#enamoured polish

[muirneach]

casper 🤝 iga: fuck grass lets go back to my beautiful clay

[batsydoodle]

god there's really something to the comic style of the 90's that does it for me. It truly got a certain je ne sais quoi about it; it's crisp, colourful, some of the panelling is to die for. There's details and polish where there needs to be but then strong stylization that makes everything stick together and flow so well. Aahh... i just think there's something so very charming about it.

[bunnyreaper]

simon is your most precious bear, but he won't settle for just that.

(18+/MDNI, plushophilia, mild moment of dubcon?)

you'd found him in a charity shop one day and couldn't walk away without him in your arms--the most darling little bear you've ever seen. 

the stitching on his button eyes was barely present, the threads on his body were also loose, and his fur was a little more than worse for wear. usually a sign of a bear well-loved, but you got the feeling looking at him and his missing smile that his state wasn't from something entirely different. 

you'd taken him home and treasured him ever since. restitched his eyes and his precariously hanging limbs, polished his little plastic nose and tied a ribbon around his neck.

you'd tried sewing in a smile underneath his cute little nose, but found the expression didn't quite suit him. when you tried again, arching the stiches downward, you found you much preferred him as your grumpy bear anyway.

once he was pampered and restored, you sat him pride of place on your pillow, having him guard you and keep watch over your bed whenever you weren't in it. at night you held him close, squeezed him tight until you drifted off to sleep--dreams that are always so sweet and peaceful, and you swear it's because he keeps the nightmares at bay. 

little did you know of the soul trapped inside--simon.

he'd fallen in love just as you had, obsessed with the way you'd looked at him and never stopped looking--obsessed with the way you cared for him and held him. he'd never liked being trapped as a bear until you took him home, where he belonged. 

now he took his role as your stuffie very seriously. and clearly, it paid off, as he quickly became the favourite of all your plushies--the one you treasured above all others.

fair to say simon had captured your heart, and in turn, he was always doted on and adored by you. never was he allowed to slide off the bed to be forgotten, never was there a day that went by where he wasn't kissed or cuddled by you.

but sometimes he had to be moved from his place, his spot. when you had visitors over, he'd be replaced in the bed by strange figures, stuck on the nightstand as a spectator to it all.

the comforts they provided were different, bringing bitten lower lips and breathy moans rather than sweet smiles and gentle whispers. and all the while simon was trapped, doomed to watch other men in the bed the two of you shared--knowing deep down in his stuffing that if he were just human again, he could do a much better job. 

late one night, after another visitor, you return to the comfort of your bed with simon clutched between your arms. you squeeze him as tight as you can--a sweet, satisfied smile leaving you as you hold him close and embrace the comfort and safety he provides.

"one of these days, they won't be disappointing." you sigh, releasing your disappointment and unknowingly unleashing wishful magic

it's then simon feels it, something inside him he hasn't felt in so long, as his body shifts from bear to man. 

he should do something about the way you scream, soothe you as he usually does, but right now, there is nothing calming or comforting in the way he feels right now--just pure posessive lust. codependant, ugly love. 

simon takes advantage of his newfound form, using muscular arms to crush you into the bed, determined to make up for lost time no matter what it takes. his dick hardens instantly, so used to the feel of your body against him and yet intoxicated by all the new sensations.

he expects you to keep struggling, to fight back in disbelief, but when the shock wears off he delights in the way you look at him--just as enamoured as you had the first time you ever laid eyes on him.

[nahoney22]

In the Shadows*** 🌊

🫧 Pairings: Crosshair X AU Princess F!Reader

word count: 8.8k words

prompts:

• “When can I see you again?” / “Do you want to?”

• “I’ll be everything you ever wanted. I’ll do anything you’ve ever desired.”

Having Clone Force 99 protect you felt like an honour; falling for one of them was a curse.

warnings: NSFW, 18+ only, Smut, Royalty/Princess Trope, AU, First time, virgin reader, Flirty/Explicit Massages, Second Guessing, Cunnilingus, Blowjob, Soft and Rough Sex, P in V Sex, Doggy style, missionary, cowgirl positions Explicit Sexual Content & Language, aftercare, nipple play, Forbidden Love/Relationship, light angst.

Being royalty definitely had its perks. Yet, the things you most wanted in life were often just out of reach. Freedom was one of them. With guards always monitoring you, you were rarely alone. You were surprised that nobody was stationed in your bed chamber when you slept but you were grateful for the latter.

Oh, and there was also the constant threat to your life. A downside that came with the crown.

So that means that every week, your family contacted the Grand Army of the Republic to hire a battalion of soldiers to test their skills. A group would stay and, as you put it, ‘babysit’ you. This week was no different.

You sat outside in the expansive gardens, a sanctuary of serenity and the only time you felt a small sense of freedom. Vibrant flowers of every hue bloomed in meticulous arrangements by the hired garden hands. Tall hedges formed intricate mazes which had been around since you were young, and a grand fountain with crystal-clear water added a soothing soundtrack to the peace.

As you basked outside alone in your thoughts, you noticed four tall, armoured soldiers approaching. You squinted against the sun, using your hand to shield your eyes. “I thought they said they were clones…” you murmured to yourself.

And they were. Just different.

There was Hunter, the leader. He spoke directly but had a kindness in his eyes that set you at ease. Wrecker was tall and intimidating at first glance, but his loud voice was tempered by his kind heart and Tech intrigued you with his constant stream of information.

Then there was Crosshair.

He was different.

Every time you looked his way (to which you had even caught yourself watching and almost being enamoured by him on several occasions), you noticed several things. One of them being that he moved with a lethal grace. His eyes are always scanning, calculating; never certain what is on his mind. His presence was both unsettling and somehow captivating even if his company was less than comforting at times.

However every time Crosshair’s eyes had met yours for a brief moment, his gaze was intense. As if he could see through the layers of your royal facade. It was a look that made you feel exposed and protected all at once. A paradox you couldn’t quite understand. Did he know you were lonely? Was he lonely?

Throughout the week, each clone took a shift to watch over you. You were surprised to see that most of them enjoyed striking up conversations, which made the constant supervision more tolerable.

All except for Crosshair.

Despite his silence, Crosshair was the one you always looked forward to being alone with. His shift came in the evenings, just after Wrecker’s. Most evenings, you spent your time in the library, surrounded by towering bookshelves filled with ancient tomes about your family’s history. The room was a haven of knowledge, illuminated by the soft, golden glow of ornate lamps. The scent of old flimsi and polished wood filled the air, a comforting presence in your otherwise restrictive life. It was definitely your favourite room within your home.

As you sat on a deep emerald couch, nestled in the corner by the large window that overlooked the gardens, you often stole glances at Crosshair. He stood in the shadows, his posture rigid, eyes constantly scanning the room like a suited knight in armour. And each time you looked at him, his piercing gaze met yours, unwavering and intense as usual.

“You’re quiet today, Crosshair,” you said one evening, possibly the second night, setting down your book and reclining on the plush golden cushions.

He turned his head slightly, his eyes locking onto yours. “I am always quiet.”

You rolled your eyes, noting that he hadn’t caught your sarcastic tone, but you smiled nonetheless. “Too quiet. Won’t you sit with me?”

He stiffened, a slight tension visible in his stance. “I am on duty.”

“It’s 2100 hours. I doubt anyone will interrupt us.” Your voice carried a hint of unintended flirtation, and you noticed his brow raise slightly, his fingers drumming along the stock of his rifle.

“I doubt it too, but regardless, I am on duty, Princess.”

The way he said ‘princess’ was different from anyone else. There was a playful edge to his tone that made your stomach flutter, and you felt a warm prickle spread across your skin.

You pursed your lips, pondering. “Why do you not talk as much as the others?”

He blinked, his expression remaining stoic, before shrugging slightly. “I usually don’t have much worthwhile to say.”

“No stories? No grand explanation on why you shouldn’t do x, y, and z with some shuttles compared to others?” you teased, your eyes sparkling with amusement.

He chuckled and for some reason you gathered that it was a rare sound. It sent a shiver down your spine and even made your cheeks warm. The sight of his smirk was also unexpectedly captivating. “You have been talking too much to Tech.”

“I think it’s Tech talking too much to me,” you replied with a grin.

Crosshair’s eyes softened slightly, and for a moment, the stoic mask he wore seemed to crack. Each night on duty, you seemed to chip away at that mask, revealing glimpses of the man beneath the soldier.

It was on the sixth evening that a significant shift occurred between you and Crosshair. As usual, you were in the library when he entered. Instead of positioning himself in his usual corner, you were present surprised as he stood closer, practically next to the couch you were cosied up on.

You smiled up at him. “Want to sit?” you asked, patting the spot beside you.

“I don’t think that would be appropriate,” he stated, though it didn’t sound like a flat refusal.

You licked your teeth thoughtfully, your eyes tracing his tall, lean form. Tilting your head to the side, you continued, “But you want to be near me.”

“I am always near you.”

“But tonight you’re closer than before,” you countered, noting the coy smile that played on his lips.

He shifted slightly. “I thought you’d appreciate talking to me as I stand next to you rather than across the room.”

You moved closer to the edge of the couch, turning your body towards him. Your dress rode up a little, exposing more of your leg, and you batted your eyelashes at him. “And now you are too tall and hurting my neck. Please?” you asked, patting the spot beside you once more.

You saw him close his eyes briefly, a soft sigh escaping his lips before he leaned his rifle against the wall and sat beside you. He leaned forward, hands clasped together, and for the first time, he appeared nervous.

“So, how was your day?” you asked cheerfully. Crosshair wanted to roll his eyes but held back, mindful of the respect due to your royal status.

To Crosshair, it felt strange—almost surreal—that someone of your stature would ask about his day. He had always been told that himself and his brothers, even the regs, were bred for war. Viewed nothing more expendable tools of the Republic. He had always been surrounded by Jedi, Generals and Commanders who saw him as just another operative, valued for his skills but not for his individuality. That’s it.

He glanced at you, your eager eyes waiting for his response. “Routine,” he said after a moment. “Same as usual. And yours?”

Your eyes sparkled with interest. “Busy, as always. Meetings, formal dinners, and endless discussions about diplomacy.” You paused, your eyes softening. “It’s refreshing to talk about something different for a change.”

Crosshair studied you, noting the way your shoulders relaxed and the genuine smile on your lips. He found himself rather intrigued by your openness. “I suppose our routines are different,” he grunts.

You nodded. “They are, but I imagine both come with their own set of challenges.”

He allowed himself a small smile. “You could say that.”

There was a comfortable silence as you both sat there, the warmth of the fire casting a gentle glow over the room. Crosshair found himself unexpectedly at ease.

“So,” you began, breaking the silence after a few minutes, “tell me something about yourself that I wouldn’t know.”

Crosshair raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “There isn’t much to tell. I’m a soldier. That’s all I’ve ever been.”

You leaned closer, your curiosity evident. “Surely there’s more to you than that. What about before the war? Any hobbies? Interests?”

He hesitated, then said, “I used to enjoy marksmanship drills. It was... calming. A way to focus.”

You smiled. “I can see that. It suits you.”

As the conversation continued, Crosshair began to open up more, the initial awkwardness fading. For the first time, he felt seen—not as a clone, but as an individual. It was only small but there was a significant shift.

Perhaps a deeper feeling was emerging after all these late night talks.

After a while, you shifted slightly, your dress slipping higher up your leg. You didn’t notice at first but when you turn to look back at Crosshair, his gaze was lingering there. You say nothing at first, feeling a heat grow in your stomach as you watch how his eyes darken - just for a moment - before he quickly looked away.

A playful idea crossed your mind, and you decided to test the waters.

“Crosshair,” you said softly, leaning in a little closer, “would you give me a massage? My legs are terribly sore from all the formal events.”

His eyes widened slightly, and you saw the conflict in his expression. He clearly wanted to, but his sense of duty held him back. “I... I can’t,” he said, his voice strained. “It wouldn’t be appropriate.”

“Please?” you asked once more, your voice a soft purr as you looked up at him through your lashes.

He swallowed hard, his resolve visibly weakening. “Princess, I am on duty,” he said, though his voice was huskier now, betraying his inner struggle. “And it would be dishonorable. I... I can’t.”

You pouted playfully, but inside, you admired his steadfastness, even if it meant denying something you both wanted. “Ever the soldier,” you murmured, leaning back and giving him a small, understanding smile.

Crosshair’s eyes lingered on you a moment longer, briefly scanning your plump and soft lips that he found himself foolishly wanting to kiss before he tore his gaze away, his hands clenched together as if to keep them from reaching out to you. The tension in the room was palpable, a mix of unspoken desire and restrained propriety. It was a delicate balance, one that both thrilled and really frustrated you.

You were awakening a side of him he kept buried, and in return, he was stirring emotions within you that you had long suppressed. After all, how often was it you were with another man who wasn’t a guard unchaperoned? You definitely never had feelings towards any of them but to you? He was beautiful. With Crosshair, you felt normal, something you had always yearned for in the rigid constraints of being royalty. But he ignited another, more primal desire within you—lust.

The way his eyes lingered on you, dark and intense that you found yourself burning up under his gaze. It was clear he wanted you just as much as you wanted him.

Yet, the cruel reality was that tomorrow would be the last night. Would you ever even see him again?

It seemed as though he could read your mind. Clearing his throat, he turned his body towards you, the intensity of his eyes making your pulse quicken. “Do you still require a massage?” he asked, watching you closely. Your fingers had been absentmindedly playing with the ends of your hair for the last few minutes, a normal habit that seemed to make his heart rate pound.

“Please don’t feel obliged to do that for me just because I asked,” you reassured him, your voice soft. “I only asked because...” you trailed off, your thoughts a chaotic mix of emotions you couldn’t entirely decipher.

“Because you like me,” he said boldly, a spark of confidence in his eyes. You watched in silent awe as he deftly pulled something from a pouch in his armor—a toothpick. He placed it between his lips with a casual and almsot suave ease.

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your breathing. “I value you, yes,” you managed to say, your voice betraying your nerves. But then you met his gaze once more, and a surge of courage flared within you. “And I think you would like to give me a massage,” you continued, a smirk curling at the corners of your lips.

Crosshair’s eyes darkened, the toothpick shifting slightly as he bit down on it. “Is that so?” he murmured.

“Yes,” you replied, your voice dropping to a sultry whisper. “I think you want to touch me.”

He inhaled sharply, the tension between you palpable. “You’re playing with fire, Princess,” he warned, but his words lacked conviction, his eyes betraying his desire.

“Maybe,” you teased, leaning closer, your leg now brushing against his. “But it’s a risk I’m willing to take. Are you?”

For a moment, he hesitated, the internal struggle evident in his eyes. Then, with a resigned sigh, he placed his hand gently on your calf, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through you. “I suppose one massage wouldn’t hurt,” he murmured, his voice husky.

You smiled, your pulse quickening as his fingers began to knead the tension from your muscles. “Good,” you whispered, your voice laced with anticipation as you leaned back, relaxing.

Crosshair’s eyes followed the path of his hands as they moved up your calf, his breath hitching as you let out a soft moan of pleasure. His fingers were firm and skillful, each touch sending ripples of sensation through your body. You didn't hold back, your moans growing louder, each one making his arousal more evident. His pants felt increasingly tight, the bulge in them unmistakable.

“You’re making it hard to concentrate, Princess,” he murmured, his voice strained with desire.

“I can only apologise,” you replied, your voice breathy as you reveled in the feel of his hands on you. “I’m just showing you what you do to me.”

His hands moved higher, massaging your knee before traveling up your thigh. Your dress rode up further, and he paused, his eyes locked on the exposed skin. He bit down on his toothpick, his restraint hanging by a thread.

You open your eyes only to find yourself biting your lip as you watch as he slips his hands free from his gloves, laying them over the arm of the couch before his fingers start to knead at your calf. His touch is firm yet careful, his fingers working the tension from your muscles with practiced ease. You let out a soft sigh, sinking deeper into the couch, your eyes fluttering closed.

“This is a dangerous game we’re playing, Princess,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble. “You know this is breaking every rule.”

“And yet here you are,” you reply, a playful lilt in your voice. “Breaking them with me.”

He smirks, his hands moving up to your knee, massaging in slow, deliberate circles. “It seems I can’t help myself,” he admits, his eyes blown. “You’re... quite persuasive.”

You arch an eyebrow, feeling a thrill of power at his words. “Am I now? I merely asked you the once” you tease, shifting slightly to allow his hands better access.

He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, his hands continue their upward journey, fingers brushing along the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. You feel a rush of heat as he inches closer to the apex of your legs, his touch sending sparks of electricity through your body.

“You know exactly what you’re doing,” he whispers softly, his hands moving higher, and you hold your gasp as you realise how dangerously close he was to your… intimate area. Every nerve ending in your body is awakened by his touch.

"And you're enjoying it," you whisper back, your voice husky with need.

Stars, what kind of hold did he have on you? You were royalty, trained all your life to be reserved and appropriate, yet here you were, parting your legs to give him silent permission to continue. The boldness of your action sends a thrill through you, a heady mix of fear and excitement that makes your heart race.

His hands pause for a moment, his gaze flicking to meet yours. It is obvious you are exposed to him now as his eyes drop between your legs, his hand moving your dress just enough to touch. He lets out a soft moan, the sound making you inevitably clench. Your silk panties, enticing and damp with arousal, has him stopping in his tracks.

It's his turn to bite his lip, almost snapping the toothpick in his mouth as his fingers flex, eager to reach out and brush against you. The sight of his struggle, the raw want in his eyes, sends a fresh wave of heat through you. But then, he closes his eyes, a pained expression crossing his face. "Tell me to stop."

His resolve is being rebuilt, a fortress against the growing storm of his desire. Despite the desperation coursing through your veins, you do as he pleads. "You can stop."

Despite your words, it takes him a moment or two to retract his hand, pulling your dress back down slowly to restore your dignity. "I'm sorry, Princess."

There's guilt on his face, and your heart sinks. You pull your legs back away from him and sit forward, gently taking his hand. "You have no reason to apologise. I... I should have realised this was foolish." You scold yourself, closing your eyes tightly. "I do not want to compromise your position."

"My position?" he snaps at you, causing you to flinch slightly. The regret in his gaze is immediate. "What about you? You're the Princess. If I got caught with you you'd be ruined." His tone softens as he continues, the anger melting into concern.

The air between you is thick with unspoken desires, the weight of what could have been pressing down on both of you. Crosshair's hand remains in yours, his grip firm yet gentle, as if he's holding on to the last shred of his self-control. His eyes, filled with a mix of longing and frustration, meet yours.

"Princess," he murmurs, his voice low and rough, "this is going to be forward but I've never wanted anything more in my life. But I can't... I can't risk you."

You nod, your throat tightening. "I understand. But just for tonight, can we forget who we are? Just be two people, enjoying each other's company?"

His eyes search yours, and after a moment, he nods slowly. "Just for tonight."

Saying goodbye to Crosshair was inevitable, but it was the last thing you wanted to do. You had already said your farewells to the others, and now it was just Crosshair’s turn.

The two of you didn’t speak of what had happened the night before, yet the tension between you lingered in the air, thick and palpable. As usual, after your time spent in the library, he escorted you back to your bedchambers. This time, though, the walk was slower, each step a heavy reminder of what was about to end.

Neither of you said anything as your door came into view. You stopped, and Crosshair halted just a few steps beside you, the silence stretching painfully.

“When can I see you again?” you whispered, not daring to look in his direction. You heard him take a small step closer, his gaze boring into the back of your head, his presence a comforting shadow.

“Do you want to?”

“Of course I do,” you said, exasperated, finally finding the strength to look at him. “I don’t even want to say goodbye.”

Crosshair bit the inside of his cheek, his eyes narrowing. “You will have a new set of clones sent next week… you may form a bond with one of them too.”

Ouch. “W-Why are you saying that?”

He sighed and took your arm gently, guiding you into a shadowed corner away from any prying eyes or ears. His touch was firm yet tender, sending shivers down your spine. “I think you’re lonely, Princess… and I was just a distraction.”

Your eyes welled up, tears threatening to spill. Crosshair had never hated a sight more. “No, Crosshair, you weren’t just a distraction for me. I…”

“What?” he probed swiftly, his body almost pressed against yours as your back met the wall, the heat radiating from him almost too much to bear.

You searched his eyes, your lips parting as you subtly inhaled his scent, memorizing his gaze, for possibly the last time. “I think you already know.”

Crosshair was silent, not a rarity, but you could see the emotions flashing across his face. He took your hand and brought your knuckles to his lips, his breath warm and tantalizing. “I know.”

The moment hung heavy between you, charged with unspoken words and suppressed desires. His lips lingered on your skin, the gentle pressure sending a thrill through you. Your heart pounded in your chest as his hand slid up your arm, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. His other hand cupped your cheek, thumb brushing away a stray tear. “Crying over me, Princess?”

You leaned into his touch, a soft but sad smile granted at his words. “Just a little.”

Closing your eyes briefly, you savoured the feeling of his touch. When you opened them again, his face was inches from yours, his breath dancing with your own.

Your lips parted slightly, an invitation that he hesitated to accept. His eyes darted to your mouth, his resolve crumbling as he leaned in, the pull between you undeniable. Just as his lips were about to claim yours, you felt the weight of reality crashing down.

“I can’t,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “This is too much.”

You pulled back, the pain of the separation cutting deep. Crosshair's hand dropped to his side, his expression a mix of longing and resignation.

“Goodbye, Crosshair,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, stepping back to give you space. “Goodbye, Princess.”

With a heavy heart, you turned and entered your bedchamber without another word. Honestly, you had never hated being a Princess more than ever before.

“Is there something wrong, my lady?”

You stood staring at yourself in the mirror for, well, you weren’t sure how long but it was long enough to raise concerns. Your handmaiden had just assisted you with getting dressed in your nightwear—a beautiful soft nightdress of the finest silk, the fabric a delicate shade of ivory. It flowed gracefully over your form, hugging your curves subtly, with intricate lace detailing along the neckline and hem and stopped just above your knees.

Your hands played with the fabric and you can’t help but wonder what it’d feel like to have his hands on you. It’d be inappropriate for anyone to see you in a state of undress but you got the warm feeling in your gut that he would undress you even further.

You sigh softly to yourself, Crosshair replaying in your mind on a constant loop. His touch from the massage, his words, the intensity of the almost-kiss—it all haunted you, refusing to let you rest. You barely noticed your handmaiden’s presence until she laid a gentle hand on your shoulder, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Would you like me to get someone for you?” she asked softly, her concern evident in her eyes.

You turned to her, the turmoil of your emotions barely concealed. “No, thank you. I’m just… distracted, I suppose.”

“Is there anything I can do to help, my lady?”

You remain tight lipped, glancing back at your reflection. The nightdress, so elegant and pure, seemed almost a mockery of the confusion and desire within you. “No, it’s something I need to work through on my own.”

She nodded, stepping back respectfully. “Of course, my lady. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to call.”

“Thank you,” you said, offering her a small, grateful smile. “That will be all for tonight.”

With a curtsy, she left you alone in your chambers, the silence and stillness pressing in around you. You moved to your bed, the cool sheets an almost embarrassing contrast to the heat of your thoughts.

For an hour, you tossed and turned, staring at the canopy above your head. Frustration clawed at you, and at one point, you grabbed your pillow, pressing it over your face and screaming into it to release the pent-up emotions.

Just as exhaustion began to tug at you, a faint tap at the door leading to the balcony broke through the haze of near-sleep. You squinted into the darkness, unsure if you were hearing things, but the tap came again, as if a pebble was being thrown at it.

Instinctively, you would have called out for a guard, alerting them to a possible threat. But something in your gut told you not to. Trusting that intuition, you crawled out of bed, grabbing a gown and draping it over your nightdress.

As you opened the door to your balcony, you hesitated for a moment but you threw caution to the wind and wanted to see for yourself. You stepped out onto the balcony, the cool stone beneath your bare feet grounding you. At first you saw nothing but then, you spotted him.

Below, emerging from the shadows, stood Crosshair. “Crosshair? W-What’re you doing here?” you whisper-shouted down to him, checking the coast was clear.

“Honestly? I don’t know. Hunter is going to kill me and possibly your family, but I had to see you,” he replied, his eyes scanning the area too for any signs of danger.

Your heart swelled, and your eyes twinkled with raw emotion. “Am I really worth that risk?”

“For you?” He chuckled softly, his voice carrying a warmth that made your heart flutter. “Anything.”

Without another thought, you motioned for him to come up. Crosshair scaled the trellis with practiced ease, and within moments, he stood before you on the balcony, his tall form casting a shadow in the moonlight.

The tension from earlier, the unspoken words and desires, hung thick in the air. You stepped closer to him, your hand reaching out to touch his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. “You came back.”

He nodded. You can tell he wasn’t used to showing such affection as his hand, shaking, lays over the top of yours that was against his chest, holding it closer to his heart. “I couldn’t stay away it seems.l

The intensity in his eyes made your knees weak. “What if we’re caught?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I don’t care,” he said, his tone fierce yet tender. “I’d rather face the consequences than spend another night without you.”

Without saying another word, your lips met in a frenzy of raw passion and need.

He guided you back into the room, not once parting his lips from yours, and shut the door to the balcony behind him.

His hands took refuge on your hips, pulling you closer as he met your gaze briefly, as if to reassure himself that you were real, before he kissed you again with renewed hunger.

You groaned into his embrace, your body flush against his as the moonlight danced through the cracks in your curtains, casting a silvery glow over your entwined forms. With a soft sigh, you let your tongue run against his bottom lip, and his knees almost buckled at the sensation.

He allowed you access, and your tongues swirled and danced together. Your hands roamed up and down his body, only now realising he wore no armour, just his long black one-piece that most clones wore underneath. This allowed you to feel his slender, toned figure beneath your fingers, the warmth of his skin radiating through the fabric.

“Like what you feel?” he rasped against your mouth as you moaned at the mere touch of him.

“Very much so,” you smiled, both of you pulling away for a much-needed breath.

His eyes roamed your figure, a smirk on his lips and in his eyes. “It feels wrong of me to see you dressed this way,” he muttered, pinching the fabric of your nightdress between his fingers softly. “You look so innocent.”

“Are you saying I didn’t look that way before?” you hummed, a teasing lilt to your voice.

“I suppose you did,” he started before he leans in, his lips trailing down to your neck, leaving a burning path in their wake, “but your mind isn’t so pure.”

A shiver ran down your spine as his mouth worked its way along your neck, planting hot, open-mouthed kisses that sent jolts of pleasure coursing through you. He nipped at your skin, sucking and leaving marks that would remind you of this night. Then, his hand slipped under your nightdress, the cool touch of his fingers against your heated skin making you gasp.

“You like that?” he murmured against your ear, his voice low and gravelly. “You like feeling my hands on you, knowing you’re mine right now, Princess?”

“Yes,” you breathed, your hands gripping his shoulders as his fingers squeezed your arse, pulling you even closer. You could feel his erection straining against his pants, the hard length pressing into you.

You could feel yourself dampen, your pussy throbbing with a desperate need to be met. “Take me to my bed.”

“As you command.” He wasted no time in lifting you up, carrying you across the threshold before laying you down in the middle of the bed. He leaned over, grabbed a pillow to tuck under your head, then crawled over the top of you, claiming your lips once more.

You moaned his name into his mouth, your leg hooking around his waist and bringing him flush to you. You couldn’t help the way your hips ground against his thigh, the friction making you gasp against his lips. “Tell me what you want, beautiful.” He cupped your jaw, his tongue hot and trailing over your lips with teasing flicks. “I’ll be everything you’ve ever wanted. I’ll do anything you’ve ever desired.”

You closed your eyes and let out a breathless sigh. “Do what you wanted to do to me in the library.”

He pulled back, tilting his head down at you. “Tell me first, Princess,” his tone soft, “have you done this before?”

You swallowed and nervously shook your head. “No. But I want to.” You replied, reaching your hand up and touching his cheek, tracing your thumb across the bottom of his tattoo. “With you.”

A cocky and satisfied smile spread across his lips, his fingers slipping under the hem of your nightdress and moving up your thighs.

You trembled beneath his touch as he bunched the fabric around your hips, revealing your bare pussy to him. “Stars, you’re beautiful,” he groaned, his eyes darkening with lust as he spread your legs wider, settling himself between them. His mind flashed back to the moment in the library, when he saw your silk panties and how desperately he craved to taste you. And now, that time has finally come.

He pressed soft, teasing kisses along your inner thighs, making you squirm with anticipation. “Patience, Princess,” he murmured against your skin, his breath hot and tantalising. “I want to savour this.”

You whimpered, your fingers tangling in the sheets as he finally reached your core, his tongue flicking out to taste you. The sensation made you cry out, your back arching off the bed. “Crosshair,” you moaned, your voice desperate and needy.

His hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as he licked and sucked at your clit, intense and with precision. “You taste so sweet,” he mewls against you, the vibrations sending shivers through you. “I could stay here all night.”

You were lost in a haze of pleasure for an incredible few minutes, your body writhing beneath him as he brought you closer and closer to the edge. “Please,” you gasped, your hands clutching at his head. “I need more.”

He looked up at you through your legs, his eyes burning into you. “As you wish, beautiful.” He brought his hands up, tugging the top of your nightdress down to expose your breasts. You gasp at the sudden chill but then moan as his fingers begin to play with your nipples, rolling and pinching them as he continues to devour you.

You cried out at the dual sensations, your hips bucking against his mouth. “Oh, fuck,” you slipped, the curse word escaping before you could stop it.

Crosshair’s eyes flashed with something primal at your slip of the tongue, and he responded with a feral groan. “Such a dirty mouth for a Princess,” he taunted, his fingers slipping inside you, curling and thrusting in time with his tongue’s ministrations.

Your legs turned to jelly, your body trembling uncontrollably as he finger-fucked you with relentless rigour. “Crosshair!” you screamed, your voice hoarse with pleasure. “Oh, fuck, don’t stop!”

He didn’t, his mouth and fingers working in perfect harmony to push you over the edge. Your climax hit you like a tidal wave, your entire body shaking with the force of it as you cried out his name again and again, thighs threatening to close between over his head as cum all over his mouth.

He held you through it, his movements slowing as you came down from your high, your body limp and sedated beneath him. He pressed a soft kiss to your inner thigh before pulling back. “I could get used to hearing you scream my name,” he murmured, his fingers trailing lightly over your sensitive skin.

“Me too,” you gasped, sitting up on your elbows as he moved to lay beside you. “That was… I can't even explain.”

“Did you enjoy it?” he asked softly, laying his hand over the top of yours.

“Loved it.” You grinned, but there was something you now wanted to try. Your eyes drifted down to the obvious bulge in his blacks, your breath hitching with anticipation. You bit your lip, your fingers tracing the outline of his arousal through the fabric. “I think it’s time I return the favor.”

Crosshair's eyes haze over with lust as he watched you. “Princess, you don’t have to—”

“I want to,” you interrupted, your voice filled with a mix of determination and nervous excitement. You both sit up, Crosshair watching you in awe as you help him slip out of his glove, your fingers brushing against his skin as you expose his toned chest. Your hands moved lower, tugging down his lower half and freeing him from the confines. His erection sprang free, and you couldn’t help but marvel at his size and the throbbing need you saw in his eyes.

“You’re so hard,” you whispered, your voice laced with hunger. “I want to make you feel as good as you made me feel.”

He groaned, his hands clenching the sheets as you wrapped your fingers around his length, giving him a tentative stroke. “Princess…”

You leaned in, your breath warm against his skin as you began to place soft kisses along his shaft. “Do you like this?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes,” he hissed, his hips bucking slightly as you took him into your mouth. He lays back down as you start slow, your tongue swirling around the tip, tasting his salty essence. You glanced up at him, his eyes squeezed shut in pleasure, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

Encouraged, you took him deeper, your lips stretching around his girth. You hollowed your cheeks, creating a delicious suction that made him groan loudly. “Oh fuck,” he muttered, his hands tangling in your hair as he struggled to keep control.

You began to bob your head, your hand pumping the base of his cock in rhythm with your mouth. The sounds you made were wet and obscene, if someone were to press their ear against the door they’d definitely hear what was going on but it only spurred you on. You could feel his body tensing, his muscles straining as he fought to hold back.

Wanting to drive him wild, you let your other hand gently cup his balls, rolling them in your palm. You felt his entire body shudder, his grip on your hair tightening. “Oh baby, that feels good,” he groaned, his voice a deep rasp.

Feeling a surge of confidence, you pulled back slightly, letting your tongue trail down to his balls. You kissed and sucked on them, your hand still working his shaft. The combination of your antics had him thrashing, his moans growing louder and louder. Your lips, covered in spit, move back to his cock as you then take him deeper, your throat relaxing as you push yourself to take more of him. His cock hit the back of your throat, and you gagged slightly, but the sound only seemed to excite him more. “Princess, you’re g-going, shit, to make me cum,” he warned, his voice strained.

You looked up at him, your eyes filled with determination. “That’s exactly what I want,” you whispered, before taking him back into your mouth with renewed vigour. You used your hand to stroke the length you couldn’t fit, your fingers squeezing and twisting in a way that made him gasp.

Then, in a moment of boldness, you shifted your attention lower, letting your tongue trail down to his balls once more. You took one into your mouth, sucking gently while your hand continued to pump his shaft. The sound that ripped from his throat was almost primal, his body trembling as his orgasm was closing in.

“Fuck, Princess,” he groaned, his hips jerking involuntarily as you lavished attention on his sensitive skin. “That feels so fucking good.”

You could feel his balls tightening in your hand, his entire body tensing as he reached his peak. With one final, desperate thrust, he came, spilling himself into your mouth. You swallowed as much as you could, the taste of him filling your senses.

When he finally stilled, you pulled back, licking your lips and meeting his gaze. His cocky demeanor was shattered, replaced by a look of bewilderment and satisfaction. “Baby,” he breathed, “You’re incredible.”

You smiled, crawling up to lay beside him, your head resting on his chest. “I’m glad you enjoyed it,” you whispered, feeling a sense of pride. Truthfully, you never thought you’d be able to do this. Especially having brought him so much pleasure.

“Do you want to take it a step further?” Crosshair asks, his eyes searching yours as you nestle into his chest, “Do you want me to fuck you?”

Your heart races at his words, a mix of excitement and nervousness flooding your senses. “Yes,” you whisper, your voice tight with anticipation.

He cups your cheek gently, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “Are you sure my sweet? This is your first time.”

“I’m sure,” you reply, your voice growing more confident. “I want you, Crosshair.”

A smile spreads across his lips as he moves to hover above you. He kisses you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth as his hand slides down your body to your pussy once again. You part your legs, his fingers finding your wetness. “Mmm, you’re so ready for me,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice a low growl.

His fingers tease your slit, rubbing gently before slipping inside you to prepare you for his length. You gasp and grin at the sensation, your body tensing slightly. It felt amazing but perhaps your nerves were getting the better of you.

“Relax,” he whispers, his lips moving to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses. “I’ll take care of you.”

“I trust you.”

He continues to caress you, his fingers working you open as his thumb circles your clit. The pleasure builds, making you moan softly. When he feels you’re ready, he positions himself at your entrance, the tip of his cock teasing your opening.

“This might hurt a little,” he warns, his eyes locking with yours. “But I promise it’ll feel good soon.”

You nod, bracing yourself. He pushes into you slowly, stretching you inch by inch. You whimper at the slight sting, your nails digging into his shoulders. He kisses you gently, murmuring soothing words against your lips. “You’re doing so well, Princess. Just breathe.”

As he pushes deeper, you feel an intense fullness, his cock stretching you in ways you’ve never felt before. The sensation is overwhelming, a mixture of pleasure and pain that leaves you breathless. “W-wow.” You look between both your bodies, watching his cock slowly disappear inside you.

The sight blew your mind. You knew this was breaking royal protocol and that if anyone found out, there would be dire consequences. But the thrill of the forbidden romance only spurs you on, making you crave him even more.

When he hits the wall inside you, his cock rests in the warmth of your cunt, letting you adjust to his size. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” you whisper, your body relaxing as the initial pain fades and as you lay your head back down to look up at him. “Please, continue.”

He begins to move, his strokes slow and deep, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through you. He watches your face, gauging your reactions, and when he sees you start to enjoy it, his pace quickens.

“Please, be more dominant with me,” you moan, your voice breathy with need. “I want you to take control.”

His eyes gleam with power at your words, a cocky smile spreading across his face. “Are you sure you want that?”

You bite your lip, “Are you questioning the Princess?” You counter with a flash of mischief. “Claim. Me.”

He groans at your words, his hands gripping your hips tighter, his thrusts becoming harder and more powerful as you demanded. The bed creaks under the force, your moans growing louder with each movement. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groans, his voice rough. “such a tight royal pussy.”

“More, Crosshair! I need your cock so much.” You cry, your body being pummelled into your mattress. You could feel the stretch of your pussy, his veiny length creating a beautiful friction inside you that had your toes curling.

His eyes burn with lust as he increases his pace, each thrust harder and faster. After a while, he shifts positions, flipping you onto your stomach. “Get on your knees,” he commands.

You obey, your body trembling with anticipation. He positions himself behind you, his hands gripping the roush of your nightdress as he drives into you from behind in a quick motion. You lay your face into the pillow, hips raised to allow him to go deeper, hitting spots inside you that make you cry out in pleasure. “F-F-Fuck.” You gasp, your hands tight in the sheets as he brings your body back and forth onto his dick.

Your moans are muffled by the pillow as he pounds into you, the bed continuing to creak rhythmically beneath you. You reach down, fondling your own breasts, pinching your nipples as waves of pleasure build. "D-Dont stop, you’re so good.”

The room fills with the sounds of your bodies moving together—his grunts and praises, your moans, the slap of skin against skin. His pace is relentless, each thrust more intense than the last. Your bodies glisten with sweat, droplets sliding down your back and mingling with his, the heat of your coupling intensifying.

You feel his hands tighten on your hips, guiding you into a perfect rhythm. Each movement sends jolts of ecstasy through you, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

You arch your back, pushing against him, matching his fervent thrusts. He grins cockily from behind you, reaching across and grabbing a fistful of your hair.

“Dirty little girl,” he groans, watching his cock slip in and out of you. The friction, the pressure, the overwhelming pleasure was making you see stars.

"Crosshair," you gasp again, your voice strained with impending climax. "I’m so close."

He pulls out suddenly making you whine as you miss the heat before he flips you onto your back again. “Not yet,” he growls, and you watch in wide-eyed awe as he moves to straddle your chest. “Suck me first.”

Without a question you take him into your mouth, your tongue swirling around his cock as he thrusts shallowly. He watches you with a dazed, hungry expression, his hands guiding your movements as he locks his fingers round the back of your head, keeping your face in place as his cock slips all over your tongue and down your throat. “You look so good with my cock in your mouth,” he murmurs, his voice rough as you slurp and gasp on his cock. “Such a filthy Princess.”

When he’s had his fill, he pulls out making you gasp for a breath as he begins positioning himself between your legs again. “Ready for more?”

“Yes,” you pant, your body aching for release.

He drives into you again, this time harder and faster. Your moans fill the room as he fucks you relentlessly, each thrust sending you closer to the edge. “Touch yourself,” he mutters, his voice rough. “I want to see you come.”

Your fingers instantly move between your legs, fingers thrashing over your clit as he ruts into you. The combination of his cock and your own touch pushes you over the edge, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. “FUCK! C-Crosshair! I’m cumming.” Your body convulses, your screams of pleasure filling the room as you feel yourself release over his cock.

“Fuck, Princess,” he groans, pulling out at the last moment. He straddles you, stroking himself to completion. “Where do you want it?”

“On my breasts,” you gasp, arching your back to him.

He moans deeply, his release hitting your breasts and nightdress in hot, sticky spurts. He collapses beside you, both of you breathing heavily, your bodies slick with sweat.

But you aren’t done. If this was the last time you were to see him, you were going to make it last.

With a smirk, you push him onto his back, straddling him with this newfound confidence. “I think it’s my turn to return the favour again,” you murmur, guiding his hardening cock back inside you. You begin to ride him, your movements becoming more skilled and precise despite your inexperience.

Stars, what would anyone think of you now?

“That’s it… you’re beautiful,” he groans, his hands moving to your breasts, squeezing and pinching your nipples as you move, not caring if his hands get a little messy from his previous release. His mouth follows, sucking and kissing your tits, making you moan with every touch.

You grind against him, your hips rolling as you ride him faster. You start by gently rocking your hips, feeling him deep inside you. Gradually, you lift your body, almost letting him slip out before slamming back down, taking him fully each time.

Your rhythm is mesmerising, your back arching as you move, your breasts bouncing with each thrust.

His eyes are locked onto you, completely enamoured, unable to keep his hands off you. His fingers trace the curves of your body, his hands holding your hips, guiding your movements. “Fuck yes,” he groans, his eyes filled with desire. “Keep going.”

Your pace increases, each upward lift and downward slam more intense than the last. The sound of your bodies colliding fills the room, mingling with your increasingly loud moans. Your body trembles with the intensity of your second orgasm building inside you.

“Crosshair,” you cry, your voice thick with pleasure, “I’m going to come again.”

He looks up at you with adoration and hunger, his hands caressing your thighs and waist. “That’s it, Princess,” he murmurs, his voice low and encouraging. “Let go for me. You’re doing so well.”

You feel his fingers start to brush against your clit, adding to the overwhelming sensation. Your hips move frantically, chasing that peak of pleasure. He can’t stop praising you, his voice a constant murmur of soft words and pleads. “So beautiful,” he breathes, his eyes never leaving yours. “Keep going, just like that. Cum for me.”

Your body spas, your orgasm shooting through your body. Your cries of pleasure fill the room and he holds you through it, his hands and voice grounding you as you ride out the waves of your release,.

As you collapse onto his chest, both of you panting and spent, he wraps his arms around you, holding you close. “You were perfect,” he whispers, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. “Absolutely perfect.”

You definitely couldn’t go on after that, your legs like jelly as you flop onto your side next to him, the feeling of him exiting you lewd and sinful but you didn’t care.

The two of you lay in silence, nothing but heavy pants and the soft shines of moonlight seen and heard in the room. You’re suddenly drowsy but you knew you should get up and make yourself tidy. But Crosshair beat you to it.

“Stay here,” he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I’ll take care of you.”

He slipped out of bed, his movements graceful and quiet as he made his way to the adjoining bathroom. You heard the sound of running water, the faint clink of glass bottles as he prepared a bath for you. A few moments later, he returned to your side, lifting you gently in his arms.

“Come on, Princess,” he whispered, carrying you to the bathroom. He set you down by the edge of the tub, the warm steam rising up to meet you. “Let me help you.”

He eased you into the bath, the hot water enveloping you like a comforting embrace. You sighed, sinking back against the tub as the tension melted from your muscles. Crosshair knelt beside you, his touch tender as he washed your back and hair. His fingers worked through your knots with care, his eyes focused and attentive.

“This is nice,” you murmured, your voice drowsy. “Thank you.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he teased, making you playfully splash him with the bath water as his hand glides through your hair. “I’m only messing. You deserve to be pampered.”

After a while, he helped you out of the bath, wrapping you in a plush towel. He dried you off gently, his touch soothing and careful. When you were dry, he led you back to the bed, tucking you under the covers before slipping in beside you. You nestled against his chest, his arms wrapping around you protectively.

“What happens next?” you asked quietly, your fingers tracing patterns on his skin.

Crosshair sighed, his hold on you tightening slightly. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I wish I did. Maybe my squad could be assigned to protect you, but it would complicate things. Our feelings… they aren’t supposed to happen.”

You nodded, understanding the weight of his words. “I know. But I can’t help how I feel. Maybe one day, things will be different.”

“Maybe,” he agreed, his voice soft. “One day.”

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his. “We could run away,” you joked lightly, a small smile tugging at your lips yet a part of you wanted it to not be a joke. At all. “I could live a life of adventure and freedom instead of staying in these walls.”

He chuckled, a sound that rumbled deep in his chest. “As tempting as that sounds, Princess, we both know it’s not possible. Your duty is here. And mine… well, mine is wherever the Republic needs me.”

A sad reality settled over you, the weight of your responsibilities pressing down. But with Crosshair holding you close, you allowed yourself to dream.

“We’ll figure it out,” you said softly, your voice filled with determination. “Somehow.”

He kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering. He doesn’t reply with his thoughts, not wanting to fill you with false promises. Apart from this real one: “Whatever happens, I will never forget you.”

And he said your name. Not your title. Your real name.

You closed your eyes, letting the warmth of his embrace lull you into a peaceful sleep. You didn’t want to admit it, but you know that when you wake he will no longer be beside you.

The future was uncertain, but for now, you had this moment. And it was enough.

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[lokideservesahug]

An Unexpected Crossover

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Pairing:Carlos Alcaraz x F1 pilot!Reader

Notes: I've had this in my mind since Wimbledon but only ever ½ created this. Shout out to @yungbludz for fully bringing me into my Alcaraz era and for indirectly encouraging me to post this (il your work) + (an anon comes out of hiding ig). I have ideas for other parts but Idk if I should continue so feedback is very welcome. This characterisation is probably awful but I've never written for Carlos before. I'm very open to advice though.

Summary: Y/N Y/L/N, the only rookie in Formula 1's 2024 season. But many people get excited at her attending Wimbledon especially after some old interviews resurface...

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☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

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You weren't ashamed of your boyfriend, of course not. But mornings like these made the constant speculation, talks and borderline harassment about your relationship worth it.

Moments where you woke up earlier and could watch the first breaking of the morning sun fall out between the gaps in your curtains and onto Carlos' face. You watch as the yellow light frames your boyfriend's face, making him look even more pretty than usual.

In this moment, he looked like the perfect image of sleep. And goodness did he deserve it, especially after his performance, that could only be described as truly outstanding yesterday.

You'd heard what people said about yesterday. Djokovic gave one of his greatest performances ever and Carlos still managed to beat him. Even the thought strikes a chord of pride within you and brings a grin to your face.

A sudden groan however wakes you from your thoughts. "Querida?" You hum in response, looking back down to your boyfriend. He lifts his head up slowly and gives you a familiar look (one that you've learnt that at times like these, means he's questioning why you aren't still glued to his side). You hold in the urge to laugh slightly his pouty face and half asleep fueled strop but that only makes his pout get somehow bigger. "Big baby." You lie down next to Carlos, resting your head on his shoulder and weaving your hand under his shirt. Carlos let's out a slight shiver at the lack of warmth in your hands but also simultaneously hums in content. "Eso está mejor" (That's better)

You roll your eyes. "Then shush you big baby." Already anticipating his next move, you whip out your other arm to cage Carlos' hand to the bed. "Don't even think about pretending to be offended. Just go back to sleep." And that order he happily complies with; well after wriggling his arm from out of your grip only to lay it on your back and rub mindless shapes as he mutters "mujer mandona" (Bossy woman). And before you have the time to respond, (probably about the fact that Carlos gets riled up at stuff like that) you feel the familiar shallow breathing of your boyfriend fan across your hair.

You had to do things at some point today. But you suppose you could sleep in, especially for the Wimbledon Champion.

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Jane had given you some elaborate story for if anyone truly cared enough to ask about your relationship, well at least for your standards. You're pretty sure it went something along the lines of:

1. You and your boyfriend met at the start of last year and began dating soon after (but kept it on the downlow due to your job). However, you were so enamoured with him that despite your PR training, you let the fact that you weren't single slip once or twice.

2. He broke up with you a few months ago, leaving you heartbroken but still being mature and understanding.

3. (Possibly the truest element of the whole story) Carlos kissed you when he won Wimbledon for the second time, which he did.

4. Your ex boyfriend saw, came to a realisation, called you up... you know the rest.

It was very PR polished and you knew it, Jane knew it, but it was what you needed. Some story just yo cover your tracks and make people focus on your racing, not your love live. But it almost made you laugh at what lengths people had to go to. When infact the real story was only:

1. You and Carlos started dating at the start of last year...

That's it. No break up, no heartfelt reunion after you kissed another man. However, you and your boyfriend had a good laugh over the whole story and even led to an interesting conversation a few days ago.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

You'd just come home after racing in the simulator all afternoon. You look down at your phone and sigh at the sight of Jane wishing you a nice day, finally ending the conversation. You fight the urge to roll your eyes as you unlock the front door and step inside. You take your shoes off and walk to the living room to try and find Carlos.

And exactly as expected, he's sat on the sofa, scrolling on his phone. He looks up as you enter the room. "Buenas tardes cariño. ¿Cómo estuvo?" (Good afternoon darling, how was it). You sigh and drop back onto the sofa, leaving back on Carlos as he adjusts to put an arm around you. "Meh. Same as usual. Jane finally came up with a cover story..." Carlos hums in intrigue next to you as you explain the ins and outs of what might as well be a well constructed pyramid scheme at this point.

By the time you've finished, you feel well and truly worn out but you seek comfort in the feeling of Carlos absentmindedly rubbing shapes onto your shoulder. "I don't see what the big deal is. I mean I told Juanki ages ago." You feel your whole body tense up as you turn to Carlos... "You did what?" You're only met with Carlos' sheepish, confused face. And oh gosh, you feel like you need to lie down.

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Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed!

As always, likes, reblogs and especially feedback is always welcome!

Idk who to tag so I'll tag my usual people but please let me know ow if you don't want yo be tagged in work like this:

Taglist: @nikfigueiredo @mysoulispainted @leclercings @d3kstar @hiireadstuff @a-beaverhausen @nichmeddar @lozzamez3 @stinkyjax @marymustdie @littlesatanicassholebitch @mehrmonga @insanedeathwish @ems-alexandra @a-disturbing-self-reflection @cherry-piee @thatgirlmj

[moethewriter]

Could you do one for Finnick where no one knows they are together except close friends, we know katniss doesn’t like him much at first and the reader knows the rebellion plan and obviously Finnick so she doesn’t stop him from flirting with her and maybe(?) thinks it’s amusing because she knows why he’s doing it but it’s revealed in the arena they’re together and katniss is shocked

I hope you like it! I was excited to write it but I fear I made it far more angsty and less flirty than you would like! TITLE: A Lover's Cry WORD COUNT: 1.8k PAIRING: Finnick Odair x Reader WARNINGS: General hunger games violence, secret relationships, angst and multiple POV! (Katniss, Reader) TAGS: Let me know if I need to tag anything else! A/N: I actually really loved writing this one, and i hope you enjoy it despite only loosely basing it off your prompt! Thank you so much for the request and as always I take constructive critisicsm! Not beta read as usual! -

“So what’s with those two?” Katniss questioned, pointing towards the screen.

She had watched Haymitch flick through the tributes, giving her and Peeta the basics on everyone who was going into the arena. Two had caught her eyes immediately, Finnick Odair from District 4, and Y/N L/N from District 8. She knew their names, their faces but she didn’t know anything about their skills or who they were. But both seemed far too polished, posh and pretty standing in front of their respective crowds. It seemed like they were ready to head back in there, almost like they wanted too. 

Haymitch turned towards the television.

“Finnick Odair and Y/N L/N.” He stated, watching the scenes of people he knew, waving towards the crowd of people. Picture perfect smiles adorning their faces.“The Capitol Darlings, everyone loves them … and people to watch out for. Finnick Odair, the youngest Victor in history at only fourteen and Y/N L/N took the top spot for kills from Beetee during her games. Took out nine people in one go. Extremely humble” He shook his head, remembering the brutality.

Katniss made a face. “You’re kidding right?” She snorted.

“Yes, I’m kidding.” Haymitch rolled his eyes. “They’re both peacocks, preeners … The Capitol loves their charm and friendship. They have a lot of support. They would make good allies … but deadly competition.” Haymitch explained.  

“Weaknesses?” Peeta questioned, leaning towards his mentor.

“Finnick will have Mags in there, she basically raised him. He’ll want to protect her in whatever ways he can” Haymitch told them, taking a seat. “Y/N … far too trusting at heart and will do anything to protect them both. She’d rather see herself die than her friends.” He stated.

Katniss simply nodded.

-

Katniss walked into the training room, and scanned her surroundings … She didn’t know these Victors well enough to decide who she wanted to align herself with. According to Haymitch … to make it through the Quarter Quell, she and Peeta needed strong allies. Though she knew deep down the only one she could truly depend on was Peeta. 

Katniss walked towards the bow and arrows laying on the table when she heard the sound of a faint giggle, something she thought she would never hear. She looked up, and her eyes moved around the room … finally they landed on the culprit. She frowned at the sight as she watched a blush rise on Y/N’s face. It wasn’t from endurance training, but from Finnick Odair. 

Katniss had not taken Finnick, refused to, even … he was far too cocky for her taste and she didn’t want him anywhere near her. But Y/N seemed almost enamoured by him … like she liked … whatever the hell was going on.

Katniss made a mental note of the two, as she headed towards Mags … she would keep that to herself for now. She needed to make some friends here, and Katniss thought that Mags would be a good start.

-

“You’re going to get us caught, Finnick.” You blushed, pushing him away as you headed in the opposite direction. “Play it cool, Odair … can’t have everyone knowing about us.” You whispered.

“Sorry.” Finnick put his hands up in defence, a small smile lacing his features. “I’ll try to tone it down but looking at you … that’s going to be hard to do.” 

“Zip it.” You made the motion of your lips. “We’ve got training to do.” You told him, gesturing towards the room.

Everyone else was laser focused on honing their skills, making it known that they were not to be messed with in the Games. But you two were simply goofing off, and giggling like two schoolgirls who had gossip that no one else knew. You were certain that Snow wasn’t pleased, nor was the new Game Maker but you were in your world. Finnick had always made it hard to concentrate on the task at hand.  

You and Finnick had been together for three years. During the 71st Hunger Games you had both been mentors for your respective Districts, and he had confessed to you. It was strange … so confusing to find love in the hardship of the Games but you wouldn’t trade that for the world. You loved him more than anything and he loved you right back. Long distance had been hard at first but you made it work, you would always make it work for him. 

“Find me later?” He asked.

“I know your room number.” You said, smiling towards him.

-

“I don’t know if I’m ready to go back in there.” You whispered, snuggling closer to Finnick.

You knew the plan, and you knew you had to get Katniss and Peeta out of that arena. Plutarch and Haymitch had made that abundantly clear. There was a Rebellion and Plutarch was on your side, he was hiding in plain sight, ready to take down The Capitol. You jumped at the chance to join, even if that meant sacrificing your own life. Finnick had agreed immediately once he knew you were joining. He had always shared your sentiments about having a better future for everyone.

You wanted a better life, a quiet life with him and you would fight for that every single day. You finally had your chance, and you had no idea if it was going to work but you had to try, you had to fight.

“I know.” He whispered, his thumb gliding across your hip. “I’m not either.”

“When we’re in there …” You muttered, kissing his jaw. “You have to remember that Katniss and Peeta are the most important ones there. Okay? You have to protect them first and everything else comes later.” 

He smelt like vanilla, probably from the soap supplied from The Capitol, but it was so soothing to you.

“I … I don’t know if I can do that.” Finnick said, plainly. “I know this Rebellion is important … I know that they are important but they’re not the most important things to me, Y/N. You and Mags will always be far more important than some Rebellion.” 

“Finnick.” You felt the lump rise in your throat.

This could be the last time that you two were together, and you weren’t handling it well. You knew you would never be safe again after winning The Games. You were well aware that you would never have peace again, but you didn’t think you would be in this position ever again. You certainly didn’t want to be here with Finnick.

“Let’s just be together right now.” He said, kissing the top of your head. “Let’s pretend that nothing is going to happen tomorrow and we're just laying under the stars and nothing is going to go wrong.” His breathing started to even out, and his heartbeat steadied your own.

“Okay.” You whispered, desperately swallowing. “Okay.”

-

“Finnick! Katniss!” You cried, chasing them into the woods, Johanna and Peeta on your tail.

The Games hadn’t been going as planned. 

First you had been separated from Finnick, which had caused you great distress. You ended up pairing with Johanna, Beetee and Wiress, fighting your way through blood rain and wild beasts. 

Then you had lost both Wiress and Mags. You had lost so many who joined The Rebellion, you watched the announcements every night and flinched whenever a cannon fired, wondering if you were losing a friend or foe. But you didn’t have time to grieve either of them, so much was at stake. You had to make it through another night to ensure that you would be saved. Giving up when you were so close wasn’t an option

But God you were so tired.

Then … the jabberjays started. 

You hated jabberjays.

They hadn't been used during your games, but you knew they tortured anyone who listened.

You had stepped out to find something food for everyone, and Beetee volunteered to come with you. You were all hungry, and getting weaker, especially after the fight at the cornucopia. You needed some sort of energy, and you weren’t going to see anyone die of starvation. 

You had been gone for maybe twenty minutes when you heard Katniss scream, shortly followed by Finnick. Fear had seized your heart, as you wasted no time chasing the sounds, Beetee desperately calling for you. 

You weren’t afraid to fight whatever threat was out there … especially when Finnick’s life was on the line. You would gladly die if it meant he lived.

You had met up with everyone, chasing down the other two and when you had found them, screaming, Jabberjays fluttering above them … your voice crying for help … you had cried, desperately trying to reach Finnick but to no avail. 

He and Katniss were trapped, writhing on the ground … sobbing and there was nothing you could do but wait.

It had been horrible to watch, you could only imagine what they were experiencing. 

You didn’t care who knew anymore, you would scream from the rooftops that you were in love with Finnick, if that meant he would be okay. You needed him to be okay.

It seemed like hours before the Jabberjays had flown away, and you had run to his side in an instant. Holding him close to you, assuring him that you were okay. 

“Y/N?” His voice sounded so goddamn small.

“I’m here baby.” You whispered, into his ear, gently rocking the man. “I am here, and I am okay. You’re okay.” You leaned in and kissed his forehead.

You were well aware of the shocked eyes on you, no one but Johanna knew anything about the two of you, and you met the brown eyes of Katniss. She seemed the most shocked out of anyone here. You knew she didn’t particularly like Finnick, she had only really met the persona he portrayed to the world. She didn’t know him like you did, you knew his heart.

“Everything is going to be okay.” You told him. “It’s going to be all okay.”

-

“He loves them.” Katniss said after a moment of silence, watching the two figures in the water.

She wondered how she could have missed it, all the signs were there yet she had been shocked. She didn’t understand the two, probably never would but that wasn’t really any of her concern.

“Yeah.” Johanna nodded. “They do. They’ve been through a lot together, I’ve known for a long time that those two were together. It’s disgusting really how much they love each other, they would quite literally kill for one another. Can’t blame them though, when you find someone like that you keep them close to your heart.” She shrugged. 

“I never thought …” Katniss trailed off.

“That anyone could ever love someone that much?” Johanna questioned, crossing her arms. “Well believe it, Katniss, because it’s right there.”

Katniss moved her gaze away from Johanna and back towards the water, the kiss was short and sweet but in that moment she knew that nothing could break those two apart. Nothing would, and they had something worth fighting for.

[prettyboypistol]

What if... stuff that m!reader does/can do that makes the mercs flustered? even if its just making them a little embarrassed i need to know!!!

What You Do That Flusters the Mercs! || TF2 x M!Reader

Scout

He likes watching you socialize with people, you naturally lean on walls and tilt your neck up when you laugh- god damn, you look so hot when you laugh!

For some reason, when you throw things and catch them. He has no idea why it just makes his heart skips a beat.

When you focus and your eyebrows knit together and it deadass just stares at you.

Soldier

DISPLAYS. OF. POWER. Deadlift something. Throw an enemy off a cliff. Threaten a Spy and scare him. Solly will never fucking recover.

Independence and general "coolness" makes Jane stumble over his words! You don't need a man, yet you still ask him to assist you? He feels so honored!

Asking for help casually, like said above. When you extend your hand out to grab something from him it makes Soldier scream internally.

Pyro

The fact that you're kind to people makes them like you. You're sweet and polite and cordial when you want to be. You're not annoying or hard ot read or obnoxious- you're just kind.

When you take your time with things to understand them. They daydream about spilling all their secrets to you.

Protectiveness really flusters Pyro. One time in battle, Pyro was cornered. You slammed the Scouts with a metal pole and growled that "nobody touches our Pyro!". They haven't stopped thinking about that. Nor will they ever.

Demo

Tavish is enamoured with your sense of humor. He loves how you're quick to make a joke and open to laughing at anything.

Can't help but blush when you stare at him. Yeah, half of the times you stare, you're spacing out, but Tavish still looks away and is flushed a pretty deep red.

The joking flirting??? YEAH HE STARTED IT BUT THAT DOESN'T MEAN YOU'RE ALLOWED TO BE THAT HOT

Engie

Hard work and general work ethic.

Dell is super insecure about the fact the finds you super hot when you're sweaty. After a battle or working out is when Dell seems to linger around, stealing glances at you.

WHEN. YOU. PRAISE. HIS. INVENTIONS. That replays in his head all week long.

Heavy

He likes to watch you spar with people with stuff like wrestling/boxing, especially when you swing Scout around like a baseball bat.

There was one time where you and Heavy were in a tough spot against the enemy team, down by 4 kills. There was just something in your eye that had a light of fire and determination. Seeing that is how he fell for you.

Cook for this man please he will love you and blush forever.

Medic

CASUAL KNOWLEDGE ABOUT MEDICAL PAPERS AND SCIENTIFIC STUDIES. GOD YES.

Cooing with his birds??? He wants to pick you up and spin you around and kiss you and-

He really likes when you challenge him. You give this confident smirk and your tone shifts that make Medic want to just scream about how handsome you are.

Spy

Spy's a man with refined taste. He likes his men like he likes his wine: aged finely and polished to perfection. He likes when you're classy and get onto the others about acting crass and classless.

If you can dance, Spy absolutely pulls some strings to have you two on a mission where you two are in matching suits and dancing together.

Spy once was muttering to himself in french and you catch him and you just lean over the back of the couch, look down at him with a knowing smile and just respond in french as well "now now, a lady shouldn't scowl like that." He knew you meant it as a playful insult, but he blushed wildly under his mask.

Sniper

Mick's downright horrendously flustered when you make eye contact with him. You're a tad shorter than he is, so you looking up from behind to him makes Mick shake in his boots.

Bro please don't grunt/groan in effort at anything. He will NOT stop thinking about that.

When you accidentally look at him during missions. He's always keeping an eye on you, so when you stare back at him it makes his heart flutter.

[didyoulookforme]

nsfw alphabet: cute & soft matty healy x fem reader

so, i'm not a writer whatsoever, but i have thoughts (a lot of them smutty tbh) about a certain matty healy and wanted to jot them down as i need to try and get them off this brain of mine.

i have a type and it's middle part sometimes straight hair sometimes curly silver chain baggy clothes wearing matty, who in my head appears shy and innocent at first due to his fidgety demeanour (eg. running hands thru his hair constantly, mindlessly biting his bottom lip, repeatedly tapping his foot, etc.) but is actually very opinionated and witty with the people he’s close to, including you. he’s been your bff for years but is afraid of taking it further because he adores you and doesn't want your friendship to be ruined due to his big feelings towards you. he loves to hug you to feel you close and breathe in your scent, but honestly, he doesn't (or tries to not) have much physical contact with you otherwise because his mind, heart, and body cannot take it. he's enamoured by you and has been for years now to the point where he is 96.7% sure he's really, really in love. that's how it all starts and you do eventually end up together, but it takes some time... oh, and he has a crazy sex drive and lots of dirty thoughts about you. a shy romantic horny opinionated man who is mostly a sub.

nothing super unique, just mostly here for the soft bf matty vibes because we all deserve one of those.

(sorry in advance for all the grammatical errors, typos, and run on sentences. i'm not a proofreader.)

warnings: 18+, lots of smut with some fluff. this is too fucking long lol

(not quite) sfw version here

matty healy masterlist here

--------

a = aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

this boy lives and breathes to take care of you, before, after, and during sex. anything he can do to make you feel safe, loved, satisfied. but his favourite form of aftercare is, hands down, using his mouth and tongue to make sure you're all clean. after he does so, the little ritual continues by spending time just softly kissing each other's lips. you both indulge in the lingering taste of each other's cum, but there's nothing dirty or aggressive about it. it's all gentle, a sweet reminder that you belong to each other.

b = body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

if matty were to choose his favourite part of his body, it would be his arms. after all, there's a reason why he keeps decorating them with tattoos. makes him feel confident about himself and, honestly, doesn't mind all the compliments either. bless him. but he also has grown to appreciate his unruly curly head of hair, the reason being that he knows how much you like it after all the tantrums you throw whenever he cuts it. before you get together, you only play with it when you're too drunk or high, but when you do so it makes his heart grow.

his favourite part(s) of your body are your hands. so delicate with silver rings adorning almost every finger. it's difficult for him to not watch when you rub them against each other when you're nervous. or how your hand finds itself in front of your mouth whenever you laugh too hard at his nonsense. he knows you prefer dark nail polish vs. lighter coloured ones. he has imagined countless times how your hands would feel on him. sigh. he worships those hands of yours and would kiss then every single second if he could.

after you do get together, he realizes that, as cliché as it sounds, he loves your cunt. for one, when he first saw you completely naked he thought he could just die happy right then and there. but that was until he got to taste you and decided he'd much rather be alive as he could never have enough of your sweetness. and how it perfectly fits around him? he swears he’s the luckiest motherfucker alive.

c = cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

oh god. don't let the shy boy act fool you. he is FILTHY. it took a few months for this side of him to show, but you are over the moon when you find out how enthralled he is when he sees his cum dripping out of you. it all started one afternoon when you were riding him (his fav position of course, see letter f below). he finished inside you, his head thrown back over the couch while trying to catch his breath. after a few minutes, you raise your hips to pull away and carefully sit right below his stomach, making sure not too hurt him. once his breathing is back to normal, he looks back at you with those sweet tired eyes, gaze travelling down your body and ending at your spent core, where he notices beads of his white cum running down your cunt. the sight is almost too much for him, poor matty. he bites his bottom lip hard to stifle his whimpers, but somehow gathers enough courage to ask if he can touch you ("sorry sorry sorry i know it's gross. fuuuck. forget i said anythi--" "matty, calm down, baby. my sweet boy, it's okay. you can do it. i want you to.") his mind goes haywire when he brings his thumb to touch you, picking up a bit of his cum which he then rubs on your clit in small, gentle circles. sigh. but yes, cum is involved and you both love it. that's that.

d = dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

before you were officially dating, you once left a black shirt at his place, one of your favourites in fact! don't really know the specifics of why or how it happened, but you left it there and he found it. his sensitive soul found it difficult not to immediately grab it and put it against his face to smell your lingering scent. but it didn’t take long for his horny mind to take over and wrap the piece of cloth around his cock and get himself off. before he realized what he was doing, he had already stained your shirt and the shame he felt was unreal to the point where he could not look you in the eye next time you saw each other. “oh, btw, i think i left my top at yours. do you think you can bright it next time?” his face had never been more red in his entire life lol. it wasn’t until you were together that he confessed to it when you were playing an nsfw version of truth n dare in your living room because you were both drunk as fuck.

e = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

okay. so believe or not, this matty doesn't really do hookups. he's in a famous band, yeah, but he's not really looking to get off with people just for one night. he will only do it if he feels a spark with someone on some level other than physical attraction, but he prefers the intimacy and closeness that comes with a relationship. because of this, he hasn't had too many different sexual partners, but during those few relationships he worshipped his other half and did everything he could to learn every single little thing about how to please her in the best way possible. it takes him time to get there with every gf, but once he knows what you like, you will never be dissatisfied. tl:dr not too much experience when it comes to body count, but will excel A++++ all around with the partner he's currently with.

f = favourite position (this goes without saying)

without a doubt, you riding him while he’s sitting up. can be on the sofa, your favourite dining chair, the edge of your bed (his preferred place), the back of the tour bus, you name it. this man loves close skin-to-skin sweaty contact. he is eager to keep you near when you grind yourself on him, one arm tight around your mid back, the palm of the other gripping your ass, guiding your hips back n forth. this way he can also keep kissing your face, neck and shoulders whenever he wants to and feel your tits against his chest. it also allows him to look up at you as you bounce up and down his cock, this which might be one of his favourite sights in the entire world, just as if he were worshiping you.

g = goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

for the most part the sex is a calm, sensual endeavour, but if something happens like his fingers getting tangled in your hair, him kissing your teeth, you accidentally tickling him, he'll be adorable and smile, letting out a soft laugh. you love that he's vulnerable enough to chuckle at a small mishap rather than him getting frustrated. he's too damn cute. you can barely handle it.

h = hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

sweet matty knows you love going down on him (which he thanks his lucky stars is a real thing as he cannot get enough of your lips around him) so he tries to keep himself trimmed down there. you couldn't care less tbh but it's cute and rather hot to see him that invested in thinking of what will be best for you and your pleasure. funny enough, you would've never thought he did so given his current nonchalant way of dressing (baggy clothes, torn band shirts, messy gelled hair). but this boy does like to keep you guessing after all.

i = intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

he cannot possibly be close enough to you (re. his favourite position being you riding him). you are his world and will hopefully always be, even if he had to wait what felt like a lifetime to finally have you romantically and sexually. both of you prefer slow and sweaty sex whenever possibly, filled with lots of sweet words and love you's and him nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck while you run your fingers through his hair. he's a shy horny romantic at heart.

j = jack off (masturbation headcanon)

our boy here has undoubtedly gotten off at the thought of you many, many times before you get together. whether it is him reminiscing about a certain memory and/or looking at photos of you, he's certainly done it. he's also been caught by adam when he's not-so-silently moaning your name while he's no-so-silently jacking off during tour. but because adam is a sweet soul and understands the hardships of missing the person you love, he doesn't give him too much grief over it (unless matty is getting on his nerves).

now, when you do end up together, there's a time when the two of you are high (you do that a lot), giggly, care-free and the topic of masturbation comes up for some reason. this is when it is confessed that you both had (obviously) gotten off at the thought of each other pre-dating and that ends up turning both of you on to the point where one of you suggests if you can watch each other do it. so that happens and mutual masturbation continues to be thing in your relationship.

and of course, matty still masturbates many times while he's away because you end up sending him short snippets of you pleasuring yourself. so he cannot help himself.

k = kink (one or more of their kinks)

it’s all about praising. he loves it. you love it. it's a win win situation for both parties involved and it couldn't be more perfect. because he can sometimes get nervous, your praises make him feel at ease. call him a sweet boy (his fav) and you’ll have him at your mercy. on the other hand, if you refer to him as a good boy, he will almost devour you alive.

one summer you were playing fetch with mayhem in the park “aww! who’s a good, sweet boy!?” and for some reason matty started chocking on the coke he was drinking “are you okay?” “yeah yes. cough. ‘s nothing. wrong pipe” “hm, okay if you say so.” five minutes pass and mayhem is cuddling with you while you scratch his ear “such a sweet, pretty baby boy, aren’t you mayhem? yes, of cour—wtf matthew, are you sure you’re alright?” you look back at him as he’s trying to aggressively clean the coke he spat out and landed on the crotch of his pants. after that you notice that he not-so-subtly tries to readjust his baggy jeans ever so often. you get a sneaky suspicion of what might’ve happened, but it isn’t until you are together for a few months that you test out your theory and praise him and he literally comes undone seconds after the words leave your mouth. he’s almost too much <3

l = location (favourite places to do the do)

vanilla answer, but your bed. the fact that he can have you in the place where you sleep just drives him crazy with lust. it's your space. it smells like you. you spend endless hours there resting, facetiming him, watching tv, (as well as pleasing yourself). so yes, your bed is a sacred temple to matty. amen.

m = motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

before sex: wear any of his clothes and that's almost a sure way to get him turned on. especially his jumpers and shirts. once upon a time you two + the rest of the band went swimming. after you got tired of everyone cannonballing into the pool (because they're grown men boys), you stepped out and wanted to get out of your wet swimsuit asap because you hate the feeling of wet clothes on your skin. without really thinking, you just grabbed his jeff buckley shirt (i love jeff buckley btw), put it on, and since it is way larger on you that it is on him, you thought "lalalala i'm just gonna remove my swimsuit here since this shirt is roomy and no one will be able to see anything." as you're doing so, george has matty in some sort of headlock (because, again, boys) but as he's struggling to get out of it, his eyes end up in your direction as you're pulling the suit bottoms down. this makes him tense up and freeze in place, so now george has the upper-hand and submerges him underwater. when matty comes back to the surface, he's outta breath, huffing and puffing, and none made easier because (unbeknownst to you) your wet body and swimsuit have made his white jeff buckley shirt see though. and since then he cannot get enough of you wearing anything of his.

during sex: pull on his hair when you're riding him and it's game over. he'll immediately get a goofy toothy grin on his face while bitting his bottom lip and adoringly look at you thru half lidded eyes as if there is nothing better in this life (because of course, nothing compares 2 u).

n = no (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

absolutely nothing that could possibly hurt you too seriously. you two eventually get into some harsher tendencies and kinks, but it's always consensual. he'd never forgive himself if he caused you unwanted pain.

o = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

he absolutely loves both. he swears there is no better feeling than having your warm mouth around him but he's never too pushy or needy about it. you of course enjoy it too, but the best part about it is just seeing him come undone as he gets loud, sweaty, and shaky which is a sight you'll never grow tired of. and as mentioned on letter b above, he enjoys your cunt A LOT so he'll never miss an opportunity to go down on you. that tongue of his? unreal. but he's definitely noticed that your favourite is when he sucks on your clit so he spends majority of the time doing that. imagine you sitting on the edge of your bed, him shirtless kneeling down with your legs over his shoulders, and his head between your legs while his lips are wrapped around you, gently sucking and licking while you gently pull on his hair and tell him he's your sweet boy. it's heaven for the both of you.

p = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

more often than not, it’s slow and sensual as that’s something that both of you really enjoy. from one romantic to another, you cannot get enough of the passionate sex.

HOWEVER, fast and rough comes into play whenever he gets jealous as he cannot help himself. but it's not in a hard, mean dom type of way. more in a "i'm all yours. i want to make you feel so damn good and please you so you don't look at anyone else. please do anything you want with me" type of way. the first time he ever wants to have rough sex, he acts all shy and nervous when asking you if it's okay as it's not his norm. but you're there to guide him through and make it easy for him. <3

q = quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

not really your or his thing, tbh. reason being that if you have sex, it never ends up being quick. you'd much rather be late to the event or appointment than to rush it. the amount of times he's been late to soundcheck is alarming, but it's not like they can kick him out of the band, right? one time when he walks into the rehearsal, flustered and with hair all over the place, he sees george about to mock him but matty beats him to the punch. "before you even fucking start, yes, i was having sex before this. yes, it was amazing. yes, i know i'm late again. that's it. i'm sorry. let's carry on." but the thing is that a sexually satisfied matty = amazing gigs, so the others cannot fault him.

r = risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

he’s down to try anything but only if you discuss it first so both of you are comfortable. again, he may look and act shy most of the time (especially with people he doesn't know too well) but he's known you for years so he's super comfy with you, thus he's game to do anything which might bring you pleasure as long as he doesn't seriously hurt you (as mentioned in letter n) because he wouldn't be able to deal with causing you any sort of lasting pain.

s = stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

tbh one of the other main reasons he goes to the gym (see letter x) is so he can last longer for you. you both have insatiable sex drives (see letter y) so he wants to keep fit in order to try and fulfill any and all desires you might have. once you get together, it's no secret to any of your friends that you have a VERY active sex life that they can only dream of and matty loves to remind them that they’re just jealous when they do make fun of him for it. he’s cute.

t = toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

he didn’t think much about them at first UNTIL that one night he was over at your place and opened up your bedside drawer, hehehe. so hear me out... our boy loves getting high (especially with you) so he asked if you had any weed as he very surprisingly (i know, i'm shocked, too) forgot his own. you just looked at him with wide eyes like “whoa, wait. you forgot? are you okay?” while you jokingly felt his forehead to see if he was ill. he gently swatted your hand away and squinted in mock annoyance, “fuck off... but really, do you have any?” :insert big brown caramel puppy eyes: you motioned over to your bedroom and told him that your stash was in the drawer of your bedside table. he struts over, nonchalantly, humming a tune that’s been stuck in his head since that morning because you’d been listening to it nonstop. he gets to your room, stares at your comfy bed wishing he could sleep with you, in both senses of the word, because he's head over heels for you. he'd do anything and everything you'd ask him faster than the words could even leave your mouth. he sighs, knowing that couldn't happen because you weren't his gf :( anyway, he bends over to open the top drawer of your left bedside table and start shuffling around to find nothing but books, notebooks, photos (including one of him napping, awe). he moves on to the second drawer to find a black lidded box which he opens and to his surprise (or dismay) finds your toys which causes him to almost drop the box altogether. his eyes gaze over each of the vibrators and other small devices in there and he cannot help but think of you using them on yourself. siiiiiiiiigh. a "did you find it, matty?" is screamed by you which causes him to instantly come back down reality. the box is put away and he speed walks out of the room, heading straight for the kitchen to get a glass of water to hopefully rehydrate his desert dry throat after his discovery. "well, did you find it?" "nope, changed my mind. don't want any weed. i'm okay. i'll just drink my water. here. in the kitchen." when in reality he was standing behind the bar so you couldn't see how rock hard he was. fast forward to right before you go to bed that night, you want to get yourself off so you go to find your fav toy when you see that the box is on a weird angle with the lid not fully closed. then it dawns on you why matty had to very abruptly leave that evening.

BUT ANYWAY, after you get together and your enjoyment for toys is out in the open, he loves using them on you which is a huge turn on for you because it shows that the seemingly shy boy is actually super confident when it comes to your sex life together.

u = unfair (how much they like to tease)

much like the cum play (see letter c), it took a bit for matty to feel comfortable enough to be a tease while you were having sex. he's not too much of a dirty talker (if you haven't noticed yet, he's a sub in this world of mine, sorry) BUT he eventually finds out that you love begin edged. so yeah, he has fun with that, going down on you over and over again until you are screaming.

v = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

poor matty tries to stifle his moans, whimpers, and any other sounds that come out of his mouth but it doesn't work well for him as he always ends up being the loudest out of the two of you. this is another thing his bandmates always tease him about, as they can always hear when he's getting off on the tour bus or having sex with you in another room. and this is another instance where he reminds his mates that they're just jealous because of his amazing sex life.

w = wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

remember how i said i have a type and he's a chain wearing matty? well, once you both start having sex, he very quickly finds out you fucking love pulling on that chain to bring him closer to you. he also notices how you tend to kiss around the area where in sits around his neck. your obsession about it becomes 100% confirmed when he sees that the background of your phone is a photo of him shirtless but still wearing that silver chain. so he knows that he always has to wear it, a quiet sign that you control him. but one morning after his shower, he comes running to the living room, huffing and puffing that he cannot find his necklace until he looks at you. you just smirk and wink at him when he sees the chain around you. oh, he doesn't know what he's in for.

x = x-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

he once heard you say how you were starting to find "more conventional, muscular men" attractive so he took this as his cue to immediately look up the number of the best and closest personal trainer he could hire. fast forward six months and you're at his flat, drinking and listening to music with the band. who knows what happens (probably george's fault) but matty ends up spilling his glass of wine all over his shirt. UGH. "fuck me. it's embarrassing how many clothing items i've ruined 'cause of this expensive habit." you laugh loudly at him, obviously, but karma gets you once he takes off his ruined top so he's just standing there in his dangerously low rise grey joggers. that shuts you up as you just stare at the muscles on his back and the mostly defined v shape above his crotch. matty leaves the room to get a clean shirt without noticing you basically drooling over him. however, perceptive handsome ross does pick up on the vibes and teases you for the remainder of the evening.

y = yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

high. higher than anyone you've ever been with and you're thankful for it. albeit it is PAINFUL when he's away on tour for months at a time, especially when you cannot go and see him :( no matter how many photos or videos you send each other, it's never enough to satiate you desire to have him close to you. the only silver lining is when you both do end up back together, as you both know you won't be sleeping that night and won't be going anywhere else the day after.

z = zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

once the soft making out session is done (see letter a), he's gone. he's a sleeper. he's a napper. he's the big spoon and holds you close, lazily kissing the back of your neck before he settles himself against it. again, he's all about that close contact, gotta love him. but give him 3 minutes MAX and he'll be out. a tired boy has to rest, i guess <3

--------

ALRIGHT. that's enough for me rambling. not sure if anyone will see this but my mind feels about 12% lighter for now. until the next brain rot takes over.

if you happened to make it this far, you're a gem. thank you. you're the best. and i'm always free to talk about this man and smutty thoughts about him!

[faerygrant]

As he locked up the car Carmen couldn’t wait to get home and see you. He wondered what cute set you might have put on for him tonight, couldn’t wait to hear all about your day. Which usually consisted of playtime at the park with the baby, a Pilates session you usually went to during her nap time, your weekly blowout that he was always happy to pay for or maybe just some online shopping for homeware and overpriced shoes. He loved having you as his pretty little housewife, coming home to a clean and tidy house, being fed cutesy desserts you’d insist on baking him, and i seeing his beautiful daughter and most of all his pretty little wife.

He walked through the doors, smelling like cigarette smoke and steak tartare to find the house glistening clean, the floors polished and a fresh Bundt cake sitting in the dessert dish. He smiled, before making his way to your shared room where you sat at the edge of the bed, dressed in the lacy light pink, agent provocateur set he’d bought you for Valentine’s Day. Your hair was freshly blown out from your appointment earlier in the afternoon, as your manicured nail gripped the gold plated crucifix he’d bought for you and your daughter to celebrate her christening. He stopped in his tracks, as his eyes met yours, as you gave him those not so innocent fuck me eyes. He couldn’t help but smirk to himself, knowing exactly what it meant. You were feeling submissive.

“Hi daddy, how was work?” You tucked your voluminous curls behind your ears, batting your eyelashes at him.

“It was fucking stress-full, but I think you’re about to make me forget all about it, right?” he smiles, coming towards the bed and playing with your hair.

“Mhm” you nod with a half smile and pout.

“Your hair looks pretty, did you use daddy’s card to pay for it?” He asks as his hands roam down from your hair to grip at the crucifix around your neck.

“I did, I know how much you love taking care of me” you smile up at him, enamoured by how handsome he looked even after a 10 hour work day. His curls all disheveled and blue eyes so piercing.

“Ofcourse I do, you just take care of the house, let me use you whenever I need and have my babies and you’ll always be taken care of.” He smiles, the hand that was playing with your necklace had now moved down to the front of your bra, as he pinched your nipples, causing you to whimper.

“Fuck Carmy, feels so good.” You say through laboured breaths.

“Yeah? Need you to turn round for me, gonna make me a daddy again.”

[starryylies]

Simon with an emo gf :0 (or just any type of alt!!!)

SIMON WITH AN EMO GF

I’m so so so so so so so so so so so so so so sorry for replying so late like soooo sorry, and I love your req. like it’s really unique!! It’s awesome and I can totally imagine him dating an emo girl.

I hope this is to your liking!!! And if you have any suggestions always feel free to drop a message

☠︎︎ Okay so this man, I personally think he didn’t really care much about goth/emo culture before he met you like he just knew about it.

(Tbh he gives me emo vibes, esp w the skinny jeans)

☠︎︎ Looking at your clothes, your choppy cut hair all in all made him a bit reluctant to approach you at first simply because he couldn’t tell if he was in love with your style or if he was in love with you

☠︎︎ He lovesyour style omg, like the way you put your eyeliner from the way you make your hair every morning before you went out

☠︎︎ Definitely had made some very dark jokes about the stereotypes regarding emo.

☠︎︎ Whenever or if you guys go out nobody will dare to give you funny looks lemme tell you that, he will make sure nobody even looks at you funny.

☠︎︎ He’s really protective of you generally but when you guys go out it’s way more.

☠︎︎ He genuinely loves the way you do your eye makeup, enamoured while you do your makeup in the morning.

☠︎︎ He once asked you to do his eyeliner for him once.

☠︎︎ He is not a fan of clubbing or raves but goes with you nonetheless if you’re really into that just so you can be happy, his world lights up when you’re happy so how can we ever deny you.

☠︎︎ Thinks you’re the most beautiful woman in the world.

☠︎︎ If you’re a metalhead you both definitely go to those concerts together and collect vinyls and music from shops.

☠︎︎ If anyone dares to make fun of your fashion or your appearance they’re so dead. Like genuinely they’re 6ft underground.

☠︎︎ Whenever he’s out or deployed and he finds a shop where there’s some cute stuff (like skulls, bracelets, vinyls etc) he will pick it out for you to give when he’s back.

☠︎︎ Wears one of your bracelets before he goes for deployment, carries it as his good luck charm.

☠︎︎ He definitely doesn’t want to dye his hair but how could he say no to you so he let you dye his one strand of hair matching to yours.

☠︎︎ he would get matching skull bracelets for you guys.

☠︎︎ would get you a black ring with a small skull carved at the top of the ring.

☠︎︎ Starts copying your style a bit if you wear chunky bracelets he will try wearing them too when he’s at home.

☠︎︎ def has a I 🩷 emo girls shirt for himself.

☠︎︎ will let you do his nails black, once soap called him out for wearing nail polish and he just replied with, “my girl did this fo’ me i ain’t removing this”

☠︎︎ Is a proud and loving boyfriend all in all.

[luveline]

a june baby drabble (for which I have no explanation) <3

Eddie sits down with an over dramatic sigh, throwing his thigh over yours so your legs are interlocked. You lean in to him on impulse because that’s something you can do now, whenever you want to, and he cups the back of your neck in his hand, elbow behind your shoulders. 

“Okay, junebug, we’re ready!”

Junie bursts from where she’d been waiting in the doorway, looking as wild as she’s ever looked. Dark liner and glitter (hypoallergenic, according to your boyfriend) decorates her small eyes. She has a plastic guitar swung over her neck, her hands poised clumsily over the strings and struts. 

“Let’s rock!” she shouts excitedly. Rock sounds like ‘wock’ and Eddie’s timed it all so well that you burst into laughter as the music starts.

She strums frantically at her guitar, nonsense sounds hidden by the overloud music blaring from Eddie’s borrowed stereo.

You tip your head back with the force of your giggles and it slots right into the curve of his neck. He laughs in time, hand swung lazily over your legs to the popcorn bowl between them. He feeds you a half handful and polishes off the rest as Junie dances around the room, a ball of energy, a ray of total sunshine, a burning stage light. 

You applaud as she takes a breather, hair wild and eyes glazed with delight. 

“My rock star!” Eddie praises, holding his arms out expectantly. He doesn’t flinch when she runs at him full pelt, her guitar a half inch from hitting him in the jaw. 

“Rock and roll,” she says severely. 

You cram your mouth with popcorn and laugh as you chew. “Super rock and roll,” you say, hand over your mouth. 

Junie closes her eyes as Eddie’s arms pull her in that little bit tighter. You’d miss his touch if you weren’t always so enamoured by their relationship, the uninhibited way that she drapes herself over him, the more than natural way he receives her. 

“You,” — he kisses her cheek — “are,” — another kiss, this one lower — “amazing.” He presses a final kiss right on top of the first. “Now quick! Angel is next!”

Angel is the ‘88 song by Aerosmith, and it’s Junie’s favourite. She must’ve heard Eddie serenade both you and her with it a hundred times by now. She knows maybe ten percent of the words, primarily, “You’re my angel, come and save me tonight,” and she sings it so sweetly and with so much passion it always makes you smile. 

She bursts back into the middle of the room and takes up the starting position for a ‘soundcheck’. While she’s preoccupied, you place your hand as gently as you’re able to against Eddie’s cheek and tilt his face toward yours. 

“One day that tape is gonna break,” you murmur, “and we’re gonna have a big problem on our hands.”

He meets your soft gaze, his own full of a carefree happiness that cuts to the bone, leaving your chest a mess of warmth. “Oh no,” he drawls. 

“I’m serious.”

He leans in until your noses touch and presses a quick, firm kiss to your subtle pout. “I know you are.”

The pout turns to a smile soon enough. Junie screams for eyes on her and you spring apart, though Eddie takes the time to twine your fingers. 

“Go on, baby,” you encourage. “We’re watching.” Mostly. If you sneak looks at each other, nobody can blame you.

[lilibethwrites]

Growing Pains

Aemond Targaryen and Y/N ‘Velaryon’ grew up together. They played and stumbled and fell in the halls and empty chambers of Red Keep, retreated to study tomes under the God’s Tree in the courtyard, and took turns distracting the cooks as their pockets pulled at the seams with the stolen lemon cakes. As Y/N and Aemond’s mothers drifted apart, the young prince and princess grew closer—much closer than either of them thought was possible.

 This is a slow-burn, multi-chapter fic that will be (heavily) canon divergent at times. Both Aemond and Y/N are 18+.

Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 (Finale)

 Warnings: None for this chapter

Word count: 2180

A.N: This was in the works for a while, but only as a vague idea. Aemond being a total diva and enamouring everyone pulled it out of the drafts and put it together at lightning speed.  

“Mother, please. This is not necessary,” Y/N stood still in front of a polished mirror as her soft protest fell on deaf ears. Behind her, Rhaenyra Targaryen held a brush gilded with delicate, gold dragons, and the soft bristles glided through silky white hair.

 Rhaenyra would never admit it to anyone but herself in the safe retreat of her mind that half the tears she had wept the night Y/N was born were because she was blessed with a head full of white hair like a true Targaryen and Velaryon. Rhaenyra was relieved. She was relieved that at least one of her children would be spared the cruel jabs and accusations wherever she went. True, their words couldn’t be called accusations if they had truth to them, and what set Y/N apart from her older brothers was not blood, for they shared the same father, but a bit of luck or perhaps an intervention from the old Gods or the new. But the specifics eluded Rhaenyra, and no one needed to know any further.

 Y/N had servants doting her from the moment she took her first breath—and not only because they had to, but because she was, not unlike her mother, a delight to be around—and yet for the ten and eight years she’s been alive, her hair was gently brushed and braided by her mother. Despite the fact that Y/N loved nothing more than to run around and come back to her chambers come afternoon with scrapes and dirt across her face and her hair a dishevelled disaster, Rhaenyra carefully brushed and braided her hair unceasingly, morning after morning.

So, a dismissive—loving, but dismissive nevertheless—hum was all Y/N got out of Rhaenyra.

 “Two or one? Perhaps one over, and one under?”

“Only one, please. Leave the rest as is, I’m to take Tessarion out of the pit soon.”

 Rhaenyra, in curiosity, cocked her head to the side to catch Y/N’s gaze in the reflection of the mirror. Meanwhile, her deft fingers dove in and out of strands of white hair, creating a tight, single braid that would soon twirl into a simple bun with a few pins.

 “Have I not told you? Apologies. She hasn’t flown in days, and the weather seems well. It would do her good to—”

“Flying alone, are you?”

“No,” Y/N’s voice came out weak. A stronger “no” soon followed. “Vhagar is coming, too.”

“You mean Aemond,” Rhaenyra’s shapely brows furrowed into a disapproving frown.

 It didn’t take a Sister of the Faith or the Spymaster of the court to know that Rhaenyra and Queen Alicent weren’t what they once were. A collateral of their bitter falling out was her somewhat sudden disapproval of how much time Y/N had spent with Aemond. “That boy’s nothing but bad influence,”  she’d complain over dinner. Daemon would hum in agreement, though the agreement, Y/N knew, did not come from his heart. Y/N always had her suspicion that Daemon and Aemond had mutual respect, and perhaps a slight hint of admiration for one another. Though both were too proud to ever be anything other than reverential to one another whenever they crossed paths. Even so, Daemon saw Y/N with Aemond several times, and reassured Rhaenyra that she only spent time with the servant girls, helping them fold heavy tapestries all day long.

 Y/N however, felt differently. Despite her childish cruelty towards Aemond before he’d claimed Vhagar for himself, he was nothing but sweet and kind to her. She was in on cruel pranks played on him, parading around a much smaller Tessarion whilst asking him why did he not have a dragon, and could he perhaps be a bastard himself since his egg hadn’t hatched.

 “You know, Tessarion was a goddess in old Valyria. Mother helped me choose a name for my dragon. From the tomes of our Maester. When will you get a dragon? You’re older than me. Besides, everyone else has one. Except for you,” Y/N once pressed Aemond as a child, instigated and encouraged by her brothers and Aemond’s.

“Perhaps never,” Aemond responded quietly, unbeknownst to both himself and Y/N that things would change quite soon.

 And change they did. Aemond claimed the biggest dragon in the known realm. He changed, too. He hopped off from his first flight as a man: colder, calmer, more distant and cruel. Yet he always reserved a warmer, softer place in his frozen heart for Y/N.

Aemond never regarded himself handsome, and he was too smart to fool himself with Alicent’s excuses as to why young ladies around Red Keep avoided her. But not Y/N. Never Y/N. She beamed up whenever they sat across from each other at the breakfast tables and dinner feasts. Though their games changed, the time they spent together never lessened. She seemed almost *happy* to see him, but Aemond took great care to remind himself it was a kind, friendly gesture from a well-behaved lady. Though he couldn’t dare say it out loud unless he risked a playful slap to his broad shoulder with a feigned-stern warning that Y/N was not a lady.

 “By the Gods! I’m NOT a lady. I’ll wear an armour, like you. Don’t laugh. You will see. I will never get married. I won’t fall in love. It’s absurd. Mother says she said the same thing once, but she ended up fighting in the same battlefield all women do,” Y/N stomped her feet to the pit just last week with Aemond following behind with a lopsided smile.

“And what battlefield is that, my not-a-lady?”

“The birthing bed, of course! It’s absurd. Truly. It’s a horror! I’m never falling in love.”

Aemond only hummed, nodding as Y/N trailed off, nearing the end of another one of her rants about the perils of ladyhood. Though that time, his face fell. There was a stinging ache inside him, as if Ser Criston finally got him in one of their training sessions. Why did it matter if Y/N disavowed love? So what if she was sworn off marriage? Didn’t he do the very same as he stared at the grotesque scar that ran across his face? Besides, if she were to fall in love, it would be with a handsome and flirty Lannister, or a ravishing Velaryon who would whisper promises in her ear that he’d sail her across the whole realm, showing her palaces and gardens from the comfort of her own ship. Y/N grew into an attractive lady, and while Aemond himself grew taller and muscular, he was not fortunate enough to grow another eye in place of the one he lost. Though the trade was far from fair, sometimes a certain thought snuck into his mind, especially when he was with Y/N: he would trade Vhagar back for his eye, and then, perhaps Y/N would see him differently. It was a silly thought, and he chased it off as soon as it came, but by the Gods it was persistent.

 “Good morning,” Y/N squinted an eye to stare up at the man with his back to her. She needn’t see his face to know her dragon-riding partner. Not because almost all her waking thoughts were plagued, in one way or the other, with him—it was indecent and quite frankly went against what she’d promised herself—Gods, no! But, well, he was tall and stood a certain way and shifted his weight from one foot to the other a certain way and his hair blew in the tender morning breeze a certain way and that breeze carried a certain scent that Y/N could distinguish from a feast hall full of smells—only because they grew up together. Perhaps Maester was right and reading too many romances was indeed perilous for a fresh mind like hers.

“Morning? Is it not past noon?”

“No. Perhaps you have suffered a blow to your head.”

Aemond smiled first. He always let Y/N win their playful bickering.

 A gentle tap on his arm signalled him to follow along, though with his long legs he could’ve easily caught up with no warnings. His arms were folded behind him. Perhaps it was a feeble attempt at ensuring that his hands didn’t defy his mind and reach for Y/N’s, or perhaps, they were just comfortable like that.

 “Are you excited?” Y/N broke the silence, stepping closer to Aemond, who always had to arch his back or crane his neck to meet her height. It amused him how petite she was in comparison. It reminded him of the times he carried her behind his back, with her legs locked around his waist and her arms almost suffocating him with how tight she’d clutched his neck from behind.

 “What for?”

“The wedding, of course. Gods, you behave as if Aemon is not your brother sometimes!”

“Can you blame me?”

“No…” Y/N trailed off. She found that she couldn’t blame him for much, but perhaps for coming into her mind and filling her ears each time a suitor introduced himself to her, or when the Maester bored her to death with another history lesson.

 “Well, are you?”

“No. I suppose not. Frankly, I’m not certain why I even asked,” Y/N chuckled. She could be herself the most and speak with no reservations or designations when she was around Aemond. The idea that he would soon follow after Aegon and marry a woman infuriated her. They could no longer spend as much time together as they could now, and they couldn’t be as close as they were either. The grass-green dragon of jealousy got the better of her. Oh, how she wished he’d let his arms idle by his side as he usually did. She would take his arm and tell him if she absolutely had to marry someone, she’d choose him, and she wouldn’t hate the notion of giving him a baby or two who would look exactly half like him and half like her. And despite telling herself this exact tale almost every day, she never quite gathered enough confidence and courage to do such a thing.

 So instead Y/N flew alongside Aemond as usual. He showed off and she admired whenever she thought he didn’t look. High up above the clouds, Y/N thought about never landing down again. She fantasized about taking off with Aemond. She had once read in a tome about how the old Valyrians got married, and the words turned into pictures in her mind as she watched Vhagar glide through a flock of birds. The blood was first drawn from a palm she thought about pressing against hers whenever sleep eluded her. Then, the sharp Dragonglass cut hers, and the flow of their blood united in a mysterious Valyrian magic. Then—then, Aemond pulled Y/N out of her sweet fantasy and back to the clouds they were flying above.

 “It’s getting late. Your mother might worry.”

“Or perhaps you’ve had enough of my company? Would you rather be elsewhere?”

The smile faded from Y/N’s face as the silence went on. It was a “yes”, then? Aemond did want to be elsewhere, perhaps with someone else, and she would find out through a silly tease.

“No. But I would rather you were not in trouble on my account.”

The delayed, stoic answer didn’t do much to comfort Y/N. So, that’s what he would come up with as an excuse to cut our time short? Might as well admit that you would rather be anywhere but here, why won’t you, Aemond?

“Actually, yes. We should land. I forgot I have a suitor coming all the way from the Eyrie.” That was a lie, and an immature one at that, but Aemond didn’t need to know.

He looked back over his shoulder. The hiss laced with disappointment and fury was swallowed up by the wind raised by Vhagar’s wings.

 Back at the Pit, Aemond was courteous as always, hopping off Vhagar first to hold his hand out to Y/N, helping her off her dragon. Though this time, his hand didn’t reach for her waist to aid her in her small jump, and the lack of his touch through his gloves and her heavy brocade riding coat burned her flesh from the inside out like scorching iron. His face was turned to the side, his hands idle with the saddle on Vhagar as Y/N idled, praying to all the Gods she knew to pry a word of assurance out of Aemond’s mouth. A sweet, warm confirmation that they are still—well, friends.  Yet it never came. A quiet, almost distant “Be well, princess,” was all that she got and a sharp piece of Dragonglass cut her open from neck to the heart. Far more painful and deadlier than an open palm, and no matching cut to bind their lives together, either. Perhaps the idea of marrying the very next lord that asked for her hand and getting away from King’s Landing—a place that once held much hope and happiness but now nothing but anguish—once and for all wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hello there! I hope you're healthy and well! And oh, I loooveee your writings! They're always great ^_^

Anyways, I would like to request. It's Wednesday Addams x fem!reader. So let's just say Wednesday has feelings for the reader. But she doesn't know how to tell her. And I would love to know how she would react if she saw the reader was being kissed by Xavier. Just love a little bit of angst 😎

That's all, thank you for reading my request!! XOXOXO

Feelings were a fickle subject when it came to Wednesday Addams, despite growing up with two parents whom were blatantly enamoured with one another and didn’t seem to hold no shame in showing their love either. However just because she was the child of Gomez and Morticia didn’t exactly meant that their affiliations for love were an inheritable trait for her to have. However despite believing herself to be as emotionally dead as the dearly departed buried six feet under their own graves, you elicit reactions within Wednesday that made her believe that she was either sick or subsuming to an early death.

The fluttering within her stomach whenever you stood close by enough for her to manage to catch a whiff of what you were wearing that morning; Lavender and and body spray, she would note later on as she found herself burning away the midnight oil one night, describing the scent of an additional character to her novel. She would remove all traces of the character but she had soon found out that she had written so much dialogue between viper and this character; So much so that the plot portrays their coming together in joining forces as a chance of fate in solving the mystery. For Wednesday to remove your insert character from her novel would be to set herself back a couple of pages, possibly chapters, because your character suddenly became a vital part of her story out of the blue and she had already advanced so far with the story that it would just seem like wasted effort.

Another thing Wednesday would always be subconsciously reminded of in her moments of silent reprieve was the way in which her cheeks would heat up whenever you smiled, laughed or outwardly complimented her. She never once cared about what others thought about her nor her personality but it seemed that the moment you started to speak of her in such high praise, that’s when she began to feel herself crave your validation. Wednesday didn’t care how you did it but she just wanted you to praise her, compliment her to high heavens and no one else. She naturally hated how she craved something she openly voiced not caring about but yet here she was, acting the hypocrite just for your appraisal.

She even often found herself actively searching for you in the quad before classes like a puppy dog looking for it’s owner. It was pathetic but recently Wednesday observed that she seemed to go against her own code whenever you nearby. She hated being craved and stalked by others yet she was subconsciously doing the same thing to you but going about it within a more subtle manner; Such as keeping a seat saved for you in the classes that you share, going so far as to threaten bodily harm on fellow students in swapping jobs with her so that she could be with you during outreach day and last but not least, participating in the Poe Cup when and only when you were participating.

Enid had her suspicions that Wednesday had feelings for you but never dared to voice them until one day when she returned to her dorm to find Wednesday awkwardly standing there, picking at her chipped nail polish. Before the blonde could speak up, Wednesday beaten her to the punch by asking a question Enid never thought she’d ever hear her ask. “What…does it mean to like someone?” Enid wanted to scream Ophelia Hall down because her intuition about Wednesday had been right. However Enid knew she’d have to save the celebration for later as she had a friend to help in navigating her feelings, so she took a deep breath and sat herself down on her colourful bedding, smiling at her morbid dorm mate. “Who’s the lucky guy, girl and or person?”

The pair talked late into the night and by the time morning had came, Wednesday felt the overwhelming urge to rid herself from pining after you from afar and instead act upon her feelings. Unfortunately, due to her lack of experience within this field, she didn’t exactly know the best way to go about conveying her feelings towards you without potentially scaring you off into the arms of someone else. Who’d knew that the one thing that Wednesday couldn’t seem to comprehend was the fact that she had actual feelings other then disgust, dismay and the obvious morbidity? Wednesday definite didn’t and she was left perplexed at her desk, her head buried in her hands as she raked her nails down her face, leaving red marks in their wake as she attempted to find a possibility in where she could express her emotions that wouldn’t require so much effort being drawn from her.

This new sensation was thrilling to the young Addams as found herself brainstorming a thousand ideas a minute, a majority of which were crumpled up into wads of paper that were then discarded to the black metallic waste bin she kept beside her desk. None of them were good enough for you, she would tell herself the more she drove herself to sheer madness within the thicket of her research. It didn’t have to be perfect, it didn’t have to be a spectacle for others to bask in, overcrowding her moment with their attendance. It just has to be enough for you and to Wednesday by osmosis. However there was one minute detail that Wednesday seemed to have deemed unimportant or intentionally skimmed over due to it’s irrelevance in her grand scheme; Xavier Thorpe.

The boy clung to you like a babe does to their mother. His arm would permanently be seen over your shoulder, drawing you into his side as he spoke to the gorgon, Ajax. Wednesday also didn’t take into account how whenever she saved you seat in class, Xavier would immediately bolt for the spare seat beside yours as he began to animate the doodles on his sheet of paper, watching as they scampered up your arm and burrowed themselves into the collar of your shirt before eventually clambering back down and retreating into the blank sheet of paper once the teacher had entered the room. Even during the Poe Cup Xavier seemed to take it easier on you then compared to the rest of your team, even going so far as to giving you a head start.

Once Wednesday had achieved victory your team, instead of moping and complaining over his teams loss, Xavier only beamed at you with pride as you celebrated with Enid and Wednesday, whom you had slung your arms over the moment you three crossed the finish line; Smiling so widely and bright that he couldn’t help but engrave your happiness into his mind that would later be splayed out on that blank canvas later that evening. Xavier’s constant need to be by your side extended to school events such as Outreach day, where he’d peak over your shoulder at the job you had been given before scavenging the crowd for someone with a matching job and then sweet talking them into trading; Sometimes he -if lucky enough- would have been assigned to the same job as you through pure coincidence.

When the faithful day where Wednesday would finally confess to you finally came, her seemingly dead heart stopped when she caught sight of you and Xavier in the courtyard, standing closely together with his hands gingerly cusping your cheeks as you melt into his touch as though you were the candle wax to his flame; He was uttering sweet nothings and you were obviously moved by them as your hands instinctually reached to grab ahold of the lapels of his blazer, tugging at him in a silent plea for him to step closer despite being pressed up against you another as humanly possible. Xavier was thriving off of your reaction whilst Wednesday was trying to cast her gaze elsewhere but found herself forced to watch as the boy pressed his lips against yours.

Xavier’s golden brown locks acted as a curtain for the both of you as it fell from his shoulders and brushed against your cheek, hiding the fact that you were very much taken by his actions as your hands gripped his lapels tighter while his hands wandered to find home at your sides. That day Wednesday Addams understood what the sound a shattered heart makes.

[wild-flowerhoney]

sirius and regulus run away AU but make it moonwater/moonseeker

they do go to the potters and sirius immediately fits in, they're a family of eccentric extroverts and that's exactly the kind of people sirius adores - regulus doesn't, though. he still has hang ups about james, euphemia is Amazing but he's truly not comfortable with her expansive nature and fleamont is just barely better.

anyway remus stays for a bit during summer and the plan is to bring him home (the lupins dont have a floo connection) and stay for dinner there. except. hope is immediately enamoured with the tiny, sarcastic teenager standing moodily behind his older brother - reg is quiet and looking at the bookcases more than at them but still managing to snark and jokingly insult the others in a way that makes her genuinely laugh. and remus is so clearly fond of him, the two of them going back and forth easily.

and regulus likes her too - hope is warm but quiet, motherly but in a subtle way. and lyall is gruff and clearly doesn't know what to do with all these teenagers but he still looks at his family with love even if he doesn't know how to show it. they're a little broken, a little less clean and polished than the potters are. and regulus likes it that way, prefers their quaint little home (with the yellow paint peeling off of the old wooden front door) to the splendour of potter manor.

he visits often, during that summer. until he's pretty much only going back for sirius (living without his brother, even after everything, would be too unnatural) because he's got his own bed at the lupins', his own bookcase and space in remus' closet.

(sirius knows his younger brother. he pushes reg to accept the offer of staying over more often, even if it feels weird to have breakfast without him outside of hogwarts. he stays at the lupins' himself, as much as he can, just to give reg more opportunities. sirius has a mother in euphemia, regulus wont let himself admit the same about hope.

sirius has only ever wanted happiness, for his little brother. he wont let regulus give up on it for his sake. )

this is all to say: reg at home with the lupins, building a close friendship with remus and falling in love with him through late night talks and mornings spent together and long nights crying softly under the light of the full moon - hope has two sons now, both happier than they've ever been. lyall watching his wife and son welcome another boy into the family is exactly the kind of shock he needs to start proving that he can be part of it too. remus and regulus being loved and loving in return. life has never been so good.

[angelbambifemme]

Sitting on the edge of me and my butches shared bed, one leg arched, toes pointed, I slip on my black opaque pantyhose.

I take out my hair rollers, letting my hair cascade down to frame my face with luscious, loose auburn curls, like a woman straight from an old Hollywood film. I shimmy into my tight, sparkling red tube dress, signaling my butch to zip the back for me. He watches me as I get ready for the night, enamoured, fascinated, utterly enraptured by me. His femme.

His gaze nearly swallows me up, as I sweep my long lashes with thick black mascara, blending brown eyeshadow into the creases of my eyelids, slicking on my favorite sanguine lipstick and brushing my long nails with a matching shimmery polish, puffing my cheeks and nose with rosy rouge and stamping my neck and wrists with musky, yet sweet-smelling floral perfume.

I clip on my pearl-beaded necklace and matching earrings, following up with sparkling gold bracelets.

Lastly, I allow my butch to slip on my red high heels for me. He kisses up and down my calves as he does so, reminding me of how beautiful I am.

We exchange a few tender kisses, and though my lipstick has been smudged, I'm not so bothered. It doesn't take much to freshen it up later. I don't mind being late.

[theinnerunderrain]

Their favorite attributes of you

Characters: Kaeya and Diluc.

Warnings: Yandere themes, suggestive content, unhealthy relationships, violence.

+

Your words.

Kaeya never really regarded himself to be a verbose man, despite his reputation for being one. Kaeya enjoyed engaging in conversations with a variety of people, from light-hearted banter to in-depth debates from time to time but it wasn't his favorite pastime. Kaeya, however, prefers to listen to your voice above his own during exchanges between the two of you.

As long as Kaeya can hear your voice and acknowledge what you were expressing, he would do whatever it took to aggravate you, even if it meant employing the crudest insults and taunts. He does not really mind if you spew hateful and vicious things as long as he can hear you speak.

Although ordinary social interaction usually meets his demands, hearing your thoughts while you're under his authority seems to be almost certainly more pleasurable. He is enamoured by how quickly your speech becomes agitated, how a tiny movement raises your voice to a high note, and how a simple nibble makes your heart quiver. Your speech becomes slurred anytime his hands brush a lower portion of your body as even the smallest stroke or trace of his fingertips on your flesh can easily cause you to fall undone.

Then your words begin to sound sickeningly sweet, as if another woman had seized control of your body and coerced you into speaking certain seductive sentiments.

As though a lustful devil has taken possession of you.

But Kaeya doesn't mind. Even whether you screamed in wrath or joy at him, or if you sobbed and begged him to let you go. Kaeya doesn't care how you're feeling as long as he can hear you speak and hear you.

As long as your voice is solely his.

It doesn't matter.

"What's wrong? Cat got your tongue? Why don't you continue, it seemed like you were finally getting to the interesting part of the tale. I'm waiting, so do continue."

Your eyes.

The brilliance in your eyes seems to be something Diluc cherishes. Even on the gloomiest of days, the illumination within your eyes is joyous and brilliant, like the beacon at the coast that offers the travelers a glimmer of direction. He enjoyed the way your eyes could catch his reflection in them when they peered at him through your heavy eyelashes, fluttering at him in a youthful manner.

He liked how they would look up at him and beg for things he couldn't quite comprehend, but he knew you were pleading for something.

His mind wandered to the innocent deer whose round, doe eyes he used to constantly glimpse in the forest next to the winery, looking timid and fragile. Which might occasionally—more accurately, on extremely rare occasions—provoke the urge in him to slay the deer and hold it in his possession. However, he simply is unable to carry out that thinking; he simply cannot.

Diluc could see everything in the recesses of your eyes. From his aspirations to his wishes to his ambitions to his objectives to his thoughts to his thoughts to his secrets to even his whole existence, which he wanted you to be a part of forever. He observed life through your eyes, predicted the birth of your children, and imagined how you would appear while carrying the blessing you two had created.

He saw it all.

Diluc was by no means an artist, therefore his ability to portray the glimmer in your eyes was severely constrained. Even if he had attempted to portray the serenity of your eyes, all the painting truly achieves is to take that allure away from you, turning you into a doll inside a work of art. In the painting, they resembled glass orbs since they were polished and dark which wasn't something Diluc wanted to see.

That's the reason he was willing to rearrange his schedule just to spend more time with you; he enjoyed taking walks around gardens and listening to you chat about your days, as well as the way your eyes would brighten at certain points. It makes him forget about all the suffering and pain he's gone through and temporarily frees him from his misdeeds.

Your eyes are indeed beautiful.

He doesn't deserve to look at them.

"I love you."

However, there can be instances when he prefers that you keep your eyes shut, particularly during the still hours before morning when he might softly make meaningful confessions. Confessions that are only audible if you listen carefully, as they have the potential to be hollow as swift as the wind, leaving him to flee whenever you awaken.

He was relieved that he couldn't see your eyes staring at him in dread when he leans in to steal a quick kiss from your sleeping form when your eyes are completely closed.

Your eyes are beautiful.

However, it would be better if they were closed to filter out the bloodied corpse of your lover.

"Don't cry...I'm sorry you had to see this. Don't worry everything will be alright, come here. I'm sorry I had to do this."