#i might need to shorten my answers 😅

[lexa-griffins]

Does bedwarmer Clarke ever spank Lexa?

Before they get really together as they are healing, yes, definitely something Lexa offers Clarke as a way to punish her. Lexa knows by now that Clarke would never be violent with her but she thinks that perhaps Clarke needs that permission to punish her physically so they can fully resolve things.

Thats how Lexa finds herself naked and thrown over Clarke's lap, her ass burning from hands and paddles making contact with it. With each stike she apologizes, lets go of all of her regrets for giving the order to eradicate Skaikru, for leaving Clarke as the sole surviver. Clarke demands she apologizes over and over again, asking her if she understands the pain she left Clarke in between each strike of her hand. Lexa skirms and wiggles, it hurts and the pain she is letting Clarke inflict goes against all she was taught but it feels /good/ and she knows she can trust Clarke.

"You're wet."

Its a statement with a hint of surprise and satisfaction.

"You like it when I hurt you."

"Clarke, I-" this wasnt supposed to be about that. It was supposed to be about Clarke letting go of her anger by spanking Lexa but its true, it does turn Lexa on.

Lexa tries to leave Clarke's lap, ashamed she made it sexual, "Im sorry, I didn't mean- ah!" Two fingers quickly enter her and make her moan. When the next strike arrives, the finger have not left, forcing Lexa to clench around them from the pain.

"Go to the and stick your ass up."

Doing as shes told, Lexa waddles her way to the bed, knowing she might possibly be punished worse now, all because of the way her body naturally responds to Clarke's touch. She's whimpering with her head against the furs, hoping Clarke will forgive her, she loves her so much, she cannot handle her pulling away from her again.

The bed dips as Clarke climbs on top of it and positions herself behind Lexa. When a hand makes contact with her ass again, Lexa recoils only for it to be gentle against the bruises that are forming.

"Im gonna be inside of you while i spank you okay? If its too much just say so. I mean it, Lexa." Through her tears Lexa nods, feeling herself smile as Clarke's length enters her easily, she truly is dripping wet.

The first strike nesrly causes her to moan. Stuffed with Clarke's dick the pain easily melts into pleasure. The next few hurt slightly more but she is clenching around Clarke and she can hear her softly moan, making Lexa feel good just by knowing Clarke is feeling good too.

It doesn't take long before Clarke is loudly moaning at the feeling of Lexa around her, slapping her hard and fast. One particular harsh slap causes Lexa to try and move away, immediately pushing agasint Clarke again when she realizes, the friction enough to make them both stumble over the edge and cum.

Lexa is sure she blacked out for a second as when she opens her eyes back up, she is being gently laid down on her side, Clarke still inside of her.

A silent washes over them as they catch their breath and with it, Lexa feels shame.

"Im so sorry Clarke"

"Why are you sorry?"

"For everything. The kill order. For bringing you here as a bed warmer for my own pleasure. Turning my own punishment into something that served me. I never meant for any of this to happen."

A kiss fall on her cheek and then her lips, her nose and her head, before dry lips finally rest on her shoulder, "I know. I know you are. Its gone now and we're alright."

[ethereousdelirious]

@clear-preformance sent me some lovely T.GG prompts quite a while ago, and I just now got around to filling one 😅

Featuring sick!J.ay and N.ick quietly panicking

(Fic contains emeto!)

The seas were choppier than normal, leading Nick to lean hard on the deck railing, clutching it hard enough that his palms ached a little. The little thrill that raced through his stomach with every dip and rise made him smile as the breeze stirred up his hair.

Jay had been quiet for a while, presumably with some aspect of boating. Boats were confusing. Better to sit back and let Jay work his magic. It was a beautiful day, the blue sky mirroring the blue sea, and Nick was just drunk enough that the world was a mutable, particolored experience to be had. Everything was lovely.

Jay joined him at the railing a moment later, feet scuffing on the deck. That wasn't like him. Nick looked up and frowned. Jay's tanned skin had taken on a distinctly more greenish cast, more pimento olive than sunkissed, and sweat gleamed high on his forehead. "Everything alright?" Nick asked.

Evidently not: Jay hit the deck railing with enough force to make the metal ring and vomited over the side of the boat, coughing in a way that made Nick's throat ache out of sheer proximity. Since when did Jay get seasick? It was as good a question as any, if a bit tactless. Not that it mattered. Jay had always borne Nick's awkward remarks with nothing but grace, and in any case, he looked far too miserable to care one way or the other at the moment. "Seasick?" Nick asked, making an attempt at diplomacy by simply shortening the question.

Jay answered with another guttural heave. Nick's stomach turned over, more out of instinct than anything. He'd seen worse. He'd heard worse. This was practically nothing. Wary of overstepping, he placed a hand on Jay's back. Jay gave a long exhale through his mouth and turned to face Nick, letting his head rest on the rail. "Terribly sorry, old sport," he said.

He seemed poised to go on but had to stop and catch his breath, leaving Nick to ogle at him. "Well—" he started, and stopped. "D-don't apologize!" he managed finally. Then, somewhat pathetically, "You're sick."

Jay forgave this unspectacular performance as he forgave all of Nick's idiosyncrasies, with a stunning smile that made Nick's heart flutter. Jordan never made him feel like that. If anything, he was her dog, following her around and wagging his tail every now and again in the hopes that she might throw him a bone. "I've never been seasick before in my life," Jay said, making no effort to straighten up. The boat pitched and he winced. "I'm afraid we'll have to cut this voyage short."

"Can I help?" Nick kept his eyes on Jay, half to make sure he didn't topple over the railing and half to avoid looking at the mast. Jay had tried to teach him the basics, but the attempt had largely been unsuccessful.

"No need." Jay's bravado sounded forced, but he straightened up with confidence and strode out of Nick's sight line as a man in perfect health.

Nick turned to follow him with his gaze, watching Jay handle the esoteric mess of ropes and canvas. He flashed Nick a wink or a smile every so often, which would have been more reassuring had he not been obviously out of breath and sweating through his shirt.

Jay, through what Nick suspected had been Herculean force of will, managed not to be sick again until they had moored. The boat bobbed in the water and Jay staggered to the side like his legs simply refused to hold his body up any longer. He was sick over the railing and then dropped to the deck only to dry-heave against the wet wood, shoulders bucking and drawing the fabric of his shirt taut between them.

"Jay!" Nick dashed over to him, knees striking the wood with a sharp crack. He cupped a hand around Jay's head to hold it steady as he coughed.

Jay leaned into it, his forehead burning hot against Nick's palm, though the sun hadn't yet reached its apex. "'Fraid I'm not very good company today," he slurred.

It wasn't hot enough for Jay's skin to be so warm; it was still midmorning and the breeze created enough of a discrepancy that Nick would shiver when the sea spray touched his skin. "Do you feel feverish?"

"Don't worry about me, old sport." Jay sat up with visible effort, shaking all over.

"I can't help it." The words slipped out before Nick could stop them. The Hell with it; it was true. "Let me help you up."

Jay gave Nick a long, vague look, his eyes roving over Nick's face, lips parted. He wasn't so tan as to disguise the flush darkening his cheeks. "Alright." Even his palms were hot against Nick's own, his cheek even moreso when he stumbled and his chin met Nick's shoulder. Nick brought his arms up to embrace him, then caught himself and steadied Jay by the upper arms instead.

"Let's go inside," Nick said. His mouth was dry.

Jay still had his balance, even if he walked slowly. Nick hovered beside him, exactly as useful as he had been on the boat. But what could he do? Jay had everything under control like he always did. Even shaking with fever, he exuded the same easy confidence that made Nick want to follow along in his wake just to see what he would do next.

In this instance, that involved leading Nick inside, shooing away his staff, and staring expectantly at Nick. "Would you like to sit down?" he asked, the words slow and careful.

"Jay…" Nick blinked at him. Hosting. The man was swaying where he stood, visibly trembling, damp all over with sweat, and he was hosting. Overstepping be damned. Nick closed the meager distance between them and brought his hand to Jay's forehead. Fever. "You need to go to bed. And someone ought to keep an eye on you."

"I don't suppose—" Jay looked at him through his lashes, almost coquettish in his hesitancy. Then he cleared his throat and looked away. "I don't suppose Daisy might be free?"

Nick's chest ached. "No, she's not," he said. She was in town with Tom; Jordan was away for the weekend. Jay had no other friends, at least not that Nick knew of. "I suppose you'll have to make do with me."

"Forgive me if I offended you; I— " Jay's eyes widened, but whatever else he might have said was lost in a paroxysm of pain that crossed his handsome face. He put a hand to his stomach and swallowed thickly, chest heaving with shallow breaths.

"Never mind," said Nick. He was being stupid, anyway. It was only natural that Jay should want Daisy there to look after him. But she wasn't there and Nick was and that was all. "Come on."

They were halfway up the stairs when Jay stopped, knuckles white on the banister, breathing loud and frantic. The truth dawned like a wave breaking. Nick could have kicked himself for not realizing earlier— Jay was not fine. Nick had seen the façade and taken it for truth, even had the bad manners to be offended when Jay inquired after Daisy.

"Lean on me," Nick said. Jay fell into him, his whole body a bright, burning beacon. "I'm sorry," said Nick, "I'm really not very good at this sort of thing." When he was sick, he preferred to burrow under his covers and hide until the worst blew over, picking up the pieces after the fact. But Jay didn't deserve that. Jay deserved a pitcher of ice water on the nightstand, dry toast in the mornings, cool rags on his forehead, all the comforts one might require to weather a nasty illness. And Nick intended to provide.

"Don't worry, old sport," Jay said. "I'm…" He paused for a moment, hot breath tickling Nick's chest through the fabric of his shirt. "I'm glad it's you."

Nick's reply went unnoticed, but he held it in his mouth like a lozenge as he tucked Jay into bed, undressing him with gentle fingers and pulling back the covers. Jay's words echoed in his mind, sweeter than siren song.

'I'm glad it's you,' Jay had said.

'I am too,' Nick had not.