slowburn darling

just a former teenage fanfic writer rising from the ashes to write slowburn clark kent & bucky barnes smut and use em dashes to my heart’s content. 28. if you know me in real life, no you don’t x

[tired-biscuit]

you know that trope where it’s princess + knight, but they’ve both been captured by the bad guys and the princess is now gripped by the jaw by the villain, receiving a thin cut to her cheek while remaining completely still with a defiant look in her eyes even as a droplet of blood begins to trickle out of the wound, all while 3 people AT THE VERY LEAST need to have their hands locked on the knight because he’s thrashing around like a wild animal, trying so so so desperately, violently, to get to her?

yeah, that’s porn to me.

[littlemut]

me: “sorry ): can’t come!! got so much to do at home”

me as soon as im home:

[slowburndarling]

me every day when i say i’m gonna go home and finally finish my work in progress that i haven’t touched for at least 4 months <3

[maiamore]

y'all have no idea the sheer horny energy coursing through my veins right now. his longer hair is driving me fuckign crazy. seeing him is like seeing my war husband. i'm feral.

[maiamore]

mmh thinking loads about clark and his grown-out hair…don't mind me….

tags: implied smut, fluff, domestic bliss, gratuitous mention of his curls (700+ wc)

—

i'd imagine that fhe first time you noticed would've been when you're just in bed with him, lounging after a hearty home-cooked dinner. he's laying on his belly beside you, with an arm tucked under his pillow. he gets like that when he eats too much, usually burning the lethargy off with a nap. quietly, you'd watch the sturdy, broad lines of his back rise and fall, in utter bliss.

"mm. can feel you staring at me. i think." after a long while of you squinting, he'd call you out on it, voice a sleepy, pillow-muffled drawl.

you'd clamber over his stupidly slender waist, combing your fingers through his thick, slightly coarse locks. "your hairs gotten seriously long."

clark remains a drifting cloud beneath you. the only evidence of his presence being the low, content grumbles he makes at the gentle pressure of your nails against his scalp. he lifts his head a fraction. "…has it?"

"mhm." you hum, non-committal. slumping your whole weight into the wide expanse of his broad back. scents of cedar & peppermint coating your senses. your knuckles come to push the curled out edges by the nape of his neck. it springs back up under your nudge. "i've never seen it stick out like this."

you stroke through his curls a little rougher, eliciting a full-bodied shudder from your sleepy boyfriend, "i see. i've had my hands a little full lately." a soft, deep sigh leaves him, and you feel his calloused hands blindly feel for your ankles, snug by his waist. he thumbs at the muscle there, sliding up your calf.

"should i get it cut?" he offers, cheeks pressed against his pillow.

your ministrations stills, "hmm. dunno." you answer honestly, pulling at the curled edges to make them stick out more. "it's sort of…hot. gives you a dishevelled…rugged look." you lower yourself, resting your cheeks onto his traps.

"…"

his arm wraps around your lower back. and with a swift movement, you feel your vision tilt as he plops you beneath him. "ack!" you gasp, steadying a palm by his thick bicep, which he flexes, for your enjoyment.

clark shuffles to cage you in his arms, favouring his weight with his left forearm. one side of his head is visibly styled out in a messy swoop from where you were combing through. though a shorter, unruly strand curls past his forehead.

"i'm not sure if it's good for the hero image. to look unkempt," he ponders seriously, palms pressed against his cheeks as he lays on his side.

you blink up at him. still thrown by the sudden adjustment."…i'm just saying." your knuckles graze past the stray lock, melting into him, with a thigh draped along his ribs. "i like you like this. softer. just f'me." your words trail into murmurs, but he catches them anyway.

the dimples, deep in his cheeks makes themselves known first, and he lets out a huff, sizing you with a dopey smile. "that so?" clark leans on, pressing a kiss to the sensitive spot below your ears. the first peck tickles you, with his messy hair brushing past your ears. "hahah. hey! that tickles." you groan, catching a brief glimpse of his blurred, dark locks," geez…like some…wild beast."

"hmm. make up your mind," he rumbles, trailing teasing kisses past your collarbone, to your sternum. clark lifts his head up, eyes glinting in wanton adoration for you. "am i a beast, or some cool…hip dude?"

you stare at him, in mild disgust. "cool hip dude? nevermind. you can never be rugged."

he nips at your wrist when it comes to rest at the back of his head. "ow!" you yelp, shooting him a displeased look. clark just laughs, replacing the sting with a chaste peck. he guides your hand to the back of his head, as though encouraging you to keep it there.

"got your verdict yet?" the shift in the playfulness is subtle as he makes his way down your midsection. pressing another breathy kiss beneath your breasts to your navel. your eyes don't leave him, and neither does your idle palm, half-vanished in his curls.

before you can think to answer, clark lifts your hips up for a second to slide your sleep shorts down. keeping his gaze locked on yours as he presses his lips to your inner thighs.

you swallow the shudder that threatened to give away your building arousal, hands imperceptibly tightening where it was once lax.

"…beast. definitely a beast."

[slowburndarling]

UGH SO YUMMYYYYY

[visenchanted05]

....yep. AND I STAND BY IT FOR HIM-

[rosesforshoto]

mating press is heavy on my mind today like not even being able to squirm underneath him because he’s literally shoving you through the mattress with his entire weight. him not even thrusting but letting his heavy cock sit all the way deep inside you as he presses kisses all over your face and reassures you that it’s okay and that he’ll take it slow. and you tear up a little because it hurts just the tiniest bit in this position but then he’s whispering how good you are for him while caging you tight in his arms and

[ladymirdan]

[hamletpolny]

sir, that’s my emotional support imaginary world

[kosmogrl]

[girllockedintower]

Have you ever considered that the safest place in the world for a girl to be is chained up in the basement of the one who loves her most

[mcrdvcks]

i mentioned on bad idea that i had a thought - dex would be the kinda guy to ask if he could go down on you and say thank you when you let him... so yeah...

warnings/tags: 18+, smut, oral (f!recieving), no use of y/n, fem!reader, dex is a bit of a sub, <900 words

He asks you with his eyes lowered.

That’s what gets you first, more than the words themselves; the way Dex kneels in front of you like he’s approaching something sacred, his broad shoulders tense beneath your hands, his fingers resting carefully against your thighs without taking anything he hasn’t been given. He isn’t shy, not really. There’s too much hunger in him for that, too much focus, too much of that unnerving stillness he gets when he wants something badly enough to make the whole room disappear around it. But he’s careful, holding himself back until you decide whether he’s allowed.

You say yes.

The change in him is immediate and almost painful to watch. His breath catches first, then his hands tighten just slightly where they’re spread over your thighs, not enough to hurt, only enough to betray him. His gaze lifts to yours, dark and intent, and for a second he looks undone by the permission alone. “Thank you,” he says, quiet and rough.

You guide him closer with your fingers in his hair, and Dex goes easily, almost eagerly, though he still moves slow once he’s there. He presses his mouth to the inside of your thigh first, reverent and warm, dragging out the moment until your grip tightens at his scalp. His eyes flick up at that, watching your face like he’s trying to memorize every little reaction, every twitch of your mouth, every uneven breath.

He doesn’t rush, of course he doesn’t. Dex has always been precise, almost unsettlingly so, and now all of that focus is turned on you. His mouth is soft at first, testing, patient, like he wants to learn you properly instead of taking what he wants too quickly. His hands slide under your knees, keeping you open for him, but there’s nothing demanding in it. He holds you like he’s been trusted with something precious.

When you tug at his hair, he makes a sound against you that goes straight through your body. “Dex,” you breathe, and he shivers.

That’s the thing about him: he likes being told. He likes knowing when he’s doing well, likes your hand in his hair guiding him, likes the quiet praise that slips out of you when his mouth finds the right rhythm. Every time your thighs tense around him, his eyes flutter like he’s the one being touched, like pleasing you is enough to wreck him. He groans softly, not trying to hide it, and the vibration makes your hips lift.

He follows instantly.

He follows because you asked without words, because your body told him what it wanted and Dex is listening with everything he has. His tongue moves slower than you expect, deliberate and devoted, savoring you until your head falls back and your fingers tighten hard enough to make him moan. He doesn’t pull away, he leans into it, lashes lowered, breathing unevenly through his nose while his grip on your thighs turns almost desperate.

You look down at him and find him already watching you.

There’s something ruined in his expression, something hungry and grateful beneath all that lethal control. Like he could destroy anyone else without blinking, but here, with you, all he wants is permission to stay exactly where he is.

“Slow,” you murmur, though he already is.

Dex nods against you, eyes half-lidded, and obeys.

He takes his time like he promised himself he would. Like he’s not trying to get anywhere fast, not chasing the end so much as the privilege of being allowed to bring you there. He kisses your cunt between each slow pass of his tongue, murmuring something too soft to catch, maybe your name, maybe another thank you, maybe both. His face is flushed when you pull his hair again, his mouth wet, his expression almost dazed with want.

You guide him exactly where you need him, and he lets you.

He lets you angle his head, lets you set the pace, lets you hold him there when your thighs start to tremble. The more you lose control, the steadier he becomes, like your pleasure gives him purpose. Like every sound you make pins him in place better than any command could.

When you praise him, he nearly breaks. “Good,” you whisper, breathless. “Just like that.”

Dex makes a low, helpless sound and presses closer, his hands tightening again as if he needs to ground himself. He doesn’t stop; he wouldn’t, not unless you told him to. His whole world has narrowed to your voice, your hands, the rhythm of your hips, the heat of you against his mouth. He looks almost drunk on it, devoted past the point of dignity, and when your body finally starts to shake, he stays right there, slow and steady and desperate to be good through every second of it.

Afterward, he rests his cheek against your thigh, breathing hard.

For a while, neither of you says anything. Your fingers are still tangled in his hair, gentler now, stroking through the strands while he leans into your touch with his eyes closed. He looks calm in a way he almost never does, softened by obedience, by being allowed to want something without having to fight for it.

Then he turns his head and presses one last kiss to your skin.

“Thank you,” he whispers again.

everything: @clxt-lamb1 @person-005 @bookoffracturedescapes @macbaetwo @demiebarnes

benjamin poindexter: @ultimatewolverine @nightmerzer @hexedangelx @avidreader73 @satorusbbymomma @skollinghunter

[slowburndarling]

i just finished watching daredevil born again and this is exactly what i needed to process my feelings about dex 🙂‍↕️ thank youuu

[lifeafterpsychiatry]

Give me less "being kind requires zero effort" and more "being kind is worth the effort it takes."

[kosmogrl]

one day I’ll get over it and the lump in my throat when I try to talk about it won’t exist

[maiamore]

clark kent constantly being at odds with his big mouthed!gf, but then…he then finds a muuuch better use for it.

it's not that you weren't someone who didn't know how to hold your decorum in less-than-pleasant situations. you just had a much lower tolerance to dealing with BS. and often, it ruffled feathers.

and that would also mean clark would often have to worry about safety. not of yours, but of the poor souls who thought it would've been a good idea to start a fight.

he knew better than to put himself on the ring with you. it almost never ended well for him when he thought to force his own opinions onto you.

"oh!"

he was fucked the second your voice pitched a register higher.

"hon, c'mon. don't…don't do that with me."

"i'm not doing anything." you've twirled away from him. and like very first sign of what was certainly the eviction of clark to the couch, you begun to aggressively clean around you.

"yes you are," he counters, picking the strewn papers around your study in a meek gesture to help. "you're all huffy. and you're clearly upset."

you sharply turn to him, and he jolts. "me? upset? preposterous insinuation."

his head falls in his palms. and the second sign introduces itself — a sarcastic upgrade of your vocabulary that frankly irritated him.

"you're pushing for a reaction now, i'm not going to give that to you." he follows you into the bedroom, where you'd full well shut the door in his face. he yelps, fixing the crooked frame of his glasses at the impact. "h-honey!"

you fist around soft cotton, and whip it at clark. "—umf!" the pillow lands in his face, effectively knocking his glasses off with a clatter. then a raggedy knitted throw thuds against his chest.

for the first time that night, clark sighs audibly in resignation. something he only ever did when he was driven to the corner. you twitch as though he yelled at you — and honestly? you'd rather he yell at you all pitchy and petulant than…this.

"you want someone to enable your reckless stunts? that sure as hell isn't going to be me."

the pillow thwapps right at your chest with a speed you couldn't register. it hadn't hurt, but it knocks the breath out of you.

"none of this." he tosses the blanket back onto the mattress. his tired gaze darting over to yours — looking at you beneath him. you were completely stiff. pillow clutched to your chest at being subjected to his withering look.

"do not go back there. i'll deal with that shop-keeper."

"…he won't listen to reason." you mumble, voice significantly lacking bite, but still holding the poutiness, "what makes you think he's gonna —"

"i'll make him listen," he interrupts with a breathy exhale, prying the pillow out of your grip, the soft cotton landing with a thud back to its rightful place on the bed. "are we done with this conversation?"

you nod slightly, hand pressed tight on your lap. you hadn't seen this level of assertiveness from him before. it sends a rather…displaced signal to your cunt.

"good." clark knuckles then grazes beneath your jaw, and you follow his tilt, to look up at him where he stood.

"i'm sorry. did i hurt you?"

you're missing the cottony comfort of the pillow, the lack of it does little to silence your racing heart. his gaze then drops to the delicate column of your throat, and the way it bobs in effort from your swallow.

"…no." you manage, softly.

"yeah? you sure? you look…tense."

"it's nothing."

you let out a stifled little noise when he cups your jaw just a tad firmer, sizing you with a displeased look. clearly unconvinced by your half-assed answer.

"my mouthy girl has nothin' smart to say now?"

your eyes twitch at his tease.

his thumb slides up your jaw, the callous pad of it dragging past your lower lip. a stuttered breath releases past your parted lips now, and you feel it graze the edge of your teeth.

you loosen at the gesture, jaw less tense at his coaxing, until it finally rests on your tongue. your eyes grow half-lidded as your lips close around his thumb. hot, wet pink experimentally curls around the flesh, and you notice the visible twitch of his cock beneath his trousers.

clark can barely contain the smug little lop-sided smile of his lips.

he supposes all he really had to do, was give your mouth something else to do.

[slowburndarling]

my attitude the moment he threw the pillow back at me:

going to be thinking about this one for the rest of my workday… hehehe

[yyyyddmmsupremacy-deactivated20]

one person's "ugghh this trope is so overdone" is another person's "oooooohohohohohohohoho"

[rkkuna]

— 𝜗𝜚⋆ your husband gets clingy and sappy during sex

it always starts heated, hungry, almost borderline feral when you get your hands on each other. the rough yet gentle way his voice echoes in your ear at every promise he tells you he’s gonna do to you: knows it makes your knees weak and pussy wet.  

his touch always traveling around your body, knowing it like the back of his hand, knows what you like and don’t like, knows which buttons to press to have you trembling and shaking. whispers the dirtiest things in your ear while he’s got this finger stuffed in your cunt and you can’t do anything but grip his wrist tightly and moan into his mouth when he kisses you.

but there’s also times when it shifts, the entire bedroom becomes soft all of a sudden, like now; sat back on his knees, thumb rubbing the slowest circles on your clit while his can’t take his eyes off the way his cock eases in and out of you with one leg pushed off to the side and the other bent over his shoulder. “baby,” he murmurs, deep and low in his throat, his lips littering wet kisses against your leg. “you’re so pretty, baby.”

your eyes snap open at his words, dazed and confused. “huh?” through tears welling up in the corners of your eyes, you catch sight of him, but he isn’t looking at you. he’s fixated on your pussy. your lips part with another string of soft whines, hand loosely pressed against his chest when he’s slowly grinding into you; the thickness of his cock stretching you out perfectly. “what did you say?”

if he hears you, he choses not to say anything, not yet anyway, too entranced with how he fills you up, eyes hooded and breath stuttering at the warmth of you wrapped around him. doesn’t seem to register the way your nails sink into the skin of his chest each time he pulls out just enough to have you whimpering in protest before pushing right back into you. each thrust knocking your breath out of you.

it’s when his eyes flicker up and meet yours finally, lowering your leg from his shoulder, that he smiles; the lazy and giddy kind, before he’s leaning over you. his body, made up of pure muscle and strength, cages yours beneath him. “you’re pretty too, sweetheart,” his face is instantly tucked into the crook of your neck, hot breath against your skin, causing you to shiver and clench around him. “so pretty, my pretty lady,” he continues, hands running up and down your thighs before he’s wrapping them around his waist for you, body lowering more onto yours.

you gasp into his shoulder, the action of his body pressing down onto you causes his cock to sink deeper. “baby,” you whine, biting his shoulder, hands running up and down his back, moving to his sides just to feel the hotness of his skin before they’re moving back up and around his back; the muscle is hard beneath your touch.

his thrusts are slow and gentle, the thick vein on the underside of his cock throbs against your walls, rough hands slide down your legs and over your hips. his ragged breaths and groans vibrate against your neck and the sharpness of your nails sink into his back. “my pretty baby, so sweet and soft,” he murmurs once more, teeth nipping at your neck. “you’re so perfect, so mine.”

he’s gone, that much you realise, and you also realise he’s not even phased by the way your nails continue to rake up and down his back each time he grinds into you, his mind and body focused on how good you feel wrapped around his cock, how you feel so pliable beneath him. those same hands that make you feel safe no matter what, grip your hips tighter once his pace gets more faster. 

“m’yours,” you choked out, the sound a mixture between a moan and a sob; either way it goes straight to his head, panting into your now sweaty neck. “all yours, honey please.” 

“you’re so perfect, m’so lucky to have you,” he can’t stop, his fingers sinking deeper into your hips and nose sliding up and down your neck.

the plap plap plap of skin slapping echo the room, your ankles locked tightly around him, heels pressing into his lower back each time he drags his cock out, enough to make you whine, before sliding right back in, the tip of his cock catching onto the spot inside you that has stars behind your ears and toes curling. “feels ‘shoo good,” you moan, hips moving on their own accord to meet his thrusts. 

your arm wraps around his neck, holding him close to you and you moan, gasp and whine into his ear softly. his sweaty body sticks to yourself like glue, if anything his grip on your hips tighten, lips attaching to your neck hungrily. “so warm, holy shit” his voice slurs slightly, one hand quickly moving between your bodies where he finds your throbbing clit. “so wet,” his fingers work slowly, drawing figure eights on the bud, groaning each time you clench around his cock. “you’re so fucking perfect, fuck honey.”

his words melt your heart, makes your eyelids flutter closed just for a second; or longer, you can’t tell anymore, basking in his love and affection. “mmm love you,” you gasp, nails sinking into the skin of his shoulder. 

“love you more,” he pants, lifting his head from your neck and pressing his forehead to yours, eyes hooded. “love you so much, my best girl, pretty wife.” 

you cry out against his cheek, walls fluttering around his cock once again at his words, never fails to make you shy and happy no matter how many times he says it. “more, need more, please, honey—”

“wanna feel you, need to feel you, just for a little linger—ohmygod,” another particular thrust of his hips has your legs tightening around him and a deep rumble from his throat causes his pace to falter for just a split second. “pussy was made for me, you were made for me, baby, hm? yeah? lemme feel you for longer, need to, mmmm, that’s it.”

“can’t, need you to move faster.”

his lips curl up into a smirk and you cling to his shoulder tighter when he moves his head towards your neck again, lips grazing the shell of your ear. “lemme play with you a little longer, baby, yeah?”

[slowburndarling]

this is so husband!clark coded i’m gonna (s)cream !!!

“my pretty baby, so sweet and soft”

“my best girl”

“let me play with you a little longer, yeah?”

yeah… yeah. ohhh yeah.

[persianmom-deactivated20260602]

seems like my dedication to my isolation isn’t going to save me. that’s crazyyyyy