Commander Crosshair - Blog Posts

strung wires [crosshair x reader]

pic credit: @starqueensthings

content: sexual tension, slight degradation/teasing, vaginal fingering, implied p in v sex, crosshairs a fucking tease, use of the nickname 'princess' once

it's crosswhore hour babes lets gooo

THIS POST CONTAINS NSFW CONTENT. IF YOU ARE NOT 18+ DNI

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You're so sick of it. So sick of him.

Stupid Crosshair with his stupid little smug smile he always has on and those doggedly piercing eyes. Eyes that always without fail have a sparkle of cheekiness in them even as he growls. That mouth and soft lips and that slick tongue of his that won’t ever shut up or give you peace for more than a few hours.

Everything about him is so damn infuriating, so damn frustrating, so. Damn. Attractive.

Crosshair is catastrophically charming, and the fool kriffing knows it. He sees right through your act; how flushed you get, your cheeks pink with embarrassed flattery barely hidden behind your hands, your frustrated huffs turning into sickeningly smitten smiles the longer you stare at him from across a room.

He's got you in a chokehold; one you can't get out of no matter how stubbornly you try to push him away and out of your brain, and you're going to tear your skull apart if you are stuck any longer.

"Can you help me out here?" you hesitantly have to ask him one day, reaching high up for a box on a storage shelf. If one of the other members of Clone Force 99 were around, you would ask for their help. Anything but to avoid this itch of a man in your head.

"Aw," Crosshair coos. He creeps up from his seat, letting his rifle lean on the cushion as he walks up to you, so casual and composed, everything you’re not in this moment. "Does the princess require my assistance?"

You automatically, instinctively scowl and let out an ugly snarl.

"Yes," you sigh while rolling your eyes. He laughs through his teeth and you glare.

“Such a shame,” He says rather smug; you frown.

"Can you just shut up and do it?" You snap.

He looks at you with a deadpan but knowing look before taking two big strides toward you, a commanding disdain radiating off of his body. You shiver, almost pleasantly; the feeling is avidly discomforting.

"A please would be polite, you know," he hisses.

Through trembling, claustrophobic breaths, you let a 'pfft' noise fall past your lips.

"Like you're ever polite," you shoot back.

Without taking his eyes off of you, sinister and stern, he takes another step toward you; his chest would press against yours if you were to move even just an inch closer. He brings an arm up, inadvertently caging you in, as he grips the box you were trying to grab with only one hand and presents it to you, practically mirroring a fine meal on a silver platter.

Not once, do your eyes separate, as you take the box from him, and he turns and walks back to his rifle, taking it and going back to his cot without another word.

***

The next time you ask for a helping hand, it ends differently.

You’re in the same position as before, pinned between him and the cold steel of the Marauder, a hand placed above you, caging you in, gripping the walls you would a sheet, and the other hand two fingers deep in your cunt. Well, that part is certainly new. Not that it's a bad addition; if anything, it frees the tension.

“Shush, would you?” He whispers harshly into the shell of your ear when you moan, slowly rocking his fingers inside of you. You whine louder, just to spite him, and clutch onto his shoulders, nails digging into his blacks; if you’re to scratch any harder, the fabric is bound to tear.

Without warning, he dives down and slots his lips with yours. Your eyebrows raise and you squeal weakly against him, but he only readjusts to keep you more still.

It's dizzying, so incredibly disorienting; he feels exactly as you thought he might, strangely soft and sentimental, but rough and harsh all the same, eyes scrunched with focus and his breath coming out in inconsistent intervals. You can feel yourself getting lost in his body, in his simple presence. But he pulls away before you're gone completely and hisses into your mouth,

“We don’t want to wake anyone else up, do we?”

Despite the criticism, he continues working you; curling his fingers into your g spot he found only moments before once, twice, three times until you gasp.

“Fuck,” You hiss, forehead pressing the crook between his shoulder and neck with a billowing rush of shame.

You can’t stop yourself; the sensible part of you wants to push away, stop yourself from indulging in such wicked pleasure from an even more wicked man, but when you feel his breath brushing against your jaw, groaning pleasantly into you all from the pleasure he’s dishing out, the pleasure he simply gives, you know you’re certainly doomed.

“C'mon. Keep taking it, girl,” Crosshair encourages you. A third finger teasingly circles the lips surrounding where he pushes into you, a warning of what's to come. "`Know you can do it."

A feather-light kiss, open-mouthed and sloppy lingers on the soft skin of your neck, and his eyelashes flutter against you as he thrusts his fingers into you another time; you sob silently into his shoulder.

Then you feel it again. That stupidly charming smirk etched onto your body forevermore.

“Keep taking it `till you’re ready for my cock.”

You whine one last time, clenching hard around his fingers and pressing your palm to your mouth; it barely stifles the noises you make, but with his own sounds escaping his mouth, you doubt anyone will make your shameful ones out in the white noise.

He's got you trapped real good.

dividers by @saradika ~ tags: @pb-jellybeans

Hey, if it isn’t too much trouble and when you have all the energy you need, would you consider making (preferably fem!)reader x crosshair fic where some bad guy takes the reader and then after she is rescued the bad guy says “I should have killed your little girlfriend when i had the chance” id really like to see how you would express his emotions in this one, you capture all of the characters’ behaviour soooo well i love your works <3 ty for considering

Aloha!

This isn't going to end well.

Crosshair x Fem!Reader Short One-shot - The Fatal Mistake

Warnings: Angst/Violence/Tiny Bit Of Fluff

_________________

Forgive me for making something up that isn't canon (yet).

After Crosshair managed to flee Hemlocks facility, he reunited with you, after months of being missing. The Doctor doesn't take it too well, especially since Tarkin is watching this failure critically.

Hemlocks spies know about you, and he gets hold of you. As Crosshair tries to free you, things turn ugly.

___________________

The Fatal Mistake

After the sound of gunshots fades, it is eerily quiet for a long moment. A deceptive silence that seems almost peaceful. Until a voice familiar to you breaks the silence.

Crosshair snarls, "You're in over your head, Doctor."

Hemlock knows what Crosshair can do, and yet he feels superior, his movements deliberate, slow and confident, like those of a predator. His posture carries the arrogance typical of a bully who feels superior to his victim.

He has you handcuffed in front of him like a shield, he is sure that he holds all the cards at the moment, even if Crosshair has taken out his men, and he is facing the Sniper alone.

"I don't think so," Hemlock replies in his calm, low voice, almost purring, "I have someone very close to your heart here, as you can see, and I intend to take advantage of the situation."

Crosshair tilts his head slightly forward, his gaze piercingly fixed on Hemlock, almost like a bull ready to charge at any moment. There's so much hatred in his amber eyes that even you feel it run down your spine, though you know that hatred isn't for you at all.

"Bringing her into this was a big mistake. If you take her from me, I have nothing left to lose, and I will walk over dead bodies to get her back," he growls.

Hemlock has one hand on your shoulder, with the other he points to the dead on the ground, the bullet holes still smoking.

"Yeah, I saw that. You've always been willing to take lives, even innocent lives, without hesitation, from what I've heard."

Crosshair grits his teeth, avoiding looking at your face for fear of the judgment that might lie within. He is well aware of his mistakes, and they've kept him up many a night.

"Those were different times, different circumstances," he says reluctantly.

Hemlock smiles and says unapologetically, "Tell yourself that if it makes you sleep better at night. But in fact, I know you hardly slept in the weeks before you were brought to me. Guilt?"

Crosshair doesn't dignify that question with a response, but instead demands, "Let her go."

You listen to the men, nervously. You know that your life or death is being decided here. You feel Hemlock's hand on your shoulder and the handcuffs cutting into the skin of your wrists.

A few minutes ago you thought you were lost, but Crosshair really showed up, he really came to save you. Fear and joy mix. You trust him, you trust that he will do the right thing. You force yourself to take a breath, to trust that Crosshair has the situation under control.

"Tell yourself that if it makes you sleep better at night. But in fact, I know you barely slept in the weeks before you were brought to me. Guilt?"

"Let her go."

You know about the conflict Crosshair still fights with himself regarding past actions of his. You don't judge him, even though the realization when you first learned some things was a shock.

Crosshair raises his rifle and Hemlock's hand shoots from your shoulder to your neck, pulling you closer to him. He doesn't strangle you, but the grip is firm enough to be uncomfortable. Both men are more than tense.

"Get your hands off her, now!"

"I'm inclined to take them from you just to see how far I can break you," Hemlock says, laughing softly.

You hear a gunshot, you feel Hemlock flinch behind you the next moment and let you go. Hastily, you dash forward and behind Crosshair, who hastily comes towards you and pushes you behind him.

The sniper growls, "There's a reason my name is Crosshair, you should know that, Hemlock. You didn't really think you could use her as a shield, did you?"

Hemlock lies on the ground, one hand, on the side of his neck, looking up at the two of you. He's not mortally wounded, probably would survive this. He looks at you, a biting smile on his lips as he says, "You cost me so much, the respect of my superiors, my project, everything. I should have killed her when I had the chance, only to see in your face how you are breaking inside."

Crosshair growls and slowly leans over him, like a predator sure of its prey.

"You won't get another chance at this"

The muzzle of the rifle tilts toward Hemlock's face. Hastily, you look away as Crosshair pulls the trigger several times at once. You smell burning skin, and flesh, and shake yourself. Automatically, you take a few shaky steps away from Hemlock, who is now lying dead on the ground, to escape the smell.

Crosshair hurriedly follows you, you hear him close behind you, "Are you hurt?"

You shake your head and say softly, "No, just still in a bit of shock."

Very slowly, almost tentatively, Crosshair grabs your shoulder, turns you around to face him and looks at you scrutinizing. His amber eyes roam over your face.

"Are you sure?" he asks gently.

You nod and say just as gently, "Thank you for saving me."

Crosshair relaxes a little, a small smirk twitching at the corners of his mouth, barely noticeable, but you know him well enough to see it. He kisses your temple, long and tenderly, maintaining contact for quite a while, a rare gesture.

"Of course. Anytime, Kitten."

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