#soft clexa

[thebenniebabyninja]

#clexa #commander lexa #heda lexa #the 100 clexa #lexa the 100 #clarke x lexa #clexa fanart #clexa art #soft clexa #lgbtlove #the 1oo #the 100 clarke #alycia debnam icons #alyciajasmin #alycia debman carey #clexa fanfic #clexa ao3 #clexa endgame #clexa fan art #digital art #art #love #clextober22 #31daysofhalloween

[lexii-con]

#alycia debnam-carey #alycia debnam carey #Alycia Debnam-Carey gifs #Alycia Debnam Carey gifs #adc #adc gifs #saint x #saint x gifs #saint x on hulu #saint x on hulu gifs #i totally pretended this was soft lexa from a clexa fan fic ngl

[wanhedas-dagger]

future Tarnished but so grand drabble

A lazy Saturday morning drabble for @lexa-griffins for her birthday and also as an advance apology for all the angst that is to come in the near future.

No, Lexa still wasn’t quite used to the sight she woke up to yet. They had been living together for nearly five years now, engaged for a good two, so she was no stranger to waking up next to Clarke, she had been doing it almost every morning for the past one thousand eight hundred and fifty six days. But Lexa still wasn’t used to it.

It was the constant feeling of peace and contentment, it was the soft love, it was the safety and comfort that Lexa hadn’t known her entire life that she felt every morning now when she opened her eyes. It was rolling over on her side and watching the woman she loved sleep just a little longer, it was knowing she didn’t have to rush out of bed and get things ready or there would be consequences, it was knowing when her partner woke up, she would be met with a smile and a soft good morning.

She used to hate the weekends, used to hate Saturdays in particular because she was forced to spend the entire time within the confines of her house with Michael. Now, Lexa looked forward to it. Saturdays were easily her favorite, she got to spend it at home with Clarke, got to the spend the entire day together lounging in the living room with her head on Clarke’s lap catching up on all the TV show episodes they had missed over the week, or spend hours in bed clothed in nothing but the soft ray of sunshine that had sneaked its way in through the curtains.

“Morning,” Clarke said groggily as her eyes opened, “How long have you been watching me sleep?” She teasingly accusingly, voice low and deep, heavy with sleep.

“Oh not long,” Lexa matched her tone, “Just a couple of hours.” She could barely keep it together till the end of the sentence, a small giggle escaping despite Lexa’s efforts.

“It’s Saturday.” Clarke stated. “And it’s still in the AM,” She added after a quick glance at the clock on her nightstand which read 9:17 am. “So why are we awake, angel?”

Lexa shrugged with one shoulder, “I’m not tired?”

Something flashed in Clarke’s eyes at the statement, a playful sparkle as her lips curled into a matching smirk. “Then maybe…” She started calmly, hand coming up to Lexa’s arm and letting her fingers trace up alone the length of it. “I should tire you out?” She did her best to hide the excitement in her voice, putting on a not-at-all convincing act that this was just for Lexa and not herself. “So we can get a little more sleep?”

Lexa was never one to turn down an offer like that. And it wasn’t long before the two of them found themselves entirely too close to each other with Clarke’s fingers inside Lexa and Lexa’s mouth on Clarke’s chest. It was slow and lazy, quiet moans muffled by kisses, whispered I love yous, and breathless sighs. Clarke’s fingers knowing how best to drive Lexa crazy, Lexa knowing all too well the ways to touch Clarke that would was sure to make her cum by heightening the pleasure she got from fucking Lexa.

It was at least a handful of organs later that the two of them finally came apart on their prospective sides of the bed. Chest heaving and a sheen of sweat covering their skin as they caught their breath. Lexa didn’t wait before closing the distance between them, her face finding the crook of Clarke’s neck and Clarke’s arm immediately going up around her waist.

“Tired?” Clarke asked knowingly.

Lexa’s eyes were already closed. “Enough to go back to sleep for an hour or two, yeah.”

#I think the moodboard is the best part about this #I wrote this in like an hour and a bit #it is a drabble in every sense of the word #can be read as a stand alone too if you haven’t/don’t wanna read tarnished #it’s just a short soft piece #they’re soft and there’s some soft bedroom activities #lexa-griffins #f tarnished but so grand #Clexa #t100 #Clexa fic #Drabble #personal

[reallygroovyninja]

Blurred Lines Part 2

The early morning light filtered through the blinds of Lexa high-rise apartment, casting sleek lines of shadow and light across the room. She lay in bed for a moment, her eyes open, gazing at the ceiling, her mind already racing through the day's agenda. The life of a corporate VP was a relentless cycle of decisions and responsibilities. 

With a disciplined sigh, Lexa slid out of bed, her feet touching the cool, polished floor. Her apartment was a reflection of her professional success – modern, minimalist, and impeccably organized. The walls adorned with tasteful art, the furniture angular and stylish, each piece carefully chosen to project a sense of sophisticated efficiency. 

In the kitchen, her high-end coffee machine hummed quietly, producing the perfect cup of coffee with the press of a button. Lexa filled a sleek, designer travel mug, her movements brisk and purposeful. She appreciated these small luxuries, brief moments of personal indulgence in her otherwise structured life. 

Pausing for a moment, she glanced at a photograph on the kitchen counter – a serene landscape, a contrast to her urban existence. It was a silent nod to her hidden longing for the tranquility of nature amidst her bustling city life. 

Dressing for the day, Lexa chose her attire with careful consideration. She selected a sharply tailored suit, its fabric rich and commanding, paired with a crisp, white blouse. The suit was a statement of her status and authority, a necessary armor in the corporate world. Her shoes were elegant yet practical, high heels that clicked authoritatively on her apartment's hardwood floors. 

Before leaving, Lexa stood before the full-length mirror in her hallway. She adjusted her jacket, smoothed her hair, her expression a blend of confidence and introspection. The reflection staring back at her was that of a powerful businesswoman, poised and ready to conquer the challenges of the day. 

As she was about to turn away, a soft presence emerged behind her. Clarke, with her gentle demeanor and understanding eyes, appeared like a comforting echo in the mirror.  

Clarke’s arms slipped around Lexa’s waist, a warm and reassuring embrace that contrasted with the cool precision of Lexa’s corporate armor. Lexa’s initial posture of rigid control visibly softened under Clarke’s touch. Her eyes closed momentarily, allowing herself a rare moment of vulnerability, a silent acceptance of the comfort offered. 

In the mirror, the contrast between them was striking yet harmonious. Clarke, in her more casual attire, her blonde hair falling softly around her shoulders, radiated a sense of freedom and emotional openness. Lexa, in her business suit, the epitome of corporate success, yet in this moment, her façade was gently stripped away by Clarke’s affectionate gesture. 

Clarke’s hands moved slowly, caressing Lexa’s torso, a soothing motion that spoke volumes. It was a silent communication of support, understanding, and deep connection. The tension in Lexa’s shoulders eased, her expression softening as she leaned back slightly into Clarke’s embrace. It was a rare moment of stillness in Lexa’s usually hectic life, a peaceful interlude in the reflective glass of the mirror. 

The world outside continued its relentless pace, but in the sanctuary of her apartment, time seemed to pause. In Clarke's hold, Lexa found a moment of tranquility, a gentle reminder of the life and love existing beyond her professional realm. Her eyes met Clarke’s in the mirror, a shared glance that needed no words, rich with meaning and mutual respect. 

Suddenly, the ring of her phone pierced the silence of the room, jolting Lexa back to reality. The sound was a sharp reminder of the world she actually inhabited, one of schedules and responsibilities, far removed from the gentle fantasy she had momentarily indulged in. 

Lexa blinked, her eyes refocusing on her own image in the mirror. The corporate VP, the woman of control and authority, stared back at her. The softness that had momentarily graced her features faded, replaced by a familiar mask of composed determination. 

With a deep, steadying breath, Lexa mentally chastised herself. "Get a grip, Lexa," she muttered under her breath, her voice a low whisper. 

She straightened her jacket, a physical act to realign her thoughts, her posture regaining its usual firmness. The reflection in the mirror now showed the Lexa Woods the world knew – confident, unyielding, a pillar of strength in the high-stakes corporate arena. 

With one last glance at her reflection, a final affirmation of her resolve, Lexa turned away from the mirror. As she stepped out of her apartment, her mind firmly anchored in the present, the fantasy of Clarke's embrace lingered like a whispered promise, a secret yearning safely tucked away for another day. 

#to finish out the wip posts is blurred lines part 2 #this part has becoming a monster #i'm at 12k words and only progressed the story a few weeks maybe #when this gets released i do hope you enjoy it #its definitely soft clexa being soft clexa #clexaweek

[lexa-griffins]

#29 for light au

Clexa | Light AU | Canon Pregnant Lexa | 965 words | Prompt #29: Hello My Love

Sleep has always been hostile towards Lexa; nightmarish visions and premonitions, warnings and lessons. Rarely does her mind fully rest of the tiredness of daily life, allowed a nothingness through out the night. Interruptions from outside of her own head would come as often as the ones from within, screaming echoing through the tower as yet another battle breaks out somewhere days away by horse ride, a rebel group forming demanding more change than Lexa could hope to accomplish during her lifetime. 

She is used to it all by now, just another part of life she has come to accept, as natural to her as the soft calm breathing that has become like a sweet lullaby to her hears for the past half of a decade. 

Clarke has nightmares too, Lexa knows it so well. Even with forgiveness granted, Lexa blames herself for a great deal of those as she listens to Clarke repeat words she begged at the entrance of the mountain, negotiate again and again with someone Lexa cannot see before a tear slides down her face and Clarke awakens screaming and trashing, Lexa knowing better now than to launch into an attempt at calming her wife down immediately, as she will be confused by one the demons she is trying to fight off. 

But tonight is calm. 

Clarke’s breathing is regulated, the lightness of her snores a tell tale sign she is deep in her sleep, the odd word that leaves her pink lips nonsense about a crib and too many edged points, what Lexa can deduce comes from her never ending battle with beautifully adorned crib commissioned to the best woodworker in Polis that still seems to not rise to the challenge of making it to Clarke’s impossible child proofing standards. 

And while no vision sent by the commanders haunts Lexa tonight, sleep still evades her with persistence. Perhaps it is the hotness of the summer night, hellish on her skin, or perhaps it was the lamb that was served for dinner, so tender and packed with flavor that Lexa ate perhaps enough to satisfy a grown warrior ready for war under the amused eye of her wife, who slide her half of her share with a mocking smile Lexa did not appreciate but opted not to comment on, too busy enjoying the tenderness of the meat.

She rises finally, knowing she will not manage to sleep at all if she simply stays in bed awaiting its arrival, She is sure to make little noise, Clarke’s heavy sleep never betraying the hostile first few years she spent on earth and Lexa would much prefer if at least one of them had a good night’s rest. She stands with difficulty, her growing stomach not as easy to navigate around as she would like, although she finds years of training and daily exercise have given her a grace in her movements her midwife assures her is rare in mothers as far along as she is. With the help of her nightstand and a hand on her back, Lexa manages to find balance on her feet, walking towards the open window, hoping to find some relief in the fresh air that so wonderfully blows this high up in the tower. 

Just as a blow of air enters through the windows, making the light curtains and her own nightgown flow with it, Lexa feels the small bundle inside of her belly move. She smiles at the feeling, still so wonderfully refreshing every time it happens.

“Hello.” Lexa whispers to her stomach, soothing the swell of it. 

Talking aloud to someone who is not yet here has become more natural to her now. Clarke never hesitated to do it, speaking to Lexa’s stomach as if their child is a full developed human of body and spirit from the moment they found out she resided there. Lexa found it harder to be vocal about it, so used to speaking to the voices she shares a mind with quietly in her meditation instead of out loud to the baby that grows within her. But she finds comfort in it now. 

She exists, she is real. No longer a product of her imagination nor an untouchable reality. 

She kicks and she demands attention, soon growing too big for the confinements of Lexa’s bump. Strong willed and persistent Lexa imagines her. ‘Just a little baby growing healthy and strong as it should’, Clarke tells her. Lexa will roll her eyes but sink further into Clarke’s touch on her stomach.

A sting of pain to her left side goes as quickly as it arrived, and although Lexa winces at it, a smiles quickly creeps on her lips, knowing the baby is now fully awake, remaining her once more that any wherever Lexa walks these days, she never walks alone, “Hello, my little love.” 

The warmth of two hands wrapping around her waist make her tense up for a split second, the smell of honey and faint charcoal almost immediately making her relax. Elaina moves as the hands cradle Lexa’s stomach at it’s base, holding both mother and child, a gentle kiss placed on Lexa’s bare shoulder by the same pink pretty lips that minutes ago whispered nonsensical demands.

“Hello you two.” Raspy with sleep, Clarke’s voice sounds as much like honey as she smells like it.

Without hesitation, Lexa lets herself be held, sinking into Clarke’s arms with a sigh. The cool air blow again, moving Clarke’s blonde hair away from her red cheek, cooling down the slightly damp warm skin. 

Lexa turns slightly to place her lips on it, Elaina choosing the same moment to gentle tap her little hand where Clarke has hers. Against Clarke’s skin, Lexa chuckles at the baby’s gentle greeting of her mommy, “Heya ai hodnes”

#letter opened #au: light #pregnant lexa #clexa #my writing #this is absolute word vomit this came out all in one go #:D #some softness for friday!

[owl127]

Prompt: Canonverse, Clexa talking about what it was like living in the sky. Clarke talking about her time in solitary and before that. Then came the inevitable topic of what Earth looked like/what does it look like living on the ark. Clarke tries to explain the beauty but also the loneliness of the view of Earth and stars, which is quite unfathomable to Lexa. So Clarke paints one to show her.

I haven't seen a fic where Clarke paints the Earth. I think there should be one.

It was not yet morning when Lexa awoke. She stretched, an unguarded sound scratching her throat as she blinked, hands threading over cold fur. She rubbed sleep from her eyes, a yawn pushing her jaw as she wrapped gray fur around her naked body. She padded over the cold stone of Polis Tower, her movements careful and silent, like the wolf whose pelt now covered her shoulders.

Clarke's shoulders moved with the gliding of a pencil on paper—back and forth, back and forth. Darkness spilled from Clarke’s hands, touching every corner of the drawing. The scratching sound of charcoal slowly fading away on crude paper stopped as Lexa approached her lover from behind on her tiptoes to peek beyond a blonde mane of bed hair. Through the darkness, pinpoints of light broke into view under Clarke’s smudged finger, surrounding a detailed circle off-center.

Like Clarke, it was beautiful. A mesh of black and white, asymmetrical shapes like separated pieces of a puzzle.

"What troubles your mind, ai hodnes?"

Clarke froze and splayed her hand on her chest, her fingers leaving dark stains on her chemise. "You scared me," she whispered, her eyes round with surprise.

"Moba. I’m sorry." Lexa pointed at Clarke’s fur-lined chair with her chin, and Clarke nodded, scooting to the side so two people could fit; Lexa didn’t bother, half of her weight landing on Clarke’s lap, who breathed an oof. Lexa squinted her eyes, and Clake tightened her lips. Clarke made to put her drawing on the side, but Lexa reached for her hand.

"What is it?"

"It’s Earth. Graun."

Lexa looked at Clarke and at the drawing, and they both shook with Clarke’s chuckle. "As if seen from space," she completed, and Lexa raised an eyebrow. "I loved to watch it."

Lexa leaned closer, resting her head on Clarke’s shoulder. Clarke spread the fur over her legs and welcomed Lexa to snuggle into her chest. Lexa sighed, content, and waited. Clarke kissed the top of her head and nudged her nose into soft curls.

"There was not much to do when I was in the sky box. Prison," she amended, and Lexa tightened her hold on Clarke’s waist. She knew of the way Arkadians treated their young in the sky—the prison, the deaths. It amused her that some sky people accused grounders of being ruthless when they also killed their offspring without a thought.

"But I had this tiny, tiny window that most of the time would show more of the station, but every 72 hours, when it rotated just right and Farm Station wouldn’t be on the way, I could see it. I could see Earth." There was a pure, raw joy in Clarke’s voice, warming Lexa’s chest. She could hear Clarke’s heart beating against her face, steady and sure. She closed her eyes.

"I loved to watch it before… before they locked me away. Dad used to talk about it—the trees, rivers, and mountains. I wish he could have seen it." The heart under Lexa’s careful watch sped up in grief, and she kissed one exposed collarbone. "When we landed... I don’t know if you ever had a dream come true, Lexa, but that was how it felt. Seeing Earth, with all its green and life, was a dream coming true." Lexa’s kiss lingered on freckled skin, her way of saying that yes, she knew how that felt. A blush blazed across Clarke’s cheeks, pink and spreading.

"How was it? The sky?" Lexa whispered, hoping to bring joy back into Clarke’s voice.

"There was a rule for absolutely everything. You could achieve much, but never freedom."

"Not very different from the life of the natiblida."

Clarke’s kiss on Lexa’s head lingered. "No. The way I remained sane was to think about the earth and to watch it from the sky." She motioned to the drawing, and Lexa touched the corner of the paper with a curious finger.

"But you couldn’t see anything from there."

"That was what made it more beautiful. The mystery, the stars"—Clarke points to the faded points in the darkness of space—"the freedom I had was in imagining Earth."

"Do you miss it?"

"No." Her mouth feathered Lexa’s neck, and the tip of her nose met where the fur covered Lexa’s chest. "It was beautiful but lonely. I’d rather die down here than admire Earth from afar ever again." Lexa shrugged the fur away, her head falling back so Clarke could explore the warm skin. The crinkling of paper joined Lexa’s sighs in the quiet room, Clarke’s fingers closing on both her drawing and Lexa’s thigh. "A dream coming true," Clarke whispers into a blushing ear.

"Klark."

"Heda." The word caressed Lexa’s neck, hot and wet. "I regret many things since leaving that prison, but this," she said, her tongue following the lines of Lexa’s neck with the same care she used to create the lines of her art, "is something I don’t regret."

Lexa accepted the kiss with an eager mouth, opening herself to Clarke. "You." The air between their faces was heavy and humid, and Lexa shifted on Clarke’s lap. "You were my dream coming true. I may not understand the loneliness of prison, but I understand the isolation of leadership, Klark."

"From all the marvels I’ve seen on Earth, you’re the one that keeps surprising me."

Lexa ignored the heating of her face and chest, instead straddling Clarke’s waist. The pelt slid down her skin, revealing the soft marks Clarke had left the night before. A small smile touched Clarke’s lips at the sight, and her fingers, smudged and calloused, traced the path she had craved on olive skin.

"I’m not alone when I’m with you," Lexa confessed, her lips searching for another kiss.

"And you’ll never be alone again," Clarke promised.

The first rays of the sun touched the open curtains, along with the singing morning birds.

#ask the owl #drabble #prompt #clexa #clexa fanfic #the 100 #soft #some kissing because why not #let lexa kiss her wife while naked #\o/

[sharkbaitblr]

Talking about Avatrice again because I haven't felt that way about a wlw kiss since Clexa's first kiss in that tent with Clarke's "Maybe life should be about more than just surviving, don't we deserve better than that?" and Lexa's "Maybe we do"

Like, the Avatrice kiss was SO soft and full of innocent yearning. Ava kissing Beatrice so softly, and Beatrice needing a full second to process and then leaning into the kiss with that same softness.

#Like????? I'm literally dead??? #I'm on the floor CRYING #Warrior Nun #Warrior Nun spoilers #Avatrice #Help I miss Clexa SO much #Someone SEDATE ME #warrior nun season 2 #MY HYMN FOR HER #AHHHHHHHHHHHHH #wlw #Clexa #They're so soft

[simplyavatrice]

can we talk about something else?

#clexa #clexaedit #lexa #lexaedit #the100edit #she's so soft here #like this is who she is at her core and i love this part of her #this is the lexa i wrote about #buried inside of all the armor and paint and warrior #love her #myedits

[kpforpresident]

20…on a scar

Whisper-soft fingers drifted across her back carefully, lovingly mapping out the swirls and lines of her tattoos. Lexa could picture her own back in her mind’s eyes, the dark and detailed spheres and curling lines that hugged her spine and danced along her defined back muscles. Tributes to her friends that she had loved and lost. The children that had grown up with her but were frozen in time in her memory, forever ten and fourteen and thirteen and so many other ages forever.

The same curious hand teasingly dragged across her spine, fingertips skimming over an exposed shoulder blade, followed by an extremely soft pair of lips, stamping a quiet kiss on the protruding curve. Goosebumps erupted in their wake and Lexa shivered automatically, a warm pulse  running through her chest and gathering at the cradle of her hips. She tried to shift backwards, to sneakily re-gain the upper hand over the beautiful blonde that lay a few inches away, but a gentle hand stopped her. 

“No, let me. Please?” Clarke’s smoky voice requested shyly, slightly more hoarse from the past two hours they had spent, hidden away from the world  in Lexa’s chambers. The Commander thinks ruefully of the pile of requests that awaits her in the throne room, the planning she should be doing for the upcoming harvesting season, but that all quickly drifts away as warm fingers curl gently into the divot of her hip bone, smoothing the skin there with a patient finger. Lexa softens into Clarke’s arms, closing her eyes patiently as she once again faces away from her lover. 

The exploring lips search higher, a soft nose nudging away the curls that sprung at the base of Lexa’s neck. A teasing bite is placed at the spot where her shoulder and neck joins, soothed with another gentle press of lips.  Lexa sighs into the tough, still unaccustomed after all this time to the reverence that Clarke touches her with. She soaks in the soft minute, the gentle orange flickering of candles playing in the soft dusk of the room. A playful breeze sweeps through the room, the curtains dancing in her peripheral vision. 

The questing touch stops at the nape of her neck, however, at the scar that is hidden by the most precious of tattoos. Lexa stiffens slightly as Clarke sweeps a probing fingertip across it, feeling rather than seeing the scar tissue that peeks out from under the dark ink. A pause sits in the air as the pointer finger makes the same trip from the top to the bottom of the tattoo for a second time. Then, Clarke softly stamps another kiss on the site. 

“Why did you cover this scar, Lex?” comes the innocent question from over her shoulder as Clarke inches closer, tucking her chin into the curve of Lexa’s neck as she molds herself to Heda’s body. 

Lexa twists herself slightly to meet Clarke’s eyes, shadowed as the last light of day creeps out of the large room, but still radiantly beautiful. Tousled golden hair spills over her shoulder as she gazes at Lexa, her eyes soft as she smiles gently down at her. Lexa leans forward, gently pressing Clarke’s forehead to her own as she smooths the wild locks away from Clarke’s face. Clarke leans into the touch, her eyes fluttering closed with the motion. 

“That is a much longer story than there is time for tonight,” Lexa says softly, trying to take any sting out of her tone. “But ask me again, tomorrow.” 

It’s time to tell her. 

Clarke’s eyes brighten, recognizing that it is not a no but a not now.

“That’s fine,” she purrs, readjusting herself so that she is leaning over Lexa. Lexa’s eyes widen to the size of dinner plates as she automatically grasps Clarke’s hips to steady her, the sheet falling away from her upper half. 

“I can think of much better things to do than talking.”

#thanks for the ask buddy #somehow still planted firmly in canon for this one #i see it as sometime in the can you feel my heart world? #anyway i just love soft clexa #kiss prompt #kpprompts

[puthyflapps]

speak your truth! horny & frustrated lexa is HOT 🥵 like cmon her giving these handmaidens THEE night of their lives while my girl is just desperate to feel something other than this longing and desire for clarke…the absolute excellence🤌🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

Y’all are seeing the vision now!! 👁️🫦👁️ Lexa absolutely fucking the handmaidens through the mattress and then sending them on their way bc while she desperately needs the release, she can’t stand to lie there afterwards with such a blatant reminder of the fact that the women in her bed aren’t Clarke 😔💔🥵

#Clarke and Lexa get closer and closer spending more and more time with one another which only makes things worse for Lexa #it doesn’t help that Anya is seeing that other skaikru girl now and their relationship is so easy #ask #I do think when clexa finally hook up it would be all soft and slow and romantic which Clarke probably wasn’t expecting based off what she’s #heard about Lexa’s time with the handmaidens #clexa #clarke griffin #commander lexa #we love a big 🗡️

[thebenniebabyninja]

Working on a little something. Something after being bit by the clexa inspiration bug again 😌

#clexa #commander lexa #soft clexa #clexa comic #heda lexa #lexa the 100 #the 100 clexa #clarke x lexa #clexa fanart #clexa art

[femininenachos]

Do vacation clexa keep wells up all night when they go at it all night

Previously: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

The taxi ride is a test of restraint. 

It’s only a ten minute journey, but it’s ten minutes of Lexa sitting right there, looking like that. Lips made even poutier from kissing. Hair finger-tousled and swept to one side, and Clarke can’t wait to tangle her hands in it again, itching to touch. 

Even cast half in shadow, Lexa’s profile is downright rude, the cut of her jawline sharp enough to slice someone’s thighs. And when she turns dark, dark eyes on Clarke, that burning look scorches right through her. 

At this point her underwear is a lost cause. She’s in serious danger of leaving a damp patch on the back seat, more than a little paranoid that the scent of her arousal is wafting through to the front where the driver is absently tapping the steering wheel in time with the song on the radio. (Hips Don’t Lie—and in Clarke’s professional opinion, Ms Shakira is correct. Because Clarke can’t stop shifting hers incessantly, unable to ignore the wetness pooling between her thighs, clamped as tightly as they are together.)

She winds down the window, hoping a breeze will help, but the dense, warm air that rushes in does nothing to cool her body. Neither does the covert stroke of Lexa’s little finger along Clarke’s own where their hands lay flat on the seat between them, or the faint smirk that’s tucked into the corner of Lexa’s mouth.

Blessedly, there are no signs of life in the villa once they pull up. The place is dark and silent when Clarke unlocks the door and leads Lexa inside; Wells, nowhere to be seen. Clarke prays he’s fast asleep in his room with noise canceling headphones on, because she has a feeling things are going to get… vocal. 

She toes off her shoes, grateful for the cool marble floor tiles beneath her bare soles.

“I’d give you the tour, but uh…”

A gentle tug on her wrist draws her around, and whatever glib thing Clarke was going to say dies in her throat. Mind gone blank, because Lexa is all up in her space and a mouth that was surely designed for sin is less than an inch away, so close Clarke feels the soft fan of breath on her face.

She only gets a second to admire the tiny freckle that adorns Lexa’s top lip before Lexa tilts in. Slides a hand along Clarke’s jaw and into her hair. Kisses her slow and searching in a way that makes her tremble from head to toe, a gradual build of passion that floods her body with waves of tingling warmth. 

While she could easily indulge in this for hours, she also craves so much more, and now is not the time for subtlety. 

Taking the initiative, Clarke guides Lexa’s free hand to her inner thigh and presses meaningfully, hoping Lexa will take the hint.

And, thank God, she does.

Long fingers trail up and up. 

When they brush against drenched cotton, Lexa’s sharp inhale sends a hot flare up through Clarke’s belly and she feels herself drip some more. 

Lexa breathes out, a half-formed whisper in the shape of Clarke’s name on her lips. She pulls away slightly to look at Clarke, hooded eyes scanning her face before they drop to her mouth.

“Can I touch you?” Lexa asks, her accent grown thicker, coated with desire.

Clarke’s only answer is to take hold of Lexa’s nape and drag her mouth back to hers. She runs her tongue along Lexa’s lower lip then licks inside, a groan catching in the back of Clarke’s throat when a thumb traces her through her underwear, rolling over her clit.

For a second, she thinks she might come from that alone. Feels it rushing up on her fast. All it would take is a little more sustained pressure. A few firm, circular strokes. But Lexa shifts away, cupping Clarke instead, and she groans again—this time in frustration.

She feels the slow stretch of Lexa’s grin as they kiss.

It‘s a provocation—and Clarke never backs down from a challenge. 

Ensnaring Lexa’s bottom lip, Clarke scrapes her teeth over the plump fullness of it. She relishes the hitch of Lexa’s breath, how Lexa’s fingers flex against the flimsy scrap of fabric that separates them. 

“Go ahead. Touch me. Put your hand inside my panties,” Clarke whispers, even as her face grows hotter and some small part of her squirms at the brazen words coming out of her own mouth. But she quiets that voice. Draws on her inner sex vixen. “Feel how wet I am for you.”

She punctuates it with a roll of her hips. 

A slight tremor goes through Lexa.

She kisses harder, rougher, the heel of her hand rubbing in to meet an urgent grind and before Clarke is prepared for it, she’s already shaking apart, releasing a choked whine into Lexa’s open mouth.

Her wrist slows to a stop. 

She draws back half an inch, eyebrows raised.

“Guess I couldn’t wait,” Clarke says with a small, breathless chuckle. Her cheeks burn.

Lexa just makes a sound, words apparently failing her, but Clarke understands, because she feels that same brain-melting lust too. It isn’t just Lexa’s good looks that are such a turn on (though she is beautiful—even more so with her mouth swollen and wet). She has this understated presence, an aura that surrounds her. Innate magnetism that draws you in. Clarke noticed it at the bar, the way Lexa’s friends seemed to be caught in her orbit. It’s the confidence she projects, too. Or did. Clarke is pleased to see Lexa lose a little of that cool now, eyes wide and jaw hanging slack.

But she swiftly recovers, luring Clarke back in for a kiss by the grip on her neck. 

Just before their lips reconnect, Lexa pauses. 

She looks over Clarke’s shoulder, a speculative gleam in her eyes.

“You have a jacuzzi?”

~*~

They’re incapable of keeping their lips to themselves while they wait for the hot tub to fill. Clarke’s stomach won’t stop fluttering. Every nerve in her body is tingling, charged by the heat and pressure of Lexa’s mouth moving hungrily against her own. Lit up inside by the way Lexa’s hand is curved around her jaw, the other gripping her waist to keep her close, how Lexa sighs and fucking pouts every time Clarke starts to pull away. And how can she possibly resist that? She’s powerless not to give in.

It’s only once the tub is almost overflowing that Clarke suddenly finds the presence of mind to separate, hurrying across the courtyard to shut off the water supply and turn on the bubble jets. She injects a little more seductive appeal in the sway of her hips on her return.

“Would you like a drink? The fridge is pretty well stocked. We’ve got beer, wine, all kinds of mixers if you’d like something stronger.”

Lexa shakes her head. “I don’t want to have…” she pauses, clearly searching for a phrase in translation, “brain fog? Ah, fuzzy memories.”

Clarke drifts closer, curbing a smile.

“I don’t want to be hazy on the details either.”

She doesn’t want to forget a single thing about this night, not when it’s going to figure prominently in her fantasies for the rest of the year.

(The rest of your damn life. Be real, girl.)

Lexa’s eyes raking up and down her body with intent is already locked into her memory.

Once she’s within arm's reach, Lexa snags Clarke by the waist again and draws her near. Their hips bump gently and Clarke leans in to taste the slight smirk that sits on Lexa’s lips, just because she can.

Things intesifiy quickly, and before long their hands start to wander, Clarke feeling her way to the hem of Lexa’s t-shirt. She pulls it up and off, both smiling when it gets caught in Lexa’s hair, only for Clarke to suck in a quiet breath as soon as she registers Lexa isn’t wearing a bra. Her eyes drift, taking in the expanse of Lexa’s sun-bronzed skin, tits the exact same golden shade as the rest of her, and Clarke absently licks her lips, wanting nothing more than to have those perfect pink nipples in her mouth.

She also gets her first full look at the tattoo that spans most of Lexa’s upper arm. 

Fascinated, Clarke lets her fingers trace the swirls and lines of black ink, three symmetrical bands stacked on top of one another. The design reminds her of the intricate carvings at the top of the crumbling stone columns that she saw dozens of pictures of online when she was researching accommodation options, remnants of the ruined temple that occupies the highest point of the island, only a couple hours’ hike from here, according to the Airbnb listing.

“This is beautiful. What does it mean?”

Lexa peers down at her arm. “It represents each generation of my family in Polis. My great-grandfather was born in a small village called Trikru on the mainland. He was only nineteen when he left his home, everyone he knew, and came here to make a better life.”

She lifts her chin as she speaks, a note of pride in her voice. “He built the taverna from nothing nearly a century ago, and it’s still standing today, passed down through our family.”

“The legacy continues. That’s wonderful.”

“Mm. Now my half-sister manages the place.”

“Not your parents?”

“They’re retired, but they still help out during the busy summer months.” She purses her lips. “Sometimes I think the power goes to Anya’s head. She enjoys bossing me around too much.”

Clarke smiles to herself. “I’m going to take a wild guess that she’s the older sibling?”

“By seven years. She says she’s preparing me to take over eventually.” Lexa sighs. A slight frown appears on her brow as her jaw shifts. “Duty and tradition is everything to her, but I have dreams of my own.”

Clarke runs her fingertips lightly over the patterns on Lexa’s skin, feeling goosebumps rise to the surface. “What do you want to do instead?”

A shrug. “Travel. See the world. Experience other cultures and far-away places.” She looks at Clarke, rolling her eyes a little. “I know, it’s a cliché.”

“Well… if you ever find yourself in Washington DC, look me up. I’d show you around the city.” 

It’s half tongue in cheek, but the way Lexa studies her for a beat, so solemn yet clearly unconvinced, Clarke finds herself saying, “I’m serious. You should visit. My work schedule is crazy but if I can wangle some time off, I’d be happy to play tour guide. Plus, I have a guest room.”

Another of those minimal smiles touches Lexa’s lips, her mouth just barely pulling to the side. “We wouldn’t be sleeping together?”

Suddenly coy, Clarke lowers her gaze. Eyes on Lexa’s ink once more as she feels herself flush again. “I mean...” She catches her bottom lip between her teeth and looks up through her lashes. “I could be persuaded to share my bed.”

“Yes?”

She nods. Whispers, “yeah” before the distance between them vanishes and they’re back to kissing. Hands gripping, running up and down, moving restlessly over dips and curves, and Clarke can’t control her shivers, a current buzzing through her, a million tiny sparks going off under her skin. 

Lexa palms at her breasts and the chafe of satin bra cups against Clarke’s nipples is enough for a moan to slip out between the seal of their mouths. 

A minute later she’s gasping hotly, “take off my dress” before recapturing Lexa’s lips, driven by the overwhelming need to feel skin on skin at last.

Nodding once, never ceasing contact, Lexa peels the straps from Clarke’s shoulders. She locates the zip at the back and drags it down smoothly. Tugs, and Clarke feels the dress slip from her body to puddle at her feet. The bra is next to go, unhooked with consummate ease. Warm hands move over her hips and waist, gliding up her ribs to take hold of her tits again. This time it’s Lexa who makes a sound, a low, throaty groan that only adds to the flood in Clarke’s underwear. 

They tip their foreheads together, breathing heavily as they watch one another, eyelids at half mast. Without a word, Clarke reaches for the button at the waistband of Lexa’s cut-offs, but the thumbs slowly circling her nipples make her far less dexterous than she should for all her surgical training. Finally, she pops the button and gets the fly open. It’s a joint effort to wiggle the tight denim down Lexa’s hips, taking her underwear along with the shorts, all smiles when she kicks them off to the side.

Clarke only gets a brief glimpse down Lexa’s body before she’s drawn back in by the cheeks for a greedy, open-mouthed kiss. As if she wasn’t already painfully aroused by everything else, the subtle definition of abs, the flare of wide hips, and the uninterrupted view of those legs pours further fuel onto the fire. Like an unstoppable force, Clarke pursues Lexa’s mouth relentlessly, recklessly, the forward momentum driving them across the courtyard until Lexa’s back meets the nearest vertical surface.

Unfortunately, it happens to be a vine-covered trellis and Lexa lets out a muffled yelp, wincing when something jags her bare skin. 

Twin puffs of air hit their cheeks, expelled through their nostrils, before they each dissolve into quiet chuckles, the absurdity not lost on either of them.

“Sorry,” Clarke says through a slight grimace, running a soothing hand down Lexa’s spine.

“Don’t be.”

Lexa is smiling, but Clarke still dies a little inside, already imagining Octavia’s reaction when she hears about this during their inevitable overanalysis of the entire evening at brunch. 

She takes a deep breath. “So…” Followed by a short laugh. “Where were we?”

Lexa inclines her head towards the hot tub, teeth dug into her lower lip.

And just like that, the awkwardness is forgotten.

Not taking her eyes off Lexa’s, Clarke needs no further instruction, pushing her panties all the way down and stepping out of them. Her heart is racing, but she holds still under Lexa’s appraisal, a flash of heat surging over her when that dark gaze settles low for a stretch of seconds and Lexa swallows, lips parting soundlessly on an exhale. 

And while she stands there on display without a stitch on, Clarke is really fucking glad she went ahead with that appointment to tame her bikini line, however painful it was getting waxed within an inch of her life. 

The ordeal was worth it for the spell she seems to have cast over Lexa. 

Not that Clarke isn’t equally entranced, legs and hips and breasts and that gorgeous face all competing for her attention.

She moves on instinct, curling a hand around Lexa’s neck and slanting their mouths together again. Barefoot, they’re of a similar height, and there’s something so exhilarating about the way their lips and bodies meld. Clarke can’t contain a string of tiny halting whimpers as they trade deep kisses, hyper-aware of every point of contact, from the skim of hard nipples to the brush of their thighs to the press of Lexa’s fingers at the base of her spine, sliding lower to grab at her ass, raising another desperate groan.

God, if this is what handsy making out with Lexa does to her, Clarke doesn’t know how she’ll survive once they dispense with foreplay and get down in earnest. At this rate, she might be flying home in a casket.

It doesn’t help matters when Lexa’s mouth strays, trailing along the underside of Clarke’s jaw, sucking shallow kisses down her throat to find that sensitive spot where neck meets shoulder. Already weakened, Clarke’s knees nearly give way to feel the nip of teeth there.

Somehow, somehow she finds the willpower to slip out of Lexa’s grasp.

Worth it for the reappearance of the pout, the flash of consternation on Lexa’s face as her eyebrows dip together.

But that pretty scowl is erased by a dark look of a different kind when Clarke climbs into the hot tub. Eyes blaze over her naked form with enough heat to rival the Mediterranean sun, and it gives her such a rush.

People have wanted her before; that’s nothing new. It comes with the territory, being blonde and in reasonably good shape (considering her questionable eating habits, constant state of fatigue, and general disdain for working out). She hasn’t gone through life oblivious to the attention. Frankly, she’s sick and tired of male patients, young and old alike, salivating over her like cartoon dogs during consults, eyes practically on stalks while they stare at her chest. And it’s truly wild how often she’s been hit on by visiting relatives moments after breaking the bad news about their loved ones.

Hell, it’s become a grim bonding ritual to compare horror stories with fellow residents during breaks or on the rare occasions when she allows them to drag her out to a bar after work.

This, the way Lexa looks at her, is worlds away from what basically amounts to workplace harassment. 

Lexa’s desire is a thrilling, palpable thing, a thick charge in the air that makes it difficult to think or breathe. 

Half dizzy with lust, Clarke sinks into the water and reclines against the tub, pulse accelerating as she watches Lexa put her hair up into a loose knot. Lips subtly curling at one corner. Nothing unsure or shy about her as she advances, and Clarke wishes she could bottle some of that supreme confidence for herself, because it doesn’t always come naturally.

Lexa takes the spot opposite, lowering herself into the tub. Drapes an arm along the edge and waits.

One look, the slightest twitch of an eyebrow is invitation enough.

Clarke pounces, propelling herself through the water to swing a leg over Lexa’s lap and reclaim her mouth. Fingers dig into Clarke’s hips, pulling her closer, their bellies and breasts flush. Cradling Lexa’s jaw in both hands, Clarke pushes her tongue past Lexa’s teeth, slipping inside to flick across the roof of her mouth, revelling in the whimper it earns her, how Lexa’s grip tightens as the kiss turns greedier. Hot and wet and dirty enough for Clarke to start to grind her hips in search of friction. Already on course for a second orgasm when Lexa hasn’t even fully fingered her yet. Just the thought of this girl being knuckle deep, the reach of those long fingers, gets Clarke halfway there and she groans unabashedly. Kisses Lexa until they’re each short of breath, panting into the humid slice of air between their open mouths.

“Can I fuck you?” The hard ‘k’ hits Clarke’s lips in a hot puff and she shivers, despite the toasty temperature of the water churning all around her, steam rising off the surface.

She holds back a quip (it’s like you read my mind), sensing Lexa is serious about asking for permission by the way she searches her face so intently for any sign of hesitance, and Clarke melts a little to know that her comfort level and boundaries are at the forefront of Lexa’s mind, which is more than can be said for some of her past casual encounters.

“Yes,” Clarke says, leaving no room for doubt that they’re very much on the same page here, before she leans in to brush their lips together again. She makes a noise. Not lifting her mouth away, she adds in a heated tone, “God, I just need you inside me.”

It has the intended effect. Lexa surges into the next kiss with a ferocity that steals Clarke’s breath away and scrambles her brain. At Lexa’s silent urging and with a gentle squeeze of her hips, she’s repositioned so quickly that it’s kind of a blur how she came to be lifted up and sat on the edge of the hot tub with Lexa kneeling in the space between her legs.

“Is this okay?” Lexa asks, always checking in, and doing an impressive job of managing to keep her eyes up, showing far more restraint than Clarke would in Lexa’s place.

She has to remind herself to use words and not just shove Lexa’s perfect face into her crotch.

“More than okay.”

It’s automatic, how Clarke puts her arms out on either side to brace herself in anticipation. Held in thrall by the tilt of beestung lips as Lexa runs her palms along the tops of Clarke’s thighs and over her hips, dragging her that tiny bit closer, and Clarke doesn’t have the mental capacity to tamp down on a moan, beyond ready for this.

Green eyes dip down finally and Clarke sees that little smile falter. Lexa’s lips part, the tip of a pink tongue darting out to moisten them, and with it, the last of Clarke’s inhibitions fall away. 

She spreads her thighs wider, skin prickling all over as she feels the weight of Lexa’s stare, roaming freely now, voraciously taking in every inch on display.

When their eyes lock again, it sends a jolt through Clarke. A spike of need so sharp that her locked elbows wobble and she forgets to breathe for a second, hanging on Lexa’s every move as she leans in.

The eye contact, heavy and sustained, when she tastes Clarke for the first time, lashes flickering, a thick groan in Lexa’s throat that Clarke feels the vibrations of through her whole body—fuck, she nearly comes on the spot.

Helpless not to, she arches into it, biting down hard on her lip to stifle a moan as a warm, velvety soft tongue runs through her. 

A slow, deliberate lick around her entrance draws a whimper, Clarke shamelessly lifting her hips to ask for more only for Lexa’s hands to anchor her firmly in place. 

With Clarke at her mercy, Lexa uses the flat of her tongue, broad laps that make Clarke’s toes curl, slipping against the porcelain tub with a squeak. Lexa varies the pace and pattern, slowing down or speeding up to prevent Clarke from settling into a rhythm. Every little lick and swirl has her twisting and squirming, and a sob of frustration starts to build in her chest. 

But Lexa’s eyes are shut, lost in the bliss, a flush high on her cheeks. Mouth sliding over wet flesh, slick noises drowned out by the rumbling jacuzzi jets and the harsh, ragged breaths that Clarke expels into the night air.

She winds a hand into Lexa’s hair, nails scratching mindlessly against Lexa’s scalp as she works Clarke higher, drawing circles around her clit, the pressure in the pit of her stomach coiling tighter and tighter.

Sweat covers her skin and her calves tremble with the strain as she rocks forward, undulating against that mouth, chasing her release without a care for how desperate it might seem.

(It’s been six months without anything better than her own hand or a vibrator between her legs, so she’s willing to cut herself some slack.)

The hands curved around Clarke’s hips slide down, pushing her thighs even further apart, tearing a gasp from her. It feels like she’s being split wide open, exposed in a way that goes beyond mere nudity, but she trusts Lexa, finds safety and reassurance in the sweep of thumbs back and forth over the inside of her thighs as Lexa devours her.

She barely lasts another minute under the onslaught. Pushed so hard and fast over the edge that her jaw drops and a throaty moan flies out.

Every muscle in her body tightens, hips shooting up to hold herself against the firm press of Lexa’s tongue, suspended there for those glorious seconds of blinding pleasure that seem to stretch on and on. 

In her mind’s eye, Clarke pictures what this must look like: her neck tensed and head thrown back, giving herself over with complete abandon, and it only intensifies the feeling, the tremors working through her all the more forcefully.

And Lexa doesn’t relent.

She keeps on tonguing Clarke through the aftershocks, wringing out every last twitch and jerk until she can’t take any more, using her grip on Lexa’s wildly mussed locks to drag her mouth away, too overstimulated to endure another second or she might scream. 

Even so, Clarke shivers again once she catches sight of Lexa’s expression, the wetness shining on her lips and chin, pupils pushed to the outer edges, only a thin ring of green surrounding the void. She looks like she’s the one who just got eaten out expertly, and Clarke doesn’t know how to process that, not in her present state.

All she’s capable of doing is tugging on Lexa’s hair, urging her up, another low moan passing between them when she gets a taste of herself on Lexa’s lips, greedy for more.

They remain fused in deep, languid kisses. Just exploring each other’s mouths, keeping things at a low simmer, now and then turning up the heat to bring the sizzle back. Whenever a little more tongue is added to the mix, that molten, heavy feeling settles between Clarke’s thighs again and she attacks Lexa’s mouth with renewed vigour.

By the time they pull apart for a breather, Clarke’s lips are tingling and her backside is half numb from being perched on the edge of the tub for so long.

Still, their lips cling. A string of saliva connects them as she backs off, just far enough to murmur into the gap, “Could we take this inside? I can’t feel my ass anymore.”

Lexa’s eyes crinkle at the corners when she laughs and she gets this cute little crease above her top lip that Clarke could fixate on for days. 

As her gaze drifts around Lexa’s features, taking in the toothy smile and the sparkle in those big green eyes, Clarke’s heart thumps a little harder, a little faster, and she thinks: damn, I could really fall for you.

Without a doubt, it’s the flood of oxytocin in her system talking, but that half-formed thought causes an instant adrenaline spike, kicking up her pulse and drying out her mouth. 

She blinks and glances down, biting her tongue before she blurts out something far too recklessly vulnerable when they only just met tonight and she doesn’t even know Lexa’s last name, much less her views on long distance.

It’s safer to steer this back to sex. That’s why they’re here, after all. There’s no sense in deluding herself otherwise when she’ll be gone in two weeks and Lexa will have already moved on to the next girl that catches her eye.

So Clarke pushes all other thoughts aside and lets her palms slide down to cup Lexa’s breasts, pleased when Lexa pushes into her grasp and they both let out a small, grateful sigh.

Oh, yeah, this she can do with certainty.

“Anyway,” Clarke gives a slow knead, rewarded by Lexa’s hitch of breath. Hard nipples poke into the centre of her palms. “I’m still waiting for you to follow through on your promise to fuck me.” Her voice dips lower. “Or are you all talk, Lexa?”

They share a blistering look.

Lexa’s eyes flash, a glint that says challenge accepted.

“I’m just getting started, Clarke.” 

She isn’t sure what’s more arousing, the arch, almost arrogant tone, accompanied by the flex of one eyebrow, or the sound of her name from Lexa’s mouth, wrapped in an accent that just oozes sensuality. 

Either way, she pretends to be unaffected.

“Oh, yeah?”

With a hum and a slow, minuscule nod, Lexa tips her head to nudge into another kiss, but Clarke evades it at the last second, fighting a smirk when she spies Lexa’s little pout. 

“Well, then.” Clarke brings her lips close to Lexa’s ear. “Show me how hard you can make me come.”

#I was going to post just the first thousand words but happy sin day I guess #vacation au #my fic #asks

[wanhedas-dagger]

The dawn of our history

Clexa || werewolf au

Chapter 7

Picks up soon after the last chapter when the knot finally deflates. Much like the last knot attempt, this leaves Lexa feeling incredibly emotional again, and of course, Clarke is there to comfort her. Clarke reveals more about werewolves, Lexa is still learning what is true and what Clarke says to just mess with her. The next morning there's an unexpected visitor before our duo settle in very domestically to make breakfast.

read here

griffin family tree

#listen #they're so soft #and so cute #and hilarious #t100 #the 100 #t100 au #t100 fic #Clexa #Clexa au #Clexa fic #clarke x lexa #Clarke Griffin #Commander lexa #fic #fanfic #au #werewolf au #au werewolf Clarke #f the dawn of our history #personal

[dysco-lymonade]

#6 for kissing prompt using any clexa you want 😊

You’re now entering an unknown Clexa AU set some time during college.

Maybe it’ll develop into something? Send me your thoughts and questions.

-

The bass is pounding so hard that Clarke can see the sound waves in her cup of lukewarm beer. Her mind wanders to Jurassic Park and she wonders if she wouldn’t enjoy being hunted by a T-Rex more than being at this party.

Beside her, Finn Collins is apologizing profusely.

Again.

She knows he is speaking, but she’s not listening. She honestly doesn’t really care that he missed the opening of the art show. It wasn’t like she’d sent him an invitation. It was a small college-wide display that would be going on for weeks.

She sees a hand come in to her line of sight. When her eyes focus, she sees fingers snapping in front of her face. “Yo, Earth to Clarke.” Finn has successfully grabbed her attention, and her murderous gaze.

“Did you seriously just snap at me?” She furrows her eyebrows.

He doesn’t even flinch at her tone.

“Yeah I was seeing if I couldn’t make it up to you.” He shoots her what she’s sure is supposed to be a cute crooked smile. It really just makes her want to rearrange his face.

She sighs, trying to make it clear that she’s not interested, without having to actually say it. “Finn, look. I’m not sure what—“

He cuts her off with a hand on her forearm. “I know you’re upset, princess. But it won’t happen again. I promise.”

“What won’t?” Clarke shrugs her arm away from his touch just as his eyes wander to something behind her.

“Oh hey, Lexa. Can you give us a minute?” Finn asks.

Clarke doesn’t hear a response. Instead, she feels herself being turned around with a gentle grasp to her shoulder. It’s like she’s moving in slow-motion.

Clarke’s eyes briefly land on the determined face of one Lexa Woods before she’s suddenly too close to focus on.

Two soft palms cup Clarke’s jaw as slender fingers grasp around the back of her neck.

Then Lexa’s lips are on hers.

It’s so unexpected that Clarke hadn’t had a moment to ready herself. Lexa comes in too quickly, damn near chipping Clarke’s tooth.

Clarke can’t find it in herself to mind. Instead, she sinks in to the feeling of Lexa’s hands cradling her face.

Clarke wraps her hands around Lexa’s waist to pull her in tighter, just as she starts to feel Lexa pulling away.

Clarke can hear Finn muttering curse words under his breath as he wanders off.

“Jesus, Lex. What was that?!” Clarke all but squeaks. Now looking Lexa directly in the eyes.

Panic is the only word that could possibly describe the look on Lexa’s face.

“Shit. I just saw him over here bothering you again and I thought— I don’t know what I thought. I didn’t think.” Lexa’s rambling and Clarke can’t help but find it endearing. Leave it to Lexa to step in and save Clarke from unwanted advances. She’s just never been quite so bold about it.

“Lex.” Clarke tries to get her attention to calm her down.

“That was bad, wasn’t it?” Lexa winces.

“Absolutely terrible.” Clarke teases back with a grin. “You should do it again.”

#clexa #clexa au #this could be another fun AU but I don’t have any solid plans on making it into anything #butttttt you never know #a little Lexa saving Clarke from unwanted advances AU #the other kiss prompt

[lexa-griffins]

What if alien Clarke has x-ray vision so she can see herself fucking Lexa and how tight she fits around her?

😳😳😳

Okay but Lexa and Clarke both being part of this human/alien breeding program that pretty much guarantees humans with a baby because the aliens can /see/ if the breeding is successful.

Lexa wants a baby, they match her with an alien she has a good match with and who also wants a baby. Its a fairly easy process.

Lexa was expecting the whole process to be rather medical really. A quick shoot and go that she barely has to participate in. Thats the point of the program really, create a alien/human baby that her and whoever this Clarke lady is can co-parent. Easy. They have the same ideals and parental ideas so they really are the perfect match.

She just didnt expect... /her/. Clearly alien. The slight blue tint of her skin, the cute tiny horns on her head, the marks on her skin that remind Lexa of little constellations.

The sky people are a very pretty species, Lexa cant deny that.

They are naked from the moment they enter the small padded room provided for them. While Clarke seems very comfortable with all she has, and it is a /lot/, Lexa finds herself slightly covering her chest and her center. The alien seems to notice this.

"Hey you dont need to hide. I find humans so beautiful, you might actually be the most gorgeous one I've ever meet actually."

Now, Lexa didnt come here expecting them to really connect in a way that isnt medical but hm, she cant deny the way Clarke's blue eyes nearly shine and the way she smiles at her don't make her heart skip a damn beat.

Clarke gestures for Lexa to lay down so they can get started and Lexa does, with slight reluctance. She doesnt really know why she's nervous but she is. Maybe is the whole finally having a baby thing. Maybe is because she never been with an alien (how many people have really. There's a reason breeding programs like this exist).

.... maybe is the fact that when Clarke very politely gets on top of her, her dick is very clearlgonna be a /tight/ fit.

"Just... relax alright? It's always a bit of an adjustment for humans but you can take it."

Oh that should not have made Lexa as wet as it did, "Okay. Okay."

Lexa takes a deep breath and she feels the tip go in. It /is/ big. And thicker than anything Lexa ever out inside of her pussy. /Fuck./

"Fuck." Lexa breaths out as Clarke to enter her

"I know. Its a tight fit but you can take it, I know you can."

Right. They can /see/ it happening.

"Can you really... see yourself inside of me?"

Clarke chuckles. Lexa cant help but smile. She likes the sound.

"I can. That's how I know you can take it, but you need you relax baby." The term of endearment doesnt go unnoticed but Lexa ignores it in favor of trying to calm down her manic heart.

"Thats it." Clarke coos at her, slowly but sure going deeper.

Just the knowledge that Clarke can see herself inside Lexa both relaxes and turns her on because holy /fuck/.

Clarke is not yet fully inside when she stops moving completely. Lexa dnaos her head up, offended she dared stopping, "what?"

"You cant fit any more."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean... you cant fit my dick fully. I didnt think you could, humans arent really built for it. Its fine, but if i go any deeper is gonna hurt."

How... sweet of her. "Oh." Lexa states, finally being hit with the feeling of fulness. They stay there for a few minutes, as Clarke waits for Lexa to give her the go ahead, "you can move now" it comes out more like a plea than anything else but Clarke immediately gets herself positions to thrust inside of Lexa.

"Ready?"

"Lets make a baby." Lexa says, awkwardly she admits. She hoping Clarke ignores it, but to her surprise, she leans in, kissing the corner of Lexa's lip. When Lexa looks st her in the eye, she looks so giddy.

"Baby making time." Its such a sweet statement that Lexa didnt particularly expect it to be followed by the filthiest sex she's ever had.

She's heard talks about humans becoming obsessed with having sex with sky people and she thought it was all talk. But the way Clarke manages to thrust inside of her at exactly the right angle everytime and how she seems to know when to quicken a brutal pace or slow down is as close to an addiction as she has ever come.

Clarke's soft lips approach her ear, her heavy breathing loudly tickling Lexa's hair, "Im gonna cum"

"Do it. Please, Clarke. Do it."

She can see it, Lexa realizes once more. The way she looks between Lexa's hips and her face as she cums. She can see herself fill Lexa up.

Jesus fuck she can see it. She touches Lexa's clit and Lexa comes undone with her.

Clarke falls on top of her, her body somehow still cool against Lexa's hot skin. The constellations on her skin seem to shine with the sweat that cover her it.

"You are very pretty too." Lexa manages to say, somewhere between awakened and asleep, "I hope our baby is just as pretty."

Before she closes her eyes, she feels Clarke's lips on her forehead, "with you as a mom, there's no way they wint be gorgeous"

#letter opened #clexas monster (s)mash #wanheda's dagger #stooop why is this soft???? 😭

[cohenatwood]

Clexa Fanfic Series: something wicked (this way comes)

Synopsis: After the death of coven leader Thelonius Jaha, Gustus Woods' banishment from Polis, Massachusetts is lifted and he moves back with his two daughters, Anya and Alexandria Woods, who have no idea of their family lineage or the prophecy that had been foretold long before either were born.

Chapter 5: back to school (words 11,270)

Clarke begins kissing down Lexa’s neck as she lays with her eyes closed, a slight smirk on her face as she pretends to sleep. Clarke laughs a little, knowing Lexa is pretending.

“Wake up.” She whispers in a playful sing-song way as she continues kissing her girlfriend. Lexa shakes her head, still keeping her eyes closed. Clarke lifts her head from Lexa’s neck and laughs, kissing the girls’ pillowy lips. “First day of school.” She whispers, her lips never straying from Clarke’s.

Lexa grunts, “Let’s drop out.” Before kissing Clarke. Clarke laughs into the kiss. Lexa putting her arm around Clarke and flipping their positions, beginning to kiss Clarke’s neck back. Clarke lets out a soft moan, seriously considering Lexa’s suggestion as her hands move down Clarke’s body. Lexa moves to Clarke’s lips, beginning to roughly make out with one another. Their tongues massaging one another’s, it’s dirty and Clarke is seriously considering skipping first period at least on her first day of senior year if it means they can continue this.

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