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pierregazly · 22 hours

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a thousand words ꨄ charles leclerc

charles leclerc x reader

warnings: fluff, charles love language is touch (99% of it is kissing) [1.1k words]

request: 🫶🏻 could i request prompt 25 with charles? tysm 🥰🥰 [forehead kisses. cheek kisses, knuckle kisses]

note: this is literally just 3 times charles used kisses to show his feelings 🤭 this is part of my 1.5k celebration! feel free to request away!!

In one kiss, you’ll know all I haven’t said. - Pablo Neruda

When you first knew he loved you.

The joy on his face was so raw, so palpable. The absolute adoration that crossed his beautiful features prompted the searing of your heart, the extra beat in your chest. He had looked at you in so many ways, but never like this. Never like a man so hopelessly in love, he couldn’t even express it in words.

Charles Leclerc was in love.

Every time he walked past you, he always went out of his way to press a kiss to the top of your head, to the swell of your cheeks, or the bare skin of your shoulder exposed by an old and tattered shirt of his you wore at his apartment. It was the one thing he knew he was the best at, being able to convey his love for you by the actions of a simple kiss.

He first knew he loved you on a yacht, the sunny skies of Monaco shining down on the two of you, his body half on yours while he shielded you from the sun; but scarred you with the warmth and sweat emitting from his body.

It was the way you smiled at him when he pressed a kiss to the tip of your heated nose, swatting at him when he remarked how burnt you were going to be.

Your only response?

“Not as burnt as you, Charlie. I’m going to be rubbing aloe vera on you for days, my little lobster,” you practically cooed the words out at him, brushing your own lips over his red-tinted cheeks.

He really couldn’t help himself. He pressed his lips softly to yours, moulding the two like they were always meant to be. He didn’t know how to convey how much it meant to him that you were already pre-planning how to sooth his self-induced suffering, didn’t know how to convey how much he loved you for it, really. A kiss meant a thousand words, and he’d prove that. Time and time again.

2. When he says good morning.

Soft kisses littered your face, small brushes of lips against your nose, your closed eye-lids, your cheeks, your forehead, your lips, anywhere they could linger across; they were felt.

You could smell the fresh mint wafting from his mouth as he littered your face in tiny pecks, whispering words in French with every new kiss causing your heart to soar, to beat a second quicker; eager to open your eyes and get on with your day, when you had someone so wonderful to spend it with.

Greeted with the soft smile of an early-morning riser, Charles held his lips against your cheek for a second longer than the rest of his bombardment of kisses, three consecutive times. Three kisses on the cheek for good morning. Three kisses on the forehead for goodnight. Three kisses to the knuckles simply when he wanted to see your reaction, when he wanted to see the adoration in your eyes. He couldn’t put a number on the amount of times he wanted to press his lips to yours though, every second of every day sounded adequate to him.

Finishing off with a peck to your lips, he finally pulled back from your face before pulling a steaming mug from the side table that he must’ve put down before beginning his morning escapades.

“A perfect cup, to start the morning. I have scheduled breakfast for an hour from now at our favourite place, time to get up, ma jolie fleur,” he said.

Holding in the groan at the knowledge you had to leave the warm and cozy safe haven beneath you, your only response was a hand jutting out towards him, grabbing towards the warm mug in his hands. He laughed, handing you the cup as you sat up, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head as he pushed himself off the bed.

“Don’t make me come back in here, mon amour.”

“What are you going to do Charlie? Kiss me some more?”

3. When he says his vows.

Charles Leclerc was a man of many words when the moment called for it.

This moment, right now, should’ve been the moment that called for it the most. Called for a description so heavenly, so full of soliloquies and poetry that it made the crowd around him weep. But he was too busy staring at you in all your beauty, fresh tears having gathered in his eyes just moments before.

There you stood, his hand in yours, while the whole world around stopped. The Pastor continued his words, affirming to the whole Church how the two people before him were here to join in Holy Matrimony; here to begin their lives as a married couple, to have and to hold, for all eternity.

But he knew his part was coming up soon, where he would be asked if he had any vows to say, if he had been able to convey into a few short paragraphs, how much you meant to him. He had written it out, erased it, written it again, threw the paper out, and repeat, more times than he would care to admit.

Nothing seemed perfect enough to describe the way in which he loved you. Until the memories flooded in, the way he showed how much he loved you would be exactly how he would describe it in his vows. And he would end it off the same way he always did.

He felt his nerves heighten as the crowd was informed that the two of you had written your own vows, forgoing the pre-written ones for your own promises and affirmations to one another.

Charles was to go first.

“Everyday I’m with you, I greet you with three kisses. Every night we spend together, I send you off with three more. I’ve never been one to express myself in words, always actions. In my career, my actions win me races, they win me trophies, and championships. In my family, my actions help my family succeed, they bring pride to our name. With you, my actions demonstrate everything I wish I could put into words. With every kiss, from today, until forever, I promise they will mean a thousand words, a thousand things I wish I could properly say. I swear to everything above, I will love you until my lips cannot press against yours, anymore.”

And promise he did, with a brush of his lips across your knuckles.

this is genuinely my favourite thing i've ever written. i can't explain why, but i'm so very in love with it. i hope you all are too!! 🫶🏻

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader #f1 x you #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc imagine #f1 imagine #f1 one shot #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 one shot #formula 1 blurb #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc x you #pierregazly’s 1.5k celebration #writing #blurb #love blurb

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sanguineterrain · 3 days

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hi sanne!!! my mind has been rotting with assistant!reader x dick, and i literally can’t get it out 😭. i'm in love with your writing and reblog everything! thank you so much, have a great day!!

cute idea! I gave it a little twist ;) hope u enjoy!

dick grayson x gn!assistant!reader. flirting, secret identities, sparring.

****

Bruce Wayne is evasive on a good day and downright invisible on a bad one.

So when you see him down the hallway from his office, attempting to escape without being caught, you nearly trip on your feet trying to catch him.

"Mr. Wayne!"

His shoulders rise with tension. You pity the guy, you really do. Being a gazillionaire is tough.

"Mr. Wayne! Mr. Wayne, Sharon has been hounding me about the charity dinner. Please, if you could just go to this one dinner... you haven't been to an event all month."

And you're getting the brunt of it from all of WE's clients.

Bruce turns, his smile looking more like a grimace. "Hn. Hello. A dinner? I was sure I had a shareholder meeting that day—"

"All month? B, what happened to the two event minimum? That's your rule."

The new voice comes from behind you. Dick Grayson walks down the hallway, wearing jeans that probably cost as much as your monthly rent.

"Mr. Grayson," you say, nodding primly. "How are you?"

You shift the files in your hands as they start to slip. Dick is quick to catch them, balancing the stack.

"We've been through this," he says with a smile. "You know you can call me Dick."

Yes, you've been through this. Every time Dick shows up to Wayne Enterprises, he tells you to call him by his first name. And every time after that, you call him Mr. Grayson.

"Right..." you say, taking back the files. You turn to Bruce. "Mr. Wayne, if you would just consider the dinner..."

Dick gives Bruce a severe look. "B, this is ridiculous. You're such a stickler for rules and yet—"

"Oh, look at the time." Bruce scoots past you and Dick. "I've got that meeting with Lucius. Where does the day go? Please tell Sharon I'll get back to her."

You can't understand how a guy whose biggest exertion is made by playing tennis at the country club can slip through your fingers so fast. He's around the corner before you can blink. You sigh.

"Don't worry," Dick says. "I'll get him to go. And I'll get one of my siblings to tag along to make sure he doesn't duck out early."

You smile briefly. "I'd appreciate that, Mr. Grayson."

"Dick. So!" He trails behind you as you make your way back to your office. "Do you have any plans for tonight?"

"Working."

"O-kay..." Dick jogs ahead to hold the door open for you. You push through, trying not to frown. "What about tomorrow night?"

You toss your scarf on the hook. It ends up on the floor. You ignore it.

"Still working."

"How 'bout I ask B to give you the day off then?"

Now it's your turn to give a severe look. "If you're implying that I'd be obligated to go out with you in return for a day off, you've completely misjudged my character, Mr. Grayson."

"Whoa, okay." He holds up his hands. "You're right, that didn't come out right. How about I get him to give you a day off, no strings attached?"

You dump your files and sit at your desk. "That's at your discretion."

"Hey." Dick leans on your desk, puppy eyes at full power. "Maybe we've gotten off on the wrong foot. Did I do something that put you off? I'd like you to tell me if I have. I hope the fact that I'm Bruce's son isn't stopping you from being honest."

You put down your pen and look at him. "Look. You seem like a nice guy, and you're handsome with a rich dad to boot. But I'm just not available, okay? You're looking for someone to go to Tahiti with. I respect that. But I'm not that person. I'm just not interested in that."

"You think I'm handsome?"

You sigh and open your laptop.

"Right! Sorry. Not the point." Dick sinks into a crouch next to you. He pulls the oddest poses sometimes, like he's made of rubber bands. "Okay. You're not looking for a trip to Tahiti. Got it. I don't take many vacations anyway. So how about having a friend?"

"And why would you want to be my friend? I'm just some assistant."

"Well, I..." Dick scratches his neck. "I like you. Is that so hard to believe?"

Very. But okay. You can throw him a bone.

"I guess not," you say.

Dick frowns. "You don't believe me."

How does he do that?

"Can I please get back to work?" you ask, only a little worried about being rude. "I'm sorry, I'm just very busy."

His face falls briefly before he stands and nods.

"Of course. No problem. I'll see you around? And I'll get B to go to that dinner."

"Thank you."

You don't notice his lingering looks, or the fact that he picks up your scarf and places it on the hook on his way out.

****

3...17...64.

The safe clicks. You smirk. Easy peasy. The hotshots always use their own birthdays for combinations. Predictable. You bet Bruce Wayne does the same.

It's a blessing that you were able to duck out early today. Bruce gave you the rest of the afternoon off. You suspect that was due to some outside meddling.

You take out the files from D.A. Colson's safe. You always say that if crooked district attorneys don't want their documents stolen, they shouldn't put them where anybody can find them.

...Maybe you were too harsh with Dick. He's sweet, no doubt. It was nice of him to get you off early. But you kind of feel like he'd take issue with the fact that you spend your weeknights breaking and entering.

"You know, cracking safes is already Catwoman's shtick," a voice says behind you. "You might wanna find a new gimmick."

A thrill shoots through you. You toss your head as you turn, leaning against the open safe.

"Catwoman steals diamonds." You hold up the documents. "I just steal files."

"Files from the district attorney," Nightwing says, crossing his arms.

"The dirty district attorney," you correct.

"I'm supposed to let you off on a technicality?" He sounds amused.

Your shrug one shoulder, a little coy. "You could. I hear you're the nice one."

He laughs. Nightwing has a pretty smile. It's the first thing you'd noticed about him.

"Oh, yeah? Anything else you've heard?"

"Plenty. But I'm in a bit of a hurry tonight, Wing. As much as I enjoy our little chats..."

You dart to the window. Nightwing easily blocks your exit.

You're not quite sure what overtakes you when you run into Nightwing. Ignoring the fact that he manages to be the one to chase you almost every time (and what a chase it is), there's a tension between you. Or maybe it's just one-sided on your part. It certainly doesn't help that he's got a nice smile and bouncy hair.

"You know I can't let you go," he says, hands on his hips. "Put it down."

And he's extremely good at what he does.

"Make me," you say.

He never uses his escrima sticks, which you know is a courtesy to you. But that doesn't mean you can't hold your own.

"Alright," Nightwing says, smirking slightly.

He takes three steps, blocks your immediate kick, and takes the documents.

Something swoops in your belly. You kind of get why Catwoman exclusively fights Batman. Once you go bat, you never go back.

"Got them," he says cheerily. "Now what?"

You throw a glass bird tchotchke at him from Colson's desk. He catches it with his free hand, but it's enough of a distraction for you to slide into his legs. Nightwing stumbles less than you would like, but you push him down against the desk.

He grunts as he hits the wood, then rolls you over in the next breath, hands catching your wrists.

"Stealing... makes you no better... than Colson," he says, hair falling over his mask. All of him is pretty, really. It's too bad he's so firmly on the blind side of justice.

"If these documents are released, Colson will win his case and bury his own crimes in the process. Is that what you want? Another crook in court?" you ask.

Nightwing frowns. "You know that's not fair. We can't toss a case for the sake of putting Colson behind bars. And if we pick and choose whose lives to play with, what gives us the right to carry out justice?"

"I dunno, Wing," you say, a little breathless. Nightwing's hips are politely shifted off of yours, chest to yours. "Seeing you go rogue would be kind of exciting."

You can tell he's glaring at you. "Not in your dreams."

"Been in my dreams, have you?"

You gain enough leverage to push Nightwing off of you. He's back on you immediately, trapping you against the wall.

"How is doing something like this not crooked?" he asks.

You scoff. "It's for charity. I'm donating residents to the county jail."

You twist in Nightwing's hold and land a kick. In the three seconds he's distracted, you grab the documents. No sooner do you do that does Nightwing tackle you. The documents slip out of your hand.

"I can do this all night," he says, knee wedged between your legs. "Might as well yield."

"Yield? You're not even playing at your full strength, hotshot."

He smiles. "No, I'm playing nice."

You roll your eyes. "Well, play fair."

And then you jump out of the window.

Your tuck and roll isn't the worst but it's not the best. Especially when Nightwing neatly lands a few feet away without a wince.

"Showoff," you say.

"Give me the documents," he says. "I want to put Colson away, too. But this isn't how to do it. He's still a civilian, and his client's life matters."

You get up and wobble on a loose brick on the edge. Stupid historical buildings.

You're desperate. If he keeps this up, you're bound to land yourself a night in the police station and lose the documents.

So you dust yourself off. And you stop. Right at the edge of the roof.

"Okay," you say.

Nightwing takes a careful step forward. "Okay?"

You toss the documents to him. He catches them in surprise.

"You're surrendering?" he asks.

You shrug. "Like you said: you can do this all night. And I guess there are better ways to catch Colson. More permanent ways."

He tilts his head. "You're not gonna kill him, are you?"

"No! Jesus, man. Ye of little faith."

"I'm just trying to understand why you surrendered."

You sigh. "Because you always win anyway. You're a better fighter than me. And I'm cornered. I just feel like cutting my losses early. You're a lot more convincing than Batman."

"Is that so?"

"Oh, yeah. I much prefer you chasing me."

"Uh-huh." He nods towards the building. "Come on, then."

"Okay, sure."

You take a step. And you fall.

The brick is loose under your foot. It doesn't take much for you to keep going.

Panic surges through you, but that only solidifies your acting.

"Wing!" you cry, toppling over the edge.

"Shit!"

Nightwing lunges and grabs you by your waist, then uses momentum to haul you both to safety. His cheek against yours for a moment, body pressed to yours. It really is a damn shame he's such a Boy Scout.

You knock him in the stomach and snatch the documents, then separate from his grip. You watch his face contort in realization as you land and bolt.

"That wasn't playing nice or fair!" he yells, landing on the opposite side.

You're already gone, laughter echoing.

#dick Grayson x reader #dick Grayson x you #Nightwing x reader #Nightwing x you #Nightwing fanfiction #nightwing x y/n #dick Grayson fanfiction #dick Grayson imagine #dc fanfiction #batman fanfiction #inbox #blurb

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espresso-ships · 2 days

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Self-shippers with pets!

...Imagine your f/o meeting your pet for the first time

Would they be all awkward or run straight up to your pet, trying to befriend it?

If they're scared of pets, Imagine them being all nervous when meeting it, only to later realise that; Hey, this is not so bad!

Imagine coming home from work and finding your f/o cuddled up together with your pet on the couch, or sitting down on the floor talking to it in a silly voice

Imagine your f/o, having like hundred of photos in their gallery of you, and your pet (...and which one would they have most photos of?)

Imagine cuddling your f/o, AND your pet, all of you being like a lil family :')

🦋💕🦋💕🦋💕

Pr0-shippers DNI! This post isn't for you :)

#f/o imagines #imagine your f/o #fluff #blurb #drabble #espresso drabble #self shipping #f/o community #self ship #self ship comfort #romantic f/o #s/i #f/o comfort #f/o drabble #self ship scenario #oc x f/o #s/i x f/o #selfshipping

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nonstoplover · 9 hours

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all of my heart ~ carlos sainz (cs55)

my masterlist | my f1 masterlist

pairing: carlos sainz jr. x fem!reader

summary: a short story of carlos becoming a father

words: 2K

warnings: one tiny swear word in spanish ig, otherwise nothing, just fluff fluff fluff and dad!carlos which deserves its own warning tbh

a/n: i know you love the dad!driver trope, @vetteltea, which is why i dedicate this blurb to you (though i think you'd maybe prefer this to be with seb now that i think about it), as a thank you for all the amazing fanfic you provide this fandom with. i love you so much, you're so talented, so inspiring, and i truly wish to be like you. <33

please, don't be a ghost reader, leave a comment or rb!

Carlos is still a little out of breath when he hears it for the first time.

A delayed red-eye flight and an excruciating traffic jam caused him to almost miss this appointment. The first he finally has the chance to attend – having had a race when the initial one happened –, and he almost missed it.

As a drop of sweat rolls down the side of his face, obvious sign of how only seconds ago he was still running up the stairs of the hospital, a smile forms on his lips. Looking at her, lying down, the screen beside the bed showing a picture of their baby.

Well, at least they say it's that. For the love of God, Carlos can't see anything on it. He still nods along with a wide smile when the nurse asks him if he sees it. The focus shouldn't be on him and whether he can see it or not, but on his girlfriend.

God, this woman. He hasn't seen her in over a month now. And this is how they meet again: when they meet the little one officially as well, though on a screen only. Hell, the last time he saw her, they had no clue of this wonderful piece of news. From watching her wave with a smile through the glass at the airport, before he turned a corner towards his flight and disappeared, fast forward to now, when he catches sight of her lying form, just as gorgeous as ever, if not more, with a baby growing inside her. A creation by him and her.

They're gonna have a child, Carlos thinks, and as if it's the first time he realises this, his heart stops for a second. In happiness, in awe, in fear.

Because as the image on the screen gets displayed, and Carlos gets lost in-between words like embryo and transvaginal scan, suddenly the doctor announces that the baby indeed has a heartbeat, listen, you can hear it. And this one sentence, followed by the almost inaudible little thuds, is enough to make everything feel real.

Of course, he already knew what the positive pregnancy test meant, the one she showed him first on a FaceTime call, then sent as a separate picture later. But this, hearing that tiny heartbeat, it made everything even more real. They had actual proof now of what is going to happen in the near future. It might not have been planned, but it doesn't make it any less sweeter.

With his heart beating away in a rapid rhythm, he feels his facial muscles pull as his lips curve into a smile, so wide that it even showcases his pearly white teeth.

When he sees her the next time, the first thing Carlos does is place his palm against her tummy. The bump is already visible – well not in the hoodie she's currently wearing, but it's there underneath, he knows –, and he's been dreaming about holding it for many, many days now.

She lets out a giggle, throwing her head back a little, having expected a kiss upon her arrival, not this. Carlos practically doesn't pay her any attention, his sole focus is on talking with his baby.

Later on in the car she inquires jokingly the reason behind why she's not the first to be greeted by him, and he explains with a serious tone why that's the priority. "You get all this time to speak to her and bond with her, and she's already inside you which is a bonus, but she has to know exactly who her father is."

"She, huh?" she raises a teasing eyebrow, and he simply smiles, shrugging in a nonchalant way.

"I can feel it in my bones."

He looks so self-assured that she can't help but lean in and press her lips against his cheek. She still can't believe she'll get to have a kid with this man.

Doubt starts rising in his mind when they reach the third trimester. The date underlined in bright red in his calendar creeping closer and closer, making him more self-conscious and unsure than he's ever felt.

What if he won't be a good father? What if his job gets in the way of his child really feeling close to him? What is he supposed to do anyway? He already has no idea what he's doing in this whole pregnancy, safe to say, how is it going to be when he finally gets to hold the baby as well?

He's read multiple long articles, spending every flight he's had to take nose deep in his phone, until his eyes hurt and words started to lose their meaning. He wants to be the best father he can be.

This even includes several calls to his parents, asking for advice from them as well, trusting and valuing their words far more than the ones he can find online. He knows that his parents proved already that their methods work, they've been good parents to him and his siblings.

Still, the only thing that seems to reassure him is that they – the baby and him – have her. His superwoman of a girlfriend, who simply seems like she was actually born to do this, to be a mother, taking every obstacle in their way with a cheerful step and a smile reaching from ear to ear on her face.

How did he deserve her?

As he's gritting his teeth to stop himself from letting out a groan while the pain he's feeling in his hand spreads – mierda, this woman is strong – he repeats one sentence as a mantra. Only to keep him from worrying his heart out for the love of his life, who's currently letting out loud gasps and occasional curses, her eyes teary and her cheeks red from the strain of pushing and pushing and pushing.

I hope the baby looks like her.

Why is this so important to him? He has no idea. He doesn't even know why the thought popped into his mind in the first place. He just knows he has to keep on repeating it to divert his mind, otherwise he'll lose his sanity.

Simply, he has to focus on picturing a baby with her eyes, her hair colour, the elegant line of her nose, the curve of her lips, her rosy cheeks. Every inch of their baby looking like a mini-her. Because what would be better than looking at his girlfriend and marvel at her beauty? Of course, looking at her and his daughter, and seeing the exact same beauty? Sure, it would be nice to have a tiny detail of him in their baby girl somewhere, just so that it would be obvious to the whole wide world that this is his baby, that the woman giving birth to her now is his woman. Maybe the exact copy of his eye colour? Or his locks of hair, silky and thick? It doesn't matter. Honestly, who cares about how she looks, he will love her no matter what. With his whole heart, with more love, a deeper connection than he's ever felt before.

Minutes pass, then some more, until it feels like an eternity has gone by since they arrived to the hospital. But then he hears it – crying. The unmistakable baby sound, entering the haze of his mind like a sharp knife, bringing him back to reality in a millisecond.

Everything seems to quicken up, and the next thing he knows is that the bundle of his child is placed in his arms, and after that initial wave of slightly terrified chills running through his body, immediately a mixture of relief, joy and tranquility spreads in his veins. He has no idea why he was so scared this whole time. This is... subconscious. Instinctive. Meant to be.

In that very moment he wordlessly promises the baby to always be there for her, always looking out for her, always caring and loving her with all of his heart. He won't let any harm ever reach her.

"Congratulations, Mr. Sainz, on the birth of your son," the doctor approaches him, and that last word bursts the bubble Carlos has been surrounded with.

Son?

His eyes widen, lips fall slightly open in shock – right until he hears the exhausted sounding but unmistakable giggle coming from the bed. "I told you," she grins.

"A boy," he mumbles dreamily, glancing at his girlfriend, lips curving into a smile matching hers.

"Good thing I came prepared with boy names as well," she continues, slight pants leaving her lungs still.

The memory when she practically wanted to force him into choosing a male name as well, just in case – because he was so sure about their baby being a girl that he didn't even want to spend a moment thinking about names for the other sex –, pops into his mind, and he shakes his head. He was wrong.

Tiny feet patter on the floor, growing louder and louder, before a second later they suddenly cease and get replaced by a high-pitched giggle.

She glances up just as Carlos appears in the doorway to the kitchen, their son hanging from his arms, his little cheeks red from all the laughter. Her heart swells at the sight and sounds, her eyes shine bright, connecting with his easily – the love of her life.

Miracle. That's what the little boy is in their lives.

Watching Carlos be a father has been the best thing she's ever had the chance to witness. The way he plays with him, practically going back to being a child, his sole focus being on entertaining his son.

The Sainz household they established not too long ago is filled with laughter every day, the walls reverberating with the joyous sounds until they fill their hearts.

"When's dinner ready, mi amor?" Carlos leans in, pressing a loving kiss on her temple.

She cheerfully smiles, her fingers moving to caress the impossibly soft, dark brown hair on the little boy's head. "A few minutes," she replies, catching her fiancé's eyes once more. "If you two help me set the table, we can eat sooner."

Her son nods eagerly, as much as his three-year-old energy allows, and waves his tiny arms to wordlessly tell his father to put him down on the ground. Carlos obeys, then opens the cupboard to find the appropriate plates – all plastic, reserved for the times when it's only the three of them eating, to allow the young one to help them without the worry of him breaking anything.

She watches from the corner of her eyes as her two boys move towards the dining table, where Carlos lifts their son to stand on a chair, this way allowing him to reach the tabletop. His hands never leave the boy's waist, just in case, and when he's finished setting the plates, helps him back on the ground.

"Good job, chiquito," Carlos holds his palm out at the proper height.

"Gracias, papá," the little one slaps into his father's hand eagerly, making his mother smile so wide it's close to actually hurt the muscles in her cheeks.

They walk back to the kitchen counter with proud looks on their faces, and she places the bowl of salad in Carlos' hands. "It's too heavy for you, pumpkin," she explains when her son opens his mouth to complain.

"Te adoro," Carlos steals a melting kiss from her lips as his fingers get a hold of the bowl, before leaning back and fully taking it from her. I adore you.

With her heart fluttering with nothing but pure happiness and blood rushing to her face, she enjoys the way that bashful smile forms on her lips that only he can achieve. Her gaze follows his movements, the way the T-shirt clings to his arms, to his back muscles, and how the soft material ripples with every move he makes. He is breathtaking. He truly is, because unawares, she lets out a soft gasp watching him and has to endure the knowing glance and that smirk he casts her way above his shoulder. He knows her too well.

She shakes her head, attention going back to her son still standing by her feet, patiently waiting for his next task. A perfect mini-him, way more than she could've ever asked for.

A perfect child, a perfect man to call the love of her life, a perfect life. And it's all hers.

a/n: i'm back baby!! i've been gone for the longest time ever (since last summer) but i'm in my final year of uni and i had to write my thesis too so hopefully that's a good enough excuse. writer's block ain't fun still. it really just feels nice to post something again.

my masterlist | my f1 masterlist

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allisluv · 2 days

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no bc Finnick having a nightmare about reader dying+ comfort cuddles. hes just trying his hardest to not break down and theyre just holding him, his face pressed into their shirt

he would wake up in a cold sweat, eyes darting around until he finally sees that you're alive and well, looking up at him through your lashes with sleep still settled deep in your bones. you know he doesn't like to talk about what his nightmares are about, so you just tug him closer, wrapping him up in your arms. his breath tickles your skin as he hides his head in the fabric of your shirt, trying not to soak your nightgown with his tears. you shush him gently and run your fingers through his hair, whispering sweet nothings as you lull him back to sleep. talking can wait until the morning.

#the hunger games #grace talks🐚🌷#thg #headcanons #finnick odair x reader #finnick #finnick odair #finnick odair angst #finnick fluff #finnick odair x you #finnick odair x y/n #writer #blurb #writers of tumblr #fem!reader #hcs

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maplesyrupsainz · 3 days

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6 w daniel ricciardo ples teehehehehehe im giggling and twirling round and i love uu btw maddie

pairing: daniel ricciardo x fem y/n reader (she/her)

genre: blurb

warnings: none just fluff

prompt: six [driver] is overly protective of you after someone flirts with you

a/n: EEEEKKK ILYSM

my masterlist | my 1k celebration

it's summer. january, actually, but you’re in australia so everything is backwards. not in a rude way; you’re just british.

the sun's rays beat down on your sunkissed skin, a tan you’ve been working on in solitude since you arrived in the country. your boyfriend, daniel, is busy as usual; you try not to let it bother you too much.

“hey,” the deep but unfamiliar voice of a man sounds from above you, snapping you out of your half asleep daze.

“hello?” you question him, shielding your eyes with your hand as you glance up at him, not yet willing to sit up and compromise your comfort.

“i’ve seen you around here a lot this week, alone. wondering if you wanted to grab a drink with me sometime.” the man seemed a little nervous, but clearly not nervous enough to read the room; you did not want to be disturbed.

you are about to churn out the generic rejection you use on all men who hit on you when a familiar and comforting voice reaches your ears before you can make even a slight sound. “you alright, mate? sorry to interrupt, just came over to steal my girlfriend away from you.”

you roll your eyes under your sunglasses, not able to help the grin breaking out onto your lips. that's my man, you thought.

“perfect timing.” you smile and hop up from your sunbathing position, stretching your stiff limbs. you feel daniel's eyes on your body with this motion, as well as the man who just tried and failed at hitting on you. “sorry. boyfriend,” you gesture towards daniel, offering the man an apologetic smile. he nods before going on his way.

“alright baby,” you smile at the familiar greeting and turn to face your boyfriend, your arms automatically snaking around his neck as he pulls you closer to him by your waist.

“i missed you.” you hum softly before planting a kiss to his lips.

“how much? enough to go on a date with a stranger?” daniel's eyebrows wiggle at you as you shake your head in disbelief at his silly question.

“if you carry on this way i might!”

#f1 smau #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 blurb #blurb #dr3 #daniel ricciardo #dr3 smau #dr3 x yn #dr3 fluff #dr3 x reader #dr3 imagine #dr3 blurb #imagine #maddie's fanfics

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irondiotallica · 2 days

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Ghost

I really like this comic created by @ffuscous so I wrote this little blurb. Definitely shorter than my other little blurbs, but I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. -Silas

[Steddie]

There are ghosts in Hawkins, Indiana.

Eddie drove down the road with Black Sabbath blaring from his speakers. Hellfire had gone well, but the kids were all on edge. He had seen it in the way that they would each drift during the session. Eddie sighed.

Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley had been missing for three months now. Eddie still roamed the streets trying to find them. Looking for the two and putting missing posters up everywhere. He’d gotten cornered by Jason Carver and his crew a couple of times, but Eddie wouldn’t stop looking, even if it left him vulnerable to his tormentors.

His eyes widened as his headlights lit up a lone figure standing in the road. He pressed his foot to the brake, luckily stopping short a couple of feet. Eddie jumped out of his van and called out to the figure.

“Hey man, you ok? You need some help?”

Eddie’s brows furrowed as the stranger mumbled unintelligibly. Eddie’s doe eyes hardened as he took in the bloody Scoops uniform and disheveled caramel brown hair.

“Steve?”

The figure turned still talking unintelligibly. Eddie flinched at the dead, cold gaze of Steve. This was not the Steve he knew.

“Steve, how can I help? Please, Steve,” Eddie pleaded, his heart racing.

Steve’s bloodied hand raised and pointed in the distance.

“NO, ROBIN, PLEASE! GOD, ROBIN, ROBIN! AGHHHH, AHHHHHHHHHHH, AHHHHHHHHHH! PLEASE GOD! ROBIN PLEASE!”

Eddie flinched at the bloodcurdling screams blaring from his car and turned to it in horror. Eddie turned back quickly, hoping to get Steve into his van. Yet, Steve had vanished before he could turn back around. Something horrifying was happening and he would find Steve and Robin; even if he ended up dying in the process.

There are ghosts in Hawkins, Indiana.

#blurb #eddie munson #steddie #steve x eddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie x steve #im bored #robin buckley

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scuderiahoney · 2 days

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In motion question for purely research purposes-

how easily can bunny be pursuaded into dying her hair to the timberwolves colour (blue I believe) after a good season? And

1) whose gonna encourage her (in my head alex is def one of them)

2) whose gonna begrudgingly help her apply it on while shaking their head

3) on scale of 1-10 is how bad is her meltdown after she realises that its not.. the best colour to have on your head (oscar's definitely trying to be empathetic but he cant stop laughing)

-😴

OKAY i love this!!! but i read it and sort of could imagine it having happened in the years before Oscar joined the team. and then i got carried away so. a lil in motion blurb perhaps? set during freshman year!

“This is a bad idea,” Max says from the doorway, nose wrinkled.

“It’s a little late for that opinion,” Lando snarks, brows furrowed in concentration. “The dye is already on her hair.”

Alex, who’s sitting in the countertop in the bathroom, is grinning. “It’s a great idea!”

His hair is freshly bleached, a bright blonde shock atop his head. Hs’s next in line for dye after you. Lily’s going to scream, for one reason or another, when she shows up and sees it. You don’t have a boyfriend to disappoint, thank god. Lando spreads a bit more product onto your hair. There’s no going back now.

“Does anyone in this house think through their impulsive thoughts?” Max asks, voice full of disapproval. “Yesterday Charles almost bought a puppy in the grocery store parking lot. I had to drag him away.”

All three of you turn to Max with frowns. “You could’ve gotten a puppy and you didn’t?” You ask, jutting your lower lip out. “That was a stupid decision.”

“Says the girl with the dye in her hair,” Max says, rolling his eyes.

Half an hour later, you and Alex have rinsed the bright blue dye from both of your heads, and you’re taking turns with an ancient blow dryer that you’re sure one of the old players’ girlfriends had left behind. Lily’s due to come over any minute, and you’re rollercoastering between regret and excitement about your new hair color. It’s just your ends, not the whole head. It’ll be easy to chop it off if it comes down to it. Alex is grinning. Max is still in the doorway, watching on in horror.

“It’s just hair,” Lando says, elbowing you.

You laugh. “Easy for you to say.”

“Yeah, did you let Lando encourage you?” Max asks. “You remember when he shaved his own head on a livestream, right?”

“I raised money for charity with that!” Lando snaps.

“Yes, but-“ he pauses. “Why did you even dye your hair, anyways?” Max finally asks.

You shrug. “Playoffs are coming up. Timberwolf blue.”

“That is not Timberwolf blue.”

You huff and turn to him in the chair you’re still sitting in, in the bathroom. The motion makes your still healing knee twinge just slightly- all three of them see the look of pain on your face and freeze. You let out a breath, and the pain fades.

“Let me have this,” you ask him, looking up with a sad expression.

Max melts. Lando rolls his eyes at you in the mirror. Less than a year as friends and you already know just how to play to his weaknesses. You know Lando’s too- he just doesn’t know it yet.

Lily ends up loving it, on both of you, and Max warms up to the idea eventually. But when they lose in the first round of the playoffs, you quickly grow sick of the color. It’s quite bright, quite startling, and it seems to remind the whole team of the loss. Max takes you to the hairdresser, pays for your haircut, and begs you to never dye your hair blue again.

“What if you win the championship?” You ask, smiling teasingly at him.

He snorts out a laugh. “Then I will help you dye it myself.”

#box box #blurb #fic: in motion #honeywrites #anon #😴 anon

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multi-fandom-imagine · 3 days

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Inspired by your post mind if I request 97 Gambit just fucking railing his s/o.

A/n: 👏👏 I apologize if this sucks.

"Look how pretty you are cherie." Remy grasped your chin, your legs locked around his hips as your breaths coming out in short pants. "I like it when you moan my name darlin."

Squeezing your eyes tightly shut, your nails dug deep into the sheets as you bucked against his thrusts as his nail spilled past your lips again.

You were meant to be relaxing until Remy your loving boyfriend slipped into the room. A little teasing between you both lead to this moment. His lips gliding across your neck as one hand messaged your breast. "Remy."

"Such pretty little sound's you're makin...so perfect and it's all for me." The man's breaths coming out in short pants as he dug his nails into your hips as he fucked you, the mattress squeaking below with each of his movements.

Pulling out for a brief moment, Remy then slammed back into your warmth. His cock twitching within you feeling your walls clutch around his shaft. "And you're all mine."

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ashesbreadandbutter · 20 hours

Text

Vox x Alastor || Tell Me Who Did This, Now.

So I know I know, commission work yes yes I'm getting to it BUT! I wrote a little blurb for that little comic @milariro drew for radiostatic which is literally like my favorite ship I think. 👀

Anyway hope y'all like it! ÙwÚ

Word Count: 2k

Rating: PG(?), maybe PG-13. Mostly angsty ish feel?

It isn't the first time he's lost track of him somewhere but every time it happens Alastor hopes it's the last.

He hasn't seen Vox in days and considering how close they are… it's strange, worrisome.

Vox usually keeps up with him, taking the time to send messages and letters and pop up at the most sudden of times and Alastor always responds. Life in hell has been growing on the two of them, Vox has been so excited recently… so eager to announce that he had a dream, one where he could publicize the two of them, where they could happily pursue their goals… together and Alastor both loved… and despised the very idea.

Really he himself is fine with his little following; those few sinners, Vox included, who seemed to always tune in but he'd be a liar if he told himself that he didn't see this …new behavior that seemed to jump out of his friend. Vox was a big dreamer, they had spent many long hours talking to each other, laughing and joking while also spewing their deepest hopes and dreams…well usually it was Vox who did so while Alastor listened and encouraged him but he couldn't help but want to stop the other at the same time.

To tell him that he didn't need to go out there and get big and famous or whatever because Alastor likes the way Vox already is but his friend, his silly friend had his hopes for their pitiful, shameful lives down here so who would Alastor really be to stop him?

To put it lightly, Alastor is anxious over the other demon who was still just hardly taller than Alastor's own shoulder. He's worried that something might have happened to his friend considering how long he's been missing now. After all, Alastor had noticed the way they seemed to draw more attention these days when they were out together… the sneaky glances and judging gazes the other sinners would give them.

Alastor doesn't care, couldn't care less especially considering how easy most demons are to get rid of but… Vox had seemed to grow rather conscious of his presence outside because of it all.

There's been times where he's even mentioned it, brought it up when it was just him and Alastor together.. Alastor could never forget it, the first time it was ever brought up… the way that Vox seemed to look over his shoulder and double check locks and doors with the excuse of making sure they were ‘safe’.

It angers Alastor.

Annoys him so bad to the point that he'd kill them, split their skulls and the ground they walked and before Vox’s very own feet but… for some reason whenever Alastor gets to that point… the point of nearly no return, Vox will lightly brush his hand against his own and while that kind, warm smile and tell Alastor that it was okay.

That they didn't matter.

That he didn't care.

And so on and so forth.

Alastor moves through the room now, annoyance dripping into the air around him as he seems to get ready to go somewhere… to go look for him because after everything they've been through so far he could admit that he didn't… like it when he couldn't keep tabs on Vox. When they weren't together so Alastor could defend him if needed. When he couldn't hover around Vox like a hawk threatening to peck out anyone's eyes who dared to even spill a drop of liquor on his shoes. He's smiling but he's anything but happy as he gets dressed to go out and hunt down Vox himself..

It's not until he's all ready, a clawed hand reaching out to his front door when his ears suddenly perk as the sound of knocking from the other side fills the room.

Alastor freezes for a moment, his mind simply going blank in that very moment except for the thought of Vox that lingered and as he shifted gears and continued to reach out and turn the door before another knock could be heard, Alastor found himself faced with Vox.

Immediately there's a surge of electricity that rushes through his body at being faced with his friend.

He's relieved, for starters, just seeing him but then that turns into confusion, then slowly into unbridled rage when he takes in the sight of the other more closely.

“Al..” Vox chuckles softly, that little chuckle that Alastor had grown rather fond of over their time of knowing each other even in those moments when he did it after telling some stupid joke or when it happened when they seemed to press close to each other in the moments when they could. He usually loves hearing it but this time he does not.

Especially because it's glitchy, corrupted from what he can see.

Not while Vox stands before him looking like a stray, beaten dog who practically limped its way back to its owner.

“I know I'm later than I said I'd be but hey, I'm here now yeah?” Vox starts off, or at least attempts to through riggidy default settings and his scratchy voice box though Alastor seems to understand him anyway.

He doesn't want to though.

He doesn't want to be faced by him when he's like this and all Alastor manages to do is let out a glitchy sound himself though unlike Vox he's not tired or worn, he's energized, livid.

His eyes move over Vox's form; looking at his heavily dirtied and wrinkled shirt that seemed to be missing a few buttons then they look at the way Vox seems to cradle one of his arms and of course Alastor takes in his screen which seemed shattered, clearly punched in.

Rightfully so, Vox seems to grow self conscious as the way Alastor hasn't responded yet. He knew that appearing like this at such a late hour would be one thing for the man but it's so strange to see Alastor so… serious. Vox laughs a little, lowering his gaze as if shy, unwilling to show his face as he slowly looks down to his shoes.

A moment of silence washes over them and Vox can't help but rub his already sore arm.

Maybe he shouldn't have come after all? Perhaps Alastor was even angry with him for doing so after already being hours late… Vox knew he shouldn't have come, should have just dealt with this on his own like he preferred to do so but they both knew Alastor would have come looking for him if he hadn't shown up because that's just who Alastor was when it came to Vox.

His rushing thoughts come in bundles, so much so that the silence becomes deafening and Vox can't help the way his body wants to just naturally step back and walk away as if he never came to begin with, and maybe that was for the best? He hates bothering Alastor, hated not being strong enough to always hold his ground or to scare others away like Alastor so easily seemed to do and maybe it makes him feel inferior, unworthy of being with the other man which always makes his heart ache when he comes down to such a conclusion. He has so many dreams for them but at times much like these ones he wondered if he was just getting reality messed up with said dreams.

It's not until a finger slips under his screen and lifts it to make Vox's gaze focus on Alastor's once more but this time… Vox seemed to freeze at what he saw on the other's face, his functioning eye growing wider at the scene as he finds himself suddenly holding his breath.

He's distorted, glitching and reversing, sigils forming in the air behind him as his eyes look into Vox's. His neck twisted over to the side and eyes big, red, and ticking in a way that makes it seem that Alastor is just barely clinging to patience… like he could burst at any moment in a fit of claws and teeth and as Vox stares up at him, shocked, he can feel shivers run up his back as Alastor continues to hold his head in place. He's gentle but firm, refusing to let this go which was something Vox would also say to him..

To just forget it and move on but no, nonono.

Alastor refused not to be pissed and as far as he knew, he had worked to do..

People to punish, bitches to burn.

“Who… Did this.. to you?” He says and with the way the room seems to shake it's clear that Alastor is not in fact asking but instead demanding to know. Vox can feel the bloodlust leaking off of the other demon, the fury he carries and Vox was sure that if he was anyone else in hell in that very moment that Alastor probably…wouldn't have hesitated to spill his blood and the ground he stood on.

Vox recognized the look, his eyes slowly lowering again now while Alastor shifts his hand to caress the side of Vox's face, running his thumb over the undamaged side and though it's a kind gesture Vox can feel the way Alastor's hand seems to lightly shake.

Vox makes a soft sound, something that he didn't make often and closes the gap between the two of them, wrapping his arms around Alastor and clinging to him and at first the taller of the two freezes at the reaction before slowly but surely… calming, at least as much as he could right now.

It takes a moment for Alastor to immediately respond but Vox doesn't mind, not when he can feel how warm Alastor was and smell his scent so closely and after everything it seems to take some pressure off the TV demon. When Alastor does hug him back his hold is a bit firmer, a bit tighter, like he may get upset if Vox dares to pull away from him now.

“Alastor, please…” Vox sighs softly, brokenly and though Vox's voice box is fucked Alastor still makes out those words and the gentle way Vox seems to speak to him.

“Please just…just leave it.” He says next, moving to bury his head in Alastor's chest and stepping in closer only to tumble forward onto a knee making Alastor jolt and quickly grip him closer before he finds himself in both of them. “Please let it go… I'll be okay, I'll recover. I always do don't I?” he says, practically begging the other man and Alastor feels his face twitch and he's never before more angry at his own curse for not being able to show just how upset he is right now. Yes of course he was sure Vox would be okay but he despised the idea of the other growing used to being treated this way by others...

“I'll be okay see?” Vox tries to convince the other or maybe… he's trying to convince himself now as he lifts his head and gives Alastor that silly, stupid smile again and it both annoys the deer demon but also convinces him enough to not leave right now and go hunt down however did this for there was all the time in the world to do such later.

Vox had come to him at this time for a reason and even if the reason was simply because Vox had no one else Alastor didn't care. He'd help him just like he always did… and so with a huff Alastor looks down to Vox with that everlasting smile though it does seem strained.

“Come inside… I'll take care of you.” He says and though Vox still feels guilty for showing up and possibly ruining Alastor's day with his appearance he also feels… grateful knowing Alastor was there just like he always was. So Vox gives in, sighing and nodding softly, gathering himself and getting to his feet and as Alastor holds the door wide open for him he trails in before the door closes back and snaps shut behind the two of them now allowing them to be alone together, where they were always guaranteed safety from the hellish world around them.

Where Alastor could continue to keep a close eye on him for just a while longer.

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quillscales · 8 hours

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"You know… There's always room in Waterdeep for two Mr. Dekarios'- Ugh." Gale shook his head as he paced in his cluttered lab, every surface covered with arcane artifacts and open tomes, some bookmarked with notes on eloquent expressions of love. "That sounds far too casual," he mumbled, fingers tapping on his chin.

"Ah!" He waved his finger in the air, stopping abruptly. He picked up a small, glowing crystal, tossing it from hand to hand as he thought. "Perhaps…" He placed his arm low and bowed deeply. "Would you do me the honour of joining the Dekarios clan?"

Gale straightened up and sighed, placing the crystal back on a crowded shelf. "No. That doesn't work. What if he doesn't want my name? I shouldn't put that pressure on him."

His eyes flicked to the golden ring on his work table. He had finally perfected it, and soon, it would be Astarion's. Whether he said yes or not, though… Gale's heart swelled, and he smiled to himself, his fingers lingering on the cool metal. He was confident that his lover would.

"Maybe something more traditional?" Gale wondered aloud, his gaze fixed on the gleaming band as he turned to face the door, imagining Astarion standing there. Sliding down onto one knee, he rehearsed, "Would you marry—Agh!" The sharp pop of his knee cut through the quiet of the lab, and he crumpled to the floor with a pained cry.

Gale let out a frustrated laugh from his spot on the floor, rubbing his knee. "Of all the times," he muttered.

#fanfiction #fanfic #wip #bloodweave #blurb #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #excerpt #gale dekarios

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coryothesub · 2 days

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This is a little weird, but hey, shower thoughts, you know, right?

I thought about Coryo running out of air, I mean choking, when he licked your pussy, all because he insisted that you sit on his face.

Ha ha anon if you think you're weird then it makes two of us since this was actually one of the ideas for my president!sub!coryo fic that flopped miserably over at AO3 (who knows, maybe one day I’ll finish it and repost it here). I find breath play hot af and it's def something that sub Coryo would enjoy, but also this is my first time actually writing it so please bear with me!

nsfw / mdni / sub!coryo / dom!reader

You were feeling kinda frisky so you decided to tease Coryo on purpose, parading around the apartment in your flowy little summer skirt and no panties.

Coryo was hooked immediately. You could see his pupils dilating as he stopped and stared, trying to catch a glimpse of your pussy when you twirled around in your skirt and let them flutter in the air.

“Please…” he approached you and squeezed your butt, making you jump a little.

“Please what?” You smirked. “Use your words babyboy!”

His grip on your ass cheeks tightened and now your bodies were pressed so close to each other that you could feel his heart beating in his chest.

“I want…” he looked at you innocently.

“No, I NEED to be buried in mommy's sweet pussy. Please, please, sit on my face!”

“Mmmm,” you hummed and brushed your thumb over his soft pink lips imagining them wrapped around your clit.

“Alright,” you nodded, amused that Coryo was already sucking on your thumb instinctively. That boy always needed something in his pretty little mouth.

Moments later you were both naked and Coryo was waiting in anticipation as you were standing on your knees, your pussy lingering above him.

You slowly lowered yourself spreading your legs wider and Coryo’s fingers dug into the soft skin of your thighs. The boy got to work instantly kitten-licking between your folds and then lapping at your clit with an insatiable hunger.

You let out a little whimper as he wrapped his lips around your clit, pressing the tip of his tongue against the sensitive bud and sucking at it quite harshly.

Desperate for more sensation, you started moving your hips back and forth, rubbing your clit against the pointy tip of his nose while his tongue was still buried between your folds.

You noticed his already hardened cock resting against his lower abdomen and reached behind you to give it a few lazy strokes, making his moans vibrate against your pussy while your thighs were still thrusting forward against his tongue and his nose.

“Fuck!” You moaned into the air, desperate for more friction, so you lowered yourself even more completely burying Coryo's face in your cunt.

You pressed yourself down on him for a moment, enjoying the feeling of his tongue teasing your entrance, then you felt him grip your thighs harder and noticed that your pussy was completely covering his nose and mouth.

Realizing that the boy was literally fighting for air you lifted yourself up a bit, looking at Coryo trying to catch his breath, his face filled with red and glistening from your juices.

“Oh shit, are you okay?” You covered your mouth in surprise.

“Oh yeah!” Coryo gave you a lewd little smile as he steadied his breath.

“I fucking loved it! Can you do it again?”

“Oh you little pervert,” you chuckled after letting out a sigh of relief.

“Please, mommy! Smother me with your cunt,” he pleaded before taking a deep inhale and watching you drowning his face in your pussy once more.

This time you held it for longer, reaching back and grabbing his cock. You started to pump it rapidly, while his muffled moans created delicious vibrations against your dripping cunt.

Feeling Coryo clutching at your thighs harder you eased up and looked down at his flushed face as you kept stroking his dick.

“Oh shit, it makes it stronger!” Coryo spoke while gasping for air. “The feeling of you touching me is stronger when I get no air. Please do it again, I need to cum so badly!”

“Such a needy boy…” Amused by his enthusiasm you sat on his face once more, this time almost with your full weight and pressed his head between your thighs while he was tongue fucking your hole, his nose pressed against your clit.

You felt your climax approaching as it became harder to hold yourself in place. Your legs were trembling as you pumped Coryo's cock at a relentless pace, it twitched in your hand just before releasing a heavy load of thick cum that coated your hand and spurted all over Coryo's flat stomach.

Coryo let out a deep muffled groan, the vibration sending you over the edge and you came hard, drenching his whole face in your juices.

Only then you let him go from the tight grip of your thighs. The boy was a complete mess, coughing and struggling for air, his face all red and the curls embracing his features drenched in sweat and your cum. He looked hella pretty like this.

“C’mere,” you pulled him up and wrapped your hands around his fragile frame. “You served mommy’s pussy so good, baby.”

Coryo rested his forehead against yours and graced you with the most adorable smile.

“I hope that means there's gonna be another round!”

#thank you for the ask #i should write more of this because daaamn #coriolanus snow #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #thg #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #thg tbosas #blurb #cts ask

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