#how could they fumble the bag

[ferallymine]

Projection of the Soul

a/n: ya girl made it to season 2 of 5Ds and holy shit someone needs to let these characters just fucking go for it. Just absolutely unleash themselves. fucking give Leo a gun idgaf.

Anyway I am still taking psychic damage from this rewatch. But i am persevering. Youtube retrospectives/analyses help me regain life points.

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"If you won't fight with all your might, Signer, then your brother with pay the consequence!"  Lester unleashed his monster, "Take out his life points! And his life!"

"Leo!" Luna screamed, defenseless from her trap cards being wiped out in the previous turn.

Thyme grabbed the twins, the force pulling them completely off their boards. A barrier of water deflecting what it could. Thyme leaned back, using the boosters in their board to rapidly propel backwards out of danger. Leo winced in pain as his points his zero, unconscious but still breathing.

If they hadn't acted, Leo would have perished in that attack.

The board came to a stop, allowing Thyme to release the two. "Luna, let me see your disc." Their tone left no room for discussion.

"Huh? Okay." She raised her arm.

They hit a button- forfeit. "Make sure Leo wakes up."

Luna gasped, "What? Why did you- I can still fight- ah!" Her sign lit up, causing a brief moment of pain.

Thyme didn't respond as they donned metal clawed gloves. Their sign also glowed, eyes matching in a vacant red hue. Something's wrong.

"Thyme wait-" Luna reached out, but Thyme sped off without another word. Sparks scattered as they drug a claw against the pavement.

Something's really wrong.

---

Yusei, Jack, Crow, and Akiza looked on from the road parallel to the duel lane. Marks were glowing, indicating something was off.

"Luna! What's going on!" Crow called out after watching Thyme speed off, "What's happening? Is Leo okay?"

"Leo's fine! It's Thyme! Their eyes are red!" Luna shouted back. She looked around, desperate to find a way to help.

Regulus' spirit suddenly appeared, "Luna! Everyone is in danger!"

"What!?"

"Your friend Thyme, they've been taken over by their sign. The Crimson Dragon is going to project from them! They're going to-"

"THEY'RE GONNA KILL HIM!" Luna's eyes wide with panic and voice raw from screaming. She turned to the road and pointed down the track, "THYME'S GONNA KILL HIM!"

Storm clouds covered the sky. Lightning struck the lane, smoke billowing up where the two duelists should be.

Yusei looked down the road, "The next entrance is too far- we won't make it. Akiza, get us over there!"

She nodded and  played a card, forming a vine bridge between the main road and the duel lane. Rain began to fall, soaking the group. Lightning continued to scatter itself across the horizon.

"This is not good." Jack jumped from the vines. He grabbed Leo's board while tossing Yusei Luna's board, "Let's ride."

Akiza played two more cards, summoning forth horses. Crow picked up Leo while she helped Luna to her feet. Soon the entire group was speeding down the lane, hoping they all weren't too late.

---

The lightning strike knocked Lester off his board. He rolled several feet before stopping. Bruised but not down, he stood to his feet, "Nice party trick. But you still don't have enough to stop Yliaster."

"You tried to kill Leo." It was not Thyme's voice escaping their throat. The red glow of their eyes darkened.

Lester was visibly shaken by the change. "H-hey now. What's with the new persona?"

"You're no child. You're something sinister." Thyme held their hand up to the sky. Lightning struck again as rain began to heavily beat on the pavement. The symbol of the Crimson Dragon appeared on their back and chest.

The boy pulled his hair back, revealing the mechanical workings of his face, "You don't have any idea what you're messing with. What we're trying to protect."

"Neither do you."

Water encircled the pair. A hypnotic pattern of waves spiraled, briefly cutting off connection from beyond this duel. Before Lester could move, it had crawled up his legs and frozen him in place. Panic set in.

"Did you know I could project through my Signers?" the occupant of Thyme's body stepped closer, "The Body of the Crimson Dragon is the best way for me to intervene when needed. The others simply... lack the strength." The Crimson Dragon's head outlined their own. "The Body unites us all together. It pulls from every mark, bringing us to completion."

Lester let out a shaky cackle, "And it's just a bonus that this iteration is a psychic duelist, huh?"

Ice formed in the shape of a blade in Thyme's hand. "The Body is fluid, strong, everlasting. It ebbs and flows within the context of everything that came before us. The Body has always been a state of flowing evolution."

"You can just say yes, you ancient fuck!" Lester chipped at the ice with his fists. "You outdated trash of the past! Let me out of this!"

Two forces grabbed Thyme's arms, forcing the blade to drop and shatter. It was Yusei and Jack, their own eyes starting to glow red.

Jack kicked the back of Thyme's knees, forcing them down. "Stop this at once!"

"This isn't like you, Thyme!" Yusei pleaded as the rain intensified, "You need to stop!"

Thyme's body thrashed about, an unearthly scream releasing itself. The Body of the Dragon projected, snaking its way around the track. The men struggled against the force. Yusei adjusted his grip, weight now pinning their legs to the road.

"Thyme! Can you hear me!" Yusei called out. We're right here. Stop this!

Lester finally freed himself from the melting ice, "It's not your buddy in there right now, idiots. Did you hear nothing?"

"You will leave them alone." A stranger's voice in Thyme's body, "Yliaster and all whom serve you. You will not touch them again."

"Yliaster?" Yusei gasped.

A white streak of light appeared behind Lester. A hand reached out, grabbing his shirt collar and pulling him in.

With the immediate threat gone, the aura of the dragon faded. Thyme collapsed unconscious, blood oozing from their nose and mouth. Storm clouds above vanished just as quickly as they had first appeared.

---

The garage's loft felt too crowded with everyone piled together.

"I did what?!" Thyme tensed, "Surely you're joking."

Crow crossed his arms and leaned against the bookshelf, "You were totally about to murder that guy! There was this whole projection and you were, like, the embodiment of the Crimson Dragon!"

Luna pipped up, "I mean, Lester did try to actually kill Leo. You saved him by acting when you did."

"Yeah, thanks for saving me." Leo leaned over giving Thyme a quick hug. "I don't wanna think about what could've happened without you there."

"You really have no memory about it?" Akiza tilted her head.

"I wasn't in my body." Thyme looked down at their sign, "I remember teaching the twins about riding. Then the duel started... next thing I know Yusei is carrying me to the runners and I'm spitting up blood."

Jack made a fist, "Well, in any case we learned that the Yliaster are involved in this ghost rider plot and are in the city."

"Thyme can manifest the Crimson Dragon itself," Akiza put her hands on her hips, "And they can conjure storms without a second thought."

"And we need to upgrade the hell outta all our rides." Crow held up a finger, "I'm thinking better defense, maybe a new booster-"

The chatter amongst the group faded to white noise in Thyme's head. Their finger traced their sign, trying to recall the events of the previous day. Heartbeat pulsed in their ears. How did I lose control?

"You look overwhelmed," Yusei's whisper pulled Thyme from their thoughts, "Do you need to leave?"

They nodded, letting him take their hand. The group was still talking amongst themselves, allowing the couple to sneak away.

---

"Are you okay?" Yusei shut the door to their shared bedroom, "Yesterday was quite intense."

"Physically I feel fine. Throat's a little sore." Thyme sat on the bed, "Feels like I was screaming for years." I want to hide in this room.

He sat beside them, hand finding theirs. "How about mentally." I can see through you.

Tears formed in their eyes, "Did I do everything they said?" I'm a danger to you all.

"It wasn't you anymore." I'm not afraid.

Thyme stared down at their interlocked hands, vision blurring with tears. "I didn't want to hurt anyone. I just wanted to get us out of the fight."

A gentle squeeze of their hand, Yusei gave Thyme the space they needed to cry. To adjust to these new revelations. To emotionally collapse before they continued down this path.

They wiped away the remaining tears, "Thank you." I'm sorry I'm so messy.

He cupped their face with his free hand, making their foreheads touch. "Always." My love is not fragile.

[time-woods]

would you believe me if i said this was based off of a minecraft interaction

[greensaplinggrace]

the fact of the matter is that buffy ends up isolated no matter what the scoobies do because she bears the burden of the slayer alone at the end of the day and nothing can change that. the problem with this isn't that she's separate from them, it's that they don't want to acknowledge that she is, and in doing so they drive a wedge between them that just grows and grows. the best thing about spike is that he's similar enough to this other side of buffy to understand it and her by extension. he is the only person around who can support that side of her.

most of buffy's issues in season six stem from the scoobies rejecting a part of buffy that spike accepts. and this shame she feels for her reliance on spike and the presence of this darkness and isolation she cannot avoid is largely because of them. i'm sick of this bizarre assumption that pointing out where the scoobies go wrong in their relationship with buffy somehow equals an uncritical uplifting of spike. just because he understands her and represents a certain aspect of her doesn't mean he doesn't fuck up. i mean that's kind of the whole point of their season six dynamic. one of his biggest issues is that he thinks he's helping her by enabling her completely because he doesn't have the ability to properly identify the line between self acceptance and self destruction - pursuit of the id is one of his biggest character traits. that's what makes the end of season six and his decision to get the soul so interesting (although of course there's just as much i can say about the narrative framing of that in regards to lore consistency and the story's obsession with angel, but that's a whole other thing).

point is, the scoobies cannot understand all of buffy, and when they refuse to acknowledge this they destroy their chances of building any bridges to even a simple relationship with that other side of buffy or helping her carry that burden in any way. meanwhile, spike is in the proper position to understand buffy as the slayer and hold his own with her in such a way, but his definition of love is wholly obsessive and destructive. while i disagree that he's incapable of love and even of loving selflessly without his soul, i think spike's version of love in particular is self destructive in a way that enables buffy's own desire to hurt herself through hurting him (see the aforementioned shame regarding her shadow self). spike cannot identify why allowing buffy to give in to her dark side in such a way is bad because he struggles to understand how she could use this to resent herself - although i do think he realizes it's happening on some level.

spike is also buffy's only form of catharsis and the only one that actually listens to what she is saying during a time when everybody else is dismissing her because of the aforementioned inability to understand her as the slayer. it's a clusterfuck - and a clusterfuck that needed to be shattered with a hammer for any kind of relief. and quite frankly to disregard the scoobies' own part in this situation does a disservice to buffy as a character. to be honest, she deserves fucking better than what everyone in her life gives her, especially the scoobies, who grow to take her for granted and feel entitled to controlling her life as a way of keeping her conformed - again, due to the aforementioned lack of desire to acknowledge this other part of her that they cannot connect with.

which leads to season seven, where spike is the only person on the show who has developed and changed enough to remain at buffy's side helping her carry the burden. while everyone else suffered during season six, none of them opened their eyes to what they were doing to buffy - and if they did, none of them acted on it. spike is the only one to acknowledge the damage he's done and work to become better for buffy in any way he can. he is the only one that ends up able to carry that burden with her because he is the only one capable of facing the truth and acting on his desire to do better.

the fucking problem isn't that he hurt buffy - because to be quite frank everybody did - it's that he's the only person on the whole damn show to acknowledge his place in buffy's life, and to acknowledge the burdens she bears, and actively change himself for her. did you know he has almost all of the genuine apologies in the entire show? seven seasons and all of the harm the scoobies cause buffy, and it's fucking spike that is acting like a mature person capable of being a proper partner.

[wh33zy]

Me about series 1: Omg everything from character designs to the story to the acting and writing is MWAH LOVE IT. I think it deserves WAY MORE attention and the criticisms of it are definitely fair! I’ve rewatched it SO many times and I have my own criticisms of it! This has so much potential to be even better if they give us more!

Me about series 2: LEMME SAY IM YOUR BIGGEST HATER. I HATE THE WAY THAT YOU WALK, THE WAY THAT YOU TALK, I HATE THE WAY THAT YOU DRESS-

[beevean]

I spent way too long on this

Addendum: I forgot to specify, in the Isaac/Dahlia intersecion, "complicated relationship with their sister who is the only person who sees good in them and wants to save them from their sins"

(and perceived *by others fuck it graphics are hard)

[dailykugisaki]

Day 104 | id in alt

*Kugisaki voice* Itadori, your mom is a fucking freak.

[emeraldspiral]

Thinking about all the missed opportunities there were for toys based on Invader Zim.

Like, imagine if they made like a Zim's house dollhouse/diorama type thing where you could buy separate components that all connect to each other and can be arranged any way you want to form the subterranean chambers of the base. Every chamber has some moving pieces or mechanical components for tactile stimulation and immersive play, like a button you can press to shoot air up into a tube to make it look like you launched a chicken into space, or a little tiltable pod with a joystick like the one Zim used to remotely pilot the Massive in Backseat Drivers. And you could take your little character figurines and pretend like you're Zim doing an experiment, or Dib sneaking in, or GIR making a huge mess. You could have some extra large deluxe characters like Ultra Peepi, Megaboy 3000, and Giganto Baby to recreate scenes of the base falling under attack.

[autumnfangirler]

i love every single iteration of persona 5 so SO much you dont understand. i keep coming back to the story and characters, they bring me joy like no other. ive also never been so willing to confidently and publicly shittalk anything like it in my life.

[lilcetis]

the parallels between ruby and oscar are so... rigid? like they are LITERAL parallel lines. they can see each other, but they never touch. whenever they get close something pulls them apart like clockwork. and it's SO wild to me bc they are literally the people who would understand each other best. they're running in circles, never stopping but always JUST missing each other. it's so??? they're so???

[fallen-angelfish]

me gushing over taizo hori even tho ive heard of the terrible things he has done as a father and husband

[foxskip]

Not to be a #hater but they rly did make the wrong Superboy bi (it should've been Konnnnnn)

HELLO ???????????????

[cogbreath]

on one hand i cant believe disney killed toontown but on the other hand im glad they did because what we got going on now is more than i think we could have gotten from them

[imherestandinghollow]

I'm offline all day for a family function and I come back to WHAT?!?!?!?!

[undyinglantern]

logically I don’t even think I’m doing horribly (the guy training me told the manager I was doing “pretty well” about handling a “mini-rush”) but mentally my mind keeps telling me oh he’s just lying because we keep getting out breaks at the same time and since I’m practically tailing him of course he’s say that to be nice during the only opportunity to speak to the manager. Only since I’m around and can listen in is he saying something nice.

[urbanfiltered]

back in my i want to die era so bad

[cowboybeepboop]

Late Night

Pairing: Clark Kent x fem! Reader 

Genre: Smut, gentle and romantic

Word count: 3.7k

Summary: Your friendly neighbor Clark Kent comes to your door one evening, allowing for the two of you to finally grow your relationship.

Warnings: This is not proofread what so ever, gentle/sort of shy Clark, unprotected sex, oral fem receiving, p in v sex. 

a/n: Idk rn but I genuinely can't wait for David Corenswet to be Superman (Henry Cavill is so hot tho...). I’m already imagining how perfect he's gonna be as Clark Kent. As always, send me any requests you have and I hope you enjoy!

For months now, you had been quietly pining for the man who lived across the hall from me in our unassuming apartment building. His name was Clark Kent, and there was something about him that was utterly endearing. It wasn't just his chiseled jawline or the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, but the kindness he exuded, the way he always had a helping hand ready for anyone in need. 

You had become something like friends, sharing the occasional awkward small talk as we passed by with our shopping bags or recyclables. You had seen him in various stages of undress, coming back from his midnight runs, his superhero-like physique hidden under loose-fitting t-shirts and sweatpants. 

Something that had fueled your evening pleasure sessions, everytime your eyes fell closed you could remember the image of his hardened abs, his huge and muscular arms. 

On a warm summer evening, there was a knock at your door. It was Clark, the guy from across the hall. He stood there sheepishly, his hand running through his black hair. 

He wore a white shirt that was unbuttoned and messy. He held a bottle of wine in one hand. "Hey", he said. "I hope I'm not disturbing you. I was wondering if I could get a favor?"

“Sure what’s up?” you give him a small smile, your eyes fall on his exposed chest before quickly flicking back to his face. His heart rate increased as he realized that you could see through the thin fabric of his shirt the toned muscles of his chest covered in a light layer of hair.

He cleared his throat, composing himself, holding up the bottle of wine. "I, umm, I was wondering if I could borrow your corkscrew. I lost mine."

“Yeah, of course. Come on in.” you move to the side, allowing him to come in. Your mind clouding with desire as he towers over you, his cologne filling your senses. 

He steps into your apartment, the tight space meaning his body brushes against yours slightly as he passes. The contact between you both is brief, but it's enough to send a shiver down his spine as he enters.

Your cheeks flush slightly as you realize your own appearance, wearing just a button down top that is unbuttoned enough for him to see your cleavage and your underwear. You awkwardly lead him to the kitchen, arm subconsciously moving to cover your breasts as you turn around, handing him the corkscrew. 

"Uh, thanks." He says as he takes the corkscrew from you. Even with your arm draped over yourself, he can't help but notice the glimpse of exposed skin, his eyes lingering before he catches himself and averts his gaze, forcing himself to stay focused on the task at hand.

He starts to open up the bottle, the action allowing him to look away from your figure for a moment and compose himself, his hands shaking slightly as he tries to concentrate. 

Your hand reaches out, fingers brushing over his. “Oh yeah this thing is weird, you kinda have to do it a particular way.” you murmur, taking the bottle from him as you fumble with the screw. 

He bites his lip as your fingers brush over his, his stomach swirling at the touch of your hand. He watches as you take the bottle from him, his eyes fixated on your every movement as you try to open the bottle.

"Thanks," he mutters, his voice low and a bit shaky. His eyes wander down, his gaze drawn to the way your top fits, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of your cleavage. 

“Mhm,” you reply as you pull the cork out, a small splash of wine staining your collar. You bite down on your lip while setting the bottle down, fingers rubbing the fabric. His eyes widen slightly as he watches the droplet of wine slide down your collar, the stains on the fabric making it even more translucent. 

Clark swallows hard, his mind wandering to inappropriate and ungentlemanly thoughts. He clears his throat, trying to look away, but he can't help but notice the way your fingers are now rubbing at the fabric, the motion only drawing his attention further to your chest.

You glance over him, hand falling from your shirt as you give him a soft grin, noticing the way his gaze lingers. 

His gaze flicks up to meet yours, his cheeks flushed. He realizes he's been caught staring, his eyes having been fixated on the way your hand moves over the fabric of your shirt, the motion stirring something deep within him.

"I, umm..." he stutters, his words failing him as he feels his throat dry up. He swallows slowly, forcing himself to focus on something else. "Thanks, for helping me open the bottle," he manages to say.  He shifts on his feet, trying to discreetly adjust himself as he feels his jeans becoming a bit tighter.

“Of course, do you want to share the bottle? Or do you have someone waiting for you?” you move slightly closer to him. 

His heart quickens as you come closer, his mouth going dry as your proximity makes it all that much more difficult to concentrate. He glances down at the bottle sitting on the counter, his mind racing with desire and indecision.

"No," he says, his voice low and a bit huskier than usual. "There's no one waiting for me." He looks back up at you, his eyes locking with yours, his gaze intense and filled with a mixture of nervousness and something more forbidden. "I'd like to share the bottle with you."

“Perfect.” You smile, stepping closer as you reach for the cabinet behind him, your chest pressing into his ever so slightly. You open the door, reaching for two glasses ​​his breath hitches as he feels your body press against him, the sensation sending a jolt of heat through him. 

Your chest rubs against his, and he can feel the weight and softness of you against his body. The proximity is driving him mad, his mind clouded by primal desires he's trying to keep in check.

He bites his lip, his knuckles turning white as he grips the edge of the counter, trying to maintain his composure. His eyes flutter shut for a moment before he opens them again, his gaze fixed on your every move.

You step back, with the glasses in hand. “We could watch a movie?” you prompt as you pour some wine into the cups, silently enjoying the way he reacted to your touch. 

He nods, his mind still racing as he tries to calm his racing thoughts and the growing hardness in his pants. "Yeah, a movie sounds good," he mutters, his voice coming out a bit more hoarse than he'd liked.

As you pour the wine, his eyes follow your every move, the way your fingers grip the bottle, the way the liquid flows into the glasses. It's all too tantalizing for him. "What do you feel like watching?" He asks, trying to keep his voice level and casual.

“How about you choose?” you hand him a glass, taking yours in hand along with the bottle as you walk into the living room. Taking a seat down on the couch you sip on the wine, your eyes follow his every move, drinking in his muscular form. 

He tries to stay composed, forcing himself to look away and focus on the task at hand. Clark walks over to the DVD collection and scans the titles, his mind unfocused and his thoughts still lingering on you. After a moment of browsing, he picks a movie at random, inserting it into the player.

"All set." He says, returning to the couch and taking a seat beside you. You pull at the hem of your shirt, trying to prevent it from riding up too much while taking another sip of your drink. 

“Great.” you smile, sucking your lip between your teeth as you admire his side profile. He can't help but notice the way you fidget with your shirt, the action drawing his mind to places he shouldn't be going at the moment. 

He struggles to keep his eyes focused on the screen, his gaze keeping wandering over to you, admiring your features and the way the fabric clings to your body. Clark takes a long sip from his glass, the alcohol doing little to calm his racing thoughts and desires. He shifts in his seat, trying to discreetly adjust himself as his jeans grow even tighter.

“Is everything alright?” you notice his movements and set your cup on the coffee table, scooting slightly closer to him. His eyes widen slightly as you move closer, the proximity sending a fresh wave of desire through him. He swallows hard, his throat suddenly dry.

"Yeah," he responds, his voice a little hoarse. "Everything's fine, just...adjusting." He glances over at you, his gaze lingering on your figure, his eyes tracing over the curves where your shirt clings to you, the way your position inadvertently exposes more skin.

“Clark?” your knee brushes against his thigh as you scoot closer. He stiffens as your knee brushes against him, the casual touch sending a jolt through him. He can feel his heart pounding in his chest, his hands gripping the edge of the couch as he tries to maintain his composure.

When he hears his name, the way you say it, so soft and gentle, almost a whisper, it sends a shiver down his spine. He looks over at you, his eyes locking with yours, his gaze intense and filled with desire. "Yeah?" He manages to respond, his voice a bit shaky.

“Are you.. seeing anyone?” you chew on your cheek as you search his eyes. At your question, a mixture of surprise and uncertainty crosses his face. He holds your gaze, his eyes searching yours for any hint of insincerity.

"No," he says finally, his voice steady and sincere. "I'm not seeing anyone." He swallows, his nerves getting the better of him as he wonders where this conversation is going. He can't help but feel a flicker of hope and anxiety at the same time.

Your eyes light up as you press a hand to his thigh, “Then… well I hope i’m not misreading the situation,” you murmur, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. It's unexpected, but oh so welcome. 

His eyes widen for a brief moment, before closing as he melts into the kiss. Every cell in his body seems to come alive, the taste of your lips on his sending him into a dizzying spiral of emotions.

His hand comes up to cup your jaw, his touch gentle as he leans into the kiss, deepening it as he loses himself in the moment. His tongue brushes over your bottom lip as he presses his chest against yours, pushing your back into the plush fabric of your couch. 

Your bodies meld together, your back sinking into the cushion as he bears down on you. His tongue teases your lip, requesting entry which you give him without hesitation.

His heart races as he feels the soft give of your body against his chest, the heat and pressure of your bodies mingling together.

His hand runs over your side, his touch gentle but firm as it moves over the curves of your body, his hand sneaking under the fabric of your shirt, needing to feel your skin against his. You lean back, gasping for air as his fingers explore your body. 

He takes your gasp as an opportunity to trail his lips along your jaw, his breath hot against your skin as he nips and kisses his way down your neck.

His hand moves under your shirt, slowly, his fingertips dancing across your bare skin, mapping out each contour and dip of your body. He groans softly against your throat as he feels your warm, supple flesh under his fingers. You feel so good against him, it's almost overwhelming.

“Clark..” you gasp his name as he unbuttons your shirt swiftly. He loves the way you say his name, the sound of it coming from your lips making his own name sound like a prayer.

He unfastens the buttons of your shirt, revealing more and more of your body to his hungry eyes. He peels back the fabric, his hands roaming over your now-exposed skin, his fingers tracing over your stomach and up to your chest.

He presses his mouth to your collarbone, his teeth grazing over the sensitive skin, tasting your scent, committing it to memory. “Clark..” you moan his name again, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he kisses down your chest, hands landing on your breasts. 

His name slips from your lips again, the sound like a sweet melody in his ears. He can feel the pressure of your fingers on his shoulders, the touch driving his desire even higher.

His mouth travels down your chest, his kisses feather light and seductive as he moves over your breasts. His hands follow his mouth, palms cupping your breasts as he starts to massage the soft flesh.

He moans against your skin, his touch almost reverent. His body thrums with an aching need, the desire to be closer to you nearly overwhelming as he captures your lips in another hungry kiss. He cups your breasts in his hands, his fingers kneading the supple flesh as they press into your skin. His touch is soft but firm, his hands large enough to cover them completely

Clark pulls back slightly, breaking the kiss but keeping his eyes locked with yours. His breath is ragged, his chest heaving with anticipation. He can feel your heart racing beneath his palms as he gently caresses your breasts. "Are you sure about this?" He whispers, his voice thick with desire. "I don't want to rush you." His eyes search yours for any sign of hesitation or doubt.

You smile up at him, placing a soft hand on his cheek. "I've never been more sure about anything in my life," you reply, your voice barely above a murmur. The sincerity in your tone sends a thrill through him, confirming that this is what you both want.

He nods, his expression serious as he leans back down to kiss you again. This time, the kiss is slower, more deliberate. He savors the taste of you, the feel of your body pressed against his. His hand slides up to the back of your neck, cradling it as he deepens the kiss, exploring every inch of your mouth with his tongue.

As the kiss lingers, he slowly starts to unbutton the rest of your shirt, taking his time to reveal each new inch of your skin. His eyes never leave yours, watching for any signs of discomfort or hesitation. You melt into him, your own hands sliding up to tangle in his hair as the fabric of your shirt falls away.

The moment your skin is fully exposed, the air in the room seems to crackle with tension. He leans down to press a line of soft, wet kisses along your collarbone, feeling your body shiver beneath his touch. He takes a moment to just look at you, his eyes filled with a mix of awe and desire. "You're so beautiful," he murmurs, his voice low and rough.

Your cheeks flush with pleasure as he says the words, his eyes devouring your exposed flesh. He takes his time, kissing and caressing every inch of your body, his hands moving in a slow, tantalizing dance that leaves you trembling with need. Each touch is a promise of what's to come, each kiss a declaration of his desire for you.

The room is filled with the sound of your mingled breaths and the soft whispers of your names on each other's lips. The anticipation is almost unbearable, but you both know that the slow burn of this moment is only making the fire between you grow hotter.

Clark finally takes one of your nipples into his mouth, suckling gently as he rolls the other between his thumb and forefinger. You arch your back, gasping at the sensation, your hands tightening in his hair. He teases and worships each peak, his tongue swirling and flicking, drawing out your moans of pleasure.

As you lay there, the warmth of his mouth on your skin, the softness of the couch beneath you, and the gentle pressure of his body above, you can't help but feel that this is exactly where you're meant to be. With each tender kiss and caress, he's claiming you, and you're willingly giving yourself to him.

The movie on the TV becomes background noise as the only thing that matters is the connection growing stronger between you both. His kisses trail down your stomach, his hands skimming over your hips to the waistband of your underwear.

He kisses the skin just above the waistband, the heat of his breath making you squirm. "I want to make this perfect for you," he murmurs, his eyes looking up at you for approval. You nod, unable to form words as your breath catches in your throat.

He takes his time, pulling down your underwear in one smooth motion, exposing your most intimate parts to his gaze. His eyes darken with desire as he looks at you, but he keeps his touches feather-light, his mouth hovering just above your skin without making contact.

Clark takes a deep breath, savoring the moment as he gazes down at your exposed body. He gently kisses the soft skin of your inner thighs, moving closer to the apex of your legs. His eyes are filled with a fiery hunger that makes your heart race even faster. He presses a soft kiss to your mound, feeling you tense up at the contact. 

Then, with a gentle caress, he parts your legs wider, his gaze never leaving yours. You can see the desire in his eyes, and it only fuels the fire burning within you. With a soft sigh, he lowers his mouth to you, his tongue tracing the seam of your folds with the lightest touch. You moan, your body trembling as he starts to explore you, taking his time to learn every curve and sensitive spot. 

Each touch is a declaration of his intention to worship you, to take things slow and savor every second of this shared intimacy. His fingers join his mouth, gently teasing and exploring, bringing you closer to the edge with every stroke. The room is filled with the sounds of your mingled breaths and soft whimpers, the only soundtrack to this passionate symphony of desire.

Clark continues his gentle exploration, his tongue circling your clit with a patience that borders on agonizing. He's not in a hurry; he wants to savor every moment of this, to make sure you feel loved and desired. His fingers slide into your wetness, curling gently as he begins to stroke you internally, matching the rhythm of his tongue. 

You can't help but whimper, your eyes squeezed shut as the sensations build within you. He's so attentive, so in tune with your body's responses that you feel like you're floating on a cloud of pure pleasure. Each kiss, each caress is a testament to the connection growing between you, and you know that this is just the beginning of a night that will change everything.

Clark's eyes never leave yours as he shifts his position, aligning his body with yours. His hand moves to guide himself, and with a gentle nod from you, he begins to press into you. His movements are slow and deliberate, his expression one of intense concentration as he tries to read your every reaction. You can feel the tip of him pushing against your entrance, the anticipation of what's to come making you squirm.

As he enters you, he whispers sweet nothings into your ear, his voice a soothing balm to the building passion. He's so big, so thick, but he's so gentle that it's almost a surprise when he's fully sheathed inside you. You gasp, your eyes flying open, and he stills, giving you a moment to adjust to the sensation of being filled by him.

He waits, his eyes searching yours for any sign of pain or discomfort. When he sees none, he starts to move, his hips rocking in a slow, steady rhythm that makes your toes curl. Each thrust is met with a soft moan from your lips, his name slipping from your mouth like a prayer as he fills you completely.

The feeling of him inside you is unlike anything you've ever experienced. It's as if your bodies are made for this, as if every inch of him is meant to be connected to every inch of you. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, your hands sliding down to grip his firm ass as he moves within you.

The room seems to spin around you, the only constant is the feeling of him, the sound of your hearts beating in sync. He kisses you again, his movements becoming more urgent as the passion takes over. You can feel him thickening, growing even more inside you, and you know that he's getting closer to the edge.

You whisper for him to go faster, to give you more, and he responds eagerly, his strokes deepening and quickening. Your body responds in kind, your hips rising to meet his, the friction between you building until it's almost unbearable. You're both so close, the tension coiled tight in your stomachs, ready to snap.

And then, with one final, deep thrust, it does. You cry out, your body arching off the couch as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you. He follows shortly after, his own release shaking his body as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot and ragged against your skin.

For a moment, you just lay there, your bodies entwined, your hearts racing. Then, with a soft sigh, he pulls back, his eyes searching yours for any signs of regret. But all he sees is pure satisfaction, a mirror to what's reflected in his own gaze. He leans down to kiss you gently, a soft promise of more to come.