“benoit blanc is bond”, where bond retired at some point and decided to start solving mysteries with only his mind, purposefully not using his body as a weapon
where he started adopting children collecting watson’s and makes the big family he never had; because he knows what it’s like to be alone and wants to be there for them
where he chooses what cases he wants to take, which ones he doesn’t
where at some point jud walks in on blanc doing some light boxing/mma as a form of exercise and is shocked because “why do you have good form. what the fuck blanc.”
a/n: Suggestions are always open so send me anything you want <3
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
Roman loves to spoil you after sex.
A lot of cuddles and soft touches.
The type to kiss all over your body while expressing how much he loves you.
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
Roman is in LOVE with his body.
Will walk around the house naked just to get attention from you.
His favorite body part on himself is, of course, his arms.
He's obsessed with the way you compliment how strong his arms feel when they are wrapped around your body.
But on you? He loves, and I mean LOVES, your curves.
Adores your tits, but he's an ass guy.
While on the road he'll buy you outfits that are a bit revealing. Like a skirt too short or a dress too tight just to show you off.
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
When you two first started dating, he'd pull out and finish on your tits or ass.
But now? Loves cumming inside of you, filling you up and marking you as his. (breeding kink)
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
Hear me out, Roman really wants to see you tied up.
So light BDSM is something he secretly wants to do with you.
To see you tied up, blindfolded, and gagged will drive him crazy.
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
He's dated before so very experienced.
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
Missionary, He loves deep eye contact and watching you cum.
Another favorite is cowgirl; he loves watching you take the lead even though he knows he's truly the one in control.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
Roman is usually never serious during sex.
With Mars in Gemini, he likes to keep things light, flirty, and fun. Think teasing mixed with a bit of playful sarcasm.
But once the tension rises and the energy between you two gets heavier, his Pluto in Scorpio takes over.
The moment you moan louder, grab him rougher, scream his name, or beg, the playfulness drops. He gets very possessive, almost obsessive.
Words shift from teasing to commanding, and his touch shifts from soft to rough.
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
Neatly trimmed but not fully shaven.
But when it comes to you, he truly doesn't give a fuck. He's a man, and he's gonna munch either way.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
So for Roman, sex is never a casual act for him. It's an obsession, a craving, a merging of two souls.
So with that being said, that Pluto in Scorpio energy girl... very primal, almost animalistic.
He's intense as hell.
He fucks you like he wants to know everything about you.
Each thrust and every look feels like he's saying 'I love you' without words.
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
He doesn't masturbate often; he's far too busy for that.
Plus he'd rather just wait for you.
But, there have been a couple of times where he'll find himself alone in his hotel late at night after a show calling you.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
From being the first to bring up having children to telling you how sexy you'd look pregnant before cumming inside you, it was always obvious he had a breeding kink.
This man wants you pregnant bad. Every time he's inside, he imagines you swollen with his child. The thought of you letting him put something permanent inside of you drives him crazy.
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
As much as he would love for people to see how cock drunk you get for him, Roman is a pretty private person, and being a public figure, he would much rather have sex in the comfort of his own home.
But he'd fuck you anywhere if you let him. On the kitchen counter, in the shower, on the floor, etc.
He likes to see you unravel completely for him, so anywhere there's a mirror, he's down.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
Believe it or not, Roman is VERY clingy to the woman he loves.
He wants your full attention and validation. Even if it's a small, meaningless compliment you give him, he will be turned on immediately.
Loves when you show off your body.
And if you were to show up to one of his matches wearing something revealing... the poor guy will be fucked up for his entire match. He'd do whatever he can to have you all to himself later on his private jet.
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
Humiliation kinks are a no for him. Light teasing is okay but that’s where he draws the line.
and he hates extreme role plays (incest, rape, etc)
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
Roman loves both receiving and giving for different reasons.
One of the only times you'll see Roman surrender to you is when you’re going down on him. He's not afraid to show and express how good he feels in that moment.
Truly obsessed with the way your mouth feels on him.
With his Moon in Leo, he gets off on the idea of having you on your knees worshipping him. It's more than sensation for him; its also about how loved and appreciated he feels. It feeds his ego.
Roman is addicted to eating you out. He enjoys seeing how much you need him and how good he makes you feel.
He'll love to drag it out as long as possible and tease the fuck out of you. He will have you begging until there are tears in your eyes. He's a menace. (I mean, this is Roman we're talking about; of course he is.)
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
Pretty rough but never fast unless he is frustrated with work or he just had enough of your bullshit.
On most days he likes taking his time with you and savoring the feeling of your pussy being wrapped around him.
But tease him enough and you won't be able to walk the next day. <3
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
He doesn't favor quickies; he would rather take his time with you.
But some days he can't control himself and would just take you whenever he can and make up for it later.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
Not really a risk taker in terms of exhibitionism.
But when it comes to new kinks and positions, he is always down to experiment. It makes sex even more fun for him.
Loves when you ask him to try new things with you.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
2-3 rounds minimum. Sometimes more if he feels like it.
Like previously stated before, he loves being inside of you, and he's usually busy, so once he gets in the mood, he doesn't want to let go of that feeling.
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
Yes and no.
The most he would probably use on you is a vibrator or handcuffs.
But dildos? No.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
Lord. This man loves to tease you.
The type to tease you throughout the day instead of giving you what you want.
And in public he would grab your ass, whisper dirty things in your ear, and eye fuck you across the room just to make you wait until later.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
He’s not the loudest in bed; mostly groans and low grunts.
What really gets him off is listening to your sounds while he’s pleasing you.
He’s more of a talker anyways. Constantly praising you, telling you how beautiful you look taking him.
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
He loves the thrill of crossing the line with you.
Each time you guys fuck, it's a game to see how far and dark you'll let him go. Whether that's leaving bruises and marks on each other's skin, edging, or something more intense like choking and bondage.
He's obsessed with the thought of you trusting someone like him with something so extreme.
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
Ya'll already know he's big.
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
Roman hates the feeling of you not being wrapped around him.
I swear if he could he will have you bent over for him every second of everyday.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
Sometimes he will fall asleep afterwards and sometimes he won’t it mostly depends on how busy he was that day and how late it is.
› Pairing → Carlos Alcaraz x Girlfriend! Female Reader.
› Summary → His family claims you as their own, and so does he.
› Word Count → 1.9k.
— The kitchen was a whirlwind of noise and warmth — a contrast to the sun beginning to dip outside the windows.
You had rolled up the sleeves of your dress ages ago, apron tied a little clumsily around your waist, standing shoulder to shoulder with Virginia and one of Carlos’s aunts.
They didn’t let you stay still for a second — one moment you were slicing tomatoes, the next handing them herbs, then balancing platters piled with croquetas while Virginia hummed along to the salsa music drifting from the yard.
What had made your chest tight wasn’t the work, though — it was them. The way Virginia squeezed your arm whenever she praised how quick you were, the way his aunt kept pressing little bites of food into your hand as though you hadn’t eaten in days.
They had welcomed you with that effortless Spanish warmth that felt like family within five minutes. And it was overwhelming — not in a bad way, but in the how did I get this lucky kind of way.
When the three of you finally carried the last dishes outside to the long tables set in the patio, the music was louder — laughter rolling like a wave across the gathering.
Carlos’s cousins were chasing each other, older relatives were deep in arguments that were more like affectionate yelling matches, and Carlos himself was in the middle of it all — head thrown back, laughing at something Álvaro had said.
The second you stepped out, Álvaro’s grin sharpened as he pointed at Carlos, voice carrying over the chatter.
“Oye, Carlitos, you think your novia can keep up when the real dancing starts?”
The family erupted into laughter. It was the kind of teasing laced with fondness — the kind that made your cheeks burn while you tried to make yourself invisible behind the platter you were carrying.
Álvaro winked at you, making it clear he adored you just as much as his younger brother did, but he still wasn’t about to miss an opportunity to stir things up.
Carlos didn’t hesitate. His grin was feral, boyish, and already too sure of himself.
“¿Que no? Bet.”
Before you could protest, he had set his glass down, marched straight over, and tugged the platter right out of your hands, handing it over to a passing cousin.
His palm slid into yours, warm and insistent, and then you were being pulled — no, dragged — into the center of the patio, everyone cheering like you’d just been volunteered for a talent show.
“Carlos!” you hissed under your breath, half-mortified, half-laughing because of course he would do this. “What are you– everyone’s watching–!”
“Let them,” he said — eyes shining, fingers lacing with yours. “Come on, mi vida. Dance with me.”
And just like that, Álvaro pulled his phone from his pocket, mischievous as ever, scrolling furiously before the opening notes of Bad Bunny’s Baile Inolvidable thundered from a speaker.
Your head whipped around, disbelief and amusement warring in your expression. Álvaro just grinned knowingly at you — he knew how obsessed you’d been with the album lately, knew you’d gotten Carlos hooked too.
The beat dropped — familiar and infectious — and something in you clicked. Fine. If Carlos was going to put you on the spot, then he’d better be ready for what came next.
The music carried you — hips swaying, steps quick and sharp, and body sliding into the rhythm like it had been waiting for it all day.
The shy girl who’d been helping in the kitchen a few minutes ago melted away under the string lights and sunset. You spun into Carlos’s arms, let him guide you through the first turn, and then took over — letting your body lead, letting him follow.
At first, his eyebrows shot up, shock flickering across his face before pride bloomed there, wide and almost boyish, as though he was realizing all over again just how much he adored you.
He adjusted instantly — hips locking into rhythm, strong hands sure at your waist as he spun you out and reeled you back in.
Suddenly you weren’t just dancing — you were performing. A show without meaning to, the two of you moving like you’d practiced for weeks instead of stumbling into it by chance.
Every twirl had his family clapping along — every sway of your hips earning whistles and cheers. You heard Álvaro shout over the music, “¡Eso, cuñada!” and Virginia laughing so hard she had tears in her eyes.
Carlos dipped you low — laughing breathlessly, hair falling into his forehead. You giggled against his chest, heat blooming in your cheeks, but he didn’t let you hide — instead, he tipped your chin up with a finger, eyes glinting, and hushed, “Mírame, cariño.”
And you did, locking onto him as the music carried you both higher.
By the time the song hit its climax, you and Carlos were both flushed, glowing, and moving like you were the only two people in the world. When the track finally ended, he scooped you in close, breathless and grinning, pressing the quickest, sweetest kiss to your lips.
That’s when a gaggle of his little cousins darted around you, sing-song voices chorusing at the top of their lungs:
“¡Carlos está besando a su noviaaa!”
The entire patio erupted in whistles, laughter, and clapping — Virginia wiping her eyes, Álvaro clutching his stomach from laughing so hard, and you — mortified but glowing, face buried in Carlos’s chest as he laughed along with everyone else, arms locked tight around you like he’d never let you go.
Above it all, the last rays of the sunset spilled gold over the rooftops, painting the scene with warmth. Family, music, love, and you — right there in the center of it, exactly where you belonged.
And Carlos? He pressed his lips to your hair and whispered, just for you, “Un baile inolvidable, mi vida.”
— By the time the sun had dipped fully behind the hills, the Alcaraz house had quieted.
The riot of laughter and music had trickled down to murmured goodnights, clinking glasses being gathered, and children ushered to bed by yawning parents.
The patio was a battlefield of empty plates and half-drunk wine glasses, chairs askew where Carlos’s cousins had left them mid-game of tag.
You were still catching your breath from everything — from salsa, the endless hugs and kisses on your cheeks, and the sheer volume of the Alcaraz clan. Yet, even with the noise fading, your heart hadn’t slowed.
Carlos’s parents had been the worst culprits. His mother had practically adopted you the moment she laid eyes on you — pulling you into her arms with a warmth that had left you dizzy. His father, quieter but just as earnest, had patted your shoulder with a proud smile as though you’d been part of the family for years.
And then there were his brothers — Jaime and Sergio had both immediately roped you into a heated debate about who was cheating at a card game, half-playing, half-watching you to see whose side you’d take.
You’d laughed and chosen neither, instead threatening to team up with Álvaro to really beat them the next time — a threat that earned a mock-groan from Carlos, who knew exactly how merciless Álvaro could be when he had an ally.
The truth was, you’d been nervous about stepping into the world of his family — about being swallowed whole by their energy. But as the evening had rolled on, that nervousness had melted into something else — you’d felt at home.
And from the way Carlos had looked at you when his little cousins sang about him kissing his novia — like his chest might burst from how happy he was — you knew he felt it too.
Now, in the quiet aftermath, you found yourself on the patio again. The string lights overhead were still glowing softly — the night warm with the scent of orange blossoms drifting from the garden. You’d slipped out to breathe for a moment, letting the laughter replay in your head.
“Hey,” Carlos’s voice was low, a little hoarse from laughing all day. He stepped onto the patio, hair damp from a quick shower, wearing a loose t-shirt and sweatpants.
He looked younger like that — less tennis champion, more the boy next door who made your heart ache.
He carried a small speaker in one hand, setting it on the table before scrolling through his phone. A second later, the soft crackle of an old salsa song filled the night. Not the upbeat pulse of Bad Bunny from earlier — this one was slower, softer, like it had been stolen from someone’s memory.
You raised an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”
Carlos only smiled, extending his hand. “Dance with me, princesa.”
You laughed, glancing around at the empty patio. “Here? Now?”
“Sí. Aquí. Ahora.” His grin was almost shy, but his eyes were steady on you. “Come on. One more dance. Just us.”
You slipped your hand into his, allowing him to pull you close, one arm wrapping around your waist. The tempo was unhurried, the kind of salsa meant for leaning into each other — swaying more than spinning. You rested your head against his shoulder, feeling his heartbeat beneath your palm, steady and sure.
For a while, you didn’t speak — only moved together under the glow of the string lights, bare feet brushing against the cool tiles, and the soft music wrapping around both of you like a blanket. The world outside the patio didn’t exist.
Then Carlos’s breath stirred your hair, his voice quiet. “They love you, you know.”
You blinked up at him, surprised. His gaze was tender, almost reverent.
“My family,” he clarified, tightening his hold on you as though you might slip away. “They… they’ve already adopted you. Mamá, papá… even my brothers. Álvaro will never admit it, but he’s crazy about you. Sergio keeps asking when you’re coming to play FIFA with him again. And Jaime– well, Jaime already calls you ‘hermana.’”
Your throat tightened, shy warmth curling through your chest. “They’re… they’re too good to me.”
“No,” Carlos replied firmly, leaning down until his forehead brushed yours. “They’re just treating you the way you deserve. The way I…” His words trailed, nervous for the first time all day.
“The way you what?” you whispered, half-teasing — heart racing.
His lips curved into the smallest, most vulnerable smile. “The way I feel about you.”
The night hushed around you, even the crickets seeming to pause. You felt his words settle deep in your chest, warm and solid.
“I love you,” Carlos said, voice soft but certain. “I love you so much. Watching you with them today…seeing you laugh with my mamá, teasing Álvaro, dancing with me like that– I’ve never been so sure of anything.”
You blinked, tears pricking at your eyes, laughter bubbling up with them because how could someone be so earnest and so perfect at once? “You’re ridiculous,” you whispered, pressing your forehead harder against his. “Because I love you too. So much it’s stupid.”
His grin broke wide, all sunshine even in the dark, and he spun you once just to make you laugh through your tears before pulling you back against him. He kissed you, unhurried and certain, the kind of kiss that sealed promises.
The song played on — the old salsa carrying you both as you swayed in the patio, hidden from the world but exactly where you belonged.
And if someone peeked out a window and saw Carlos Alcaraz slow-dancing with his soulmate under the string lights, holding her like she was the only thing that mattered — well, they’d probably think of it the same way his family already did.
imagine…. finding Roman's hidden photos and videos during movie night
cw: 18+ MDNI, dirty talk, masturbation
You and Roman are sitting on the couch watching a movie, and Roman gets up to go to the bathroom. And because you’re bored, you decide to take his phone and take some goofy pictures. it has became your invariable practice whenever he was gone. But, you felt a little nosey, and you wanted to see what was in his pictures. Or… if he had anything in his hidden. You were as still as cement when you saw 14 photos and videos. Recent photos and videos.
The most recent one… two days ago. His hand cupped around his cock, working a feral pace up and down his length. The video was taken in your joint bedroom. You had been out of the house that day, getting things for the house. You wore his favorite sundress that day too. He barely let you leave the house. You didn't predict that this would be the aftermath. “Fuuuuck baby, i’m bout to cum. Cum on me, cum on me, cum on me- ohh shiiit~” He was louder than usual. His grunts made you adjust yourself, sinking farther into the sofa cushions. He brings the camera closer, not missing a single drop of cum travel from the tip to his base. “Just how i- aww fuck~ how i like it baby, my good girl coming all over me-“
“Alright, i’m back.” You swipe out of the photo album and look at him standing in front of the coffee table with your eyes wide. You couldn’t look any more suspicious.
“You okay baby?” You were spacing out for a second. Pairing those moans you heard to the man in front of you. Not like you’ve never heard him before, but not like that. “Oh yeah, i’m chill."
“Taking pictures on my phone again?” He smirks, knowing about your adorable shenanigans.
“Ummm…” You hated yourself. For being so curious. For letting your eyes travel down his body, and stop at his hips. He was wearing sweatpants, but his body was so big, they fitted more like joggers. You didn’t mean to look at his crotch, but it was so addicting how the cloth stretched across him. “Y-you know meeee.. never miss an opportunity.”
He looks at you, as if he’s trying to figure you out. But it went as fast as it came. “Okay then. Let’s finish this movie.”
That movie was okay, but there was… another movie that you wanted to finish.
› Pairing → Post-College AU! Jannik Sinner x Female Reader; Carlos Alcaraz x Female Reader.
› Summary → When paint reveals what words cannot, intimacy finds its voice.
› Word Count → 1.1k.
'Intimacy.'
A word that whispered more than it spoke, as if it belonged to her — not only the exhibit, was printed in soft lowercase letters, delicate against cream, just beneath her name on the farthest wall of the gallery.
The space smelled of plaster and turpentine, sharp and nostalgic — the scent of beginnings and becoming. It grounded her, even as her heels pinched and her fingers kept drifting to smooth the invisible creases of her skirt. She only wore heels when she had no choice — nights like those, when her work needed to feel taller than she did.
Moments when her art had to say all the things her voice never could.
She lingered by the corner, arms loosely folded, as she shifted her weight in small, practiced movements. The crowd gathered in slow ripples — chatter, polite laughter, and the delicate clink of champagne against glass. Words floated in fragments around her, praises she only half heard:
"The way she paints skin..."
"There’s so much restraint in the color..."
"It feels like she knows them..."
But soon it all washed over her like noise behind a closed window, because they had just walked in.
Carlos came first — dressed in all black, rain-slicked hair curling near his collar, and shirt slightly unbuttoned, careless in the way only someone deeply aware of his own presence could afford to be.
He moved with rhythm, not arrogance — like the world was a room already arranged for his convenience. Swagger lived in the angles of his grin, in the casual weight of his stance, although underneath all of that charm it lived precision. Law lingered in his bones. Words had always been his craft, wielded like steel — cutting, careful, and clean.
Just behind him, more understated, there was Jannik. His suit was decent, nothing extravagant, clearly the backup he kept folded in his car — collar still imperfect from changing hurriedly out of his scrubs.
He looked a little disheveled in a way that only made him more intriging — all lean lines and focused eyes, carved features that people glanced at twice but couldn’t explain why. His curls sat flat, probably from a surgical cap, spine held with that same quiet alertness he brought into operating rooms, like anything — everything — could still be an emergency.
She felt the shift in her own breath. They hadn’t seen her yet, but rather stopped at the second piece.
The piece.
The one she almost teared away from the wall just hours before. The one that had felt too bare, too brave — too much like her heart had slipped out through the bristles of a brush and dried in oil.
A portrait, split in two.
Carlos captured mid-laugh, a half-second suspended in golden light, head thrown back, and mouth open around a punchline only he knew, painted in ochres, sienna, and hints of rust and flame — the colors of sun-warmed chaos, affection worn like danger, and the lover who whispered 'mi amor' when no one else was listening — the heat before the burn.
Jannik beside him, was shaded in quiet tones — slate, cool blue. A gaze weighed with unspoken things and hands caught gently around a stethoscope like a tether. He was stillness, reverence — the one who touched her like he was memorizing something sacred, kisses placed like questions he never knew how to ask, only how to feel.
Between them — mist. Or maybe longing. The space between two truths you couldn’t hold at once.
She watched as Carlos leaned in, expression softening into something rare as Jannik stood unreadable, but nonetheless unaffected.
They stayed like that for quite awhile, admiring the piece, before Carlos turned, eyes scanning the room until they landed on her.
No smirk nor cleverness, just something stripped down, familiar in a way that hurt, as he gently nudged Jannik.
They began walking towards her — side by side, not saying a word. She pressed her palms to her skirt to still their trembling.
Carlos reached to her first. “You painted us.” he stated, surprised.
She gave a small, sheepish smile. “You recognized yourselves?”
His gaze didn’t waver. “How could we not?”
Jannik’s voice finally made itself present, softer. “That wasn’t just observation, was it?”
She shook her head. “It never was.”
A pause settled over them, not awkward but heavy — like silence that asked to be held. Around them, the gallery moved on — champagne and speculation, but within the quiet of the three of them, it all fell away.
Carlos stepped closer, and the scent of rain and bergamot instantly hit her.
“You see us like that?” he asked, tone low, almost like he was telling a secret. “Like… that?”
Her answer came without hesitation.
“I see you both in everything.”
Then, almost imperceptibly — she heard it. That breath, quiet and shallow. Jannik's.
Carlos’s thumb brushed gently against the inside of her wrist, a fleeting touch, but one that anchored her. His eyes didn’t demand — only looked, felt.
“And what did you want from us, princesa?” he murmured. “A reaction?”
She shook her head. “I didn’t paint to ask. I painted because I had to, I– I never meant for you to know, but...now you do.”
Surprisingly, Jannik stepped forward, a line crossed — not in urgency, but intention. He rarely breached those internal borders, the ones he kept up for them — for himself.
But now he stood close enough for her to see the tiredness beneath his precision, the truth behind his stillness.
“Then let us show you,” he whispered, “how you look through our eyes.”
Carlos’s smile curved, slow and warm.
“You’ll need a bigger canvas.”
She laughed at that — breathless, and half-trembling not with nerves, but relief. Because for the first time in weeks, she wasn’t thinking about hues or gallery light, and neither caught in theory or translation. She was there, with them.
Not as muses or even as friends in the way they used to be, but as something else — something tangled in the past.
Something that began on that sun-drenched patch of grass, years ago when a painter with flower-pinned braids met a med student who carried too many pens, and a law student who could coax the sun from hiding with a smile.
They had circled this moment for years through shared apartments, shoulder touches and late-night confessions veiled in hypotheticals. Through boundaries both honored and broken, and the feeling of want neither of them had ever brought up.
The rain outside hadn’t stopped, only softened — the kind of rain that makes things quieter, truer.
Behind her, her name hung from a placard, but they — Carlos and Jannik — were the real composition.
Painted not in oils, but memory. Framed not in wood, but time, now walking towards her like they’d always known the way — like they were finally ready to arrive.
And maybe that was the thing about intimacy.
It didn’t ask for definition, it asked for stillness. For seeing, being seen.
In the end, some stories didn’t need labels — only time, the echo of a laugh on wet pavement, and fingers curled not in possession, but agreement.
They needed brushstrokes that dared to blur the line between friendship and feeling. A look that said: You’re mine, too.
They needed patience, art, and love — the kind you don’t name, because naming it would make it smaller. The kind that stays, that feels like home.
And maybe — at least for now — that seemed like just enough for three hearts learning how to beat in unisson.
Hello, can you write a Carlos Alcaraz sfw alphabet please? Thank you 🙌
sfw alphabets || c. alcaraz
a - affection (how affectionate are they? how do they show affection?)
He is super affectionate. Very touchy. Will always reach out to your hand unconsciously, or hover his hand on your lower back, gives kisses on top of your head. Loves to put his arm around your shoulder, a sense on protectiveness clear through his body language. Isn't afraid of displaying pda.
b - best friend (what would they be like as a best friend? how would the friendship start?)
Given his playful side, friendship with Carlos has a high possibility to start from a silly banter. Something about how mild your drink is, given that you are in a club in Ibiza or how funny you look while doing stretches in the academy.
And when you become best friends, he would look out for you, even for the smallest things. Carlos would be ready to fight someone who badmouths about you, never second guessing your actions. Carlos would generally act immature, but during serious convos, he would be the one to give you power, to give you the support to lean on. Because he believes in you, his best friend, through thick and thin.
c - cuddles (do they like to cuddle? how would they cuddle?)
Carlos loves to cuddle. At the end of the day, pulling your body onto his chest, his legs over yours as he snuggles into your neck, placing kisses and telling how much he loves you. And somedays when he doesn't feel great with his game, the only comfort he finds is when he comes back to you, you arms wrapped around his waist as your fingers play with his hair. He loves to cuddle in the car just before a match (which sometimes ends with a makeout session when his horny ass just can't resist the faint taste of cherry on your lips.)
d - domestic (do they want to settle down? how are they at cooking and cleaning?)
Carlos would hundred percent want to settle down. I can imagine him as a big family man. He takes care of the kids while you rest, the dishes cleaned and dried before you could even go to the kitchen, when he sees you are exhausted as anything. He groans like a teenager when you tell him to do chores, and you know it's all fun and games. Carlos could never be annoyed or irritated to help you, to help your children. But that man has a serious case of forgetfulness, like how he is up till two in the night, completing your daughter's project which she told him weeks ago.
e - ending (if they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)
I feel Carlos would love to try to make it work till the end. He could never let you go, his life, his everything. Until a point where it just doesn't work out at all. And if he even had to, it would take him days to figure out how to bring it up. He would delay it, words dying in his tongue when he looks at your eyes. And he would bring it up in a quiet place, where there are no prying gazes on both of you. Face to face, even if it meant seeing him in a broken state, tears threatening to fall over his cheeks, ragged breaths following after. But he would make sure you knew the reason. The validity behind it. Face to face.
f - fiance(e) (how do they feel about commitment? how quick would they want to get married?)
Carlos is a loverboy. He would love to wife you up as soon as possible. But he is very serious and responsible about his career, so he would wait, getting to know you, to get comfortable, to be himself at the end of the day. I really feel he might get married in his early 30s and would have around three kids.
g - gentle (how gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)
His touch is warm to your skin, especially gentle in the morning when he carefully removes strands of hair from your face. His hands roam around your body, tracing patterns across your belly. It's quite shocking how soft his touch is compared to the roughness on court.
He might look all tough on the outside, but on the inside, Carlos is a softie. Feels deeply, and in the game of tennis, it sucks. Hard to move on from losses,you trying your best to help him cope. And when you face problems, he talks it out of you, his way of connecting with you, emotion pouring into the conversation. And the thing is, he resonates with you,your happiness making his day and your pains affecting him aswell.
h - hugs (do they like hugs? how often do they do it? what are their hugs like?)
This boy is a hugger. Like A LOT. Getting out of bed? Hugs you first. Cooking breakfast? Hugs you from behind. Leaving for practice? Hugs you a little tighter before running towards his car. To Carlos, when you exist in the same space as him, hugging is a way of enjoying your presence.
I feel Carlos loves the bear hold hug, pressing your body completely against his chest. He feels like a protector (which he loves to be). And at times when he is vulnerable, he would love to be in your arms, his head pressed against your chest, you threading your fingers through his brown hair, whispering sweet nothings to him.
i - i love you (how fast do they say the L-word?)
Around three months, four at the max. He is big on feelings, and the first one to tell the L word in a relationship as well. Probably in a fancy restaurant, tipsy giggles shared between each other. And then he stills, looking into your eyes, breathing slowed, smile barely held back. And after the I love you, he is so smug, calls for the bill. And Carlos chuckles seeing your face, wide eyed with a tint of red on your cheeks, waiting for you to say it back.
j - jealousy (how jealous do they get? what do they do when they’re jealous?)
Oh boy, he will say that he isn't jealous, but then you see him pouting, huffing when you try to cuddle with him. It might be really insignificant, perhaps how the waiter smiled at you a bit longer, or how at the cafe the server threw in a heart on the cup. And sometimes you find it so cute, the way he fails to hide how jealous he is. And when you see his resolve melt slowly, he would say I hate when people do that. You are mine.
k - kisses (what are their kisses like? where do they like to kiss you? where do they like to be kissed?)
Carlos kisses like there is no tomorrow. Tongue all the way. He would definitely be a neck and shoulder kisser, his lips travelling from your jaw, down till the valley of your breasts. He would give you a sneaky soft peck, whenever he sees no paparazzi around.
He loves to be kissed on his face, especially his cheeks. When he smiles, his cheeks cutely plump on the sides, which is quite impossible not to kiss. He also loves being kisses on his abs (about which he is quite cocky about.)
l = little ones (how are they around children? do they want children?)
You knew Carlos, being so polite to everyone that you believed it wasn't even possible for him to be even more kind. Until you saw him with kids. How his voice softened, hands hovering around their little frame just in case to catch them when they fall. How his eyes light up, smiling untill his cheeks hurt.
Carlos would love to be a dad. He would love to have two or three kids, teasing and running behind them all day. He would be one of those dads who would do stupid things along with their children. And he wouldn't ever hesitate to lay his safety down for his kids.
m - morning (how are mornings spent with them?)
On the days he needed to go for practice, mornings would be early for him. Cooking his breakfast with yours, placing a kiss on your sleepy forehead before he would head out for work.
But on off days, morning would be slow. Waking up with his hands around your waist, staring at your sleepy face before he nestles into you, occasionally falling back into sleep that he doesn't realise you admiring his face, lips a little part, soft snores escaping. And when you both were up, you would just lie in each other's embrace, talking about sweet nothings, kisses stolen in between.
n - night (how are nights spent with them?)
Nights are slow and cherised with Carlos. Gentle massages over his biceps while he talks about his day. His hands around your waist, thunb circling as he listens to you talk about your work. Teasing touches and lingering kisses which sometimes lead onto something else. But every night, before you both fall asleep, a soft peck against his lips is a must.
o - open (when would they start revealing things about themselves? do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)
Carlos is a person who seems like an extrovert . But his closest people would see a much quieter version of him. The one that shares silly childhood incidents, the one who shares his deepest thoughts on life paired with his favourite drink.
He looks like a person who would reveal incidents which are precious to him in the beginning, and when you have been dating him for a long while, it slowly unravels with thoughts, about his career, his relationship with his parents, his feelings. What he thinks about himself, about others, his life at a glimpse. And he would trust you when he is the most vulnerable, crying on your shoulder without any guilt, laughing along with you on the silliest things. Everything that he feels, he confides in you.
p - patience (how easily angered are they?)
He has medium tolerance. Wouldn't ever be too short tempered, but he isn't a high tolerence person either. And I mostly think that his tolerence changes according to the situations. He wouldn't get quickly angered when he is trying to fix the leak in the washroom. But will get angered in seconds when someone even remotely is rude towards you.
q - quizzes (how much would they remember about you? do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)
He looks like a general forgetful person, but not when it comes to you. Your interests, hobbies, what you love to eat, everything is in his mind. Your to-do lists, your bucket list items, he helps you even without you realising it. And when he sees your familiar doe-eyes looking towards the flowers that you like, he surpirses them by putting it next to your dressing table before practice.
r - remember (what is their favourite moment in your relationship?)
It was a pretty ordinary night, beginning months into the relationship. You were helping him with the dishes after having dinner over his place. While wiping out the washed dishes, he looks at you. Rubbing the sponge over the wine glass, shoulders relaxed. Like you belonged there, being in his house, alongside him. And he just couldn't help it and slipped in an I love you. Because it just felt right. And he caught you off guard, hands stilled, looking at him while your cheeks heated up. And god how much he still loves your reaction, how you barely mumble a love-you-too before turning red as a tomato.
s - security (how protective are they? how would they protect you? how would they like to be protected?)
He is very protective. Carlos always has one of his hands on you, either be interwined with your fingers or just ghosting over your back. He is quite alert, and whenever he feels that something might be wrong, he just puts his frame next to you, arm draping around your shoulder. And when anyone tries to flirt with you? An arm around your waist tugging you onto him does the trick.
He would loved to be protected by being pulled at. Like how you would just pull his arm away while walking so as to not hit his head on a signboard. Or how you would hold his bicep a little tighter when someone else is trying to hit on him. And his favourite? How you kissed him right in front of the whole stadium after his win, claiming him to be yours.
t - try (how much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)
Oh he is a plan freak. Buying you dresses for special dates, perfumes and heels to pair with them. Getting you huge bouquets on your bithdays and during anniversaries, taking you on a ferry. Safe to say he is very lavish about dates. But there is something soft in the way he always restocks your favourite foods and how he helps you dry your hair after showering. And slow dates of him cooking food for you warms your heart the most.
u - ugly (what would be some bad habits of theirs?)
Not doing laundry or sometimes forgetting basic chores (iykyk). All in all, he is amazing but sometimes you wish he would have been a smarter dad, so that he could supervise the kids rather than take part with them in stupid activities.
v - vanity (how concerned are they with their looks?)
Oh, very. He loves his hair and his shoes a lot, the cupboard full of addidas is enough proof. He loves a good perfume (overuses it and finishes in a couple of months). But when you started dating him, you took over the hair department, because this guy has a blind spot for which haircut looks good on him. So you were there to save the day from your boyfriend getting the most horrendous haircuts.
w - whole (would they feel incomplete without you?)
100% yes. He would be sending you random pictures of him eating or doing something silly on tour. Late night calls were a routine when he was away, telling you all about the guys (mainly jannik). And he would always whine about missing you before ending the call, being all pouty.
x- xray (how well he can read you?)
After months into dating, Carlos could read you pretty well. He could tell when you were angry, pissed or sad. Your emotions came with sublte gestures which he noticed. Just like when you are anxious and dancing your feet, his hand would slowly rest on your things, warm smile trying to ease out the anxiousness.
y - yuck (what are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)
A person who doesn't reciprocate his feelings and excitement. It would surely make him frown and dislike the person. I think a person who lacks empathy wouldn't be liked by Carlos. A person who isn't humble and looks down upon others would definetly be the ultimate turnoff for him.
z - zzz (what is a sleep habits of theirs?)
Spooning you. Without fail every night. He loves to hold you close, arms resting over your waist as your back is flushed onto his chest. Rise and fall in your breath helps him calm his. Caging your body like its the last thing he could die protecting. Sealing his position with a kiss on your head before drifting off to sleep.
____
hey love, sorry for replying to your ask so late 😭
i genuinely wanted to make this as accurate as possible according to me, and it took me a while to word my thoughts and that's why this is pretty elaborate and long 😅
this is one of my favourite asks and thank you for requesting <3
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