#side note : charles' laughter god bless

[violetvettel]

is this a cry for help??

#legal reasons joke yada yada #WHAT EVEN IS HAPPENING HERE 😔 #asdfghjkshdjfkfkshjkl #side note : charles' laughter god bless #charles leclerc #carlos sainz jr #f1 #mine*post

[thecharlestonroyalfamily]

The Wedding of HRH Crown Prince Henrik & Lord Michael Valois, The Ceremony

Johanna: And here we are inside the cathedral and the ceremony has just begun. Cecilia: Yes we just saw the bridal party walk down the aisle and now all have been asked to rise for Prince Henrik’s entrance. Ah here he is.

Cecilia: And here Prince Henrik is approaching the altar. Not a sign of nerves on him even when he walks alone.

Johanna: Indeed and at the altar we see Lord Valois at his most serious yet today. And of course the lovely Princess Minerva by his side for the tradition of ring gifting.

Johanna: And on the other side is Mary-Helene Herald, waiting to gift the ring the onto Prince Henrik. Ah they’re starting the actual ceremony so we’ll be quiet for this part.

Archbishop: We have all gathered here today to join in union these two souls. Should anyone oppose of this marriage speak now or forever be silent. Prince Louis babbles and the church erupts in small laughter Archbishop: Your advice has been noted little one, worry not. Now let us continue. Marriage is the holiest union between two people and should not be stepped into lightly. Are you both absolutely certain that this is the person you want to share that union with. Both: I am. Archbishop: Very well. May The Matron bless you with a lasting love, may The Nomad guide you on your joined paths, may The Warrior protect your home and may The Shield grant you a family.

Archbishop: Now do you Michael Charles Valois want to take Henrik Tomas Maximillan Achilles Delafontaine-Westerberg-Holland as your wedded husband? Do you promise to love and cherish him, and to stand by his side in both the good and the bad times? And do you promise to stay true and honest to him, and to follow the teachings of The Matron, The Nomad, The Warrior & The Shield? Michael: I do.

Archbishop: And do you Henrik Tomas Maximillan Achilles Delafontaine-Westerberg-Holland want to take Michael Charles Valois as your wedded husband? Do you promise to love and cherish him, and to stand by his side in both the good and the bad times? And do you promise to stay true and honest to him, and to follow the teachings of The Matron, The Nomad, The Warrior & The Shield? Henrik: I do.

Archbishop: Now you may say the traditional vows of the Church of Pierre. Lord Michael, you may go first. Michael: I, Michael Charles, take you, Henrik Tomas Maximillian Achilles, for my lawful husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health, until death do us part. Archbishop: And now you Your Highness. Henrik: I, Henrik Tomas Maximillian Achilles, take you, Michael Charles, for my lawful husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health, until death do us part.

Archbishop: In front of the church as your witness and the Gods at your side, I pronounce you lawfully wedded. You may kiss.

Cecilia: And there we have it! They are now officially married! Love the fact that they included those Church of Pierre vows such a lovely nod towards Michael’s heritage. Johanna: Indeed and those vows are so touching too. Now we’ll have a quick break as the newlyweds move outside and onto the carriage ride and we’ll continue then. @officalroyalsofpierreland , @kingdomofvellia , @firisle​ , @royaldevilliers​ , @warwickroyals​ , @the-malbry-royals​   

#the charleston royal family #heniachael #royal simblr collab #royal sim wedding #tcrf chrono #tcrf: the burn arc #tcrf #the sims 4 #the sims royalty #the sims royal family #the sims 4 royal family #ts4 royal simblr #ts4 royalty #ts4 monarchy #ts4 royal family #sims 4 #sims 4 story #sims royalty #sims royal family

[papa-rhys]

Drunkard: Pt 1 (Javier X f!Reader)

Note: Have some flirtatious drunk reader shamelessly trying it on with Javier. Part two to come soon (maybe tomorrow?) because I wanted to get this up tonight and I wasn’t gonna finish it in time. Enjoy!

Category: fluff (?)

Warnings: none

Word count: 1290

“Oh shit,” you mutter, tumbling to the ground in front of Karen and Mr Pearson and sending your mostly empty bottle of whiskey rolling across the dirty ground that is now much closer than it had been a few moments ago. In your drunken haze – no, paralytic haze – you can’t quite muster up the strength nor the balance to climb back up onto your feet by yourself and you’re thankful for the help of Karen and Pearson as they each grab one of your arms and haul you up.

“Did that… did that look as funny as it felt?” you ask Karen through hiccups.

“Yes,” she smiles, bidding fair well to Mr Pearson and walking you over to the campfire where most of the boys sit, laughing and telling stories. You picture what it must have looked like to watch you fall face down into the ground and the thought thoroughly tickles you – prompting a loud, uncontrollable laugh that comes from deep within your stomach. “I got another wayward soul for you boys to look after,” Karen says, struggling to hold you up straight as the boys turn to look at you. “You know, one of these days I’m gonna get sick of you drunkards and I’m just gonna leave y’all to choke to death on your own spit.”

“Drunkards?” Uncle echoes from his spot on the floor as Charles helps you into a seat on the log. “Now let’s not be impolite. We’re just a bunch of fools lookin’ for a good time, is all,” he laughs.

Karen rolls her eyes and leaves you in the hands of the boys – some of whom are just as drunk as you, so fat lot of use they are. “Where’s my drink?” you ask, looking around for the bottle you could have sworn was in your hand just a second ago. You lean back to look behind you, almost falling backwards off the log and being saved just in time by Charles, who puts his arm behind you and chuckles to himself along with the others.

“I think it’s over there,” Javier states, pointing his own bottle towards the one you left rolling across the mud.

“Oh,” you say before hiccupping. “I’ll go get another –“

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Charles smiles, pulling you back down onto the log again. “You’ve had enough, I think.”

“C’mon, Charles,” Javier smiles, leaning forward in his chair. “Let her drink. I wanna see how much fun she is when she’s wasted.”

“Yeah, I bet you do,” Charles chuckles, pulling you down into your seat again as you try to go walkabout for a second time.

“You know, Mr Escuella,” you start, slurring your words and escaping Charles’ grasp on you as you make your third bid for escape. You fall to your knees and begin crawling across the ground towards Javier, earning laughs from the group and a shake of the head from the man himself as you move as fast as your hands and knees will carry you, trying to avoid Charles as he lunges after you like a mother trying to catch their runaway toddler. “When I got first got here,” you continue, reaching Javier and crawling up his knees until you’re somehow sat in his lap. “I had such a crush on you. In fact, I still do,” you laugh.

The group mutters and chuckles in the firelight, although they do so quietly, waiting for Javier’s reaction.

“That so?” he chuckles, looking at you with his eyelids half closed and a smirk on his lips as you play with the chain that dangles from his waistcoat. He places his hand on your waist, holding you steady as you almost fall off his lap – the last thing anyone wants is to see a whiskey-soaked young woman fall into a fire. In your inebriated state, he looks all the more handsome than usual – the fire casting a warm glow on his features and the brim of his hat hiding his eyes in a way that makes him seem far more mysterious and enigmatic than he actually is.

“Yes,” you answer, nodding your head over-zealously and sending your brain spinning within your skull. “I mean –“ you hiccup “ – look at you. How am I gonna deny a man that looks like this?” you gesture up and down with your hand before taking off his hat and placing it on top of your own head. Javier looks at you with his eyebrows raised. “You just dress so well,” you slur, pressing your pointed finger into his chest. “And you fight well and you sing well and you play guitar well and I bet you fuck we–“

“Alright, chica,” Javier interjects, climbing to his feet and forcing you to slide off his lap. “You don’t wanna go saying things like that in front of these fools. I think someone oughta get you to bed, eh?” He helps you stand up straight, putting your arm around his shoulder and taking you away from the fire as the group happily bid you goodnight through stifled laughs.

Javier walks you – with much difficulty, God bless him – to your tent, where your bedroll lays in darkness, tucked away from the rest of the camp. He lets go of you and you flop down onto your bedroll, pulling him down with you. With your tent being so far away from the light of the fire, it’s difficult to see his facial expression as he lays on top of you, but the quiet chuckle that comes from him tells you he’s not completely opposed to it.

“You’ve gotta be the messiest drunk I’ve met,” he laughs, propping himself up on his hands and hovering over you.

It’s completely dark and you don’t think he can see anymore of you than you can see of him – which is probably a good thing as your face is probably bright red and your hair resembles more of a birds nest than a bun.

“I’m not drunk,” you say, high-pitched and defensively.

Javier laughs. “Oh, are you not? Well, my apologies then.”

“You’re forgiven,” you tell him. He’s still laying on top of you – positioned between your spread legs with his hands holding him up on each side of your torso – and even in the drunken state that you’re in, you can’t help but notice that he’s very comfortable being there. “Y’know, I think you should spend the night here.”

“Do you?” he asks.

“Yup. I’d let you put it in any hole you like.”

Javier bursts into laughter, hanging his head and shaking it from side to side as his shoulders shake violently with the cackles that he tries to keep at a reasonable volume. “You’re funny. You should get drunk more often, Chiquita,” he says through laughter. “I appreciate the offer,” he says, pushing himself up onto his knees. “But you should really sleep this off.”

You sit up, finding yourself face to face with him, your lips almost touching his. “Stay,” you whine, impishly fiddling with the buttons of his waistcoat before moving your hands up to curl around the back of his neck.

He lets you kiss him for a solid four seconds before pulling your arms away from him and breaking the kiss. “I shouldn’t – I can’t. Not like this,” he says quietly, shaking his head. “Get some sleep and see how you feel in the morning. If you still want me to fuck you when you’re sober, then you know where to find me,” he flirts.

You flop back down onto your bedroll as he climbs to his feet and straightens out his waistcoat. “Rest,” he tells you before heading off towards the campfire. You do as he says, closing your eyes and drifting off the sleep -- the promise of sex with Javier lingering in the forefront of your mind.

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #javier escuella #javier escuella x reader #my writing #writing: javier escuella

[johnny-and-dora]

oh, what a beautiful morning

jake and amy's egg-cellent morning adventure - or the one where jake falls asleep to the sound of amy sifiting through paperwork and wakes up to the sound of her making him breakfast, much to his great amusement and only minor heartbreak. (early season 2 fluff) read on ao3

The first time Jake Peralta wakes up in Amy Santiago’s apartment, he wakes up to sunlight streaming through floral pattern curtains, a mildly concerning burning smell heavily permeating the air, and a string of loud expletives coming from the kitchen.

For a second, as his vaguely familiar surroundings swim before him, he thinks he could be back home - he’s lost count of the number of times his mom has started their mornings together by burning every breakfast item imaginable, as if she’s got some kind of arsonist agenda he should probably arrest her for (although, to be fair, it was a blessing in disguise when she accidentally singed off his ponytail in high school).

But then his brain finally shifts into gear and, with a jolt, he realises that it’s Amy’s voice fiercely arguing with various kitchen utensils next door. It’s Amy’s usually delicately folded guest blanket that is haphazardly yet somehow also carefully draped over him - and it’s Amy’s couch that he’s presumably been sprawled all over since he fell asleep midway through working that seemingly impossible case with her last night.

The case. Right. Definitely the only reason he would ever want to wake up in Amy Santiago’s apartment to Amy Santiago making him breakfast. After they spent the night together working a case, because they are respectful and professional police colleagues and will never be anything more.

Not that he’s ever thought about being more, obviously, right? Not like it’s basically consumed every waking thought he’s had ever since that stupid bet, every second of being undercover, every weird moment they’ve shared since he came back. Not at all.

He gets up, immediately feeling like a jerk for being here in the first place - shoving down a pang of guilt for so rudely taking up her couch like that and invading her privacy. She should have woken him up and let him shuffle back to his lumpy mattress and mail tub in peace; now she’s making him breakfast and he’s inevitably going to find some way to make it awkward for them for the rest of the day. Great.

Between the brick wall he’s hit this week trying to crack this case (literally, one of his perps actually threw him against a brick wall the other day) and...other things on his mind, he’s been basically narcoleptic for the past few days and now – well, now, Amy’s going to be scrubbing the Jake off of everything in her living room for weeks.

At least he hasn’t stained or broken anything – yet.

He thinks about leaving quietly, not wanting to intrude any further – but she draws him to the kitchen anyway, because he woke up in Amy Santiago’s apartment, and he’s going to enjoy every second he can get of her shouting match with her stove before she can notice him.

And right, okay, cool, Amy is still just as beautiful as usual when she’s wearing sweatpants and an old NYPD t-shirt, that’s cool. That’s fine.

And, of course, she’s still just as breathtaking when she’s becoming increasingly frustrated with the pan of char-grilled scrambled eggs she’s currently close to either arresting or unceremoniously flinging (he theorises, making a mental note not to piss her off so much that he has to peel the great egg monstrosity off of his face later) but that’s fine. No big deal. He can deal with that.

He has to deal with that. There’s no alternative to solving this mess he’s gotten himself into with this dumb crush. That’s all it can be - she’s with Teddy, and they’re probably going to get married and have loads of nerd children and live happily ever after. Even if she wasn’t, why would she ever want to be with him?

But for now, just for this one tiny barely significant moment, he indulges himself in a stare he can’t normally risk with Charles lurking around; leaning comfortably against the doorframe, unashamedly drinking every inch of her in.

Just for one moment.

And then he ashamedly forces himself to look away, because that’s creepy and unprofessional and definitely not something just a police colleague should ever do. As beautiful and chaotic Amy is at – he checks his watch – 7:30 in the morning (an ungodly hour, might he add) he finally decides to clear his throat, stepping into the kitchen.

“Are you...making me breakfast?”

She jumps slightly at the sound of his voice, whipping around and wielding a frying pan with such force and anger it might as well be a lightsaber. For a fraction of second Jake’s genuinely worried she might split him in half before he starts to laugh and she relaxes slightly, letting her weapon drop to her side as she casually tries (and fails) to look nonchalant, leaning back against her kitchen counter.

“No! What? Maybe...I, erm, felt bad for leaving you on the couch.” “Awww, Ames – was I just too adorable that you couldn’t bear to wake me up?” “No, I just didn’t want to go anywhere near your drool.”

“Oh, ew. Gross.” Jake runs a hand through his hair, suddenly achingly aware of how much of a mess he must look – at the same time as Amy realises she’s still wearing her pyjamas and her cheeks flush a light shade of pink.

So really, he’s nailing the whole not making it awkward thing. Score.

“Sorry for...umm. Yeah. Falling asleep. Didn’t mean to intrude.” “Oh, it’s fine. You were kinda out cold and I figured you could use the rest. This case has been kicking our ass.”

“Yeah. So, anyway, what did these eggs do to you to deserve this? Must be a serious felony.” Jake gestures to the pan Amy’s been wrestling with for the past ten minutes and she rolls her eyes, smiling in the way that always catches in his chest.

“Shut up, Peralta. I was trying to do something nice.” “Are you sure you don’t want me to call in Major Crimes to make this bust?” “I will force feed you this if it kills me, and it will probably kill you.” “Should I file a report for police brutality?” “I swear to God-“

“Okay, okay, I’m done.” He holds up his hands in mock defeat as she turns the stove off, wafting the air in an ineffectual attempt to get rid of the lingering smoky scent. He’s only quiet for a minute, though, before he just can’t help himself –

“Really, I think you’re an egg-ceptional cook. I’m not egg-aggerating at all.” “...I will destroy you with this frying pan.”

“C’mon, Santiago, that’s a bit egg-streme. I’m egg – “Before Jake can even finish, she’s chasing him around the kitchen, whacking him while he half laughs, half cries in pain. They both almost collapse in laughter on the tiled floor, every inhibition or awkward moment forgotten; and yeah, it hurts that maybe they’ll never be more than police colleagues in that way.

But the way his stomach aches from laughing shows that they’re definitely friends. And for this morning, that’s enough.

It’s more than enough, really.  Enough doesn’t even begin to cover how grateful he is to find someone who’ll let him sleep on their couch and make him breakfast and still enthusiastically belt him within an inch of his life with a kitchen utensil.

He’s lucky to have her. He’s way too uncomfortable with emotions to ever be able to let her know that, but he is.

“I was going to say sorry! I’m egg-sorry!” “Do you want breakfast or not, because at this point I’m more than willing to just let you starve.” “...I’ll eat the rest of the pizza if you make some coffee?”

Amy sighs and shoves her blackened amalgamation of a breakfast into the trash, wrinkling her nose in disgust as Jake helps himself to the rest of last night’s leftover pizza.

She pours herself a bowl of cereal and makes them both coffee, and it’s...nice. It’s surprisingly natural, actually, as he sits on her kitchen counter, swinging his legs back and forth and making fun of her parchment scroll length itemised shopping list tacked neatly to the fridge. Like he belongs there.

He sifts through the files that are still strewed haphazardly on the coffee table as Amy gets dressed – showing up two days in a row to work in the same clothes is pretty normal for him anyway, so he doesn’t have to worry about that. They’re both ready for work by the time Jake’s alarm normally goes off, and for once he can guarantee that this time he’s not going to be late.

He can’t wait to see the look on Holt’s face.

“Ready to go?” “Yeah. Um, thank you. For, y’know. Breakfast.”

“That’s okay.” She smiles warmly at him and he can practically feel his heart bursting out of his chest. God, he’s such an idiot. They just sort of stare at each other for a moment before her face lights up.

“Oh, by the way, sleeping beauty – I totally solved the case while you were out.” “What? No way!” “Uh huh. It was the contractor’s wife; she used two fake ID’s, a Mexican passport and the bread knife we found in the dumpster. Want to help me make the arrest?” “The wife! I knew it! Obviously I was so close, really I was just sleeping to give you a chance to –“

Her pointed look cuts him off, and she rolls her eyes as he gives her a dorky grin.

And, just for this one tiny barely significant moment, his stupid crush on Amy Santiago isn’t so overwhelmingly, well, crushing, and everything between them is so, so good.

Even if the smell of smoke around them is still lightly suffocating, and his heart still starts beating way too fast every time he looks at her, and Amy will be scrubbing the orange soda stains off of her couch for weeks.

(Of course, the next time he wakes up in Amy Santiago’s apartment it’ll be in her bed, with Amy Santiago sleeping softly beside him, and everything between them will be better than he could have ever possibly imagined.) (But he doesn’t need to know that.)

“Yeah, okay. I’d like that.”

#my writing #i actually posted a full fic on here for once! #yay! #i honestly have no idea what this is #but i've been dying to write for months now #and this was all my poor tired brain could produce #so i hope you like it #b99 #brooklyn nine nine #brooklyn 99 #peraltiago #b99 fic #amy santiago #jake peralta #fluff for the soul #and a bit of pining because #i can only ever write pining #shut up sian

[blueboxesandtrafficcones]

All I Want for Christmas is You (Naked) - Chapter 7

For @chiaroscuroverse for @dwsecretsanta!

@timepetalsprompts - bingo - Eccleston nudity, eggnog

@doctorroseprompts - bedsharing/fake relationship

NSFW

Masterlist

After a hot lunch, the fivesome gathered in the family room to begin decorating the tree.

Mo passed around mugs of spiked eggnog as she explained, “so, the staff’s already decorated the rest of the house obviously, but I thought it’d be fun to decorate the tree together! While we women decide on decorations, why don’t you boys start on stringing the lights?”

Rose looked over at the Doctor, who was already staring at her, begging with his eyes.  “Actually, Mo, can I make a suggestion?”  When her cousin nodded, she took a deep breath. “The Doctor’s actually a huge Dickens nerd, absolutely loves it.  He’s been promising me a dramatic reading of A Christmas Carol – maybe he could do it while we’re decorating?”

“I’d like that very much,” Algy interjected firmly.  “I will manage the lights by myself, if he would prefer to grace us with his gift.”

The Doctor sent Rose a grateful look, settling in the armchair by the fire and clearing his throat. “‘Marley was dead: to begin with.  There is no doubt whatever about that.’” He began and Algy, Mo, and Jackie turned to stare in surprise that he was reciting from memory.  Rose continued working, pleased that she’d managed to both get the Doctor out of light duty for the good of Algy’s tree, and that the older women wouldn’t ask her any questions, too busy listening to the reading.

As the Doctor recited the story and they decorated the tree, Rose’s mind drifted back to Cardiff, when they’d met Dickens himself.  It was hard to believe that it was barely a year ago; it felt like ages.  She was excited for the masque the next night, hoping he would take advantage of the opportunity to take back his ‘for a human’ comment.  

Plus, she hoped he’d plain take advantage of her.

“Rose!”  Jackie’s exasperated voice broke through the fog. “D’ya want to string the popcorn?”

“Okay,” she quickly agreed, taking the bowl of popcorn, string, and needle to settle at the Doctor’s feet, leaning back against his legs.  One hand reached down to slide through her hair, though he never paused his recitation.

By the time the Doctor had finished telling the story, the tree was fully decorated and Jackie, Algy, and Mo were arranged on the furniture nearby, listening raptly.  Rose had settled sideways on his lap, arms wrapped around his neck and head resting in the crook of his neck.

“‘He had no further intercourse with Spirits, but lived upon the Total Abstinence Principle, ever afterwards; and it was always said of him, that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge. May that be truly said of us, and all of us! And so, as Tiny Tim observed, God bless Us, Every One!’”

With a dramatic flourish the impromptu performance ended, and it took several moments before his audience burst into applause and cheers, none louder than Rose.

“That was brilliant!” she enthused, kissing his cheek.

He smiled at her, eyes crinkling like they always did, but only for her.  Picking up his eggnog from the side table, he drained the mug in one go.

“I would have loved to have attended one of his readings; did you know he did over 170 of just A Christmas Carol throughout his life?  Magnificent,” Algy commented.

“Great bloke, Charlie. Got a bit down on himself, but perked right up at the end,” the Doctor agreed, making Rose snort with laughter.

“You know, there’s a fascinating story – one of his last readings was on Christmas Eve in Cardiff, and there were reports that it was interrupted by ghosts.  Can you imagine?”

Rose bit her lip, trying to hide her amusement.  “Don’t be ridiculous.  There’s no such thing as ghosts.”

“I realize, but those who saw it swore they saw ghosts.  I’m certain it was an elaborate trick, but still.”

“Definitely not ghosts,” the Doctor confirmed.  “More likely they were aliens that just looked like ghosts.”

Mo rolled her eyes at that. “Oh, now that’s ridiculous.  I’d believe in ghosts before I believed in aliens.”

Rose shrugged innocently. “I’m with the Doctor – definitely aliens.”  She caught her mother’s eye and winked; Jackie’s eyes widened and she looked between Rose and the Doctor.

“Right, well, as lovely as an afternoon as this was, perhaps it’s time to start getting ready for dinner?” She quickly changed the subject, effectively distracting her cousin away from her daughter.

“Oh, right!  Should be about an hour, ninety minutes tops.”

With that the group disbanded, and Rose, Jackie, and the Doctor headed upstairs to get ready.

“Was that true?”

Pausing by her bedroom door, Jackie stopped the couple as they headed past.

“The aliens at Christmas in Cardiff with Charles Dickens?”  Rose asked knowingly, and her mother nodded.  “Yep.  My second trip actually, first time visiting the past.  It was amazing.”

Her mother simply stared at her incredulously.  “You met Charles Dickens.  The actual Charles Dickens.”

Rose nodded, grinning. “Nice bloke.  A bit mule-headed in the beginning, but in the end he saved our lives.  Unfortunately, he died only a few months later.”

Question answered, Jackie moved on.  “Also, I just want to say you’re really convincing.”

“Convincing?”

“As a couple,” she explained.  “And as ridiculous as it is knowing the truth, from the outside it’s almost cute. Mo’s buying it hook, line and sinker. So well done.”

The Doctor opened his mouth, and Rose genuinely did not know what would come out.  Shoving him down the hall, she talked over him.  “Well, people assume all the time, tend to see what they expect.  We’ll see you at dinner!”

Pulling him into their bedroom, she slammed the door shut behind them before leaning against it.

Before she could speak, though, the Doctor was pressing her up against the door, his mouth on her neck and he maneuvered one knee between hers.

“Hello,” she said, startled, arms automatically wrapping around him.

“Hi.”  His voice was low, filled with dark promises and her body immediately reacted.

“What’s gotten into you?” she asked, spreading her legs as he pressed his thigh between them, helping angle him against her.

“Want you.”  He sucked at her pulse point, loving the way it sped up under his ministrations.

“Then take me,” she shrugged.

He didn’t respond, only ground himself against her thigh as he pushed his knee up against her.  When he shifted the smallest bit he lined the seam of her jeans against her clit, and the pressure made her head fall back against the door.

“This is different,” she managed, eyes sliding shut as they rutted against each other’s thighs.

“All right?” the Doctor grunted, gripping her hips and shifting her up a bit so they lined up against each other better.

“Mmhmm.”  Rose nudged his head until he lifted it, and she kissed him deeply.

As their bodies rubbed together and their tongues and lips met again and again, Rose was surprised at how quickly the Doctor lost control, grunting into her mouth with every thrust. When she reached down to sneak a hand through the waistband of his pants, her fingers had barely brushed him when he froze, moaning lowly as he spurted into her hand.

After a few moments he stopped trembling, slowly lowering her to the floor.  Pulling back, he stripped completely before collapsing on the bed.

Leaning against the door and still unsatisfied, Rose stared at her partner in disbelief.  “Oi!”

She struggled out of her clothes, down to knickers and bra by the time she stood at the side of the bed.

“Are you asleep?” she asked in disbelief, noting the soft snoring come from him.  She shook his shoulder hard, waiting for his eyes to snap open.

As soon as they did, she said loudly, “Hello!  Unsatisfied girlfriend over here.”

He blinked up at her, a frown crossing his face.  “Sorry?” He propped himself up slightly, taking in her frustration.  “Dunno what happened.”

“There was alcohol in the eggnog.”  Her brow furrowed.  “You aren’t usually affected by that though.”

“No, I’m not,” he agreed, swinging around to face her.  They stared at each other in silence for a few moments before understanding crossed his face.  “Only when there’s cinnamon present.”

“Mo always makes her eggnog with cinnamon,” Rose nodded.

“There we go then.” His gaze wandered her body, paying special attention to her breasts before snapping up to her eyes.  “Did you say unsatisfied?”

Rose folded her arms under her breasts, pushing them up and together.  “Yep.”

His eyes widened.  “Sorry.  How would you like me to de-unsatisfy you?”

She pursed her lips, looking at his earnest face before glancing down at his lap, where there was a clear volunteer for the job standing at attention.

“Hmmm,” she teased. “What do you have in mind?”

“Whatever you want,” he promised, hands settling on her waist.

She looked around for inspiration, her gaze falling on the bench at the end of the bed.  Going over to it, she stripped off her underwear before settling down with her knees spread wide.

Looking at him over her shoulder, she crooked a finger and he came around to stand in front of her.

“On your knees, love, there’s a good chap,” Rose said with a haughty accent, smiling when he obeyed.  “I trust you know what to do from here?” she joked, and his eyes darkened at how wet she was.

“It’s my pleasure,” the Doctor replied, tongue darting out to taste her.

“I’m more interested in mine at the moment,” she said dryly, head tilting back as he got to work.

She could get used to this.

#bbatcfic #dwsecretsanta #timepetalscollective #doctorroseprompts #ficandchips #chiaroscuroverse #All I Want for Christmas is You (Naked) #fake relationship #oohlala