound tight inside him.

He takes a few heavy, slow steps in your direction and practically collapses onto the couch. onto you, really, pressing his face into your stomach as if everywhere else is too crowded.

You laugh softly, brushing your fingers through his hair. “that bad, huh?”

He answers with a muffled groan that vibrates against your ribs. His hands slide under your shirt and rest around your waist. he’s tugging you closer, and clinging like you’re the only stable thing in a world made entirely of storms.

You can feel the tension bleeding out of him, like each second in your arms siphons off a little more of today’s weight.

Continuing to pet his soft dark curls, “was the Planet not so nice to my sweet boy today?” you ask, sweet as honey and wrapping around clark’s heart.

He near-whines at the nickname. His head shakes once. Another little groan. And then, barely audible,

“just… need you.”

Your heart melts instantly. He says it in that quiet, shy way he only uses when the world has worn him down to something smaller and inescapably human.

Clark Kent might be able to lift half of Metropolis with one hand, but right now he feels fragile in your lap. needing rest, needing softness, needing you.

“okay,” you whisper, kissing the top of his head. “you can have me.”

He lets out a breath that sounds almost like relief and shifts, adjusting to stretch out fully on top of you like a very large, warm weighted blanket. His cheek presses against your chest now. His fingers slide under the hem of your shirt again, not suggestive, not tonight. Just craving skin, and your grounding softness.

When he touches your side, his thumb rubbing your ribs softly back and forth, he hums like he’s plugging into a charger.

“there you go,” you coo, scratching lightly across his back. “my tired baby.”

He doesn’t even protest the nickname. That’s how you know he’s really gone. far too drained to tease you, or pretend he doesnt need this affection.

His breathing deepens, rhythmic and steady. He nuzzles into your skin, inhaling like your scent is the only air he wants. His whole body relaxes on top of yours, heavy and soft. Not caring even a little about his weight, or anything outside the gentle glow of your apartment.

You tighten your arms around him, holding him the way he never gets to be held. completely, safely, without needing to be strong or brave or in control. Just Clark. Your Clark.

“what happened today?” you ask after a while, your voice is barely a whisper.

He shifts enough to mumble against your chest, “nothing terrible... just… too much. too many people ‘nd too much noise.”

a beat, then, “you make it all stop.”

Your heart aches, warm and full. “good,” you whisper. “let it stop, i’ll take care of everything else.”

He nods, and his fingers tighten against your skin like he’s anchoring himself to the world through you alone. For awhile, you just lie there, holding each other, the room dim and calm around you. The weight of him is comforting. his warmth, his heartbeat, the soft exhale against your shirt.

Eventually he tilts his head up enough to meet your eyes. His lashes are heavy, his cheeks a little pink from your touch. He looks pretty like this, vulnerable and lovesick.

“feelin better?” you ask, brushing a thumb over his cheek.

He nods, pressing a lazy kiss to your collarbone. “recharge almost complete,” he murmurs. “might need… five… or ten more hours.”

You laugh, hugging him tighter. “well lucky for you,” you whisper into his hair, “im not going anywhere baby.”

And Clark melts again, completely, like butter in a hot pan. because in your arms, he finally feels at home.

[kentbun]

CLARK LOVES LINGERIE ∿ 𖥻 🍶

warnings!: soft core prn, no plot, clark is whippeddd, teasing aching longing yearning, lingerie, pet names

youre talking to him

at least, he thinks you are

its a bit hard for him to focus with you standing here in front of him dressed like that

its a royal blue lacey number with red accents and thigh garters. its tacky, and cheesy, and you almost blew the whole idea off before he got home.

but now he is sat before you looking at your body like its a meal.

“did all this for me, honey?” his voice is ragged and winded like youve knocked the air out of his lungs.

god he doesn’t even know if you answered. if you did, he didn’t hear it. clark’s brain was far too stimulated by the way you look to think about anything else.

he swallows, hard. his throat is dry and his mouth is parted like he’s seen something holy.

he raises his hands to your hips, hesitating. he hovers just over the dip of you waist like he doesn’t know if he’s worthy of touching.

youre getting antsy now, and a bit flushed at how he is gawking at you.

your hands land on his shoulders, and you step further between his legs. his hands make contact with you and he lets out a noise he cant control as he pulls you into him.

he spreads your knees apart and guides you to straddle his lap. his eyes drink you in as they finally raise to meet yours.

he’s looking at you through hooded eyes and before either of you can say anything, his mouth is on yours. leaning in, eyes closed, mouthing at you like there is nothing else he could possibly be doing right now.

his hand wraps around the back of your head, holding you, guiding your movements. his other hand rests softly around the base of your neck.

he is keeping you still, kissing you like he was made for it. he wants you to stay right there and take everything he gives you.

the hand at your neck pushes you back so slightly. as if he couldn’t trust his own mouth to separate the kiss.

“can i fuck you baby?” he’s asking, but it sounds a lot more like begging.

big wet eyes, searching for yours now. while your eyes are lulling closed with want. heat prickling all over your exposed skin.

you’re nodding your head and bunching fits fulls of his shirt. white knuckles, like he is the only thing keeping you tied to this planet.

“need your big girl words, bunny”

he is leaned into your chest, leaving open mouthed kisses anywhere he can. incapable of pulling his head away from you, from your scent, your taste.

“clark just-… please…” words seem like a big ask with the rate your brain is melting on top of him.

until he pulls away long enough to soak in your body once more and mutter something about being his pretty girl.

“fuck me clark.. i want- i need you to fuck me”

his thumb parts your lips and rests itself on your tongue. other fingers hooking under your chin so he’s got control of you.

“this nasty little mouth… driving me so fuckin crazy i want to give you everything”

[kentbun]

FIRST TIME WITH BUCKY ── 💭 ᶻz

your legs are spread beneath him and he is trying not to look at how your hot wet pussy is sucking him in.

his stiff red tip meets your soft slit, and starts sinking in before he can stop it.

his metal hand wraps around the backside of your thigh, gripping for support and simultaneously splitting you further open. its cool and grounding. your eyes search for his, but he cant draw them away from your soaking cunt.

an unsteady moan leaves you as his length and width begin to stretch you wider than you’re used to.

your hand snakes around the back of his head and gathers a fist full of hair at the base of his scalp.

his eyes roll gently before they close and his head tips back

“f-fuck… baby”

he sounds almost pitiful. like he isn’t capable of thinking about anything other than where your sexes are melting together.

he bottoms out slowly, giving you time to adjust to his size. or maybe giving his self time to compose himself when he has you like this.

your arms wrap around him, nails sinking lightly into his soft skin as the sting eases from inside you.

“oh baby, you’re doing so good”

he’s peppering kisses over your face and down your neck.

“mmph.. jus-.. fuck- baby your pussy feels fucking perfect”

his head drops to rest against your shoulder as he wills his hips to stay still. jaw slack, eyes pinched together, doing everything he can to not lose himself inside of you.

as the sting subsides, you cant your hips ever so slightly. letting his tip knock against a sensitive spot that has you arching up into him.

his hands wrap around your back, holding you in an arched position, bared completely to him.

he’s still not moving. fuck he is trying to be a gentleman. but with the way you’re writhing below him, and your hole is drooling like it needs to be used, he isn’t sure how much more composure he has left.

“buck- please- bucky please fuck me” your voice is winded and desperate as you claw at his steady broad shoulders.

when his eyes— wild with something neither of you can tame— meet yours— pleading and sparkling with something dangerous, something in him snaps…

[kentbun]

Not Who We Are

warnings!: clark kent hurt/comfort my favorite genre.. some fighting. happy ending. frustrated/exhausted reader. rly good bf clark.

a/n: this is so messy and self serving, i wrote it after a bad day of work and yeah.. need him! anyways hi im back!

🎧: 0.7k words

You slam the kitchen drawer shut harder than necessary.

It bounces open again, of course, which only makes your jaw tighten more. You’re running on fumes. your back aches, your phone’s been blowing up with messages you don’t want to answer, and all you wanted was to come home and breathe.

But then he’d asked you what was wrong in that voice. soft, careful, and oh so patient.

And something in you snapped.

You didn’t mean to start a fight. Not really.

But here you are, pacing around the kitchen with crossed arms, throwing frustrated words like knives.

“I’m just tired of doing everything, okay? I feel like I’m holding everything together with duct tape, and you—you just—”

He doesn’t respond.

He’s not saying anything anymore. Just watching you. Steady, listening.

Which, of course, only makes it worse.

“Oh my God,” you huff, rolling your eyes. “Now you’re just standing there? Youre not even going to argue? Great clark. Thats real productive.”

Still nothing.

He just cocks his head a little, and bites the inner side of his cheek. those warm eyes tracking your every move. Calm. Steady.

Too steady.

It makes you want to scream. Or cry.

You’re flustered now, hot with anger and tears that threaten to come out sideways.

“Maybe we’re just—I don’t know, maybe we’re not even compatible. Maybe we should just break up already if this is how we deal with things.”

It’s a lie.

You don’t mean it.

But you’re too deep now. Words slipping out faster than your heart can stop them.

Still, nothing from him. He doesnt even flinch.

Instead, he crosses the room slowly. No words. No lecture. Just his hands, warm and gentle, reaching for yours.

You try to pull away, but he doesn’t let you.

Not in a controlling way, never that. Just quiet, grounded insistence.

“I don’t need-” you start, but he just presses a kiss to your knuckles.

Then gently says, “Come here, baby.”

And before you can argue again, he’s guiding you out of the kitchen. No resistance. Just steady footsteps and his fingers wrapped around yours, soft and certain.

He leads you down the hallway, away from your frustration, past your mess of words, and into the shared bedroom.

Still no lecture.

No argument.

Just him.

He pauses at the dresser and pulls out your softest pajama set. The one you always go for when you’re feeling worn thin. Then he turns back to you with a quiet tenderness in his eyes that cuts through the raging storm in your chest.

“Arms up,” he says gently. Eyes locked on yours.

You freeze.

“I can do it myself,” you mumble.

“I know you can,” he says, brushing hair from your face with his knuckles. “But let me do it for you.”

You lift your arms.

He undresses you with the care of someone handling something precious— not because he’s trying to seduce you, not tonight, but because he loves you. Fully. Even when you’re angry. Even when you’re fighting him for no good reason.

Maybe especially then.

When you’re finally in your pajamas, he kneels a little to slip off your socks, thumbs brushing over your ankles with slow affection. Then he stands, cups your face in both hands, and kisses your forehead.

“Don’t say things like that,” he murmurs. “We don’t break up. That’s not who we are. Youre It for me.”

Your throat catches.

He presses his lips to your temple. “You had a long day. And I love you. That’s the only thing that matters right now.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“I know baby,” he says.

“I didn’t mean-”

“I know,” he repeats, thumb brushing your cheek. Swiping away tears you hadn’t noticed falling.

“You get loud when you’re hurting. I’ve known that since day one. I don’t love you any less when you’re frustrated. I don’t walk away. I stay. Every time.”

You let out a shaky breath and collapse into him, arms wrapping around his waist.

He pulls you in, holds you like you’re the only thing in the world that matters. because you are.

“Come to bed,” he says softly. “Let me make everything better.”

And you do.

Because somehow, even when you’re your worst self— he still chooses you.

And you still love him like your whole heart depends on it.

Because, maybe, it does.

[kentbun]

clark kent and his nasty little mouth <3

“fuckin hell honey, you miss my cock this bad?”

“shh i know you had a bad day. let me fuck it better. let me turn your little brain off”

“tell me what you need. tell me how bad you want me to fuck this sweet cunt”

“suck, doll, you know how i like it”

“stupid stupid girl, all you know is my dick huh”

“ah i know it too much, but fuck baby, you keep getting wetter”

“stop whining slut, you begged me for this”

“i know you’re misbehaving bc you want me to fuck you, so cut the act and kneel down”

[kentbun]

thinking about clark kent's hands. . .𖤐

sometimes it’s gentle, the pads of his fingers lightly pressing the keys of his laptop as he works.

your legs are draped across his lap, concentration furrowed in his brow. his hand finds you as he reads over his work. his hands always find you.. his fingers drag slowly across your knee. knuckles and the back of his nails sending a shiver down you.

he hooks his hand around your calf and pets the soft skin at the back of your knee. he’s warm and steady and it feels more intimate than it should.

he opts for using only one hand to type now, the other slotted perfectly behind your leg. lazily his thumb strokes your skin. to clark, his body feels most his own when it’s touching yours.

alot of the times though, its fucking filthy.

you’re split wide open, completely blissed out and lost with pleasure. and he just keeps fucking you. the amount of times you’ve finished was forgotten ages ago.

clark likes you like this. he likes when he can make you stop thinking. forget it all and just feel good.

your body is soft and tender beneath him. he slows and watches how you lazily grasp at his hips, asking for more. you look wrecked. cock drunk like he can’t believe. and still, you want more. the idea of it sends his hips sputtering back inside your heat.

your mouth is open, soft, weak noises spill from you when he hits that spot. he raises his hand, watching you like you hung the stars in the sky. all the while his cock is still pistoning in and out of you.

he parts your lips and lays his thumb flat against your tongue. its warm and salty and tastes faintly of your cunt.

that brings you back too. mouth enveloping his finger and sucking it like you need it.

“thats it honey, just focus here while i ruin your sweet cunt”

[kentbun]

SOFT DOM CLARK KENT ؛ ଓ

he isn’t even really into the power dynamics or the role playing stuff. its just how he is.

he positions himself between your legs, gently laying your head back on the pillow behind you. he rakes a strand of hair out of your face.

his head drops and he kisses you like its the first time all over again. he sinks himself slowly inside whilst you’re distracted with his mouth.

gasping into his mouth bc he’s always just so fucking big.

“shh i know, honey” his eyes are locked on you. he’s kissing and mouthing at you but you’re losing your composure more and more with every inch.

he shifts to kissing your jaw and neck, whispering sweet praises like scripture.

“baby, y'feel so warm around me”

“fuck you’re doing so good”

“thats it, look honey, its like your pussy was made for me”

he stills when he bottoms out. letting you adjust. or teasing. you’re too gone to tell the difference. the stretch is like nothing else. you’re clenching and throbbing around him and part of you thinks you could finish at just being filled.

he still isn’t moving— a whine escapes you before you can catch it. your hips grind down, pushing him impossibly further into you. you look up at him with those big sweet eyes he cant resist.

“tell me what you want. anything, its yours”

“you”

it sounds pitiful. weak and cracked somewhere between ur throat and tongue. you’re surprised you got anything out at all, with how foggy his dick is making your brain.

his hand fits around your jaw and he guides your gaze back to him. his thumb drags across your bottom lip as he twitches deep inside of you.

he groans when your eyes re-meet his. you look so pretty all fucked out before he has even played with you.

“go on honey, use your big girl words and beg for me”