#claras steamys

[romanoffsbish]

How to Mend What’s Broken

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Prompt

"I feel your absence in everything that I do alone, in every place I go without you."

Warnings: Angst; Breakup, Jealous Nat.

This is the first of many ghost posts, I’m queuing up my requested blurbs/fics as I finish them, but I won’t really be here.

She'd thought you were bluffing, that this year long mission would be like any of the others, and that when she came home with flowers and chocolates that you'd just happily embrace her. That wasn't the case though, she came back to find you'd not only moved out of your shared apartment, but that you apparently moved on. Hearing it through her family, the one you now shared after half a decade together was hard, but actually seeing it was truly devastating.

—————-

—————-

"Nat, if you go on the mission, then I'm gone.," the words replay in her fractured mind, on a continuous loop as she's forced to watch you dancing with another at Tony's New Year's party—it wasn't right, she felt nauseous seeing the way her hands sat on your hips, pulling you in for a kiss, and the worst part being the way you beamed back at her, pushing her fallen hair behind her ear, the same way you did hers.

Natasha could feel the bile rising up her throat, she couldn't stomach the sight of you two so happy together. Shifting on her feet she faced the bar again, chasing the obnoxious burning in her throat down with a different kind. She could hear you giggle from across the room, and in turn the next shot was thrown back. Every time she saw her hands on you flash in her mind another shot was taken, her high tolerance aside, the woman smelled like a distillery, and truly needed to be stopped.

"Sestra, slow down.," Yelena hissed, yanking the shot glass from her sister's hand, sending her a warning glare as she tried to grab it back., "Natasha, you made your choice, live with it.," The redheads shoulders deflated instantly at her words, because they were the ugly truth.

Months—you gave her so many of them to get it together, to finally put you first for once, but she continuously failed to do so, leaving you behind for those fleeting rushes of adrenaline, but that high she so desperately craved wasn't the same when she didn't have your arms to crash into after she finally returned home.

No, instead of welcome home cuddles, and whispers of 'I love you' between steamy kisses she's met with cold sheets, and nightmares. The kind that shows her how bleak her future is going to be without the love you two had fostered, she shakes her head as the aforementioned images began to flood her inebriated mind again., "It wasn't worth it."

Yelena clapped her sister on the shoulder, a smile riddled with pity sent her way., "Da, tupitsa, nakonets ty ponyal, teper' ispravlyay.," the redhead glared at her unbothered sister., "Good luck Natasha, you better succeed. I want my future sister in law back like yesterday."

(Yes dumbass, finally you understand, now fix it.)

Natasha didn't know how, or when, but she knew she'd get you back, because in the grand scheme of it all, you're definitely her soulmate. Part of her wondered if tonight might be the time, since she could feel your intense stare from a mile away, her heart even fluttered a bit at the premature hope it was filling up with.

It wasn't fair to your girlfriend, Clara, but you couldn't remove your gaze from your first love. The clueless girl was clinging to you, her head laying over your chest, and you hoped she didn't hear the skip in your heartbeat every time you got to see the other woman's face.

Natasha looked stunning in the black dress that clung to her every curve, the swell of her breasts visible to the naked eye due to the surprisingly low cut of the fabric. Part of you wondered if she did it on purpose, she had to have known you'd RSVP'd to the party, and as exciting as it is to know it might've been for you, you know she's no longer yours to gawk at.

Still, your eyes managed to linger on her all throughout the night, wandering her body in its entirety. Eventually catching the necklace that you got her for your second anniversary. Your fingers ghosted over the imprint of yours through your dress, causing your heart to ache, and for you to run off the dance floor as if you were Cinderella herself and the dreaded clock was about to strike midnight—which it was.

Natasha watched you run off the floor and onto the balcony, your hand clutching at your chest, and the other covering your mouth. To most you looked like you were going to be sick, but she knew you were trying to hold back the tears to keep your tough front up. She wasted no time running after you either, the door had barely shut before she was bursting through it, and catching the way your body shook with sobs, an ache consumed her as she watched all the pain she'd caused you come flooding right on out of you. It was painfully humbling...

"Natasha...," you went to tell her to leave, even if that's the opposite of what you wanted, you knew you needed her to go, because just one smile would be enough for you to crumble, and you didn't want that again. To be putty in her deceitful little hands, the ones that loved you so well on the sparingly good days, and left you craving so much more on the bulk of the rest., "I need you to...," the redhead however had other plans, ignoring you, and desperately blurting out a truth of her very own.

"I feel your absence in everything that I do alone, in every place I go without you.," her voice was not but a whisper as she moved to cage your trembling body in between hers, and the balconies metal rail., "I love you so much Y/N—my precious little dove."

"Natasha, please.," your hands gripped the rail even tighter as you pleaded for her to stop, to walk away like she always does; to let you go., "Tell me to stop, to go," she pressed her lips to the nape of your neck., "I- I can't.," a tear left your eye as you shamefully crumbled at the simplest of affections. How could you not? Natasha's touch had the power to set your body alight with need, no one else could compare, and deep down you were content with that.

Without giving you room to slip away she was able to turn you to face her, a soft smile on her face., "But God, Nat, I desperately want to.," you shakily admitted, causing her face to fall., "because I deserve so much better.," though your voice cracked, the conviction in your eyes was strong, and a ghost of a smirk befell her face as she filled with pride at seeing you fight for yourself so very well., "I'll do better!"

She could see you already registered her words as empty., "Fuck, detka please, I'll do anything you want or need if it means you'll just be mine again.," your brows furrowed at the sight of her being so vulnerable, it wasn't foreign for her to be like this with you, but this public display of it by her surely was. It honestly made you more willing to listen, and maybe take her seriously.

"I-I can't sleep another night without you Y/N, that damn apartment could never be a home without your laughter filling it, and my heart.," she paused, frantically grabbing at your hand so that you could feel the organ's steady thumping beneath your fingertips., "It will never be whole again without yours beating beside it, do you feel that? How hard it's beating against my ribcage? That's all you. Without you it's forever been out of sync."

Silence followed up the Russian's monologue. It consumed the air around the both of you, but it wasn't suffocating, the party was thankfully silenced by the compound's thick panes of glass, and the streets below were just quiet. The world continued to fade away as you stared into her gorgeous, viridescent eyes, and felt her heart beating in sync with your very own. If not for Natasha leaning in you're certain you could've been lost in her gaze for an eternity.

Natasha bit back a sob as the hand on her chest lightly pushed her back, fear of your incoming rejection rising steadily, but then she watched you smile as your hand slid over to the charm. A golden chain with her trademark spider dangling from it, your initials engraved in the bottom of the piece, and the color of your eyes matched the color of the jewel adorning it., "You kept it?," she frowned immediately., "I'd never dream of taking it off, it's a part of me as much as you are Y/N; a testament to our love."

To prove her point she gently tugged on your own chain, pulling the nearly identical charm from where it was hidden beneath your clothes. She smirked at your nervous fiddling while also admiring the piece that mirrored hers, the gem was an emerald, and her thumb ran over the markings that were her own on the bottom., “You kept it?,” she teasingly threw your words back at you causing you to pout., “Well yeah, it was really expensive.,” you groaned playfully, but she saw the way you clutched onto it as she dropped it, safely returning it to beneath your clothing., “Plus, it was all I had left of you.”

“Y/N, you have all of me.,” her thumb lovingly stroked over the apple of your cheek, you melted into the affection with so much ease that the former assassin nearly broke down. You’ve always put your unwavering faith in her, and that’s one of the many reasons she fell for you—hard and fast. The Avengers title, and culmination of her past meant nothing to you. To you she was Natty, with the strong arms, hot smirk, with horrible cooking abilities, and to her you were the definition of everything. Your soft voice pulled her out of her reverie., “Are your sure Nat? Because I can’t go back to being your second choice, I won’t do it.”

“You never were Y/N/N.,” she quietly admits, and before she could try to kiss you again you moved to whisper in her ear., “I’m no cheat Natalia, give me a few minutes, maybe let the Winter chill calm the ants in your pants, hm?,” she rolled her eyes, then smirked as you stared back at her skeptically., “Ants aren’t all I have in these pants by the way.,” she winked, then cackled as you subtly flipped her off before venturing off to find your unfortunate date.

Natasha watched over the city of New York, every second you were gone a spike of panic shot through her. What if the woman isn’t all that understanding? What if she hurts you? Before her mind could make her travel to rescue you the door slid open, she turned on instinct, but also she was feeling a bit hopeful., “Catch me!,” you squealed, running full force at the slightly sobered redhead, she mirrors your excitement as she spins you around though, then she tries to kiss you again in the thrill of the moment, but your finger slips in between your lips and she groans., “What is it now?”

“The countdown.,” you huffed, and she listened closely to hear all the shouting from indoors., “10,9,8…,” she tapped your dangling legs, and you got the message to wrap them around her., “3,2,1… Happy New Year!!!,” your cheers were abruptly brought to a close as Natasha’s lips met yours in a needy way, but you certainly weren’t going to complain, especially not when your ability to have done so was sullied by the tongue that was pretty much down your throat.

The kiss was messy, it’d been 387 days since she’d last been able to kiss you like this, and if you were aware at all you’d better be preparing for a long night, her roaming hands a sign that she isn’t planning on stopping anytime soon. Not that you’d want her to, your body was a squirming mess beneath hers as she’d laid you on a lounging chair, then quickly mounted you. Her lungs burned, but it wasn’t until you had tapped at her shoulder that she retracted with a displeased growl, reluctantly allowing you to breathe while she admired the dishevelment.

“To new beginnings.,” she whispered against your lips with a smirk as you panted wildly. Your eyes squinted as her bright phone screen was brought up to your face, the words slowly coming together as your cognition returned with each gasp of oxygen you inhaled., “Nat?,” your lip wobbled as you read it, and she leaned down to kiss you again, but far more tenderly like your quivering voice told her you needed., “Effective immediately detka; I’m all yours.,”

“No more missions?,” you sought out clarity with a bright smile and nervous stomach, and your beautiful woman beamed down to you, nodding her head while cupping your cheeks. The soft look she gave you warmed your heart, but you were a bit more focused on the way your entire body warmed at her great news., “Please, take me home Natasha.,” her eyes widened when your breathy plea came out, surveying your eyes she could see the lust at the forefront, so she scooped you up, and ran., “Whatever my detka wants, she fucking gets.”

——————————

2,264 Words.

❤️🤖

(Image source)

[terrainofheartfelt]

Liz's definitive track assignment list that nobody asked for (but I know I'm right)

"Fortnight" (featuring Post Malone) -- DAIRFAIR DAIRFAIR DAIRFAIR

"The Tortured Poets Department" -- derena breakup track. derena divorce track. take your pick. serena pov <3

"My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys" -- 🪑

"Down Bad" -- changing course because this is rwrb firstprince alex post lake house I'M RIGHT

"So Long, London" -- same for above. acd-coded

"But Daddy I Love Him" -- blair waldorfian. i'm having his baby jk lmao. unhinged.

"Fresh Out the Slammer" -- calling it another post derena divorce. pov both of them. dan floats to blair, serena gravitates to carter. and. fuck it. 🪑divorce. "I served my time" and all that shit

"Florida!!!" -- ivy/charlie. florida woman. fuck this city i'm getting fucked up in the gulf. yeah. she could have been so much more.

"Guilty as Sin?" -- BLAIRRRRRRRRRR s5ep4 if you want to get specific. reading steamy book scenes. gurl.

"Who's Afraid of Little Old Me?" -- JENNY GIRL. "I am what you trained me to be." I MEANNNNN.

"I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can)" -- 🪑

"Loml" -- dan. sad dan. sad lonely boy

"I Can Do It With a Broken Heart" -- serena. always. constantly. (though cherry & I also agree it's firstprince coded)

"The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived" -- louis divorce yeehaw

"The Alchemy" -- serenate reconciliation

"Clara Bow" -- blair & jenny and the girls that are destined to replace them.

[pintsizemama]

Fruitcake

Day 14

Summary: A neighbor gave you fruitcake…Max is not a fan.

Pairings: Max Phillips x You, Max Phillips x Female Reader

Fandom: Bloodsucking Bastards

Rating: Mature

Warnings: language

Word Count: 383

Day 12 Day 14 Christmas Masterlist Main Masterlist AO3 Join my taglist

“I’m home!” You heard Max call out as the front door slammed shut. You were snuggled on the couch reading a book and savoring a hot cup of coffee.

“How was work?” You called out distractedly. You were completely engrossed in your book. It was a steamy romance that was just starting to heat up.

“Same old, same old,” Max replied. “Didn’t have to kill anyone today, so pretty boring.” You were barely listening. you were vaguely aware of your boyfriend bustling around between the kitchen and living room.

“Fuck!” Max’s sudden outburst made you jump and nearly throw your book in the air. “Bleh! What the fuck is this?” You looked up to see Max standing in the doorway leading to the kitchen a large piece of fruitcake in his hand and trying his hardest not to throw up.

“Fruitcake,” you answered. “Clara brought it over earlier.”

“Clara?”

“The women who lives next door,” you supplied.

“That old bat?” You chuckled. Clara was probably pushing ninety, and was as sweet as could be to both you and Max. “This is disgusting.” He tossed the offending cake into the trash.

“It’s fruitcake, Max,” you said. “Of course it’s disgusting.”

“Why would she give that to us? Is she trying to kill us?”

“Tons of people give out fruitcake for Christmas,” you answered. “You’re not supposed to eat it. You just say thank you and throw it away when they leave.”

“If everyone hates it then why the hell do people give it to each other?”

“No idea,” you said. “Just toss the whole thing. I meant to earlier and got sidetracked.”

“Ugh,” Max grimaced as he threw it away. “I’m never gonna get that taste out of my mouth.” He came in to sit next to you. You were back to being fully submersed in your book. “Sweet cheeks, wanna give me a little blood to help me get rid of this flavor?”

“No can do,” you said. “Clara wanted to see me eat a piece before she left, so you’ll have to wait a few hours for my blood to taste normal again.”

“God dammit,” Max groaned. He got up with a sigh. “Guess I’ll have to settle for some bourbon then.”

“Mmm,” you murmured, once again tuning him out to read.

Day 14

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Taglist:

@alexxavicry @amneris21 @awhitewyvern @burrito-stuffs @dreedhudson @greeneyedblondie44 @harriedandharassed @hayley-the-comet @hnt-escape @just-here-for-the-moment @kirsteng42 @lizette50 @loompyinaway @maxwell--lord @mishasminion360 @mswarriorbabe80 @my-sweetheart1776 @peach-child @pedrostories @sherala007 @stevie75 @wakaladjarin @xocalliexo @christinamadsen

[elektrischemaidchen]

Lisztober #14: Perdendosi

I proudly present: A song about the difficulty of learning to love silence, written by someone who can never sit still, always has to be busy with something and has a huge coffee problem. Yeahy! Best combo! It must be so beautiful, the silence. So another real downer today before we get steamy again tomorrow. Otherwise we'll all get depressed. @franzliszt-official : Sorry in advanced that we have to praise your body again tomorrow. But, alas, we love your soul, too. <3

‘What had he forgotten and why? As soon as someone had said something, he forgot it again without the other person realising it, because he was able to give everyone else the wonderful feeling that he was interested in them,’ writes Christian Lindner (the author, not the German politician of the same name) in his book “Sommermusik” about Liszt.

In Franz's life before Weimar, there were always times when he wanted to stop the restless life he was leading. Times when he briefly disappears and then returns reinvented (and louder). At the peak of Lisztomania, he collapses with a fever after touring life, with all its ups and downs, takes its toll. But he doesn't care. The show must go on. He is driven to compose; driven to  catch up his lack of schooling in Raiding through self-study...and everything always has to be perfect. Perfect. Perfect! He writes and listens, he reads and enjoys …and tortures his fingers on his mute wooden travelling piano (which is in Weimar and is so beautiful and sad... if you ever make a pilgrimage there, you'll understand me) in the carriage to ever more difficult feats. (And then someone comes along and says Thalberg was better? WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU, CLARA?)

And then he sits on a bench here on Nonnenwerth early in the morning and looks at the same sky I'm looking at right now, the mountains once again shrouded in mist, cut off from all the hustle and bustle, while the hysterical Marie has fallen asleep in her bed after yet another row. And he looks out over the Rhine and thinks about his death. And from a letter to Marie, we learn how things must really have been for him at times: ‘You feel it, you know it. For me, there is nothing but grief, ennui, and bitter, anxious sadness in all these things. After all, I am not completely extinguished; however arid and monotonous the path may be, I will walk it to the end.’ Oh, Franz.

We wanted to do the exact opposite musically for today's theme ‘Perdendosi’, i.e. a bit of a crescendo, while the text fights against it, but 24 hours is not enough for that. So let's channel a bit of Evanescence, with a wind machine and flying crows. That's okay too ;)

Incidentally, the refrain is from the poem ‘Vereinsamt’ by Friedrich Nietzsche, who could also write really beautiful things before syphilis and the f***** Wagners made him so shitty.

Welcome back to the Liszt musical!

The silence is dreadful The silence does not stop It roars in his ears And he can hardly stand it And yet in the silence A strange power He cannot remember What it does to him The crows fly swiftly to the city Soon it will snow Blessed is he who still has Has a home now His trembling floats way Has yielded to nature it joins a heart That lies to itself His hands are heavy And motionless on the lap The hardest of all etudes Is his own lot The crows fly swiftly to the city Soon it will snow Blessed is he who still has Has a home now Silence becomes a lover Which he spurned before And a feeling of warmth Blows through his body It is as if an angel Has taken pity on his soul And God's bright lights Made their way to him Don't go away! Don't leave me alone! Where everything is loud, nobody can hear you scream! The crows fly quickly to the city Soon it will snow Blessed is he who still has Home now The life he knew Can no longer continue  on The notes he never played He can now understand them

[angie-long-legs]

🌼 ― a happy memory.

Walk Down Memory Lane

send in a symbol to receive a drabble or meta about one of my muse's memories.

cw: this gets a little steamy towards the end! nothing explicit/graphic, but I put it under a cut just in case.

Contentedly, Anthony draped an arm over his lover's bare chest, his fingers idly twirling the curls that bobbed above the man's shoulders. The pair sat half-upright against the headboard, Vito lazily lighting a cigarette and taking a long drag, and Anthony watching, wide-eyed and wonder-struck as if he couldn't believe his luck.

He was high, and he was in love. All he wanted was to be those two things for the rest of his life, and he would be happy. He was sure of it.

The hand playing with Vito's hair found its way to his lips, plucking the cigarette from between them to sneak a cheeky drag of his own. Unfocused eyes trained on his lover's, Anthony blew the smoke out of the side of his mouth, an unusual mix of cocky and docile as he leaned in to tap the ash into the tray at Vito's side of the bed. The distance had him sprawling over the other man to reach it, his candid smile stretching into a smug, satisfied smirk as he shifted so as to be fully lying on top of him, the intimacy of skin on skin as intoxicating as any drug Vito could supply him with.

Slowly, Anthony pressed two fingers to his lover's lips, returning the stolen cigarette with all the affection of a soft, tender kiss. Vito looked solemn, contemplative - captivated. Brown eyes were furrowed, as though he were looking at something far too bright, but they were gentle. He looked at Anthony with curiosity, with silent admiration. With praise.

"You're incredible."

Anthony's eyes widened, his cheeks flushing as he laughed. Giddy and groaning, he buried his face in Vito's shoulder to hide his flustered expression. No one talked to him like this, no one whispered sweet nothings after the deed was done. His chuckles morphed into a shiver and a sigh as Vito idly ran his hands over Anthony's body, one resting on the small of his back while another petted through his hair. "Y' really think so?" the younger man mumbled, his voice high and hopeful as he nuzzled into his lover's neck and pressed gentle kisses against it.

"Look at me." The hand cupping Anthony's head dipped under his chin and guided him up from where he had tried to hide his blushing face, forcing him to look at him. Vito was a guarded man, that much was clear, but right now as he studied Anthony, his expression betrayed a glimmer of pure truth.

"I know so. Y' ain't like the rest of us fellas, ya know. You're goin' places," the older man assured him. "You're a star, Tony."

With another groan, Anthony once again flopped down to cover his face in embarassment, despite his foolish grin. "Don't call me that," he moaned. "Only my Pa calls me Tony. Y' know I hate it."

He could feel the rumble of Vito's laugh as his face pressed into the man's chest, the steady up and down of it jostling him slightly. "Well, you get inta those movies you're always talkin' my ear off about and I'll call ya anythin' ya want, dollface," Vito countered, playfully ruffling Anthony's hair.

"Ugh, I ain't a kid, Vito," the younger whined, swatting his hand away before pushing himself upright, straddling his lover. Eyes flitting side to side with mischievous intent, Anthony snatched up the ratty white sheet that had been kicked to the foot of the motel bed and wrapped it around his chest, swishing his makeshift gown to blow a gust of air towards Vito. The elder mafioso raised an eyebrow in amusement, sweat-stuck strands of hair blustering around his face.

"Y' can call me... Angelo," Anthony grinned deviously, striking an enticing pose, one hand holding up his bedsheet-dress while the other rested seductively on his hip. "America's new sweetheart: hottest thing ta hit the pictures since Clara goddamn Bow," he flaunted, all the melodrama of the movies pouring out of him as he launched into his sensational spiel. "LA ain't seen nothin' like me, Vito, I'm tellin' ya. I'm gonna make it ova' there. Just you wait."

"I know ya are, baby," Vito replied with an affectionate eye roll, reaching up to cup his exuberant lover's cheek before pushing himself upright, sending Anthony flailing backwards with a squeal.

Leaning towards him, Vito crawled over until he was on top of Anthony, whose glamour-girl bedsheet had fallen undone, splayed out around him like the petals of a flower. Vito caught him in a fierce kiss, letting loose a low groan as legs became entangled and hands began to wander. Anthony's breath hitched in bliss as he was pinned beneath his lover - this was heaven.

When Vito shifted to pepper kisses along Anthony's neck, the younger man stifled a gasp, letting his head fall back over the edge of the bed as Vito's mouth crept lower.

"Take me ta LA, V," he whimpered, one hand winding into Vito's hair while the other tugged at his own. "Please. Y'll take me there, won't ya?"

"'Course I will, baby," Vito muttered, half a mind on Anthony's words while the rest focused on his body. "Anything you want."

Anthony could only respond with a wordless wail, communication limited as sounds of pleasure became his only accessible form of expression. This was all he wanted, forever and always. This was the only thing in the world that mattered. In his mind, he replayed their exchange as though they were wedding vows, like a scene from a movie.

Take me ta LA, V.

'Course I will, baby.

His lips moved as he panted, mouthing the words over and over. A mantra, a spell, a prayer. These were the words that were going to save him.

Anything you want.

[yearnstarved]

SHIPPING INFO — answer the following for your muse(s) so people know how shipping works on your blog.

What’s your OTP for your Muse(s)? I trrrryy to separate my personal OTPs from what actually unfolds through writing, so for my canon characters I generally keep an open mind. Just because two characters canonically have a bond in the source material doesn't mean it'll translate to the threads bc it depends on the writers' interpretation and writing style and chemistry.

What are you willing to RP when it comes to shipping? I love exploring many of the different facets of human connections. Being on the aroace spectrum means I love portraying "Queerplatonic" relationships as significant and passionate as romantic/sexual relationships.

For my hard no's: anything with domestic abuse I do not want to touch. but when it pertains to a genre like superheroes/fantasy/sci-fi, there's a difference there because that's more of a situational violence (in the case of an enemies to lovers.) i also don't really want to do any pregnancy plots ;;;;

Things that I'm GAME for: One-sided, unrequited longing is fine as long as we both discuss that dynamic. Past relationships/exes are great! Endgame ships that have plotted on/off's in between is fine too

How large does the age gap have to be to make it uncomfortable? I feel like I don't have any room to talk given the ship in my banner graphic. sdjJDSJD If everybody involved is over 21 and there aren't weird power dynamics related to the age gap, it's fair game in fiction

Are you selective when shipping? Yes, I've had experiences where every time I was more blasé about accepting a ship I ended up not having fun at all. Sometimes when I plot with a writer I'll know instantly if we click, and if we can play off each other in the threads well on top of that, that's the synergy I'm looking for!

How far do steamy moments have to go before they’re considered NSFW? PERSONALLY if it's something PG-13esque like making out and something you'd find in a CW show, I wouldn't clutch my pearls but I would tag it just so the dash remains a safe space for people. But if I see a read more cut I'm expecting clothes are off and we are talking about 'heat pooling' 'voices hitching' tongues doing ANY gymnastics etc etc

Who are other muses you ship your muse with? at the moment eobard/iris is the only ship i have which is DIVINE AND COMEDIC. roman and vael are their own thing, all anxiety and teeth

in my head my muses have already kissed all my mutuals' muses. it's unserious but it exists in case y'all needed that to break the ice nsdsdd

Does one have to ask to ship with you? There should generally be a discussion so that I know that's the expectation or something a writer would like to explore with me! Not in the sense that I want to gatekeep my characters from being in a relationship, but I'm neurodivergent and need that clear communication KDJSD

How often do you like to ship? However often my writing partners are feeling my characters

Are you multiship? For like past relationships or flings, sure, but for endgame ships, no.

Are you ship obsessed or ship more-or-less? Obsessed. the blog name really gives it away. we're just here for a good time.

What is your favorite ship in your current fandom? doctor/clara and barry/iris

Finally, how does one ship with you? you can just send me a message to ask if it's something i'd want to explore

tagged by: @3katanas 😘 tagging: @hairlander @mvltiversed @disturbnot @ruindgod

[bradshawsbaby]

Soft and/or steamy thoughts huh? 🤔 Our girl wants some softness and/or steaminess….

How ‘bout the moment, under the Christmas tree, we were discussing the other day, you know the one (*cheeky grin*😏😜)….I don’t know what you had in mind but I imagine it might start with Bradley finding Mrs. B laying under the tree, her head resting on the tree skirt, just looking up into the boughs at the lights and the ornaments.

Her husband rests his hands on his hips, amused. “Whatcha doin’ honey?”

“Looking up at the tree! I remembered I used to do this all the time when I was little and it always looked so pretty and magical. Wanted to try it again.”

Bradley smiles some more, but doesn’t answer, just moves to join her on his back on the floor, looking up.

She beams over at him. Reaches to take his hand and squeeze it. The record player scratches softly between songs.

“You’re right. It is pretty.” he agrees with a smile, his warm honey eyes reflecting the multi-colored lights. She just loves the way he looks so handsome in any lighting. The handsomest she’s ever seen.

…….buuuuuut then eventually Bradley gets bored of looking at the tree; as pretty as it is his wife much prettier. So he wiggles over, plants a seemingly-innocent kiss to her shoulder…then another, then he’s leaning over and his lips are meeting her neck….

Mrs. B closes her eyes in spite of herself against the sensation of his soft mouth and mustache on her skin. “You’re gonna run out of room if you-“ she hitches in a breath, “keep that up..”

Sure enough Bradley tries to maneuver so he’s hovering over her but his head hits the nearest branches and some ornaments tinkle against each other. His hands stop is roaming up under his wife’s shirt and he huffs frustratedly.

“Yeah you’re right.” he backs out from under the tree and the next thing his wife hears is his playfully-growled, “C’mere, Baby” and she’s laaaaughing as he yanks (gently) her out from her spot.

AND Y’KNOW. 👀😏🥵 IT GOES FROM THERE…

CLARA!!! 🫠🫠🫠 You’re killing me here (in the best way possible) 😘

Do I have your permission to steal some of this when I officially write this story (which I’m definitely going to do)? 🎄 Credit will be given to your amazingly creative mind, of course!

I’m so obsessed with this 🥰🥵

[harajuku-cookie]

I have had two thoughts bouncing around in my head for a while involving Gilbert and my IkePri OC, Rosalia:

🔹One sweet of Gil cuddles with Rosalia, involving a tiny spoiler from an event story

🔹One spicy relating to the IkePri act 3/sequel routes, which isn't much of a spoiler, involving a special deal Rosalia makes with Gilbert to allow her to greet their visitors freely

I got encouraged by a server I'm a part of to share them and I noticed that it got way too long to copy and paste with the character limit, so I'm posting it here. Please be kind, I haven't written in a long time so I'm rusty and I'm shy and nervous enough as it is to share this. This is all self-indulgent.

Now onwards with the thoughts! I'm posting it under read more for spoilers and light smut in the second thought.

18+ || Minors do not interact

🔹The sweet thought:

So in one event, Gilbert introduces MC to a group of animals, two dogs named Clara and Adele and a cat named Elise. These essentially become their pets. With my OC, Rosalia in mind, I pictured one day Gilbert returns to his room and finds her napping on a couch, all tuckered out from the day, with the animals surrounding her. The dogs napping beside her on the ground as though protecting her, and the cat by her head. Gilbert does get a little jealous at first, but it is kind of a cute sight and since he sees her lying on her back, he gets a thought. Carefully as to not wake her, he sits beside her sleeping form and lays his upper body on her, legs dangling off the sofa, his head on her chest, listening to her heartbeat. Although she is asleep, her body knows he's there and wraps her arms around him, holding him close, and continues sleeping with a small smile on her face. Gilbert wasn't planning on napping, but now that he was in her grasp, he might as well. They have time and it was comfy, so for now they could forget work and duties and just be beside each other for a little while.

🔹The spicy thought:

Notes:

1. I have zero experience at smut

2. My OC, Rosalia's crest is a cheetah, I'm bringing this up when I use the reference later. She also uses a cane, which I will expand on on her character profile on a later date.

3. I don't know much about IkePri's act 3/the sequels, this set up is based on what I've seen and come across

Anyways:

In act 3/the sequels, the Rhodolitian king (whoever is chosen) and some of the princes go visit Obsidian. So far we've seen Chevalier, Leon, and Yves go and in my particular case, I imagine my OCs, Alina and Zaina also going along with them, half because they're Yves and Chev's respective partners and the other half being that they're Rosalia's adoptive family so they want to see her.

Rosalia of course is excited for their arrival and is borderline bouncing off the walls ready to welcome them and give them all hugs (well for Chev it would be a kind greeting). Gilbert isn't too keen on the idea of that since he doesn't want anyone touching her, but Rosalia comes up with an idea. It's a risque one, but hopefully it will work. She proposed Gilbert a deal: give her free reign to hug her sisters and friends and freely chat with them with no consequences towards them and she'll show him a different side of her in bed that night, one he's been meaning to see.

Rosalia is usually reserved in bed because it's still new territory to her, so she mostly goes with Gilbert's flow, but she's not clueless. She knows a thing or two from stories she's been told by others back in Rhodolite, to her medical research when it comes to anatomy and physiology, to the steamy romance books she's reads. Plus Gilbert has been trying to get her to cut loose and try taking control for once, so why not try it now?

Gilbert can't help but be curious as to what Rosalia will try and she must really want this if she's willing to come out of her comfort zone, so he makes the deal. She gets to greets everyone, give them the longest biggest hugs she's been wanting to give for so long, and catch up on what's happened since they last saw each other. It's a wonderful time and she feels rejuvenated. She hasn't forgotten her deal though. She is a little nervous but at the same time she's excited and now that night is approaching, she goes to her room to gather her things to prepare and heads to Gilbert's.

When Gilbert returns to his room a while later, he finds Rosalia sitting on his bed, hair loose from her usual braid, makeup done, and with a robe covering her. Although she is blushing, she extends a hand towards him, beckoning him closer. Pleased with her promise kept and interested in what she has planned, he approaches her and takes her hand. What he didn't expect was her pulling him hard enough to make him topple onto the bed. Before he could react, which is a first for him, she gets on top and straddles him. She's ready to fulfill her end of the deal, but in order to do that he must let her lead. Tonight she'll be the beast and he'll be her prey.

Gilbert is not used to someone else being in charge of him, but when it comes to Rosalia, the idea is interesting and honestly it wasn't the first time he's had those kind of thoughts pertaining to her. Once he gives her free reign for the night, she's shrugs off the robe to reveal a black lingerie set that he made her a while back, but was too shy to wear at the time. Now she wears it with pride, looking like a cheetah on the hunt for her prey. Pinning his arms to the bed, she begins. From passionate kisses to hard love bites like he leaves on her, Rosalia makes her way down Gilbert's body, removing articles of his clothing along the way.

Once she reaches where he wants her the most, she takes him in her hand and strokes him a bit before taking him in her mouth. His hands instinctively try to move and out his hand on her head, but her hand shoots out to stop him reminding him that she's in charge. She continues on,  teasing him and before he can come, she stops and pulls off, but not before giving him a bite in his inner thigh like he's done to her.

Slowly and deliberately, Rosalia removes the lingerie piece by piece until she's bare before him, Gilbert feeling how aroused she when she takes him in her hand and rubbing the tip along her soaked folds for a bit before aligning it with her entrance and sinking down. Taking a moment to adjust, she slowly starts to move, small bounces until she starts picking up the pace and going harder, faster. Gilbert feels that he's getting close and tries to put his hands on her hips to move her like he wants, but she stops him and pins them down to the bed, reminding him that she's in control tonight and she'll decide whether he's allowed to touch her or not. She edges hims bit for that stunt, moving slower just to tease him, but after a while even she can't hold back and returns to her fast and hard pace until she makes them both reach their climax.

While catching his breath, Gilbert thinks this is a one round thing, but once he saw the look in her eyes he knows it's far from over. Rosalia made sure to make good on her end of the deal all night long. The next day, when they both go meet up with the Rhodolitian side, everything seems normal and business goes as planned. However some of them do notice that Rosalia and Gilbert are depending on their respective canes a little more than usual, their walks a little off than usual.

[clara-teamrocket]

clara? more like ara ara because you make it steamy in here!

... please stop using fire type moves in the pool i hate sauna's

My bad you know how crazy fella is when he gets hyped.

[imjustanauthor]

SHIPPING INFO // ANSWER THE FOLLOWING FOR YOUR MUSES SO PEOPLE KNOW HOW SHIPPING WORKS ON YOUR BLOG.

Tagged by: @omniishambles ​

WHAT IS YOUR OTP FOR YOUR CHARACTER(S)?

Tbh I don’t really have any specific OTPs. I enjoy all the ships I write, otherwise I wouldn’t write them. I adore anything with chemistry and where the writer of the other character will plot the ship and talk about all the little details with me ❤️

HOW LARGE DOES THE AGE GAP HAVE TO BE TO MAKE IT UNCOMFORTABLE?

Eh... I’ve never really considered it. Historically, almost every ship John’s had has been an age gap. It’s not something he really thinks about, so as long as the character is mid-20s or so then I don’t mind. Someone like Mycroft or Charlie, on the other hand, does consider that kind of thing, so the age gap would need to be smaller.

HOW FAR DO STEAMY MOMENTS HAVE TO GO BEFORE THEY ARE CONSIDERED NSFW?

The second things can no longer be implied, it’s time to fade to black. Not that it comes up often, lol. Only Sullivan and Charlie have an active interest. People (understandably) don’t want to ship with Sullivan (he’s a bit of a bastard, and not in a particularly hot way), and so far Charlie is theoretically down for it but in reality needs to work through a couple of issues first.

ARE YOU SELECTIVE WHEN SHIPPING?

Yes. I like to write ships that are long term and detailed, so I usually only suggest one if I trust that someone won’t vanish any time soon and that they’ll engage with plotting behind the scenes. There also needs to be chemistry which, for some characters (Mycroft), is easier said than done.

Somme characters are easier to ship with. Charlie isn’t really fussy, so he’s probably the easiest. Still, I’m unlikely to want to write the ship unless the other person has a history of plotting and doesn’t seem to blog hop much.

WHO ARE OTHER CHARACTERS YOU SHIP YOUR CHARACTER WITH?

As I said, chemistry is needed. All my characters have their references though. Mycroft likes dangerous men that present an element of risk (but also has a soft spot for genuinely kind men), Charlie likes women that could beat him up (but really isn’t fussy and likes nice people in general, men or women), Sullivan likes pretty people in general (but only for flings), and John likes people that make him feel protected. Moriarty isn’t interested, and people really shouldn’t be interested in Siger lol

DOES ONE HAVE TO ASK TO SHIP WITH YOU?

It definitely needs to be plotted. Most of the time, I also like to write the characters without romantic intent first. I’ve only hopped into a preestablished ship a couple times, and all those times they’ve been with someone that I’ve written with in the long term and that I trusted would be down to plot out the details in depth.

ARE YOU SHIP OBSESSED OR SHIP MORE-OR-LESS?

It’s not my priority. I like shipping, but my favourite thing is writing any kind of long term character relationship and working out all the little details. Romance isn’t needed for that, but it sure is nice sometimes.

WHAT IS YOUR FAVOURITE SHIP IN YOUR CURRENT FANDOM?

Hmm... If it has to be with a character I write, I like 12th Doctor/River, 12th Doctor/Clara, Mycroft/Lestrade, and Mycroft/Moriarty. 

FINALLY, HOW DOES ONE SHIP WITH YOU?

As previously mentioned, demonstrate that you’re not going to go inactive any time soon, demonstrate that you’re actively going to take part in discussing the plot, and demonstrate chemistry between the characters. Most of this is what I want to see for writing any kind of relationship with my characters though, so really all I’m asking for is for people to be good rp partners 🤷‍♂️

[dhampiravidi]

real-world OC (Jasmine Wayland)

template adapted from this one!

Basic Information

Full Name: Jasmine "Jas" Kythereia Faulkner (née Wayland) Pen Name/Pseudonym: Zarena Clark DOB:  Sept. 15, 1985 (age 29 as of 2014) Gender: Cis Female/Woman Sexual Orientation: Bisexual Ethnicity: Black (African-American) Hometown: Santa Clara, California Education: MA in History & Minor in Sociology (Stanford '07) Languages: English, some Spanish & a bit of Latin

Appearance

Jas is a 5'3" (1.6 m) young woman. She takes after her mother, so she has light brown skin (with warm undertones encouraged by lots of time in the sunshine), curling (shoulder-length) dark brown hair, even darker eyes, and curvy hips*. Even as she becomes famous, her go-to is t-shirts with cardigans, jeans & boots. When she's forced to look more professional, she wears blouses with nice pants, bracelets & wedge-heeled boots (dresses are rare). Her makeup is pretty limited to black eyeliner & the occasional watermelon-colored lipstick.

FC: Kat Graham

Background

She's loved reading her entire life. Reading has always meant going on adventures & daydreaming in a more solid, respectable fashion. Jas has also always loved the concept of love: finding things that make people happy, having friends who inspire laughter & eventually meeting someone even more beautiful, loyal & wonderful than the sunrise. Yeah, well, it took her a while to find some of that. Her parents have always had a loving marriage. They also pushed her to succeed in academia, to the point where she nurtured her perfectionist temperament & graduated with honors after skipping 2 grades. She also wasn't partying or dating, because it didn't come naturally to her. So when she met Eric Faulkner through a coworker, she thought she was lucky. He was handsome, intelligent, sexually adventurous & he really liked her. He even supported her when she decided to take time off from her wedding planning career, to write a steamy urban fantasy novel instead. Or so she thought. She's currently in the middle of a divorce, because he cheated on her with the aforementioned coworker. (Jas found out 7 months after their wedding, but it had been going on since they were dating, apparently.) Oh, & he's got her in a legal battle, claiming he basically wrote half of her book--the one that just became a bestseller (Blood Ties: Seductive Enchantment).

Personality

Jas is an introvert. She spends lots of time with just a handful of people at once, disliking crowds due to her anxiety. Oddly enough, she loves modern rock music. Her favorite activities include reading, swimming, tai chi, rock climbing, watching action movies, collecting art prints & running her historical misconceptions/queer representations blog, The World Was Conquered by a Bisexual. Basically, she's very introspective, weirdly funny & admiring of the small things. On the flip side, she gets deeply frustrated when a seemingly easy task is hard for her and she equates taking a break with failure. Because of this, she is a hard worker, which helps with her career(s). She's also incredibly loyal and protective when it comes to her friends. Unfortunately, she has trouble valuing herself & in a relationship, she might never believe that her significant other loves her unconditionally.

*yes, despite her FC, Jas is plus-sized!

[cathygeha]

REVIEW

California Dreams Christmas Romance Collection by Talya Blaine

Five heart-felt, steamy, later-in-life short stories

Five women

Five dreams

Five Christmases

With some wishes

And then

…

Each story begins with a steamy dream a woman wakes from as she then thinks about her life and what will happen on the upcoming Christmas holiday. The stories are all short with immediate connection between the main characters and the potential for a happily ever after for all involved. These are feel-good Hallmark worthy shorties that can be read over coffee in the morning or with a nightcap before bed and all will put a smile on your face, provide Christmas cheer, and leave you with a smile on your face.

Thank you to BookSirens and the author for the ARC – This is my honest review.

3-4 Stars

BLURB

A spicy and heartwarming Christmas romance short story collection Spend Christmas in the California sun with these feel-good, later-in-life contemporary romance short stories. Five standalone short stories. Five sultry dreams. Five hot, sweet Santas whose gifts can’t be wrapped and put under a tree. The California Dreams Christmas Romance Collection includes: Santa & Anna When a divorced baker-to-the-stars bumps into Santa, their meet is anything but cute. Crumbs and icing fly—until Santa makes a deal and delivers not one but two sweet gifts. Santa & Clara When a workaholic Silicon Valley IT consultant reluctantly takes on the role of Mrs. Claus at her client’s corporate Christmas bash, a B-list celebrity Santa coaxes her to reveal her fantasy holiday wish. Santa Cru Sofia practically pops a cork when the Santa she hires for her winery’s big party cancels last-minute—until his stand-in’s earnest plea restores her Christmas spirit. Santa & Monica Stuck together in a luxury beachfront vacation rental, Santa and Monica’s slow-burn connection and dark humor transform loss into found. Santa & Barbara When ex-pat Barb returns home to spend Christmas with her ailing grandfather, Santa helps her reconnect in ways she will always remember. Full of twists on your favorite tropes—enemies to lovers, forced proximity, second chance, slow burn, fake relationship, mistaken identity—with touching, happy endings. Standalone short stories. Mature language, themes, and situations. M/F romances. Heroine POVs. No cheating between characters. No cliffhangers. At Christmastime, these five California dreams just might come true.

[kainoliero]

Halfway in Noli Me Tángere and uhh... I'm just going to assume the publisher stepped in at some point and demanded at least one (1) het romance, just to stay on the safe side. Crisóstomo has this massive steamy passionate vibe about him in literally every scene except for when he's with María Clara. That's when we get a book equivalent of being sprayed in the face with cold water. sure, it's a refreshing break after being in the tumble dryer that's the NMT plotline, but also huh? Ok that happened? whatever.

I'm JUST SAYING the main heroine should have been a man and then we would probably have seen some ~*sparks*~

[onthepageauthorservicesllc]

✨F R E E ✨for a limited time! My Darling Valentine includes 10 steamy Valentine’s Day-themed stories from some of your favorite romance authors! Download your copy today and snuggle up with some new book boyfriends 🔥❤️ ➡️ Grab your copy here: https://BookHip.com/FSZLGJR

This set features: Amanda Shelly, Bonnie Poirier, Cameron Hart, Clara King, Eve Pendle, Haley Travis, Jaycee Wolfe, Kaci M Rose, Shaw Hart, Willow Sanders

freebook #freebie #holidayromance #romanceanthology #newrelease #valentinesdayromance #valentineromancebooks #winterromancebooks #freeromancebooks #fillyourkindle #romancereads #romancebookrecs #proudromancereader #ireadromance #lovefreeromancebooks

[tsukkisbean]

24 cakes pt.2 | drabble

pairing: tsukishima kei x fem!reader

genre: smut

warnings: cock warming, dacryphilia, recording (idk if there’s an actual name for this), cunnilingus (face sitting), swearing, all characters are aged up!

a/n: the second part of my one shot (so twoshot? idk) or we could call it an alternative ending :-) idk anyways enjoy!!

a sly smile appears on tsukishima’s face, “oh yeah? i can think of plenty of things that i can beat you at right now.”

your palms hit the counter as your body shoots out of its seat, “oh yeah? let’s go then. right here, right now.”

in four long strides, your boyfriend made his way around the counter to stand before you. one of his hands gently stroked your cheek. the other found its place on the small of your back, firmly pressing your bodies together.

his lips brushed the shell of your ear, sending chills up your spine, “pretty sure i have more willpower than you.’

you mentally curse yourself for ending up in this situation. you should have known better. you should have known better than to fall prey to tsukishima’s provocation once again. but here you were, seated at your desk with your boyfriend’s cock buried deep inside you.

letting out an exasperated sigh you lean forward to rest your arms on your desk. your hands curl into fists when the sound of tsukishima’s smug laughter fills the room.

“what’s wrong? can’t take the heat?” his breath fans your skin as his lips ghost along the back of your neck, stopping to nip at it every so often, “just awhile ago you were sooo confident you could win against me.”

when you don’t respond, tsukishima’s hand comes down harshly against your thigh. a choked moan makes its way out of your throat, despite the searing pain left behind by the impact, “mm i’m talking to you, baby.”

you don’t want to admit defeat. you can’t give him yet another thing to taunt you about. so you try your best to think about anything but the annoying pulsing sensation coming from your lower region. but the way your boyfriend’s starts to trace lazy circles along your thigh, makes things a little hard.

completely at your wits end, you sit up, leaning back until your back meets tsukishima’s chest. your breaths are shallow and uneven, and it’s probably the lust taking over but the mere feeling of his breath on your skin makes you dizzy.

despite tsukishima’s hold around you, your entire body twitches when his free hand roams down to meet your clit. immediately you bite down on your tongue, refusing to make anymore sound and give him any sort of satisfaction.

but when he starts to rub gentle circles on your clit, you know you’re about to lose, “kei, n-not fair.” your voice comes out an octave higher than usual, quivering with every word.

his lips meet your neck again, this time sucking on a harsh patch of skin - surely there’ll be a mark tomorrow morning, “don’t remember saying anything about being fair.”

clenching your teeth in annoyance your fingers find his thighs for some stability. if he wasn’t going to play fair, neither were you. and in a last-ditch attempt to outdo your boyfriend, you clench as hard as you can around his cock.

a growl erupts from his throat, teeth clamping down on your shoulder. the sudden impact causes you to yelp, your fingers digging little crescent shapes into his skin.

this time it’s him who can barely form the words, “fuck, y/n stop that.” you can tell from the way his voice fluctuates that you’re inches away from winning.

you turn your head slightly, cooing at the sight of your disgruntled boyfriend, “what? you never said anything about being fair.”

he only glares at you in response. with the tables now turned, you can feel confidence and adrenaline coursing through your veins. you pull his hand away from your clit, bringing his fingers to your mouth. swirling your tongue around his digits, satisfied when you see the corner of his mouth twitch. you release his fingers from your mouth with a small pop, a string of saliva being the only thing connecting them now.

through hooded lids, you notice there’s a layer of sweat now formed on his forehead. you watch as his jaw clenches and unclenches, and how his nostrils flare in annoyance. but the tell tale sign that you’ve won? the dark tint in his usual golden eyes.

you brace yourself, but what you expect never happens. instead, you’re lifted onto your feet, and your lower region is met with the cool draft of the room. you feel your boyfriend leave your side, but before you can complain, he returns behind you with your laptop in hand.

“kei, what are you doing?” your eyes flicker between his eyes and the machine in hand.

he ignores you, placing the laptop on the desk and lifting the lid. when it powers on, he gestures for you to put in your password. although you’re still uncertain where this was going, you comply.

once your home screen loads, tsukishima is quick to pull up photobooth and press record. when the realization dawns on you, you feel your entire body heat up. but whether it’s from excitement or embarrassment, you’re not entirely sure.

his hands find the hem of your shirt, and now you’re completely bare. through the camera, you realize that tsukishima is pretty much fully clothed at this point. you turn to complain, but don’t get too far when your body is pushed forward. you catch yourself with your forearms, and now your eyes are level with your laptop screen.

seeing yourself through the webcam made your heart churn - you were now certain it was excitement. your pussy clenches in anticipation, something which your boyfriend takes notice of. running his fingers along your dripping folds, he coats them with your essence. he holds his fingers between you and the laptop, the webbing of your arousal glistening off his fingers in the light, “you’re so wet, it’s kinda cute.”

immediately, you feel your body heat up even more than before. but before you can retort, your boyfriend’s figure disappears from the screen. and in flash, your legs are forced apart, the draft replaced with a new warmth. your knees buckle at the stimulation from tsukishima’s tongue sliding along your folds, but his grip on your thighs hold you in place.

you watch as your expression changes on camera as your boyfriend eats you out. it’s absolutely lewd but you force yourself down on him more, eliciting a strained moan from him, “fuck kei.. m- more. fuck.”

he continues to lap at your juices, darting his tongue in and out of your pussy, occasionally giving your clit a teasing flick. if tsukishima weren’t holding your legs from below, you’re certain they would have given out long ago.  

tears to begin to pool at your eyes, your throbbing pussy crying desperately for sweet release. your legs begin to quake as you begin to reach your high, it’s almost as if you can taste it, “k-kei, ‘m close.”

but it never comes, and you should have known better. that’s just how he always is. you curse under your breath, shooting daggers through your tear filled eyes when your boyfriend emerges on the screen once more.

his smirk says it all, you may have won the battle but he’s about to win the war. sucking in the air between your teeth, you debate for a moment. but the thought gets lost when you feel the tip of his cock prodding your entrance once more.

you push your hips back, but his hands hold you in place, “ask nicely, y/n.” the way your name rolls off his tongue only pisses you off further. you catch each other’s gaze through the computer screen, neither wanting to make the first move.

the stand off is cut short as a ringing sound fills the room, tsukishima’s phone vibrating against your bed. the cake. an extra five or ten minutes wouldn’t hurt, right?

it’s as if tsukishima is thinking the same thing because in a single motion, he bucks his hips forward, filling you completely. you groan in the unison as his cock slips out of your wet folds with ease. as he rocks into you, the sound of your moans and skin slapping against each other drown out the sound of the ringing alarm, the cake now forgotten.

your hand travels down to find your clit. the combination of tsukishima bottoming out with each thrust, his hands digging almost painfully into your sides, and now your fingers rubbing your clit in distraught circles drives your senses off the chart.

the tears come rushing back, your cries turning into a mixture of sobbing and moans. as the stimulation continues, your walls clench involuntarily, and that’s all it takes to send the both of you into a frenzy.

you remember the screen before you and so you try your best to watch as the two of you come undone together. his thrusts are sloppy and erratic and his mouth hangs open, a string of swears slipping past his lips, “fuck ‘m close. tighten up a lil’ bit.”

your body is convulsing uncontrollably, but you try best to comply as your climax runs its course through your entire body.

his hand roughly grabs your jaw, tearing your eyes away from the screen for a sloppy kiss. and within moments, you feel yourself filled to the brim with tsukishima’s cum.

neither of you move, simply choosing to enjoy the moment. the air in the room is muggy, your entire body aches and you can definitely feel tiny trails of cum leaking down your leg, but you couldn’t care less.

this time you swoop in for a sweet kiss, your sinful acts from just moments ago completely forgotten, “i love you kei, happy birthday.”

he nuzzles his face into the side of your face, pressing a chaste against your temple, “i love you too, y/n.”

however, the moment doesn’t last long as the high pitched beep echoes throughout your apartment.

the two of you scramble to clothe yourselves before darting back to the kitchen. tsukishima, pulls the oven door open while you pull open the balcony door. once the smoke dissipates and the alarm shuts off, the two you stand before the oven, staring at his burnt cake.

you try to hold back your growing smile, but your attempts are futile. you are absolutely giddy, “looks like i may have won twice today.”

[nehswritesstuffs]

Whouffaldi prompt (maybe slightly NSFW) where 12 and Clara have sexy role playing dress up time wearing the Doctor’s past incarnation’s clothes and things get interesting.

I know what you want with this and… yes.

2907 words; takes place sometime mid-s9, maybe pre-s9, wherever on the timeline you want it to be post Last Christmas; I guess this is my gift to all the Whouffaldi bisexuals out there as there certainly are plenty of you folks; I’ll list the outfits in question at the end of the fic just in case something doesn’t quite make it in translation; this literally descends into straight-up prawns so watch yourself; I almost got some roleplay into this but I guess that’s for another prompt lol

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It had been a few hours since the Doctor had last seen Clara, which wasn’t entirely something he was worried about since he had a vast amount of books he was determined to catch up on. She knew how to navigate the inner corridors of the TARDIS nearly as well as he did, allowing him to leave her to wander about unabated and without much concern… not until he saw her reemerge from the corridor leading into the main of the console room.

“Where did you find that?” he wondered quietly. He watched her walk along the bookcases adjusting the tweed jacket she was now wearing, along with the striped shirtcuffs sticking out of the ends of the sleeves. There was patches on the elbows and a bowtie at her throat. The closer she walked to where he sat in her favorite wingback chair, the more he furrowed his brows. “That shouldn’t even fit you.”

“It was in my wardrobe when I woke up from my nap, the nap that you so conveniently skipped out on,” she said, laying down a thin layer of guilt. They had both gone to bed knowing that he wouldn’t be in for long, so she went easy on him… though now it seemed as though the TARDIS was not. “It was actually the only thing, and I needed to wear something…”

“I thought you said that clothes were optional with us where we’re at,” he noted.

“With us, yes; with the TARDIS, that’s another story.” She reached the Doctor and sat down on his lap, her legs folded on either side of his, keeping him in place as she faced him directly. His book fell from his hand to the floor as he instead held her waist, sliding his fingers between the shirt and jacket, trembling as he passed over braces. He could feel his heartsbeat quicken as he hardened, pulsing inside his trousers.

“Did you want to… again…?” he wondered, touching the ends of her hair. She’d recently gotten it cut, with it resting above her shoulders and off the tweed. One of her hands guided him towards her for a kiss, whilst the other stroked the front of his trousers.

“Possibly,” she said, smiling triumphantly against his lips. “You do seem a little more eager than earlier.”

“That looks good on you,” he admitted lowly. He nudged at her with his nose until he was nuzzling her neck. She grabbed at him through his trousers and he hissed into her shoulder.

“Right here, or do we need to go back to bed?” she asked. He hesitated, leading to her standing up and leaning over him. Bracing herself with her right hand, she used her left to crook her finger in a silent order.

Come along, Doctor.

...and he did.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

The Doctor stared at the open wardrobe and frowned. It was a few days later (more or less), and he was readying to go on another adventure with Clara. He had showered off the last planet, where it was mostly sand, and slime where there was no sand, and it had gotten into the most uncomfortable spots. Now he was standing there with only a towel around his middle and the wrong clothes in front of him.

“Are you serious?” he scowled. The TARDIS hummed at him chidingly. “I didn’t think I even had this stuff hanging around anymore. Where do you keep getting it?” The ship remained silent on the matter and the Doctor exhaled heavily—it was no use arguing with the old girl.

Everything from the waist down seemed to be normal enough for what she had been materializing for him this regeneration—boots and trousers were hard to screw up—yet the top bits were the ones that he had to question. He pulled the grey v-neck jumper on over his head and looked at himself in the mirror, seeing that it brought out the same color in his hair and eyes. After slipping into the accompanying black leather jacket, he stared at himself for several minutes, unsure what he should feel. It was odd, wearing old clothes of his like that, and it was almost like going backwards in time for him, in a way. Then again, he couldn’t help what the TARDIS threw at him some days, and it was his mission in life to make it look like the ship’s pranks were either planned or didn’t bother him in the slightest.

Stepping out into the corridor, the Doctor decided to check on Clara to see where she was. They had promised to meet back in the console room after showering and changing clothes, getting rid of grit and goo at their own pace. He walked up to the console and shoved his hands in his trouser pockets—not much to do now but wait.

“Oh, I see what’s going on,” Clara chuckled. The Doctor glanced in the direction of her voice and saw her standing in the doorway leading to another set of corridors. She was dressed almost exactly the same, except her jumper was a brilliant red. Her boots were heavy as she walked towards the Doctor, taking amusement in their matching outfits. “I think the TARDIS is making fun of us.”

“The TARDIS is doing something, alright,” he replied. He swallowed hard, as she wore that jacket better than he ever had… which was saying something considering how handsome he had been back when it was his go-to. Her eyes flicked downward for a moment and a smile crossed her lips—oh. “Did you… want to get going? I’ve got a whole day planned.”

“I think there’s something that we need to attend to first,” she decided. There had to of been lifts in her boots, as she seemed to be taller than before, if only by a bit. She placed a pointer finger on some exposed jumper and trailed down from his chest to stomach, stopping at his belt. “One of us is going to have to change.”

He really hoped that one of them was not going to be her, Skaro’s sewers be damned. With the look in her eyes, he was confident that was exactly the case.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

The TARDIS was really going to have to cut it out, the Doctor had decided.

He and Clara were sitting in a cave waiting for the rain outside to stop. Most of the time, rain on the planet Glixsia was water, just as on many other life-supporting planets, yet during volcanic activity on the magma fields on the other side of the planet, shards of glass came down instead, making it more than a bit dangerous to presently be outside.

“Why doesn’t the ground crunch when we walk?” she pondered. “Shouldn’t there be glass everywhere? There’s absolutely nothing! Is there something in the soil that breaks down glass at a quicker pace than on Earth?”

“That is a very good question,” he nodded. He was trying to not look too often at her because she was—somehow--wearing more of his old clothes. This time it was his green velvet jacket and frilled shirt despite the fact that somehow it looked tailored for her and her alone. He was also in a past outfit he once thought he’d left behind, this one involving a frock coat, waistcoat, and cravat. “We should really figure that out once the rain stops.”

“...but what are we going to do in the meantime?” she wondered. “The TARDIS already can’t come in here to get us since the rain creates too much interference. We’re just going to have to figure out a way to pass the time while the weather decides when it wants to start improving.”

The Doctor knew precisely what he wanted to do: he wanted to get Clara out of those clothes. He wanted her to be the one to take his cravat off, to slide his high-waisted trousers down until they were off his ankles, to undo each individual button of his waistcoat one… by one… by one...

“Doctor…?” He snapped from his daydream and glanced at her, seeing the look in her eyes—she knew. “Are you having fun without me?”

“Simply thinking of the possibilities,” he admitted. As she leaned in to kiss him, he quickly calculated the best way to go about passing the time, deciding that it involved pulling her off the rock they were sharing and having her straddle his lap. She grinned as he moved her, understanding precisely what was going on.

“I see your game,” she grinned. Clara leaned in and kissed the Doctor’s lips, distracting him as she stealthily slid the pin out of his cravat, holding it up in triumph as she broke to show him. “We need a safe place for this.”

“I imagine you can come up with something appropriate,” he smirked. She gently tugged at the fabric around his neck and eased it off, using the cravat to wrap up the pin and slipping it into an inner pocket of his coat. Next came the coat itself, sliding off his shoulders and arms until it was crumpled on the stone. He shivered in anticipation as she reached forward and plucked his top two buttons open, descending on his neck to suck and bite and mark as her hands traveled elsewhere.

The Doctor threw back his head and moaned, allowing Clara the room and permission to do as she pleased. She did not peel back more layers to his clothing, yet she still touched him everywhere. His chest, arms, hair, thighs, erection; she dragged her fingertips over everything. He couldn’t even hold her and get her back as she did so, as both his arms were too occupied with holding him upright against the flagstone-like rock beneath them.

It had been a lovely dinner under the stars, with the dual moons of Fingali illuminating the picnickers in a gentle pink glow. The Doctor laid on his side, his head propped up by his arm and elbow as he watched Clara sip at the last of her drink. She was wearing his clothes again, or at least a facsimile of them, with another bowtie-and-braces set, but this one much, much older than the ones from when his chin was strong and his hair had been floppy. This set… it was the one that accommodated a tartan jacket, which he would wear to match with the traveling mates he’d been with at the time. It was always easier to say they were together when they all donned the same tartan. The jacket was laying on the blanket between them, so that he saw her in only the shirtsleeves.

“You sure you want to go there?” she teased. He replied by craning his neck and trying to reach her for a kiss, only for her to back away. A whimper escaped his lips as she stood and placed a step between them, a sly grin across her face.

“I didn’t think you were cruel,” he gasped.

“I didn’t think you were greedy,” she teased. She smirked as she watched his eyes darken, glinting in lust, for it was precisely the reaction she was wanted. Taking another step backwards, Clara watched as the Doctor urgently stood and crossed the space between them as though it was nothing at all. He pulled her close and kissed her, fingers tangling her hair, breath hot against her mouth, erection pressing eagerly into her midsection.

“Can I…?” he breathed, unable to finish. She knew what he wanted to say; it was everywhere in her mind as well as his own. There wasn’t even a guarantee his brain hadn’t lifted it from hers.

“You may,” she replied.

At that, a low growl emerged from somewhere within him as he pulled at his belt buckle and undid his trousers, giving her time to turn around and do the same, bracing herself against the stone as he eased her own trousers and knickers down and adjusted them both until he was able to take himself and slide into her.

Holding her by her hips, the Doctor thrust into Clara with all the eagerness—as well as all the restraint—he could manage. This was only Round One, he knew, as he ground against her, listening to the little noises she was making in satisfaction. They were far from the noises she could make, when they were in bed and she handed him the reins and he was free to do whatever thing he thought could please her. It was, instead, merely a repose from what was otherwise an adventure where there was no bed, no grand romantic gestures, no leeway for lust. Glass-rain outside a shallow cave was only a stop while they were in the middle of figuring out who could have possibly sent a distress signal from the planet, let alone how they could have, and they were going to have to be quick about it. He groaned as he came, the sensation familiar to them both.

At least, Clara knew, that she wasn’t going to be walking around Glixsia with a disastrously-aroused Time Lord; that was for her eyes, and he eyes only. Rassilion forbid anyone get any ideas about them…

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It had been a lovely dinner under the stars, with the dual moons of Fingali illuminating the picnickers in a gentle pink glow. The Doctor laid on his side, his head propped up by his arm and elbow as he watched Clara sip at the last of her drink. She was wearing his clothes again, or at least a facsimile of them, with another bowtie-and-braces set, but this one much, much older than the ones from when his chin was strong and his hair had been floppy. This set… it was the one that accommodated a tartan jacket, which he would wear to match with the traveling mates he’d been with at the time. It was always easierto say they were together when they all donned the same tartan. The jacket was laying on the blanket between them, so that he saw her in only the shirtsleeves.

“This planet is lovely,” she mentioned, gazing up at the moons. “We should come here more often.”

“We could, if you’d like,” he offered. He fiddled with the jacket he was wearing—red velvet that she had bought for him the month before—trying to keep his free hand busy. His top shirt buttons were already undone and he was trying to figure out a decent signal to let her know he was ready to move onto the next part of the evening, and yet there didn’t seem to be any way for him to do so. All he could do was bask in her presence, knowing that he was the luckiest being in the galaxy.

She looked at him and his hearts swelled in joy—it had been the right idea to picnic there.

“Are there any inhabitants to this planet?” she asked coyly. He shrugged.

“Far as beings with a modicum of sentience, not for another few hundred-thousand years, not unless you count us, and the ship that’s conveniently a decent stroll from here,” he replied. Her eyebrows rose slightly as the corner of her mouth twitched upwards. “I take it that’s the answer you wanted to hear?”

“It is,” she said. Setting down her drink, she began to unlatch his belt with one hand, never breaking eye contact with him. He placed his hand on hers, halting her movements.

Without a word, the Doctor shifted so that he could lay Clara down on the blanket beneath them, making sure she was comfortable before starting his ministrations. He positioned himself atop her as they kissed, with her his hair and face and shirt and jacket, while he worked on getting her braces unclasped and trouser front undone. After untucking her shirt he went and dipped his hands beneath her clothes, first feeling the skin along her waist before moving to her back, hips, and thighs. His fingers felt between her legs as he tugged at the bowtie with his teeth, finding that he could sink two into her with ease. Her back arched as he stroked her, thumb on her clit, not stopping his hands-free undoing of the clothes about her neck. Once the bowtie was hanging loosely and her top buttons also sat undone, he moved to kissing her throat and collarbone as he took her by surprise and sank a third finger in.

Oh, the noises that came from her! She was writhing underneath him, alive and beyond aroused and barely hanging onto herself. With no one around to hear, not even the TARDIS, she let herself go little by little. Before long, she was gasping and swearing, grinding her hips against his hand. She came in his arms and by his hand, melting into a trembling, sweaty mess. He kissed her gently as he brought his hand out of her, breaking the act by licking his fingers clean. She watched him, her eyes locked on his, and soon as he was done, she pulled him back down to her, tasting herself on his tongue as she attempted to recover.

A while of kissing and touching passed, and it was her turn to get him back. Reaching into his trousers, she grabbed him already hard and throbbing, loving the sensation of him gasping for breath with the air from her lungs. He buried his face in her hair as she squeezed him, causing a noise to escape him that went untranslated by the TARDIS. She twisted her wrist and he made the noise again; all he did was hold her tighter, moving wildly against her palm.

Don’t stop.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

A/N: The outfits go as follows: first Clara in Eleven’s original outfit, Clara and Twelve in Nine’s outfit, Twelve in Eight’s and Clara in Three’s (or as close as you can imagine, considering there is a photoshoot of Jenna Coleman in green velvet otherwise), and then Clara’s last outfit was Two’s (though I can't remember if there was the tartan pattern, but whatever).