amourtoken

[amourtoken]

Crybaby girlfriend reader who is way too overstimulated as she tries her best to continue riding Clark only for him to wrap his arms around her and pull her down while he takes over and she just sobs in his neck clawing at his chest because he just feels sooo good😭😵‍💫😍

this has made me, quite literally, ill to think about. here’s a lil somethin’ for you honey <3

cw: nsfw, fem!reader, pet names (baby, mama), soft dom!ish clark, not proofread but i tried :)

“claaark!” you whine, eyes squeezed shut and thighs tensing, your skin sticking to the tops of his strong, hairy thighs as you chase a high that… frankly… clark’s already gotten you to twice…

“i know, i know, ‘s good, huh? hm? ‘s that good?” he coos back, chest heaving with your movement— sweat pooling in his collar bones, and hair gel falling loose

your deep cry, your immediate “yes yes yes” as you fight to try and keep that delicious friction between your cunt and his happy trail almost has clark’s eyes rolling back in complete ecstasy

except, of course, his sweet girl is shaking like a leaf; pouting like he’s about to pull away the sweetest honey in the world. eyes teary and fingers grabby for him

“baby.. baby w-wait hang on, c’mon, lemme take care’a you.. let clark fix it, huh?” in the sweetest, but simultaneously sluttiest tone ever as he adjusts you in his lap

your arms are pinned to your sides. as he bear hugs you, flexing his thighs to scoot you further up his body—never once pulling out of you

“i gotcha, mama. i gotcha…shhh, ‘s that good? huh? no more crying, ‘mg gonna give it to you, i promise” shushing you and pistoning his hips so deep inside of you that you swear he’s seated himself comfortably in your tummy— scaring away the butterflies that always seem to linger there when he’s with you

“my weepy baby, just needed me… needed your clarkie, right baby?” his teasing is met with more weeping, borderline sobbing hiccups from you as you claw at his chest

and clark wouldn’t have it any other way!

and on a day where’s he more tense… feeling mean (which is foreign to him, truthfully), he’d mock your “o” shaped mouth, smiling with full dimples as he taunts “ohhh, that’s nice huh? love my crybaby, just needed a good screw.. thas’ all… thas all….”

[amourtoken]

i need him so bad its concerning at this point

[amourtoken]

Jail for this man

[amourtoken]

Do you like biting ?

ya that’s why they’re putting me down tonight

[amourtoken]

Been thinkin abt him ESPECIALLY since snipe hunter is out now so plenty of new content to tweak over and such

Cw for choking/breathplay a smidgen and as per usual hittin it raw yk the deal

As I was saying in my last post abt him, he's not necessarily vanilla, but he's got a way about showing off the things he's into yk? He's not gonna jump right in, no zero to a hundred moments out of the blue, he's deliberate and god if he doesn't torment himself sometimes in this process.

He lives in the moments of anticipation and thrives in the tension. Eye contact held wordlessly for just a little too long, enough to make your breath catch in your chest, but just as you move to comment on it, he looks away. Pressing his front to your back when youre reaching for something a little too high in the cabinets so he can grab it for you, his hand steadying itself on your hip and squeezing gently before he pulls away entirely.

If I could truly describe the feeling Tyler encompasses above all, I'd say he's that moment just before a kiss where your lips are ghosting eachothers, not quite touching but close enough to breathe eachothers air before you clash together.

Conveniently, in my mind, he's a big fan of breath play.

In true Tyler fashion, though, he's starting off slow and gentle. His hand slides from its place on your cheek as you kiss, gripping your jaw gently before settling against your throat. At first he's barely even touching you, but the longer youre perched in his lap with your lips against his and the messier it gets, you can feel his grip tighten at the sides of your neck. It catches you off guard when you realize just how fuzzy your head feels. Tyler's calloused fingers digging into your skin just right and even though hes letting you breathe, he's cutting off circulation in the most delicious way possible to get you all cloudy minded and pliable for him.

His hand would stay settled on your neck even when you're off his lap and pinned to the sheets below him. In a way he's less focused on actually applying pressure and moreso on keeping you close, keeping you still for him. The breathy whines and pleas that escape your lips as he slaps his tip on your clit make his cock ache and his insides swarm with butterflies but he'd rather die than admit it outright. It takes all his effort to not collapse on top of you and rut into you like a fucking dog at points, but the desire to draw this out and tease you till tears prick at your vision keeps him upright.

It doesn't take long to get you there at all, almost instantly begging for him to just fuck you right once he slips the tip in just past your slit. He could, oh god he could just give in but where's the fun in that? He'd draw his hips back just enough to slip out, thrusting just the first inch or so into you over and over. Every time the ridge of his tip catches your entrance, it drags a pathetic sob from your chest.

As fun as this is, he's not entirely evil. You've been so good for him, putting up with him and letting him unravel you thread by thread. You deserve to get filled up and bred, don't you? He thinks so.

Just when you think he's sliding in to tease you again, he slowly sinks as deep as he can fit into you. Your back arches off the mattress, and you can't help the tears that finally stream down your cheeks at the stretch. This is all you've been begging for all night. Somehow, the slow pace is better than him, just slamming into you all at once. It forces you to really feel every single inch.

"So good for me, pretty lady- you feelin' okay? This good? Talk to me, sweetheart."

"Takin' me like you were made for me, darlin'."

" You're dangerous, y'know that? Keep squeezin' me like that and you're fixin' to get knocked up"

[amourtoken]

never arguing with a man who has big blue eyes, whatever you say beautiful ❤️

[amourtoken]

Since yall responded pretty fondly to the idea of me writing about Mr. Timmy Ty Childers, here's some thoughts I've been having 👀

(I will say in advance, fuckin outdoors in the Appalachias at night probably isn't the best idea but for fantasy's sake pretend we're allowed)

He's soft, to be fair. Not necessarily vanilla, but soft.

He's been through more in his life than that of 10 men put together. He's got experience and knows what he's doing, but god, he's never in a rush. His hands trace your body like he's committing you to memory, comparing the curves and dips of your form to the topography of the Appalachian foothills in his mind. Your skin under his fingers is the softest thing he's ever had the pleasure to feel, and sometimes he feels guilty when he's got you caged between his arms beneath his weight because you're just too soft. Far too soft for someone like him; yet you always let him in. You smile at him like he's never sinned in his life, the way your pretty little doe eyes stare into his when you're listening to him talk and tell stories sets this ache in his chest he just can't describe.

Tyler loves dragging you into his lap just to hold you. He's surprisingly big, tall, and broad in ways pictures didn't necessarily do justice before you met. His voice is much deeper when he's offstage, and when he isn't performing, he's truthfully a pretty quiet guy. He doesn't need to speak to get his feelings across though, the feel of his fingers drawing little shapes against your thighs while your back presses to his chest and a fire he set outside warms your face tends to do the job.

You can barely pinpoint exactly when these moments turn from something innocent to something that you'll be praying a little extra for next Sunday, but it always happens that way. His hands slide between your thighs without a second thought, one freeing itself up to travel up your torso and softly grip your throat just enough to feel your pulse against his palm. He notes how it picks up in pace when his lips meet yours. Nothing goes unnoticed.

In times like these, you're most grateful for his property being tucked away in the woods. No neighbors for miles, conveniently.

He could take the extra time to begrudgingly drag you off his lap and into the house, but it's so nice out tonight that it'd be a shame to waste it indoors, wouldn't it? You're absolutely not complaining, getting laid out on a blanket under the stars while your boyfriend hikes your legs up onto his shoulders and eats you like a man starved is a treat not many come by often.

Tyler could do this genuinely all night. He's groaning against your cunt like he's the one getting to fuck your face just cause he's enjoying himself so much. You're sweet like honey and somehow more addictive than anything he's ever been hooked on before. This time, he's got no intentions of getting sober, though. Once again, you're grateful for being out in the middle of nowhere since the wet sloppy sounds filling the air would probably irritate anyone within a mile. Your fingers tug at his hair just the way he likes and he keens into your touch like he's chasing the sting. It takes no time to unravel you, sliding his two middle fingers as deep as he can get them as you cum just so he can feel you spasm and clench around them. It's the little things that get him going.

It takes you dragging him up to eye level by his hair for him to stop. Your legs were already shaking, and you just wanted to feel him. Your hands fumbled for his belt, and he sat back just long enough to watch you struggle, swatting your hands away to do it himself when it was clear you weren't making progress.

You've seen his cock a hundred times but it'll always make butterflies swarm in your stomach and your head fuzzy every time you see it bounce against his stomach as his jeans slide down his thighs. He's got the softest curve, a thick vein running up the underside and his tip drips like a fucking faucet. The stretch when he sinks into you always sends an ache up your spine and steals the air from your lungs but he'll bring you back to earth with soft praises mumbled against your throat as he ruts into you.

He'll pick the pace up if you ask, but he loves just being able to grind his hips tightly against yours and truly feel you. Feel you pulse around him, gripping him so tight it makes his head spin when his tip nudges your cervix. The curve to his length hits all the right spots every single time, he doesn't even need to fuck you rough to get you quivering under him. His hands would slip from your sides to wrap his arms around your waist, lifting your hips just enough to meet his deep thrusts and the slight change to the angle has you seeing stars.

"Oh I know, baby, I know. Feels so good, huh? Yeah? It's okay, darlin' I got you."

"Swear you were made just for me, sweetheart. Feel that? You squeeze me so tight when I say that"

"Pretty thing, you feel so good- shit. So good to me- for me- all mine. You're all mine"

When he cums he buries his face against your neck, his hips glued to yours to sink as deep as he can possibly get. You can feel his cock twitching harshly inside you, the aftershocks running through his body and stealing the air from his lungs. He's usually not too noisy when he cums but he'll grit his teeth and groan against your skin, panting to catch his breath and holding you as close as he can get you to his body like youre the anchor keeping him glued to earth. He recovers pretty fast, but if he had it his way he'd stay buried inside your sweet pussy forever. The view when he pulls out and gets to see his cum drip from you is otherworldly though, you still somehow look so soft and sweet even when youre shaking and sweating with his name caught on the tip of your tongue.

He'll help you clean up, offering his flannel to you so you dont have to get fully re dressed. You look better in his clothes anyway.

[amourtoken]

Long distance is beating my ASS right now to be so fr!! But its okay!! Time to drown in soft content

[amourtoken]

https://www.tumblr.com/amourtoken/789810233132351488/i-wanna-write-for-tyler-childers-so-bad-but-i-fear

I’d be apart of the minute amount of people enjoying this

So far ive had a good amount of people interested 👀 what kinda content would yall wanna see for him?

[amourtoken]

I wanna write for Tyler Childers so bad but I fear the response to that would be MINUTE

[amourtoken]

NIIIIIIIIIX

Important update on the debate of Quintin's eye color

those look very very blue to me 👀

I know the lighting made Jack's eyes look way more vibrant but I feel like based on these we can assume the base color of Quinn's eyes is blue/grey

I'm way to invested in this but idc anymore

I feel like i will be dying on the hill of the blue gray Quinny eye color, with splashes of brown spots (WHICH WE DONT SEE HERE EXCUSE ME). I want him so bad. I'm gonna cry. I QM CRYING. FUCK. FUCK MY LIFE. I NEED A QUINNY RN

[amourtoken]

UR ALIVE

YEAHHHHHH IM ALIVE!!!!

My random unplanned hiatus was in fact not me dying hello 👋 I just got into a relationship and started school!!

[amourtoken]

Baby I thought I was the only one but I cannot get behind bald Ruby 😔 he looks too much like my brother

WE ARE TWINNING HEAVILY

I miss the long hair split dye era please GOD bring back the frizzy untamed bullshit 😭

[amourtoken]

Sex pollen - Clark Kent x reader

Word count: 3.2k

Description: When Clark gets poisoned with sex pollen, he tries everything in his power to stay away from you. Until he ends up crashing into your living room, and you have a god on his knees, with your name in his mouth and your body at his will.

Tags/warnings: smut, established relationship, clark is sorry, he gets freaky with his powers, consent kink, breaks you and worships you at the same time, begging, praising, hovering (yes hovering👀), so much dirty talk (he’s feral but sweet), overstimulation.

Note: Guess who watched superman today and got a new man to obsess about🙂‍↕️ honestly I don’t even know what took over me when I wrote this but all I can say is go ahead, live your best life and enjoy the sweet filth 🫶🏼

archive / masterlist

━━━━━━━━━━━ ⋆⋅ ♡ ⋅⋆ ━━━━━━━━━━

You wake up with a loud crash coming from your living room. You jolt upright from your bed as you hear glass shatter, sprinting toward the noise. You curse as your body, only covered by Clark’s giant shirt, gets hit with the crisp midnight air as wind gushed through your apartment like a hurricane just passed by.

A figure stood where your glass door used to be, leaning weakly on what was left of the frame. You turned on the lamp next to you, illuminating your boyfriend’s stumbling body.

“Clark!?” you exclaim, confused by his abrupt arrival.

He doesn’t look up, just stands there against the frame, chest heaving, fists clenched. Like he is barely holding himself together.

Worry washes your features, something must be really wrong. You start making way over to him, but as soon as you take a step forward he puts a warning hand in front of him.

“Stop! Don’t move,” his deep voice comes out strangled, like he’s been screaming for hours. “Don’t come closer… please. Just–just stay there.”

He keeps his hand up to stop you, panting heavily as he swallowed to try to soothe his dry throat. He slowly looks up, and groans when he meets your eyes. His pupils are blown wide, dry lips parted, his breath ragged like he’s been flying across the globe. His usually perfect wavy hair is now flat, messy, sticking to his sweaty forehead.

“I didn’t want to come here,” he whines. “I–I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

“What happened to you?” You ask from your spot, fighting the urge to run to his aid.

“I’ve been infected,” he chokes out, and your brows furrow more. “Some kind of … alien pollen. It hit me out there. I flew straight into it and fuck ... It’s messing with my head, my body, I…”

He suddenly turns away, pacing in small frantic circles on your balcony like he’s trying to shake something off. His hands tremble as he fights to not make eye contact, like just looking at you hurts.

“What do you need? D-do you have the antidote?” You ask, scared as hell. He never acts like this.

He just shakes his head first with a bitter laugh, only to nod frantically afterwards.

God, if only you knew.

“I tried to wait it out,” he groans, fists now in his hair. “I swear I did, my love, I locked myself away for hours … tried to fly as far as I could but I kept turning back because I could smell you.”

Your breath catches in your throat, somehow understanding what this was about.

“I can smell you, sweetheart. Even from across the city … I can hear you breathing … your heartbeat. I didn’t want to hurt you but right now I have you in front of me and I can see–dammit … I’m sorry–“

He stumbles backward like he’s ashamed of himself, like he can’t even look at you.

“You know can’t turn it off,” he whispers. “I never mean to look, I swear, but I can see you now. Everything.”

Of course you know what he means. You know he can see right past his giant shirt covering your body. And the guilt on his face is gutting. He looks like he’s trying to claw his own powers out of his skin.

“Clark… it’s okay. You don’t have to explain, ”you step forward, slowly, gently. “It’s not like we haven’t–“

“No you don’t get it!” He snaps, his voice booming through your walls so loud you were sure everyone on the block heard him. He instantly feels worse with the way you flinched to his volume. “S-sorry darling … you just don’t get it … you have no idea what it’s like to smell you and know how soft you are, how warm. My instincts are going crazy. I just need to be inside you … I need to touch you, mark you, fill you up until I can’t think straight,” he just rambles, eyes raking through your body.

You take a deep breath, his words making you clench your thighs together and he noticed. Of course you’ve had sex before. You know what he sounds like when he’s needy. But this? This is feral. You’ve never seen him like this.

But you’re willing to do anything to help him. Always.

“Clark… you don’t even have to ask,” you speak softly, your own eyes darkening with desire.

He shakes his head. You don’t even understand the amount of restraint he’s having right now.

“I do … I always do. Especially now. Because I’m not going to touch you like I should. I’m not going to make it about you. I’m going to use you. Because you’re the only one who can fix me … you are the antidote and I hate it. I hate that I can’t even think straight unless I’m inside you … I need you so bad, darling, I’m shaking–“ He cries, an actual tear comes out his desperate eyes.

You’re watching a god fall apart in front of you.

Because of you.

You finally cross the space left, and he doesn’t stop you this time. You grab his face between your hands, and kiss him without hesitation. His arms immediately cling to your frame, cold hands slipping under your shirt to roam every inch of your warm skin.

You moan into his lips, when you taste the salty tears on his face. His hands land on your ass, and he squeezes hard, bruising, making you squeal. He immediately pulls back, apologizing. Like he still can’t let himself go.

“I love you, I’m sorry–” he blurts out immediately, hands soothing the skin he pinched while he fought the urge to do it again, harder. “God I love you … and I would never hurt you. Never. I swore I’d never touch you like this. Unless you asked me to. Unless you wanted me to. So please … tell me you want this too. Say yes, or I’ll leave. I swear I will.”

He nods, frantically, like he’s trying to convince himself more than he’s trying to convince you.

“I’ll leave if you tell me to,” he breathes. “I’ll fly through a mountain. I’ll bury myself in the ocean. Just don’t say yes unless you want this. I’m barely holding on– if you say it, I won’t be able to stop.”

You want him. God you always want him.

The way he keeps asking makes you want him even more. Even if he’s not your Clark now. Even if he won’t take care of you like he always does. Even if you can’t breathe or move after. Because you love him too.

“I want it,” you whisper against his lips, nodding. “I want you. You need me? Use me. Take all you want … I can take it.”

It’s over.

The moment you say yes there’s no going back. He lunges forward, tightening his grip on you as he lifts you off the ground to fly you towards the wall, knocking the lamp when your back hit the wall, leaving you both in complete darkness. Only the moonlight left to shine over his hungry eyes.

His massive hand cradles the back of your head to protect it from the hit, while the other tears off your shirt like he needs your skin on his or he’ll die. Your panties don’t even last two seconds before they fly away too.

His lips hit yours. Tongue desperate, hands everywhere, so large, so shaky, everywhere at once. He groans into your mouth like a man dying of thirst finally tasting water.

“Thank you,” he gasps between kisses. “Thank you sweetheart … I’m so sorry I can’t help you first … but I need you … I need to feel you inside, please just let me…”

He knows it hurts you when he doesn’t prepare you properly, when he doesn’t make you cum at least twice on his fingers before he fucks you …but he can’t right now. Not when he can smell how soaked you are already, not when he swears it’s dripping on the carpet.

“Do it,” you pant, hungry for him. “Clark just do it … please.”

He doubts only for a second, and then without thinking he rips the suit. Literally tears it at the waist, tugging it to get rid of it completely. He’ll care about that later.

Right now he is just muscle in front of you.

His painful cock springs up, and he presses himself to you with a wet slap, your back hitting the wall again. Your pussy throbs at how impossibly huge he is over your stomach.

You’ve had him before. You’ve barely made it. You still want him to rearrange your guts.

“Feel that?” he groans. “That’s what you do to me, that’s what’s been driving me insane all day, darling.”

He’s not even pretending anymore, his cock is throbbing, massive, already leaking. He aligns himself between your soaked folds, rutting the tip against your pussy a few times like he’s lost control of his body entirely. You moan at the friction. Every nerve ending screaming.

You know he’s gonna wreck you. You weren’t ready. But at the same time you’ve never been more ready.

He grabs your thigh and lifts it against the wall, before whispering against your lips. “I’m sorry…”

He pushes his hips forward, and when he finally slides home with a snap … raw, hard, you let out a strangled scream.

One long, broken sound, high pitched and helpless, because he stretches you brutally, all at once, bottoming out with a growl. An actual growl. Like he finally felt some type of relief since he got hit with the pollen.

You fight back a cry, lunging forward to bite his shoulder. He starts fucking you into the wall as he whispers ‘I love you’ ‘thank you’ ‘sorry’ like some sort of chant. Like it’s the only thing keeping him rooted to the version of him that is still careful with you when you have sex.

Your breath leaves you in a gasp, your bare back against the cold plaster, legs around his waist, and arms clinging to his biceps for dear life. All you can do is moan as you get adjusted to his unfairly thick cock slamming in and out of you.

“Just like that … you’re taking me so well,” he pants. “You can do it, sweetheart … you’re doing so good … fuck, you were made for this … made for me.”

His hands grip your thighs. He fucks you like he’s possessed, no rhythm, no thought into it, just deep, hard thrusts that hit something devastating every time, shaking the wall with every slam of his hips.

And the whole time, he keeps whimpering into your neck.

“I love you … I’m sorry … I love you …I’m gonna ruin you …I need it…”

You think you’re about to white out when the room starts moving, but you quickly realize what’s happening.

He’s lifting your bodies off the ground.

Still fucking you.

Going up as much as your ceiling allowed him too. He pins you high on the wall when his head touches the roof, like gravity doesn’t apply anymore. It never does, not to you, not to him.

So now you’re fucking hovering. Literally. Unable to do anything but take it.

And you feel him like never before. A complete moaning mess. Nails dragging down his back, mouth open in shock as you look down to the floor. Your whole body is a live wire, and he’s fucking you like it’s the only thing keeping him alive.

His cock twitches inside you. He’s already close. Has been since he walked through that window. But he’s holding it, fighting it, because he needs to stay inside. Needs to keep taking. You can’t.

“Fuck Clark … I’m gonna–“

“Yes? do it … darling please, you’re doing so well. I’ve got you … cum all over this cock baby I got you.”

Your body breaks before you can breathe. Your first climax of the night hits hard, clenching down on him, while you pant into his chest. Your whole body goes limp and he feels it.

He fucks you through it. Rough thrusts with his hand stroking your back and the other wrapped under your thighs. He keeps thanking you as his cock splits you open over and over.

“I wanna give you everything,” he groans, voice cracking. “Fill you up, stuff you full of me … Can I? Please? Let me finish inside you …. let me have you–“

“Yes, yes, fill me up,” you blurt out, still seeing stars.

He slams in once more and chokes, hips locked, whole body shuddering as he comes with a moan so broken it feels like it came from his soul. He shakes as he fills you, mouth pressed to your neck.

He doesn’t pull out yet. He holds you there, trembling, pressed against the wall like he knows you’ll fall if he loosens his grip.

Even after the first wave passes, after the groans, the shaking, the desperate I love you’s, he holds you like you’re the only thing anchoring him to this planet.

“…Are you okay?”

You just nod, breathless, a blissed out smile in your face. He smiles too. And then, slowly, he lowers you back down to the floor.

But he’s not soft for long. He doesn’t even give you a minute to recover. He can’t. The second round starts before the first one even finishes sinking in.

You’re still trembling in his arms, leaking down your thighs, whimpering his name into the crook of his neck. And he’s still inside you. Still painfully hard.

Still needing you.

“One more, please. Just–just one more,” he begs. “Let me have you again. Please, darling I need it.”

“Take it Clark, take all you need,” you nod, absolutely wrecked.

But what’s a few more rounds with your unearthly strong boyfriend?

He melts.

You usually go multiple rounds, but he’s softer, he gives you downtime, even brings you water in between orgasms. But right now he can’t believe the way he fucked you and you still let him have more. But he needs more. The pollen is fogging his brain.

He finally pulls out, just to set you down on the floor. The second your back hits the rug, he’s on top of you again. And god he’s heavy. Solid. He doesn’t even hold his weight like he usually does because all he’s thinking about is fucking you senseless.

He buries himself deep again, groaning, cursing under his breath. You close your eyes, nails digging the carpet, back arching when you feel him deeper from this angle. You pant small whines from the feeling.

“Shhh … don’t–“ he coos, he wants to be slow, but he can’t. His hips snap hard without even thinking. “You’re doing so good, sweetheart … so good for me… just need one more.”

You know it’s not just one more. And he fucking knows that too.

None of you cares.

“You’re so wet … so perfect” he groans, the filthy sound gushing loudly every time he thrusted. “I didn’t even give you time to come down … didn’t even let you breathe and you still take me so well”

He praises. Worships. He looks down to where your bodies meet, and he sees right through your skin. He can see his huge cock filling you with every thrust. He can see your walls clenching around him. And he looses it.

You’re suddenly running out of air when he presses his chest to yours, pining you tighter to the floor with his body as he pushes harder. And you feel all of him. The broadness of his chest against your ribs. The strain of his thighs bracketing yours. His cock still buried deep, rock hard.

You hit his bicep with your hand first, but he’s not paying attention, he’s too caught up on the way your pussy takes him to notice.

It’s not smooth. Not rhythmic. Just sharp, ragged thrusts that hit you so hard your body jerks on impact, tits bouncing, nails clawing at his back as he crushes you into the floor with every rut of his hips.

Your head starts spinning.

“Clark,” you choke out, hitting his bicep again. “I can’t–can’t breathe…”

His head finally snaps at you, eyes going wide. He lifts up a bit, but he doesn’t pull out, he just … can’t.

You finally gasp for air as he shushes you softly, tucking away the hair sticking to your sweaty forehead.

“I’m sorry … I can’t … can’t stop. I tried, I swear I tried,” his forehead presses to yours, without crushing you alive this time.

His hips don’t stop moving. You pant between moans. You’re close again, you can feel it.

“It’s okay, you’re just … you’re so big …so heavy.”

“I’m sorry,” he breathes. “I’m sorry, I know. I just … I don’t want to let you go–”

“Don’t,” you whisper. “Don’t let me go.”

His expression breaks. Because he knows. And you know. He’s not really letting you go. Not all the way. He’s still pressing his weight into you, even as he tries not to. Because he needs to. Because letting go means losing you, even just for a second.

He doesn’t know what takes over him, he grabs your hands and pins them above your head. Watching you sob, moan, eyes rolling back, skin already bruising in multiple places by his grip. He’s not like this. He should be apologizing. Begging. But you just feel so damn good.

And you like it, god you love it.

“I–I love it when you fuck me like this,” you confess, voice barely above a whisper, dumb smile on your face as he hits that spot repeatedly. “I just- I can’t…”

“I know darling, I know … just a little more,” he groans. “One more please. You can take it …you’re doing so good.” He soothes, but he can’t slow down, not when you’re clenching him like that.

He picks up the pace.

“C-Clark … please, I’m gonna-“

“I’ve got you, darling …I’ve got you, let yourself go for me.”

You see white this time. You’re not even moaning anymore. Just gasping. Twitching. Letting him take what he needs because you want to. Because this is Clark, your Clark, and you’d give him your whole body a thousand times if he needed it.

And he does.

He fucks you like you’re his last breath.

Even after you’re wrecked, limp, twitching … he keeps going.

You don’t even remember the next time he finishes. Or the time after that. Or where it happened. Your body is a mess, trembling and raw and wet and full. Marked. Praised.

All while he keeps saying, “Just one more … just let me stay inside you a little longer… please sweetheart, I’m still hard I know you can take it … this is the last time I promise…”

Again and again. You’ve never heard him lie so much before.

Yet still, with your hair splayed, legs shaking, literal tears leaking from the corners of your eyes from the pleasure, the pain, the strain, the goddamn pollen he pumps into your body every time he comes…

You are having the time of your life being drunk on his cock.

“Fuck me harder.”

You beg, even when you can’t feel it anymore. Maybe that’s why you need it harder … deeper.

And because you knew that once he came back to normal he wouldn’t fuck you like this again. And he makes sure to let you know.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry I’m hurting you. I just need you so fucking much … I love you I love you I love you—”

You just nod, because it hurts embarrassingly good.

You lose count of how many times he comes in total. How many times you come. You only know time’s passed when the sky starts to lighten outside your broken window, and Clark is rocking into you so slowly it’s more like he’s just holding you in place, his mouth pressed to your shoulder, whispering thank you with every lazy thrust.

By the time he finally slows down, finally wears the substance out of his body after dumping it all inside you … you can’t move. You’re limp in his arms, boneless and dripping and his.

Your bed feels incredibly soft in contrast to all the spots he fucked you on last night.

You’re draped across his chest, tracing the muscles under his bare skin. His fingers are in your hair. Barely moving, just tracing small patterns. Soothing you like he didn’t cause all the pain in your body.

You’re still trembling a little. Just from… after. Your body’s still echoing with everything he gave you. Everything he took.

Worth it.

Clark kisses your temple. He hasn’t stopped kissing you every few minutes. It’s like he’s trying to apologize without saying it. Like he’s trying to prove that he’s still the man you love, the man who flinches when he bumps your head by accident, who picks you flowers and gets flustered when you kiss him in public. The one who always put you first in bed.

Not the one who just broke the sound barrier flying to your apartment because his cock told him to.

“…I broke your window,” he finally breaks the silence, a chuckle makes his chest vibrate against your ear.

“Clark … you broke a lot more than my window.”

You both start giggling … glowing. Your throat hurts, you’re sore, probably can’t even walk today or the whole week, and somehow, it feels like the safest place on Earth.

“I love you,” he whispers. “So much.”

“I know,” you whisper back. “You said it like 87 times while destroying me.”

⋆⋅ ♡ ⋅⋆

Feedback and sharing is always appreciated, thank you so much for reading <3

[amourtoken]

New $b music video is out, how we feeling about skinhead ruby 👀👀

I am so sorry to inform the bald ruby truthers but I just cannot with it 😭😭

I miss his hair so much, bald dudes remind me of my dad and I cannot fuck with them its such a niche ick of mine but I cant find it attractive because of that 😭

[amourtoken]

BACK AGAIN 😩‼️

You think Luke could cum just from you kissing/biting at his neck? Cause I think he definitely would.

Messy open mouthed kisses right against his throat and he's whining and struggling to keep his hips from bucking up towards you to try and ease the ache. He'd be such a whiny baby abt it, like almost teary eyed at the feel of your teeth against his skin or how it'd feel when you're leaving dark purple marks just below where his team would see it under his jersey neckline.

Sensitive bb that one i think.

YOU’RE ALWAYS WELCOME AMOUR, AND ME TOO! God, we’re on the same freakquency bc he’d be so squirmy, literally sweating from how riled up he is and, I’ll charge your vibrator while I tell you this, his whines would be so gaspy and pathetically blubbered.

God forbid anyone were to walk past the bedroom right now, Luke would be mortified if anyone else heard his pleading whines and deep moans, your name rolling off his tongue to the sounds of your lips sucking on his skin. You’re straddled all pretty on his lap, planting open-mouthed kisses along his neck, warm lips wet on his column and trailing all the way up to his jaw and down to his shoulder as your hands alternate from squeezing his biceps and pecs to tugging on his curls that reside on his nape. Every grope pulls another soft moan from him, his large hands clutching onto your waist and securing you on his cock - stiff and desperate, tormented from the way you’ve been rocking against him. It’s a dizzying torment. In nothing but his boxers from where you had slowly stripped him under the whimsical charm of your kisses, satisfying his desire. You bring your lips to the junction where the base of his neck meets his shoulder, pressing your mouth to his skin and humming when he blubbers out a whimper as your teeth nip the flesh.

He cranes his neck, opening the surface area while breathing heavily, his voice strained and whiny, almost huffing out his words as sweat begins to prickle over his skin. He’s cute when he’s like this, and when you notice his hair beginning to stick to his neck and forehead, you suck the skin between your teeth hard, swirling your tongue over the spot.

“Playing hockey with the boys tomorrow ‘nd they’re gonna tease me.” Luke breathes out, his eyes fluttering close as his hips jolt up against you, the brief friction on his cock shooting a sudden pleasure that almost has him in shock.

You like the way he’s struggling, hands gliding over his nipples and feeling them pebble, moving to his hair and twirling one of his curls around your finger. And all he can do is knead your waist and peer down at you and your half-lidded eyes.

“Thought you liked the attention? Don’t you like it when they see the aftermath? You told me you got off on it.” You tease, slotting your lips onto the base of his neck, licking over his salty skin and biting down, suckling until another pink mark blooms.  

He tilts his head back, lips parting and releasing another mewl when heat rushes to his face again, cheeks burning pink and guiding your hips to roll over his dick - a distraction, denial that you’re sending him to the clouds just with your mouth to his neck alone. He never knew he was this sensitive until now. 

“I do. I fucking love it, love when they see what we’re capable of.” He mutters, tears brimming his eyes and threatening to fall with how incredible he feels, excitement bursting in his stomach when you suck a particularly sensitive spot on his column. “Oh, right there- fuck!”

Satisfied, you pull back, not far but enough that your breath fans across his skin, lips grazing down to his collarbone, applying little butterfly kisses over the surface, encouraged by his writhing beneath you, his sobs and how his cock begs for your cunt achingly. It’s exhilarating listening to his pleads like a song, they cry out breathless on repeat, pathetic but not in a sense where he’s in pain. It’s the opposite, he’s having the time of his life, wrapped in a blanket of pleasure and craving more, overstimulated by being told to hold back while you’re right there on top of him, separated by the thin barrier of underwear. 

Your fingers glide over his cheek, thumb wiping away the wetness while he gazes with desperation in his eyes. Leaning your head onto his shoulder, you give him a small, coy smile, eyes glazed over with desire as all you give him is the grinding of hips against his and watching his lip quiver. 

“You enjoying this? Enjoying my pretty pussy on your cock? Marking you up? Huh? Use those words, pretty baby.” You tease, flashing him large eyes and a pout, pride filling you seeing his collar of hickeys just below his neck. “Mmm, love you so much, Lu. Always a good boy.”

Your pace speeds up, lips attaching back to his neck and repeating the sloppy kisses from before, finding every spot that hits a nerve and makes his hips jolt up and whimpers become louder, faster, unrestrained now.

“F-huuck- yes, love it, love you, don’t stop. God, fucking please don’t stop, I could cum.” He confesses, moving your hips to drag your cunt over his bulge, the sensation becoming a concoction of euphoria and keenness with the attention his neck’s receiving.

“Then do it. Cum, puppy, don’t hold back, wanna feel your boxers soaking, yeah?”

“Yes, angel. Won’t hold back, please keep going.” Luke bleats, his hand gently holding the back of your head to keep you on his throat and grant him access to a seventh heaven without restraint, without any command other than letting the pressure in his stomach go and let you feel what you do to him.

And when he does, you do, in fact, feel it. The warmth between your thighs, the way his muscles relax, and grip falls weak, how he tips his head back and slips an elongated groan of relief, without a care that cum seeps through the fabric and soaks into your panties. You’re proud, a giddiness in your chest and you caress his cheek comfortingly once more, snuggling into his chest and whispering how well he did, how he’s your good boy and sharing a tight and much needed cuddle with your beloved boyfriend. 

[amourtoken]

purity seal that just says "FUCK IT WE BALL" for the entire length of the parchment paper