#francisco romero fic

[olee]

Pelotudo | Francisco Romero

*enemies to lovers (almost)

*pelotudo: dicho de una persona, que actúa sin entendimiento, razón ni gracia.

“Que lindo ojos tenés - Quiere que te dé un beso?”

~

Conocías a Francisco desde kindergarten, y la verdad es que nunca congeniaron. Desde aquel entonces, sentías que le caías pésimo, y no era para menos. Él siempre se codeaba con los populares y se paseaba con aires de superioridad. Además, compartían el mismo interés por el teatro, lo cual resultaba ser uno de los puntos más irritantes para ti.

Durante los ensayos en la escuela de teatro, Francisco no perdía la oportunidad de soltarte comentarios hirientes: “Eso no es así", "Pelotuda, ¿no te lo estudiaste?", "Boluda, estás re-te mal", "Sos una mierda", "Andate a la mierda", y una lista interminable de despectivos. Era difícil soportar sus constantes críticas y la mirada de desprecio que te lanzaba en cada oportunidad.

Finalmente, llegó el día de tu graduación y decidiste mudarte a vivir a la Ciudad de México, dejando atrás esos incómodos encuentros con Francisco.

Después de varios años, tus amigos te insisten en que veas la película "La Sociedad de la Nieve". Como amante del cine y el teatro, y teniendo conocimiento de la historia del avión uruguayo, decides verla un día con tus amigos. Sin embargo, durante la proyección, algo llama poderosamente tu atención.

Al reconocer a algunos colegas del teatro en la pantalla, te sorprende descubrir que Francisco también forma parte de la película. Al verlo, no puedes contener tu reacción y susurras entre dientes un "concha de tu madre". La expresión de asombro en la cara de tus amigos es inevitable, y te preguntan: "¿Qué pasó?".

No puedes evitar soltar la verdad: "Ese es el pelotudo que arruinó mi carrera en Buenos Aires". La revelación deja a tus amigos boquiabiertos, y a partir de ese momento, la película adquiere un matiz completamente diferente para ti.

Después de un mes, decides regresar a Argentina para visitar a tu familia. Al llegar, te encuentras con un escenario inesperado: Francisco está en la cocina, cocinando con tu mamá. Ella, con una sonrisa en el rostro, te señala y exclama: "Mira, tu amigo de teatro está aquí".

Te quedas atónita, ya que la relación que tenías con Francisco distaba mucho de la amistad. Eran prácticamente enemigos durante tus días de teatro en Buenos Aires. Sin embargo, allí está él, ayudando en la cocina como si fueran los mejores amigos.

Tu madre, notando tu sorpresa, te presenta a Francisco con una alegría contagiosa. Él, con una voz inesperadamente dulce y fresa, te saluda: "(Tu nombre!), tu madre me invitó y, obviamente, no podía decir que no". Su tono amigable y su actitud llena de encanto te desconciertan, ya que no esperabas encontrarte con esta versión de Francisco.

Tu madre te informa que hace falta zanahoria y papas para la comida, y te pide que vayas al supermercado. Lo que más te sorprende en ese momento es escuchar a Francisco decir con una sonrisa: "Bueno, yo también voy contigo".

La idea de ir al supermercado con alguien con quien solías tener una relación conflictiva te resulta extraña, pero decides aceptar su compañía. Te das cuenta de que Francisco ha cambiado mucho desde la última vez que lo viste. Su actitud es relajada y amigable, y se muestra dispuesto a ayudar a elegir las mejores zanahorias y papas.

Mientras caminas para el supermerkado, decides soltar las palabras que hasta hace poco te parecían impensables: "Eh... felicidades, te vi en la película, hermoso de verdad". Francisco te mira con una expresión de sorpresa, pero el sol refleja intensamente en sus ojos verdes, haciéndolos brillar de una manera cautivadora.

Agradecido, Francisco responde con amabilidad: "Gracias. ¿Y vos? Tu madre me contó que haces teatro en México". Hipnotizada por la luminosidad de sus ojos, respondes sin poder evitar mirar hacia abajo: "Bueno, sí, estoy en el teatro y me va tranqui".

Él asiente con interés y suavidad en su tono de voz: "Qué bueno. Siempre fuiste la mejor en el teatro, la verdad es que te envidiaba mucho". De repente, te detienes en medio de la calle, mirándolo en blanco, tratando de procesar esas palabras. La sorpresa y la confusión se reflejan en tu rostro mientras intentas entender la nueva dinámica entre tú y Francisco.

Después lo encarás con una mirada bien intensa y le largás un "¿Posta estás diciendo eso?". Después de un silencio medio incómodo, le soltás un "En serio, che, ¿te olvidaste de todos los insultos que me tirabas cuando éramos pibes?". Francisco tira un "Che, (tu nombre), era un pibe, ni me daba cuenta de lo que decía". Ahí le mandás un "Sos un gil, me terminé mudando a Ciudad de México por tu culpa". Francisco te clava la mirada y suelta un "La verdad, nunca entendí por qué te fuiste". Y vos, con cara de sorpresa, le tirás un "¿Qué no entendés? ¡Me arruinaste la vida con esos comentarios arrogantes que tirabas todos los días, loco!". Te quedás re en shock después de soltar todo eso, dándote cuenta de que sacaste todo lo que tenías adentro y sin tener ni idea de qué va a decir el boludo.

Francisco te sigue mirando con esos ojos como platos y tira un "No sabía que te afectaban tanto, posta". Ahí te quedás mirándolo, medio paralizada, y le soltás un "¡¿Cómo que no sabías?! ¡Me hiciste mierda con tus comentarios, Francisco!". Francisco intenta explicarse, "Es que no lo hacía con mala intención, era joda de pibes". Y vos, caliente, le retrucás, "¿Joda? ¿Te parece joda tener que dejar todo e irme a otro país por tu culpa?".

Él baja la mirada, como sintiéndose culpable, y murmura un "No pensé que lo tomarías tan en serio, boluda". Ahí te explota la paciencia y le decís, "¿En serio? ¿No pensaste que abandonar mi vida acá sería en serio?". Francisco, medio nervioso, trata de justificarse, "Pero mirá, ahora estoy acá, podemos arreglar las cosas". Y vos, sin aflojar, le disparás, "No sé si tiene arreglo, Francisco. Me hiciste pasar por un infierno".

Francisco, sintiendo la incomodidad del momento, decide romper el hielo de alguna manera. Mira las bolsas de supermercado que sostienes con esfuerzo y sin decir una palabra, se acerca y te las quita suavemente de las manos. Lo hace como si de repente se diera cuenta de la carga que llevas.

Te mira con una sonrisa apologeta y te dice, "Che, dejame ayudarte con esto. Parece que están pesadas". Le das una mirada sorprendida, agradecida por el gesto repentino, y asientes. "Gracias, de verdad", le dices genuinamente. En ese momento, entre las bolsas, se crea un pequeño espacio de complicidad, como si ambos recordaran que, a pesar de todo, alguna vez fueron amigos.

*Thanks to my sis por ayudarme a escribirlo! We had fun!!!

[imninahchan]

⌜ 𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐒: friends to lovers, fwb, cockwarming, sexo sem proteção [ó chiquititas não façam noooooo], dirty talk, elogios e ‘eu te amo’, creampie. Espanhol — tranqui (tranquila/o), no me lastimes (não me machuque). ˚ ☽ ˚. ⋆ ⌝

꒰ 𝑵𝑶𝑻𝑨𝑺 𝑫𝑨 𝑨𝑼𝑻𝑶𝑹𝑨 ꒱ en serio buenisimoooooo.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 O SOM DAS RISADAS SE MISTURAM ENQUANTO VOCÊ SE DESPEDE DOS SEUS AMIGOS ─────

Abraça um, Abraça outro. Falam sobre marcar mais um encontro, talvez na casa de fulano, e tals. Você concorda, vamos marcar, sim, mesmo sem saber se terá disposição para socializar quando o rolê sair do papel de fato.

— Tchau, amiga! — Francisco se aproxima com um sorriso enorme, os braços abertos. Você percebe, só pelo tom agudo, o nível de zoação que carrega, porque te envolve forte, e quando separa, deixa um beijinho numa bochecha, depois n’outra, e ameaça deixar um nos seus lábios, porém recua, rindo. — Ay, perdón, desequilibrei... — alega, cínico.

Você não segura o riso, por mais que quisesse ter repreendido. Nem se pergunta se algum dos seus amigos notou algo, vai na sorte mesmo, empurrando Romero pela porta até que possa se juntar aos outros no corredor. Depois de tanto sorrir, os cantos da boca até doloridos, você os vê descendo as escadas. Se apressa pra janela da sala, gritando e acenando novamente, mais uma sessão de despedidas e vozes embriagadas dizendo o quanto gostam de você, que Buenos Aires não seria legal sem ti, e blá blá blá de bêbado.

Os seus olhos partem dos seus amigos entrando no carro de aplicativo pra figura esguia de Francisco seguindo pela rua noturna. Quando não o avista mais, nem se preocupa, já conhece o trajeto que será feito — dar a volta no quarteirão e tocar o interfone do seu prédio mais uma vez.

Dito e feito. Não precisava ter atendido formalmente como faz, afinal não é surpresa quem está do outro lado da linha, mas não se arrepende de ter tirado o telefone do gancho, uma vez que o som da voz chiando uma canção antigaça te arranca boas risadas. Libera a entrada, e ao espiar pelo olho mágico, a imagem distorcida é mais cômica ainda quando ele chega com a boca bem pertinho da lente. Já tá aberta, palhaço, você resmunga, girando a maçaneta para recebê-lo outra vez.

— ¡Hola! Quanto tempo... — Ele adentra o apartamento cumprimentando, te envolvendo. Dá dois beijinhos em cada uma das suas bochechas. Não te libera depois, entretanto, prolonga o abraço, te aperta, os pezinhos de ambos cambaleando para fechar a porta novamente e avançar até o sofá da sala.

O seu corpo cai no estofado, por cima das diversas almofadas, e o peso do dele te faz rir, sabe que o rapaz está fazendo tudo para implicar, para conseguir te fazer gargalhar até a barriga doer. Ao finalmente conseguir arredá-lo pro canto, tem o pulso tomado pela mão alheia. A cabeça descansando sobre o seu ombro, todo mal posicionado, mas insistindo em estar emaranhado a ti feito um bichinho pedindo atenção.

— Vou poder dormir aqui, né? — ele quer saber, mas já com aquele entonação de pergunta retórica. Os olhos sobem pro seu rosto.

— Vou pensar — você responde, fingida também.

— Pensar?! Você me trouxe pra sua casa, me embebedou, me jogou pra fora e me chamou pra voltar só pra usar o meu corpinho... — começa a enumerar, argumentando com o indicador no ar — ...e, agora, quer me jogar na rua de novo?

— Você voltou porque quis...

Ele ergue a postura, te encarando boquiaberto, com drama. Dali, um sorriso se abre, é porque eu te amo, e vem se aproximando pra distribuir beijinhos pelo seu queixo.

Certo, vocês não são só amigos, porém se alguém questionar, é capaz de ambos não saberem exatamente o que responder.

Você conhece Fran porque ele é amigo de uma amiga sua, e quando menos percebeu já estavam ambos nas mesmas festinhas, tirando foto no espelho do banheiro de balada e se arrumando na casa um do outro pra poder sair. Talvez a tensão entre os dois tenha sido grande demais ao dançar coladinhos o som da canção de letra indecente, porque acabou se encontrando sentada no colo dele num pós-festa, passando mais gloss nos lábios só porque ele queria provar o saber através de um beijinho.

Mas é tudo silencioso demais. Os seus amigos não sabem, quem sabe desconfiam, só que ninguém diz nada, e muito menos vocês dois. Estão mais do que acostumados a fazer o que fizeram hoje — se ‘despedem’, ele dá uma volta no quarteirão só pra dar tempo de todo mundo ir embora, e aí volta pra ficar contigo. Já perdeu as contas das vezes em que ele dormiu aqui, tipo daquela vez em que fizeram a listening party de Motomami, quando o álbum saiu, e no outro dia ele acordou com o glitter da noite passada todo espalhado pelo rosto.

A presença dele te ilumina. A cada risada, você jura, é como se mil fadinhas nascessem, igual no filme da Tinker Bell. Vocês combinam tanto que é absurdo. O mesmo senso de humor, o mesmo gosto musical, às vezes se expressam da mesma forma no automático.

— Saaai! — você estende a pronúncia, empurrando-o com a primeira almofada que alcança. — Me ajuda a arrumar as coisas, anda. — Joga o corpo dele pro canto, se levantando.

Francisco cai no chão, teatral.

— Então, é pra isso que eu voltei? — parece sussurrar para si mesmo. — Pra ser empregada doméstica... A que ponto cheguei...

Mas vem atrás quando te vê partindo pra cozinha. Enquanto você lava as louças na pia, ele as seca com o pano de prato, tagarelando sobre algum acontecimento que se deu entre a família dele recentemente, ou sobre algum Tik Tok engraçado que viu e, com certeza, te mandou.

— Vou tomar banho — você avisa, e ele automaticamente escuta a frase como se fosse um convite.

A relação de vocês já está tão sólida que o rapaz tem uma pilha de coisas guardadas no seu armário, entre elas a tolha que pega agora para partir contigo pro chuveiro. Vê-lo tirar a roupa se tornou cotidiano, conhece cada pintinha no corpo masculino e os olhos são ágeis pra achar uma espinha aqui ou ali. Posso cortar seu cabelo amanhã, se você quiser, é o que oferece, afetuosa, ao correr os dedos pelos fios dele. E ele aceita, confia cem por cento.

Antes de entrar no box, porém, tem que colocar aquela playlist do banho pra tocar. As canções ecoam pelo celular sobre a pia, as faixas se somando no ambiente ao passo que vocês se alternam sob a água. Uma pausa ou outra pra cantar as letras com a embalagem de shampoo na mão, e logo já estão embalados na toalha.

Ele nem se dá ao trabalho de vestir algo mais do que a bermuda de algodão. Se esconde entre os seus cobertores, tapa a cabeça e tudo, esparramado pelo colchão. Você até tinha separado o conjuntinho de pijama que costuma vestir, mas aí lembra que provavelmente não vai dormir agora, e fica com preguiça de ter que tirar tudo. Pega uma blusa larga mesmo, se cobre só com isso.

Engatinha sobre a cama, procurando um espacinho pra se esconder sob o cobertor também.

— Vem, tá frio, uuuuh, que frio. — É dominada pelos braços do argentino. Rolam por cima da bagunça que se torna a cama, o rosto dele afundado na curva do seu pescoço enquanto murmura as gracinhas ao pé do seu ouvido. A temperatura está okay, é arriscado até que acordem suando, mas Romero os cobre totalmente. Os olhinhos arregalados te encaram sob o escurinho do cobertor. — Eu tô morrendo de frio, dá pra ver meus dentes batendo? — Exibe os dentes, engraçadinho, só pra te fazer rir. — O que você vai fazer sobre isso?

— Eu?

— É, você mesma.

— Não sei... — entra no joguinho dele. — O que você acha que eu devo fazer?

— O que eu acho?

— Uhum.

— Ah, deixa eu pensar... — Desvia o olhar, parando até o dedinho no canto da boca. — Tá tão frio hoje, eu preciso de alguém pra me esquentar... sabe... — Volta os olhos pra ti, a cara lavada é óbvia demais. — Dentro de você é tão quentinho...

Você sorri, feito boba. Tá, pode ser, autoriza. A diversão na face do argentino passa do doce, ao te acompanhar no princípio, para o lascivo quando te escuta permitir. Gracías, chiquita, ele responde de volta, te dando um beijo no cantinho da boca.

Te abraça por trás, e você não precisa nem espiar por cima dos ombros pra visualizar a destra masculina escorregando por baixo do endredom pra poder tocar a si próprio até estar pronto. O rosto de Fran mergulha entre o seu pescoço, arrasta o nariz pelo seu ombro, aspirando o perfume do sabonete usado no banho. Está sussurrando pertinho do seu ouvido, diz o quão cheirosa e bonitinha você está, agradece por não encontrar mais peça nenhuma no meio do caminho até as suas pernas. É reconfortante saber que as coisas que o excitam são os elogios que faz para ti.

Você mesma empina um pouquinho quando necessário, oferece um ângulo melhor ao jogar a bunda pra trás e separar os joelhos, de lado. Ganha outro beijo, dessa vez posicionado melhor na bochecha. Sente a cabecinha sendo esfregada pelo seu pontinho, deslizando pra cá e pra lá. E quando ele se encaixa, empurra devagarzinho, você morde o lábio, trocando um olhar com o argentino só pra poder vê-lo sorrindo ladino. Entra com cuidadinho, sem forçar muito porque não te deixou bem molhadinha primeiro.

— Agora sim... — Te aperta mais entre os braços, empurrando o quadril contra o seus, ao máximo, tudo, sempre parecendo querer ir mais fundo embora já esteja no limite. — Tão bom... — Chega a suspirar, de tamanha completude.

De fato, o somatório do calor natural do seu corpo junto da quentura do endredom formam um fervor delirante. Febril. Agora, vamo’ dormir, você deita a lateral do rosto sobre as costas das mãos, plena. Poderia estar externando também o prazer que sente; a sensação de fartura, a excitação por guardá-lo dentro de si, o jeito com que pisca ao redor do que te preenche, espremendo, fazendo o rapaz estremecer contigo, porém resolve manter a pose. Especialmente pois sabe que Francisco Romero não ostenta pose nenhuma quando se trata de ti.

Aqui, ele acata o seu comando. Pelo menos, a princípio. Não demora muito e ele quebra o personagem, feito já era de se esperar. Recua de dentro e joga de novo, ocupando mais uma vez. A boca se encarrega de beijar pelo seu pescoço, a voz arranhando próxima do seu ouvido, como um gatinho. Eu falei dormir, você reitera numa falsa irritação.

— Eu sei — ele fala —, mas não é o suficiente. — Sem muita dificuldade, se coloca por cima de ti, se trancando entre as suas pernas. — Necesito más, mi amor.

— E o que você quer? — pergunta, apesar de já imaginar o que vem por aí.

Canalha, chulo. O sorriso vai se alargando na face do argentino.

— Assim, sabe... — começa, malandrinho. Ergue o dedo indicador pra contornar as voltinhas dos seus lábios enquanto diz: ‘se eu te encher de porra, aí você vai ficar quentinha também...’

‘Vai, deixa’, insiste, com charme. Não vai ser a primeira e nem a última vez, e ‘eu sei que você gosta de dormir lotadinha de mim, hm? Não adianta dizer o contrário’, igual ele mesmo afirma.

A face que exibe aquele cretino sorriso vai chegando mais perto, os lábios finos encontram os seus. Selam, estalam, molhadinhos. Você o rodeia com os braços, traz ainda mais pra próximo.

Hm?, o escuta ronronar, meigo. Porra, que se dane qualquer marra, né? De que adianta continuar nesse joguinho de implicância quando pode ganhar uma foda gostosinha, sob o endredom quentinho, pra poder dormir tranquila a noite toda? Amanhã vai acordar, sim, com o meio das pernas todo melado, mas daí é só guiar o rapaz até o banho que tudo se repete e resolve satisfatoriamente. ‘Dale, Fran, me fode’, pede, então, num dengo sem igual.

Ele atende ao seu pedido, claro. As mãos escorregam pelos cantos do seu corpo porque devem chegar até a sua cintura, segurar ali, para poder meter com mais ritmo. Lento, porém, devorador de sanidade. É sensual na medida certa pra te fazer revirar os olhinhos e respirar pela boca entreaberta, o ar quente soprando contra o rosto alheio.

O silêncio da madrugada é propício pra sobressair o devasso do momento. Escuta a voz dele falhando, os arfares. Principalmente, escuta o som ensopadinho do seu corpo, cada vez que ele se soca no seu interior. É de alucinar. Crava as unhas nas costas dele, o que faz o garoto resmungar de tesão. Tranqui, nena, no me lastimes, murmurando nos seus lábios como se nem tivesse quase se derramado só pela selvageria.

Mas quando se derrama de verdade, os próprios dedos dele estão tão firmes e fortes na carne das suas coxas que você sente queimar. Tudo dobra de intensidade; o orgasmo, o gemido que você queria encobrir pra não ecoar pelo cômodo e, possivelmente, ser ouvido pelos vizinhos. O peito dói, o coração parece parar por uns segundinhos e voltar com tudo, disparado.

O corpo do argentino pesa sobre o seu, feito mais cedo, praticamente se joga por cima de ti, proposital. E é só você recuperar o fôlego que começa a importuná-lo, anda, Fran, levanta.

— Tempo, tempo — ele repete, ofegante. O rosto afogado na curva do seu pescoço.

— Fraaan — manha, dando tapinhas nas costas dele.

— Nossa ‘cê é muito chatinha... — Te agarra, repentino, um excesso de carinho que te faz colar o corpo nele, mais ainda porque permanece enterrado inteirinho dentro de ti. O garoto levanta o olhar, te dá um selinho. — Te amo muito, okay?

— Tá, tá, tá — murmura entre os selinhos que se seguem, os estalidos de lábio em lábio quando não se importa se vai causar ruído ou não.

— Hmmm — Esfrega a ponta do nariz no cantinho do seu rosto, meloso. — Quentinha agora?

Você sorri, e mesmo mordendo o lábio entre os dentes para disfarçá-lo, Francisco flagra, sorri junto.

— Sim, né? — responde por ti, e não mente. — Bem melhor agora, vai dormir que é uma beleza, né, gatinha? De nada, tá? — Se move outra vez, retornando com a lateral do corpo pro colchão e te abraçando por trás. No caminho, escorrega pra fora de ti, de tão encharcadinho que tudo ficou. — Ah, não... Deixa eu voltar, deixa... — lastima com desespero, apressa para suspender de levinho a sua coxa para se colocar fundo novamente.

— Vai dormir assim, é? — o questiona, entre o riso.

— Dentro de ti? — ri também, daquele jeitinho doce. — Se eu pudesse, ficava enfiado em você, bem fundo, pelo resto da minha vida.

— Bobo... — Bagunça os cabelos dele.

[madame-fear]

could you write a drabble for Francisco with these prompts? please 🥺

50. “i don't recall asking you to stop. keep kissing me.”

20. goofily smiling in between kisses.

27. “if only you knew the effect you have on me.”

꒰ ‘𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐌𝐄’ | 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐋𝐄. ꒱

ೀ amira speaks! : nonnie this was so sweet and fun to write, thank you for requesting this !! this is literally the first thing I ever write for our sweet man, I hope you enjoy this! 🤧💕 also, tagging my sweet girl @luceracastro in case you are interested! <33 ˗ˏˋ ꒰ summary : request above. ♡ ˗ˏˋ ꒰ word count : 550.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ genre : fluff, established relationship, drabble. ˗ˏˋ ꒰ pairing : francisco romero x (fem!)reader ˗ˏˋ ꒰ prompts used : ⤿ mentioned above in request!

→ click here if you want to request a drabble for my followers milestone celebration! drabbles open from February 14th, to March 1st.

A silly grin quivered at the corner of your lips. Your hand was placed on the back of Fran’s head, having your fingers interwined between his dark blonde curls.

Fluttering your eyes shut, your lips softly pressed against his own thin, rosy ones; tilting your head gently to deepen the kiss. Sitting on his lap and exchanging small, sweet kisses was your favourite activity to do with your boyfriend — you could spend an entire day like this, and none of you would grow bored. In between the kiss, you could feel his own lips turning into a smile.

Humming, you reluctanctly pulled apart, feeling him breaking away the kiss for a brief moment — but his lips still grasped against yours tenderly. His light green eyes moved to stare up at you admiringly, noticing how his smile grew wider at the sight of you. He was absolutely dumbfounded at how pretty you were, in every sense. It wasn’t unusual to catch him admiring you like a fool in love, which made you feel flattered — and a bit shy sometimes, even.

“I don’t recall asking you to stop.” you retorted teasingly, moving your fingers to play with his hair lovingly. “Keep kissing me.” a soft scoff spurred from him, becoming flustered at your playful remarks. “Sorry,” Fran replied meekly, still stupidly smiling to himself. One of his hands cupped your cheek, as his other free hand was placed in your waist while his lips were pressed against the corner of your lips, placing several small pecks. “I can’t help it. I have to admire just how lucky I am.”

Closing your eyes once again, you sighed out of satisfaction at the way your boyfriend showered you in love, filling your face with loving, and delicately small kisses. Grinning widely — as the fluster in your cheeks spread across your face — you moved your face to meet his lips again, firmly cupping his cheeks with your hands One of his hands went to the back of your head, pressing you against his lips, ravenously kissing you.

In between the chaste, affectionate kisses and smooches you continously pressed against each other’s lips, occasionally humming in delight against your mouths, you smiled in a giddy manner. The corner of your lips grew leisurely with each smooch that was given and received; both of you feeling content of having one another in this manner. In a way, it felt comforting - the rest of the world didn’t exist, it was just the two of you, and the faint sound of your kisses.

Eventually, both of you softly pulled apart from one another, faintly panting, trying to catch some air after the makeout session you had. Feebly, he pressed his forehead against your own, keeping his hand in the back of your head so you would remain as close to him as possible, while his other hand moved to your arm - caressing your skin with the tips of his fingers. The amount of pride he felt at the thought of having you with him just like this overwhelmed him; he couldn’t be any more satisfied.

Pressing a final smooch on the tip of your nose, making you squirm and giggle very lightly, he whispered. “If only you knew the effect you have on me.”

[recaltera]

pretty when you beg

pairing: enzo vogrincic x fem reader

🏷 smut (minors dni) teasing, underwear kink(?), oral (f rec), overstim, orgasm countdown, orgasm control, hard dom enzo and kinda mean enzo if u squint, spitting

a/n: (IMPORTANT!!) hiii this is my first fic ever i hope u like it :D if u wanna i can also translate into spanish so more people can read it. please let me know what u think and if u have any requests let me know in the ask box thingy, i write for everyone in lsdln’s cast. tyvm !! have a good day/night mwah ♡

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ꙳⭒ ༒ ✧⋆

deep breaths was all that could be heard, his lips trailing down from your neck to your abdomen. leaving a trail of wet kisses on his way to your clothed cunt.

he kept teasing you tonight, you went out to celebrate your three months together and instead of being all romantic and lovey-dovey, he was whispering the dirtiest things into your ears. but to be honest, you weren’t complaining at all, that’s one of the many things you loved about him, how dirty he could get, even in the most innocent occasions.

— going to fuck you so good tonight, angel.

all you could do was blush and giggle it off.

so here he was kissing your clit through your black laced panties you wore just for him tonight over and over again. it felt so good, yet it wasn’t enough, you needed more.

— enzo, please

he used his thumb to rub over your lips, something he did when he wanted you to open your mouth for him, wether it meant he wanted you to suck him off, or just make you suck in his fingers. however, this time he leaned over to spit in your mouth. and you gladly opened up and swallowed for him.

— shut the fuck up.

you kept bucking your hips into his face, but to no avail cause he ended up pinning you to the mattress, with his slender, pretty fingers sprawled out on your stomach. the fingers you oh so wanted somewhere else. the fingers you had spent HOURS thinking about.

as he was busy making out with your clothed pussy, kissing and sucking here and there, making the lace panties wet with his saliva. you were getting desperate to feel something, anything. you took his fingers into your own hands and guided them where you needed him the most.

— nuh uh, i want you to cum because of my mouth tonight.

you groaned when he finally took your panties off and kissed your inner thighs… slowly. still teasing you.

— fuck please, please, give me something.

and so he did, he kissed your now bare clit and started sucking on it like a desperate, starved man. the sounds he made while eating u out were like music to your ears.

he kept alternating between licks and flicks to your bud until you came, kissing your clit over and over to ride out your high. just to get off the bed and look for your favorite vibrator. he put it on a medium speed and pressed it lightly over your clit making you moan a little too loud from the overstimulation.

— s’too much enzo, no. no. no. no, stop it.

but he knew you didn’t want him to stop, if you did actually want that you would have used your safe word. he knew how fucking greedy you were. how no matter how many times he made you cum, if he wanted you to cum again then that’s what you’d do. you’d do anything to please him. anything for him.

he pressed it harder and started dragging it along your folds only stopping once the toy was on your clit again. he loved seeing your fucked out face, and how just by playing with the bundle of nerves he could get you to look like a mess; legs sprawled out and open for him, cunt red and glistening with your own juices and his spit. it was quite the sight if you asked him.

once you had relaxed and let him have his way with you for a couple of minutes, he used his index finger to put the toy on the highest setting. making the vibrations buzz around your whole body. making you shake because of the pleasure he was providing you.

he knew you were close, he already knew every part of your body, what you liked and what you didn’t. how to make u cum, how to get you on your knees for him, and how you reacted when you were about to hit your orgasm, so without moving the toy away from you, he leaned down, sticking his tongue inside of u going in and out at a fast pace. making you close your legs around his head for that extra feeling. you were so close to the edge, literally about to let go when he says;

— you cant cum until i say so.

he proceeded to begin with his 10 second countdown he loved to do when he wanted you to beg and cry for him. he loved hearing how desperate you were to cum for him. how pretty you looked with tears in your eyes.

“10… 9…”

— m’so close please

you could literally feel the tears in your eyes.

“8… 7… 6…”

— i don’t think i’ll last, please let me cum

“5… 4… 3…“

— please please please

“2…“

— fuck enzo

“1…”

— cum baby, make a mess for me, hm?

you came, you came so fucking hard letting him guide you through it.

— good job, angel. hope you are aware of the fact that we are not finished yet. or is my little doll too dumb to think right now?

he said with a pout on his lips, faking sympathy at your fucked out state. and you would be lying if you said you didn’t want whatever the fuck it was this beautiful man standing in front of you wanted to give you.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ꙳⭒ ༒ ✧⋆

[kiiwiighost]

Here's a fanart I did for an amazing fanfic I read on ao3, it's "masks within masks" by Kyprish_Prophetess

[luceracastro]

𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒

𝐄𝐧𝐳𝐨 𝐕𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐜 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Bayona believes his shy niece just needs to be surrounded by people close to her age, so he allows her to come along for the filming of his next big movie and one of his actors become taken with the young girl

Warnings: this fic will have warnings as the chapters go, this is an age gap relationship

You were always quiet, shy, and not really put out there since you were consumed with the fear of being humiliated, being shy was what mostly stopped you from common life experiences.

It was why your mom was pushing you at the moment to travel with your uncle, “Amor sería algo bueno para ti, estarías con gente cerca a tu edad” she said and you shook you head “no mami, la verdad no me convence” you sighed

Ever since this whole shy thing got into you, you had gained a handful of activities such as art, whether it was painting or sketching, reading, baking, even needle work which you took the time to learn just to distract you from the real world

You were a college student and focused on school as well so it wasn’t a huge problem when school work and class filled your schedule, “como sabes que no vas a disfrutar esto?” She asked and you gave her a look “mami, yo no conozco a nadie de ahí como voy a nomas llegar?” You asked

She chuckled “amor te juro que esto sería algo muy bueno para ti” she promised and you sighed “bueno bueno nomas una semana y regreso” you said with a slight warning edge in your tone “si corazón si! Deja llamo a tu tío!” You mom had a skip in her step as she went to grab her phone

You knitted your brows in confusion and turned back to the cookies you were baking, there you realized maybe she was right.

You were seated on the plane with your eyes glued to your book and AirPods in your ears, a tactic to keep anyone from speaking to you, you were making way to Spain where filming would take place

Now you were stuck in the airport waiting for your uncle to come and get you, you sat inside of the airports coffee shop drinking a latte and listening to music, you now kinda felt homesick, missed your mom and home

Hands on your shoulders startled you but you calmed down once you saw your uncle standing behind you with a delighted smile on his face, you paused your music and stood up “Tío” you smiled giving him a hug “hola amor como estas?”

“Bien, y tu?” You asked “muy bien, pero vamos amor porque quiero que conoces a todos!” He sounded quite excited for you to meet them, way more excited than you that’s for sure.

He had gotten you both down to where the entire casts was staying, their home for a few months, the hotel was huge and it was also a bit intimidating, how many people stayed here? How long? Would you have to interact with any of them?

Your uncle has someone take care of bringing your bags up but in the meanwhile he led you up the elevator, down the hall and looking at the many numbers of the various doors until you both reached the right one “aquí” he sighed satisfied and scanned the keycard before swinging open the door

“Esto sería tu hogar por unos meses” you cringed a bit at that, you knew you would go home in a week, “esta bien tío,” he nodded “bueno vamos a que conoces a los actores” you gave a protesting look and he chuckled a humorous smile on his lips “vamos” he said with a slight demanding edge in his voice and you sighed following after him

“Este es el lobby privado donde pueden estar juntos y convivir” he showed you a private lobby which was filled with many people, you froze up but tried to keep calm “Chicos!” His voice caught the attention of everyone then their eyes landed on you

“Ven, quiero que conozcan a una persona muy importante” they all walked over and stood in front of you and your uncle “Ella es T/n, mi sobrina y ella nos va a acompañar en esta rodaje” he said and they all smiled at you which you returned to not be rude

“Y espero que todos se comporten bien con ella” he warned almost making you want to run back to your room, it wasn’t their job to take care of you “Si como no” a certain tall guy was the first to answer “Ah perfecto, Mira el es Enzo” he came forward and your breath caught in your throat “Hola” his voice was sweet and not very intimidating “Hola” you let out a small sigh of relief

“Bueno los dejo” you uncle was quick to leave and you looked back to see them all coming towards you “Hola, me llamo Fran” his hand extended towards you and you took it, he looked nice, like the sun in a way, very sunshine like “me llamo Juani, como era que te llamabas?” You forced yourself to speak “T/n”

He nodded “bonito nombre” you smiled shyly “gracias” you were slightly overwhelmed but tried to stay calm, plus they all seemed nice enough, after they all introduced themselves to you, you thought you could sneak off but a hand grabbed yours, you turned to see Alfonsina

“Ven siéntate con nosotros,” you could not say no to the kind girl “bueno, si esta bien” she led you to sit on a couch right in between her and Enzo, “entonces donde creciste?” Alfonsina asked and you looked at her “Barcelona, España Barcelona” you answered and she nodded “y tu?” You managed to ask “Montevideo” she answered and you nodded “escuche que Uruguay es muy lindo” you said and she nodded

“Lo es” you nodded “y tu estudias?” You did actually “Si,” she smiled “Que bueno, y que es lo que estudias?” She asked “estudio biología” she nodded “Que bueno, y vas en persona o lo estas haciendo en línea?” At the time you were doing it online especially since you were here and not where your college was

“Por ahora hago en línea” she nodded “y que te gusta hacer en tu tiempo libre?” She then asked “bueno me gusta hacer arte como pintar, dibujar y también me gusta leer y escuchar música” you felt like she was doing all the talking “y a ti, que te gusta hacer?” You asked “bueno me la paso en el teatro pero también me agrada leer, estar en la música o salir con amigas”

You and Alfonsina passed time just talking and you began to let loose and open up to her, she was really nice and sweet, she was patient and understanding of why you even took a while to start engaging into the conversation

You finally were able to get back to your hotel room and you were proud to have actually been able to hold a conversation with someone, a knock on your door did slightly startle you, walking over and opening it you didn’t expect to find Enzo standing there

“Hola linda” he smiled, you stood like a deer caught in the headlights “Hola” you saw your phone in his hands “lo dejaste en el lobby” he handed it to you and you nodded a small smile on your lips “gracias, de verdad” he nodded “Nada que agradecer linda, vas a desayunar con nosotros mañana verdad?” He asked and your confused face gave away that you had no idea what he was talking about

“En el Lobby nos sirven la comidas y me gustaría si tú nos acompañarás para el desayuno” he said and you nodded, it was all you could do “Si, si como no” you chuckled and he did the same nodding “bueno linda buenas noches, descansa bien” you nodded “tu también, buenas noches

He walked down the hall and you closed the door, you looked down at your almost dead phone and sighed. “Oye la sobrina de Bayona está hermosa” Simón said and Enzo looked over at him “si esta hermosa, pero con respecto es la sobrina” he nudged Simon making Matias and Pipe chuckle

“Oye pero porque crees que ella vino al rodaje?” Pipe asked and Alfonsina sighed “se ve un poco tímida y penosa, pero es muy linda a lo mejor tiene que ver con eso” she shrugged “bueno a lo mejor”

“Le dije que debe de desayunar con nosotros mañana” Enzo said “Buen idea” Matías agreed. They all retreaded to their rooms after their smoke break.

A/n: So not a lot in this chapter but more will come I promise my loves! Also I hope you all enjoy this part and likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated but not required my babies just as long as you enjoy the read, and let me know if you’d like to be tagged!

Taglist: @creative-heart @espinasrubi @castawaycherry @madame-fear @luv4fati

[rvblos]

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ hi !

my name is nina, i love to write so if you guys want to send me requests, id be very happy to write for you!

at the moment i'm only taking requests for la sociedad de la nieve cast especially for blas, mati and esteban but the other members are welcome as well.

you're more than welcome to send me anything, photos of them, requests and questions!

and my dms are always open if you wanna chat.

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ nina.

[fantasticenthusiasttale]

Donald's Week, day 13 – Post Card

For the last day of Donald's week, i come with a one-shot fic! It's been a while since the last time i wrote something and posted it, so let's come back to it this time right under the cut!

Characters: Donald Duck, José Carioca, Panchito Pistoles, baby!triplets

Hurt and fluff fic

tw angst, tw implied death

A soft knock of the door didn't take Donald surprised, he was already waiting for these guests, even though them not being terribly loud don't felt right to him. But it doesn't matter, because all he needs now is just a shoulder to cry on and a hand to hold.

Saturday morning, José and Panchito found themselves on flies from their respectives hometowns right to the city of Duckburg. Since these post cards with the same small text to fit on the space to write arrived on their houses in the day before, they needed to visit him as soon as possible. Both of them had read it again and again, getting more worried each time.

Dear José/Panchito,

Please come to visit me on Duckburg as soon as you can. My address is on the back. I am needing your support.

Donald Duck

Donald was in what now is only his house, barely awake after not sleeping in two days and full of a mix of coffee and energy drinks. Big dark circles under the eyes and dirty clothes in a messed up home. He can't deal with all of this for once, especially with the new three little balls of yellow sunshine that made him feel an unconditionable love but also a growing fear and a giant sadness. He will keep his promise no matter what it costs, no matter how long it will take, but he shouldn't be doing this, they're not his.

It's been two weeks since the happened forced him to send post cards to his friends. Gyro said that see them to get a little bit of help will give him part of the support he needs to keep going.

Sitting on the couch with his cup of coffee, he listened to the soft snoring they were making. Even though still being very young to be able to walk and talk, they were babies curious enough to not need any of these abilities to mess up somebody's life. Hear the sounds of them sleeping calmed Donald down, even though he couldn't fall asleep too.

They reminded him of her so much, painfully, all the time. He is not ready to become a father all of a sudden, but she was ready to become a mother. She was taking care of herself and them so well while he was on the navy, it isn't fair to them to switch the care of their loving and multitasking mother to the care of their clumsy uncle that just had to leave his sailor life to be there for them. Grandma Duck is too old to be taking care of her three great grandsons as babies, uncle Scrooge is too busy in getting richer (and searching for her) to be a help most of the time, and his cousins are pretty much a disaster around children. He is a disaster too, but playing the big brother role to Fethry and Gladstone made he learn a thing or two. They send to most help they can, but it's Donald who really had to step up.

The soft knock of the door took Donald out of his thoughts but not in surprise, he was already waiting for these guests for so long even though them not being terribly loud don't felt right to him. But it doesn't matter, because all he needs now is just a shoulder to cry on and a hand to hold. He got up slowly and unlocked the front door. The parrot and the rooster were ready to scream and hug him happily, but before they could even breathe, he warned "Quiet!"

The guests were took by a surprise because of this reaction of Donald, but also by how terribly tired and sad he seemed to them. Donald opened the whole creaking door, and they could see how messed his house was even not noticing the oddly big baby stroller on the middle of the living room. They entered quietly and their exhausted friend closed the door back.

"Donal', we missed you!" Both of them took Donald in probably the most silent hug they ever gave to somebody, which the duck returned letting himself fall into their arms. The hug was unbraced after a long while, and Donald already felt a bit of a healing happening with a little smile.

"You told us that we needed to come here as soon as possible! What happened, mi amigo*?" Panchito started, desperate to know the reason of Donald's post cards and how bad he seems to be.

Donald put on a sad face, pointing to the big baby stroller made specifically for triplets that was facing the couch. The group went quietly to the front of the baby stroller to see what was inside.

"Panchito Pistoles, José Carioca, meet the triplets Huey, Dewey and Louie Duck. The newest family members." Donald said, smiling proudly with the other two were focused on the little snoozing yellow balls of feathers.

"Donal'... they're beautiful! Congratulations! Meus fofos patinhos*!" José said with stars in his eyes, until suddently they vanished "But... where's their mother?"

Donald's face got fastly melancholic again, with a bit of anger. They sit on the couch "They are... hers." He said pointing to a photo of him and his sister from a while ago in a frame that rested on a small coffee table. He couldn't even say her name, it was too painful.

Now the other caballeros started to know what is the point of the problem, and had to go very cautious to find it all out.

"And... where's she?" Panchito said before he could think of first, and José's answer came fast as a step on his foot that he had to put up with silently to not wake up the kids.

Donald's hands started to shake and his voice started to trembling as he looks away to the floor "Well, y'know... she's a pilot... and i was proud of her..."

The tears started to show up on his eyes "There was a new mission that she accepted right when i came back from months on the sea... she is the first woman to go to the space... and... a-and..."

Donald dismantled. He covered his face with his hands but it wasn't worth, it wouldn't hide his feelings from his friends. He's just... so destroyed. So lost. So lonely. It's been two weeks without his twin, the other half of himself, and he didn't even know if she was fine. He was holding all his hope in the promise Scrooge made to his broken nephew in the name of the space station to take her back home, no matter what. Donald's pain was specifically worse on Scrooge's eyes, because he knows how does it feel to lose a sister. He encouraged the nephew to not make the same mistake of his and get up to be brave enough to take care of the kids because, differently from Scrooge, Donald was a good brother.

José and Panchito held Donald on a big bear hug, the best they could do to calm their depressed friend down. They stayed for a long time, as Donald could feel the soft back pats in his back from José and the gentle head rub from Panchito. The most silently they could to not wake the ducklings, but after all they were sleeping heavy enough to nothing wake them up until the next snack time with milk.

"I-I should have done something! Something to stop her! Now it's too late! And it's my fault! I cannot raise them, they're HER kids, not mine!" Donald said through sobbing. He was really feeling the worst, like he's that dirty puddle of slurry that come out of a trash can. "And here i am with them, all alone!"

Even with the best aim to shoot of his country which could have made him with a toughie fame, Panchito was good with comfort words. "Donal', you are not alone! You have your family supporting you! You have us, right, Zé?"

"Right! We are the three caballeros, all for one and one for all! We will help you to turn into be the best uncle even seen until their mother come back!" José answered, putting some excitement in his words to encourage his friends.

Once Donald wiped his tears and gave his friends a smile of relief and bravery, the hug got unbraced, José and Panchito blinked to each other leaving Donald out confused. The three of them got up of the couch, and José headed to the door while Panchito took Donald by his back and pushed him to the stairs of the second floor.

"Hey, where are you going?" Donald asked, confused.

José pulled his sleeve and showed his wristwatch to them "It's almost 12pm, i'm going to the restaurant down the street to grab us some lunch."

"Why don't you call for a delivery?" Donald asked again, and the realization came fast as he rolled his eyes "You have money to pay for it, right?"

"Better, i have an idea!" and José ran away closing the door after him to not get the opportunity to get followed by an angry duck.

"It's better for him if he don't get able to teach the boys these schemes he's always involved in." Donald complained.

"And you are going to take a shower right now!" Panchito pushed him up in the stairs "I will replace you taking care of the children and make their nursing bottles for when they wake up for lunch too!"

"You?! Are you sure of this? They are three!" Donald asked, unbelieving of his friend's ability with kids.

"Don't worry, i got you! Soon they will be talking and calling me their tío Panchito!" They laughed and Donald went to the second floor alone to grab a towel.

While searching for a towel in his bedroom, Donald realized how he's not alone, as nobody ever is. Even on one of the hardest times of his life, in a soul-crashing pain of loneliness because of the missing of his beloved twin sister, he still have a lot of people to care about him. Della, wherever she is; lost in the space, coming back home or, on the worst hypothesis... watching him along their parents, she would be happy to know how much people care and want to see her brother well and taking care of her kids, as she would be also happy that her boys weren't left alone, that they still have a loving family that will always be there to tell them a hundred stories about the family.

She wouldn't trust anybody else but Donald to take care of them, and she was right. She knew that, if anything happens, Donald would be the best for them even with all his flaws, and he wouldn't do this alone. Not only because of their family, but also his friends.

We are the three caballeros, all for one and one for all.

_________

*Mi amigo = my friend

*Meus fofos patinhos = my cute ducklings

[imbiandmightcommitacrime]

I'm trying to write a fic but I don't know Brazilian slang at all-

So is there anyone willing to help me when I have to translate something because i don't wanna rely on Google translate.

For example is there like another term for baboso? (Its kinda like fool in mexican slang) Is there like another way to put it, and does it mean something else, OR IS IT THE RIGHT WORD?? T^T

[betterthanyalls]

Ok this is a songfic of Toon Quest to the song First Burn. This is my very first fic that’s intended to be good, so I am very sorry if it is bad. The plot is that Y/n is singing/speaking(however you want it) to Cuphead after uhhhh i won't spoil it lol.

Oh also this “testing” is the song lyrics.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I saved every letter you wrote me…

Y/n stood silently in the empty bedroom that Lucy had given to them when they first entered Welkin.

From the moment I saw you, I knew you were mine. You said you were mine. I thought you were mine…

The distorted words and static from the radio that was held in her fist filled the quiet room.

Do you know what Angelica said when I told her what you had done?

The doors to the room opened, revealing Cuphead. He noticed Y/n standing in the room alone with her back turned to him. “Heya Doll! What’s goin’ on?” He asked as he walked towards Y/n.

She said “You’ve married an Icarus. He has flown too close to the sun.”

“Don’t take another step in my direction.” Y/n hissed. She kept her body facing away from him, she didn’t want him to see the tears in her eyes. “You can’t be trusted around me.”

Cuphead looked at her, confused. “Doll, I don’t understand-” He was cut off by Y/n.

“Don’t think you can talk your way into my arms. Into my arms.” She held up the radio for Cuphead to see. The words ‘Location tracked.’ were visible on the device screen. Static came through the radio and the faint voice of Abel could be heard. “We-.…way-….there-…” Cuphead was at a loss for words, Y/n wasn’t supposed to have found the tracker.

I’m burning the letters you wrote me.

“You can stand over there if you want. I don’t know who you are. I have so much to learn.” Y/n’s voice cracked as she spoke and tears fell from her eyes. Cuphead was frozen in fear and worry.

I’m re-reading your letters and watching them burn(burn)

You published the letters she wrote you. You told the whole world how you brought this girl into our bed.

“I trusted you. You told them where we are, you betrayed everyone by putting us in life or death danger.” Y/n seethed, anger festering in her sadness. Cuphead stood silent, unsure of what to say or do.

In clearing your name, you have ruined our lives.

“Panchito had told me ‘He is part of some scheme’. I let go of those whispers only for your betrayal to scream.”

I know about whispers. I see how you look at my sister.

“Y/n….It’s not what you think it is.” Cuphead tried to make an excuse.

“Don’t. I’m not naive. I have seen how you act around us. I fell for your charm. All your charm.” Y/n answered quickly with a sour tone.

“I’m erasing myself from the prophecy. Let future heroes wonder how Y/n reacted when you broke her trust.” Y/n’s voice softened but then went back to rigid. “You have torn it all away! Stand back watch it burn! Just watch my trust burn!” In her anger, she threw the device to the ground at full force. Causing it to shatter into millions of pieces.

Y/n then turned to look at Cuphead and go face to face with him. A glare decorating Y/n’s features. “And when the time comes, explain to the others. The pain and embarrassment you put their best friend through!”

“When will you learn that they are your legacy?! We are your legacy!” Y/n screamed to him, rage filled her expression. “If you thought you were mine!!”

Cuphead tried to reach out gently to Y/n but she grabbed his wrist before he could move his hand any closer. She glared at him with tears staining her cheeks. “Don’t!”

Then the doors to the room opened once more, revealing the rest of their friends.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Well that’s that! Thank you for reading!! I’m so sorry if this was bad, it was my first ever song fic and my first fic that I tried good at lmao! I’m always open for prompts to try out!! Byeee ilyyyy/p!!

[iamapoopmuffin]

Definitely that "Huey, Webby, and Fenton set up the Italian restaurant in Gearloose's lab again, but this time to get Gearloose and Panchito to go out on a date" idea that's been tossed around. 😂😂😂

Damn, starting me off on something hard with a bunch of characters I've never written for before and most of whom I only found out existed this September XD

Fr though hell yes, someone had to write it, it might as well be me XD

I used all the interpretations of Panchito for inspo to write this, which is why he can do magic like he could back in the 40's and has a mixed version personality, and I have absolutely no idea if I've written any of these characters even halfway decently, and dear god this got longer than just a fic bite, but here you go!

Gyro stepped out of the elevator looking as grumpy as ever and extra tired. You could almost see the storm cloud over his head as he peered through his glasses at the trio gathered nervously at the doors to the lab. Well, the duo gathered nervously and Manny. "Well? What's the big emergency, what did you do?"

Fenton moved to meet him, walking him to the doors. "It's, uh, it's kinda hard to explain. It's not world ending bad, or really super bad, but we definitely need you here for this." He hadn't really figured out what to say. The idea had just been to get Gyro to the lab, and telling him the truth would never do it. Hell, telling the truth would probably make him run a mile, but watching him deal with his feelings, or rather attempt to shove said feelings deep into a box before making a machine designed to remove said feelings, was getting painful, so it was time to give a push in the right direction.

Huey opened the lab doors for them, giving a small bow. "Welcome, welcome, Doctor Gearloose, to your destiny!"

Gyro took a split second to take in what was in his lab before turning on his heel and heading back for the elevator. "Nope." He got about three and a half steps away before Manny grabbed him under the arms and hoisted him back into the lab. "Put me down! What is the meaning of this?"

"It's a date!" Huey supplied helpfully. Fenton decided to take over.

"We figured helping you face your feelings and getting to know Panchito properly would be a lot...healthier than trying to surgically remove your crush or aggressively deny having feelings."

"I don't have a crush!"

"And Panchito really likes you back." Huey pointed out. "He's been literally flirting with you his entire stay in Duckberg."

"So we thought we would help...?"

If looks could kill, Gyro would probably be surrounded by bodies at this point. "This is not helping. Now put me down this instant or you're all fired!"

Huey, Fenton and Manny exchanged flat looks before the latter unceremoniously dumped the raging scientist by the table. Determined not to face his feelings, he followed them to the door, yelling all the way. "That's it! You're all fired! Manny, Intern, Red Nephew, fired!"

"I don't even work for you!" Huey shot back with a roll of his eyes. "Just get in there."

At that, Manny slammed the door shut and locked it. Gyro made an attempt at prying the doors open, more in the interest of throttling the trio than anything else, but ultimately gave in. He wasn't going to escape this stupidity without either inventing his way out or sucking it up and going on a stupid date set up for him by children.

Turning back to the lab, he looked once more at what they had done. It was set up much the same way it had been the last time the children had hijacked it for an ill fated attempt at romance. Wooden trellises with grapes hanging from them and a heart festoon between them, all over a table for two lit by Lil Bulb, once again traitorously taking part in this ridiculous farce. Panchito was already in the far seat, almost certainly having witnessed the whole spectacle from before, though his attention was on Lil Bulb, perhaps to give Gyro at least the illusion that he still had some dignity. He was humming to himself, something that sounded suspiciously like elevator music. When the little robot noticed him looking at them, he gestured for Gyro to take the empty seat, tapping his little foot impatiently until he complied.

There was a brief but very awkward silence, broken only by the scuffle of someone in another section of the lab, undoubtedly another one of McDuck's child relatives also determined to 'help' Gyro with his 'love life'. Panchito cleared his throat.

"Your friends certainly are spirited. And the children. I would say I'm amazed at how much they've set up without us knowing, but I have seen enough to know they are capable of some cool stuff...they didn't tell you this was a date, did they?"

"What was your first hint?" Gyro grumbled back.

"The shouting."

"...That was a rhetorical-...whatever. How did they trick you here?"

"Well, they didn't. Not really." Panchito shrugged. "Donald's nephews told me it was going to be a date, but they said 'secret admirer' and made out you planned it." He presented a neatly folded piece of paper, which upon inspection was a short letter, indeed signed by 'your secret admirer', inviting him to the lab. Rather annoyingly, it was in a pretty good forgery of Gyro's own handwriting, though it definitely wasn't something he would ever write himself.

"And you went along with it?"

"I didn't see a reason not to. I didn't think they would set this all up as a prank, and I see no problem with giving an admirer a chance. Especially if they are as smart and handsome as this one."

Gyro proceeded to very elegantly choke on his own spit. 

He briefly wondered if this was what it felt like to die from embarrassment and managed to glare at Panchito through the tears in his eyes as the rooster moved to his side of the table to pat his back. As he managed to clear his throat and shoo the Caballero back to his side of the table, the final perpetrator of this farce approached. Scrooge's daughter and housekeeper's granddaughter, dressed as a waiter, complete with a false moustache for god only knows what reason. As with the last time she pulled something like this, when she spoke to them it was with a heavy, terrible Italian accent.

"Buongornio, welcome to Jetta Scorpios, the most romantic place this side of Duckberg. Can I tell you about tonight's special?" She handed them menus. The only thing written inside was 'romantic spaghetti dinner for two'. "It's spaghetti!" She supplied helpfully.

"We will take the spaghetti special." Panchito answered with a smile, handing his menu back. Gyro got the impression he was treating this as a child's play pretend game.

"Of course, signore, one romantic spaghetti special coming right up!" Webby took the other menu and bowed out graciously back to wherever in the lab she had been hiding. She seemed happy.

"You're good with kids." Gyro noted.

"Ah, yes, I do a lot of entertaining at children's parties."

"Singing?" He vaguely remembered this guy and that other one, the parrot, playing at Webby's birthday.

"Singing, playing music, I can do magic too. All sorts. I'm a performer at heart, and I have many ways to keep my audience happy. You have to be able to read the room and understand the kind of person you're performing to as well. For instance, those performances are very different to the kind of show I put on in wrestling."

"Wrestling?"

"I have a masked wrestling career. El Gallo Loco! I have quite the record!" His eyes went back to the makeshift lamp between them. "I'm told you have quite a record too. You made this, right?"

"His name is Lil Bulb. He, and the rest of Bulb Tech, are a highly sophisticated artificial intelligence that can interface with a wide variety of existing systems and machines and perform just about any task put to them. It just so happens that they, like many of my creations, are wildly misunderstood."

Panchito put his chin in his hands, listening with rapt attention. "I was alone with him for a while before you arrived. He seems completely alive, like his own person. Are the others all their own people as well?"

"I, uh..." Gyro had to admit he wasn't expecting this sort of interest from what he had previously seen as a braindead rooster. "Yes, I've noticed they all have their own distinct personalities."

"Amazing. You've created not just an artificial intelligence, but life."

"But smarter!"

"If you can do that, I can only imagine what other wonders you've created here."

Gyro thought for a moment, wondering what, if anything, he could really show this guy, a guy he'd just a few minutes ago been sure he'd have nothing in common with. "What do you think about being able to see history as it unfolds?"

Panchito opened his beak to answer, eyes shining in excitement, only for them to be loudly interrupted by Webby's return with a large plate of spaghetti which she dumped in the middle of the table.

"One romantic spaghetti special! Buon appetito!"

The spaghetti itself had several strands tied together, clearly to force a ridiculous 'Lady and the Tramp' kiss. A quick glance to the side saw Webby hiding nearby with a camera in hand. Gyro decided pretty quickly he wasn't going to eat it. If nothing else, he didn't want to eat spaghetti these kids had messed with using their sticky bare hands, and if they'd been able to tie it together it was either cold now or had been reheated quickly afterwards. Across the table, Panchito poked at it with a fork and shook his head, an affectionate smile on his face. Evidently, he was appreciating the effort Webby had put into this. "You know," he began, "I've heard there are some truly wonderful restaurants in Polignano a Mare, if you're looking for romance. Or just authentic Italian food. The view there is supposed to be breath-taking, and there's a strong history if you're into that. I have a bit of an interest in history and culture myself. I could take you there, or anywhere, really, if I had a photograph."

Gyro raised an eyebrow. "Wait, what?"

"Ah, well, that is..." He gave a somewhat sheepish smile. "When I said I could do magic, I did not mean just silly little stage tricks, though some of the tricks I can do work great for children's parties. A good picture can be a wonderful window to a whole other place, quite literally if you know how-"

"You could have gotten us out of here this whole time?!"

"Only with a picture big enough to fit through. Or a battering ram."

Webby once again popped her head out from her hiding place. "Wait, so if you had a photo of a really romantic location, you could go on a real romantic Italian date?"

"...A printed picture or a good painting also works."

The girl let out an excited squeal. "Gyro, is there an industrial sized printer in here?" Without waiting for an answer, she went skittering off to find something she could use to create a portal to the perfect date location. Panchito looked to the scientist, as if looking for confirmation that this was okay. Gyro heaved a sigh.

"They won't be able to spy on us like this, will they?"

"Well, we certainly won't have four sets of ears listening in on our every move, that's for sure."

"Good. If I have to go on a date, it should be just us."

[olee]

he’s giving bf material! 👀

[imninahchan]

⌜ 𝑨𝑽𝑰𝑺𝑶𝑺: gangbang [declaro oficialmente aberto meu período fértil slk], fwb, diferença de idade, bebida alcoólica, cigarro [cuidado com os pulmão preto], dirty talk, degradação, elogios e dumbification, oral masculino, dacryphilia, bukkakke(?), breast/niple play, um tapinha na bochecha e um ‘papi’ [me perdoem eu não me controlo], dupla penetração, anal, sexo sem proteção [no puede no]. Termos em espanhol — guapo (bonito, etc), dímelo (me diz), díselo (‘diga a/para’), porfi (informal pra ‘por favor’) ˚ ☽ ˚.⋆ ⌝

꒰ 𝑵𝑶𝑻𝑨𝑺 𝑫𝑨 𝑨𝑼𝑻𝑶𝑹𝑨 ꒱ me perdoa se eu sou uma p****

𓍢ִ໋🀦 VOCÊ DEITA A CABEÇA NO OMBRO DE FRAN, AS PERNINHAS REPOUSANDO POR CIMA DO BRAÇO DO SOFÁ ─────

— Vai me dar uma carona? — reitera, embora já tenha escutado a oferta diversas vezes antes, durante e agora, no pós do rolê. Sempre pegava carona de moto com o Recault.

Ele, sentado no outro sofá, adjacente, não desvia a atenção do maço de cigarro, capturando com os lábios uma unidade. Uhum, murmura, e quando risca o isqueiro, você estica a mão pra roubar o pito, guardar de volta na embalagem. Aqui dentro não, alega, vai lá fora com eles.

O olhar do argentino segue em direção à sacada do apartamento, onde os homens conversam enquanto fumam. Poderia, sim, de fato, se levantar e participar do assunto facilmente, afinal é a opção mais favorável pra narizinhos tão sensíveis quanto o seu e de Romero, porém um pensamento diferente do desejo de pitar toma conta da mente.

— E sobre eles... — Volta os olhos pra ti. — Já vai embora mesmo? Não ia... sabe?

Um sorrisinho ameaça crescer no seu rosto. Sabe exatamente a que ele se refere.

— Não sei... — mas prefere fazer chamar, encolhendo o corpo. A barra do vestido justo se embolando no seu quadril.

— Ah, qual foi? — o garoto devolve. Se inclina de leve, chega mais próximo pra poder ir sussurando. — Não vai me dizer que tá tímida... — E você cobre parte do rostinho com a palma da mão, respondendo perfeitamente às expectativas alheias. Matí sorri também. — Ah, vai, eu e o Fran ‘tamo aqui... Não precisa ter vergonha de nós, não é como se não tivesse dado pra gente antes. E eles... — espia os outros dois, entretidos demais na conversa que têm pra poder perceber que são assunto da discussão vizinha. — Eles são de boas. Vão te tratar feito uma piranha, que nem você gosta.

Você verga o pescoço pra trás, tenta encarar Romero, o qual bebe um gole da cerveja na garrafa.

— Fran, o Matí me chamou de piranha...

Francisco coça a nuca, cogitando as palavras pra responder, e acaba sendo o mesmo abusadinho de língua venenosa de sempre.

— E ele mentiu?

Tsc, você resmunga. Não é que queria ser defendida nem nada, não se pode esperar outra resposta senão essa mesmo. É só pela manha, pelo suspense que vem fazendo desde um certo momento, desde que vieram pro apê de Romero depois de sair. Encontraram com dois amigos dos garotos num bar e estenderam o ócio pra mais algumas horas no conforto dos sofás largos e da madrugada quente.

Tudo muito calculado, você tem certeza, assim que Matías menciona, com a cara mais lavada possível. Já é contatinho fixo dele, Fran entrou no meio mais tarde, trazendo sua personalidade atrevidinha e melosa. Agora, os outros dois...

Quer dizer, são um colírio pros olhos. Esteban, retraído, tem um olhar que beira o poético, um sorriso de lábios finos e uma fragrância tão agradável ao olfato que quando o abraçou naquele bar, cumprimentando, quis que ele não te soltasse nunca mais. E Enzo, igualmente mais contido, ostenta um charme old hollywood, com os cabelos espessos, acumulando atrás da orelha, mas casual também, de pulseirinhas no pulso.

E, sei lá, só o fato deles serem mais velhos que você, Matí e Fran ao mesmo tempo, os faz mais saborosos ainda.

Morde o lábio, discretamente, os observando. Esteban joga o pescoço pra trás, soprando uma bufada de fumaça no ar, e volta a atenção pro Vogrincic. A cabeça pendendo pro canto de leve, atencioso.

Enzo apaga a bituca no cinzeiro apoiado no parapeito. Corre os dedos pelos cabelos escuros, ajustando as mexas atrás da orelha, gesticulando com as mãos de dedos longos, que parecem mais ásperos, grossinhos. Pô, imagina só dois dentro de você, vai valer por três, nossa...

Alterna o foco entre ambos, fantasiando consigo mesma. E quanto mais alimenta seu lado carnal, mais faz a ideia de ser dividida essa noite parecer um final de festa plausível.

— Son muy guapos, ¿no? — Matías comenta, como quem não quer nada, ao flagrar seu olhar nada casto em direção aos amigos dele. — Eu só ando com gente atraente que nem eu.

— Eu admiro seu narcisismo, Matí. — Fran murmura, levando a garrafa à boca, porém para no meio do caminho quando percebe ah, então eu sou bonito também, e ri.

Mas você nem se dá conta do bom humor, nem percebe, pois a cabecinha está voando longe, com a ajuda dos olhos. Mordisca a pontinha da unha, divertindo-se com a perversidade da própria mente. Porra, o Esteban parece ser aqueles tipos que faz carinho na sua cabeça enquanto você mama ele...

— Ah, é isso que você quer? — Se assusta ao perceber que falou alto demais, e agora o Recault tem consciência dos seus desejos lascivos. Antes que possa detê-lo, no entanto, o argentino rapidamente se vira para o outro e dedura: “Kuku, a gatinha aqui quer que ‘cê faça carinho na cabeça dela enquanto ela te mama!”

Merda, você tem vontade de enfiar a cabeça numa panela quente quando a atenção da dupla recai sobre ti. Vê Esteban apagar o cigarro no cinzeiro, e fica mais inquieta conforme ambos deixam a sacada pra se aproximar de vocês três na sala de estar.

Enzo senta no mesmo sofá que o Recalt, abraçando uma almofada sobre o colo. Na face, tem um sorrisinho de lado, diferente do Kukuriczka, que vem com a expressão mais neutra na sua direção.

Esconde as mãos no bolso da bermuda de algodão, te olhando por cima. O que foi que disse?

— Diz pra ele, princesa — Matías te encoraja, sorrindo, canalha. — Diz.

Você perde a postura porque Esteban está perto. Ele tem um jeitinho tão acolhedor, tão doce, e é justamente por isso que você sente vontade de desaparecer no colo de Francisco por tão manhosa que fica. A vontade é miar feito uma gatinha no cio e se oferecer como um pedaço de carne, nunca ficou tão suscetível.

O mais alto sorri, tranquilo. Levanta as suas perninhas, pra se sentar no sofá junto contigo, e as pousa sobre as coxas dele. Acaricia a região do seu tornozelo, afetuoso.

— Sabe... — começa — ...Matí é um pirralho chato, não liga pra ele. Você não precisa fazer, ou dizer, nada que não queira, cariño. A noite já está sendo muito legal só por ter te conhecido.

Caramba, dá pra ficar mais desejável que isso? Meu Deus, o calor que você sente dominar o corpo parece querer te colocar em combustão. E quando ele te olha com a nuca deitada no encosto do estofado, aquelas íris castanhas brilhando, docinhas igual um caramelo. Quer gritar me come me come me come de tanto tesão.

Não aguenta, então. Rapidinho está no chão da sala, abandonando os braços de Fran de qualquer forma, só pra se colocar sentada sobre o piso, entre as pernas abertas do mais velho.

— Fode a minha boquinha, Kuku — apoia o queixo no joelho alheio —, porfi.

Esteban entreabre os lábios, mas sem saber bem o que dizer. A sua falta de vergonha pra ser baixa com as palavras o pega desprevenido, o que, nem de longe, é algo ruim pra quem tinha topado uma dinâmica tão plural feito a escolhida pra esta noite.

— Eu disse, viu? — Matías fala. — Não vai negar pra ela, né, cara?

O homem te olha. Deita a lateral da face no punho fechado, cotovelos no braço do sofá, feito te admirasse. Com a outra mão, toca no seu rosto, contornando o maxilar até erguê-lo e segurar no seu queixo. Pra uma menina tão lindinha, diz, é difícil falar ‘não’.

— Mas eu quero um beijo primeiro — é a única condição, e você prontamente se apoia nos joelhos para selar os lábios nos dele. Esteban sorri entre os selinhos, a boca vermelhinha com o seu batom. Te tocando na nuca, indo e vindo com os dedos na sua pele, entre os seus fios de cabelo.

Está desabotoando a camisa ao passo que as suas mãozinhas inquietas se encarregam de abrir a bermuda. Aquela maldita expressão tão calma, nem parece que vai ganhar um boquete neste instante mesmo. Te dá tanta ânsia que crava as unhas nas coxas masculinas, na espera ansiosa por recebê-lo na sua boca.

E quando o tem, porra, só de vê-lo cerrar os olhos por um segundinho ao arfar profundo, já te faz rebolar sobre as próprias panturrilhas, excitada.

Ele te ajuda com os cabelos, com tudo que pedisse na verdade. Se quisesse que o mais velho surrasse a ponta da sua língua com a cabecinha gorda, faria sem pensar duas vezes. Mas você gosta de se lambuzar nele, não? Deixa um filete de saliva vazar de entre os lábios pra escorrer pelo comprimento já molhado, duro na palma da sua mão, pra subir e descer com a punheta lenta. Caridosa, empenhada. Alheia a qualquer olhar lascivo dos demais na sala de estar, ou quaisquer comentários sarcásticos que eles possam estar murmurando entre si.

Daí, Fran tem que agir. Ardiloso, se senta no chão, pertinho de ti. Apoia o peso do corpo nas mãos espalmadas no piso, pendendo as costas pra trás ao te encarar bem bonitinha no que faz.

— Sabia que eu falei pro Matí que ‘cê ia dizer não? — comenta, sem mesmo esperar que você fosse parar de encher a boca pra focar em outro alguém. — Mas olha só pra ti... — O rapaz exibe um sorrisinho ladino. — Não posso esquecer da putinha indecente que você é. Fica fazendo dengo, mas é uma garotinha sem-vergonha, não é?

E você ronrona, de boca cheia. Francisco se inclina pra perto, aproveita que você deixa Esteban escapar pra recupar o fôlego, apenas punhetando com as mãos agora, pra sussurrar ao pé do seu ouvido. Posso te dedar enquanto você mama ele?

— Você aguenta, não aguenta? — Beija o seu ombro. — Hm?

— Aguenta, sim — é Esteban quem responde por ri. Toca no canto do seu rosto. — Olha como faz tão bem... Merece um agrado enquanto está sendo tão boa pra mim. — Com o polegar, limpa o excesso de saliva que escorre pelo seu queixo. — Vai aguentar, não vai, cariño?

Você faz que sim. Mesmo se ele propusesse a maior atrocidade, você faria que sim igualmente. Quer agradar e, agora, também não se importa em ser agradada.

Francisco impulsiona o seu corpo pra frente, precisa que seu quadril esteja mais elevado para que o ângulo permita subir a barra do seu vestido e arredar a calcinha pro lado. E você se esforça, o plano é se esforçar ao máximo, porém no primeiro toque dos dedos no seu íntimo, estremece.

— Poxa, já tão molhadinha... — Fran comenta, naquele tom de voz que faz tudo parecer zombaria. — E tudo isso só porque ele tá fodendo a sua boca?

Matías ri, soprado, o que você esperava da nossa vagabundinha preferida pra meter?, e leva um golpe na face com a almofada que Enzo segurava no colo. O Vogrincic aperta os olhos, seja mais cavalheiro com as palavras, pirralho, repreende.

Já Francisco beija o seu ombro mais uma vez. Dois dedinhos vão fundo em ti, deslizam com facilidade. Acariciam por dentro numa região propícia a te fazer ver estrelas. O polegar, por fora, pressiona outra área mais sensível ainda.

Você engole os choramingos, usa as mãos em Esteban quando necessita arfar, respirar fundo, pra controlar o desejo. Mas não aguenta, não consegue dar conta das duas tarefas. O quadril empinadinho se empurra contra os dedos, remexe lentinho, no automático. Porque foca tanto no estímulo que recebe, cega nisso, aparenta se esquecer que não pode simplesmente deixar a boca cheia pra sempre sem respirar.

Engasga, então. Umas duas vezes. Tosse, com os olhinhos vermelhos e marejando. Um fiozinho transparente te prendendo à cabecinha lambuzada, ao liberá-la da sua garganta quente.

Esteban te ajuda a se recompor, todo carinhoso.

— Calma, mi amor, respira. — Limpa a lagrimazinha que ameaça correr pela sua bochecha. E sorri, terno. Te acha mil vezes mais formosa aos olhos nessa forma vulnerável, fofa, que tem vontade de te pegar pela nuca e ele mesmo encher a sua boca de novo.

— ¿Qué te pasa? — Fran espia por cima dos seus ombros, flagra o seu olhar de coitadinha. — Awn, não aguentou... Pensei que fosse aguentar, princesa.

E essa é a deixa pra te oferecer mais ainda. Mais fundo com os dedos, mais rápido. Mais pressão por cima do seu clitóris, circulando o local. Você passa a servir somente, paradinha, aí sobra pros dois a função de tomar as rédeas. Segura nos joelhos masculinos, levando pela frente e por trás.

É preenchida em ambos os buraquinhos quase que no mesmo ritmo. O rosto vira uma bagunça molhada, uma mistura devassa de batom vermelho manchado, saliva e porra escorrendo pelo queixo, gotinhas no pescoço. E a mordida que recebe na nádega, sem pudor, te faz lamuriar, manhosa. Fran se diverte com o som dos seus gemidinhos, o barulho ensopadinho da sua garganta sendo fodida. Não controla a reação de enfiar a mão por dentro da bermuda pra tocar a si próprio.

Você goza sem refrear. Incapaz de prender o tesão que retém, a situação erótica na qual se colocou contribuindo absurdamente. Uma descarga elétrica percorre o corpo dos pés à cabeça, feito um arrepio. Os músculos dormentes, doloridos. O peito pesando e a mente tão, mas tão fora de si, doente de prazer, que deve revirar os olhinhos, tola.

Nem pensa direito, vazia de raciocínio, só houve a fala de que eles querem se derramar na sua boca e se põe sentada no chão outra vez. Separa os lábios, língua pra fora, como Fran demanda. Os jatos morninhos acertam a sua bochecha, o nariz, lambuzam a face. É uma conjuntura que envolve tamanha submissão da sua parte que os suspiros e as palavras chulas que ecoam de ambos se torna comum pros seus ouvidos.

Francisco senta de volta no sofá, recuperando o fôlego. O calor do próprio corpo o faz puxar a camisa, apoiar a nuca no encosto do estofado. Esteban, porém, permanece à sua frente mais um pouquinho. Também respira mal ainda, quando toca o seu queixo, admira o estrago que fora causado em ti.

— Muy bien, bebê. — Pousa a mão sobre a sua cabeça, acaricia. — Perdoa se eu não te fiz carinho antes, igual você queria. É que estava tão bom que eu me esqueci. — Se inclina, deixando um beijinho na sua testa.

Você tem vontade de choramingar de novo, se debater no chão enquanto lamuria e diz perversidades obscenas. Por que ele tem que ser assim?! Te faz ter vontade de oferecer comida, casa, buceta e roupa lavada. Só manha, porém, com os olhinhos caindo junto dos ombros, o observando sentar no sofá outra vez.

Enzo sorri, te olhando.

— Vem aqui, vem. — Estica o braço. — Chega de ficar nesse chão frio servindo esses dois.

Você cambaleia, engatinhando até poder ser tomada nos braços e subir pro colo do uruguaio. Olha o que eles fizeram contigo, aponta, analisando o seu rosto. Um grande ‘gentleman’, quando puxa a própria camisa para usá-la na limpeza da sua pele manchada. Matías, também no estofado, ri, balançando a cabeça negativamente, incrédulo com tamanha cortesia.

Bem melhor, Enzo escorrega o indicador na ponta do seu nariz, amoroso, ao finalizar. Não se importa com a peça agora suja, joga em qualquer cantinho mesmo. Pode arrumar outra emprestada com o Recault, mas não poderia deixar a gentileza passar — ainda mais porque percebe que você se derrete toda.

As suas bochechas queimam, retraída. E o calor da palma da mão dele soma-se à quentura do seu corpo quando toca o seu rosto. Só que desce, não esquenta só ali. Caindo pelo canto, rodeando rapidinho no seu pescoço, e desviando pra lateral. No ossinho da clavícula, até contornar a curva do ombro, levando consigo a alça do seu vestido.

A timidez some logo, porém, mesmo com os seios expostos dessa forma. Talvez seja o olhar ambicioso, banhado à cobiça, que te acende o íntimo, te manipula a ansiar por ele de volta.

Lembra do meu nome?, ele te pergunta, com a voz rouca. E você, que vinha no esquema de só sentir, e não pensar, demora a ter a iniciativa de uma resposta, apesar de saber muito bem o que dizer. O homem sorri, pousa o indicador no seu lábio como se quisesse orquestrar o movimento que deveria ser feito ao ele mesmo responder — Enzo.

Você repete, igualando o balançar dos lábios com os dele. Quase hipnotizada, boba. Ri, quando ele ri também. Se ele quisesse falar um milhão de coisas pra você ficar repetindo assim, feito um bichinho de estimação, repetiria sem pensar duas vezes. Só quer se entregar total pra ele e curtir todo o deleite que tem certeza que vai sentir nas mãos do uruguaio.

Fran e Esteban também sorriem, julgam adorável a forma com que o amigo parece te domar por completo, tão suave na dominância. Matías, por outro lado, estala a língua, de braços cruzados.

— Tá sendo muito bonzinho com ela — alega. Tomba pra perto, só pra poder te encarar. — Conta pra ele — encoraja —, conta pra ele a putinha que você é. — E você ri, virando o rosto pro outro lado. — Conta que gosta quando eu falo sujo com você, no seu ouvidinho, pego forte no seu cabelo pra te comer. — Estica o braço pra alcançar a sua bochecha e dar um tapinha, chamando a sua atenção de volta pra ele. — Hm?

— É verdade? — o tom do Vogrincic é aveludado, baixo. Pros desavisados, soa complacente, mas quanto mais você interage com o uruguaio mais percebe que ele é tão canalha quanto o Recault é, a diferença é que mascara com o charme. — Gosta quando Matí faz essas coisas contigo? — A mão grande sobe pela sua nuca, afunda os dedos na raiz do seu cabelo e retém os fios, firme. — Que te pegue assim? É? — Inclina pra frente, próximo com a boca do seu ouvido. — Que fale o quê? Que você não vale nada, que vai te comer forte? Ou pior?

Qual foi a palavra que o Matí usou mesmo? Mira na direção do amigo brevemente, mas nem precisa de uma resposta, porque volta o olhar pra ti mais uma vez, sorrindo, ah, sim, ‘putinha’...

Você o envolve, escondendo o rostinho na curva do pescoço dele. Mas o homem não te deixa recuar, as mãos escalam pelo seu torço, te empurrando de leve pra trás, pra encontrar o olhar no dele novamente. Cobrem por cima dos seus seios, só que apenas uma das mamas ganha uma carícia. Os dedos enroscam no mamilo durinho, aperta um pouquinho.

— Gosta dessas coisas, nena? — reitera. — Hm? — Do nariz erguido, pra te encarar, abaixa o olhar e roça a pontinha pela região do colo, curvando lentamente a sua coluna para que possa com a boca umedecer a pele. — Dímelo. — Beija por entre o vale dos seus seios, de estalar os lábios. Você segura nos cabelos dele, suspira, de olhinhos fechados. — Díselo a tu papi.

E você derrete só com o uso do termo. Admite que sim, gosta dessas coisas, que, às vezes, é ainda pior, por isso não abre mão do Recault, muito menos de Romero, pois pode encontrar o que procura neles. Mas, também, se defende. Matí é muito provocador, né? Curte tirar do sério, implicar. Você é baixa, danadinha sim, porém o argentino gosta de degradar mesmo.

A boca quente toma um biquinho, a pressão em volta dos lábios suga, cruel. Língua umedece, lambe. Você arqueja, permitindo que te devorem os peitos, enquanto se força pra baixo, encaixando o meio das pernas sobre a ereção.

Matías se levanta do sofá. Se posiciona atrás de ti, puxa de leve os seus cabelos pra te fazer pende a cabeça e mirá-lo.

— ‘Cê é tão cachorra... — caçoa, com um tiquinho de raiva por ter saído como o ‘vilão’, porém com mais desejo do que tudo. — Quer meter nela, não quer, Enzo?

Enzo levanta o queixo, os cabelos bagunçadinhos o deixam mais atraente, em especial quando sorri ladino, cafajeste. Vamo’ meter nela junto, a proposta do Recault faz o uruguaio morder o lábio.

Toca o seu rosto, amoroso.

— Consegue levar? — pergunta, numa falsa preocupação. — Não vai ser muito pra ti? Eu não acho que vai dar. Mal aguentou o Fran e o Esteban ao mesmo tempo, e olha que eles nem pegaram pesado...

Você une o sobrolho, quase que num desespero. Não, vai dar sim... E ele parece imitar a sua expressão, caçoando, óbvio.

— Tudo aqui? — Com os dedos, toca no seu ventre, com a sobrancelha arquiada. Alivia as linhas do rosto, abrindo um sorrisinho. — Ah, acho que não, nena...

Você até ia choramingar mais, insistir, embora tenha plena consciência de que ele só está tirando uma com a tua cara. Acontece que Matí beija a sua bochecha, aquela risadinha de moleque no pé do seu ouvido pra tranquilizar ‘relaxa, se ele meter aí, eu posso te foder aqui por trás.’

Vai deixar ele fazer isso, bebê?, Enzo continua provocando, com o mesmo sorriso na face. Deita atravessado no sofá, com a cabeça no braço do estofado, para levantar o quadril e retirar as roupas de baixo. O Recault se despe também, a pausa entre se livrar da camisa, e antes de se ocupar com a calça, sendo ocupada com as mordidinhas perto do lóbulo da sua orelha.

Você fica de pé apenas pra empurrar a calcinha pernas abaixo, logo vindo por cima do uruguaio outra vez. Verga pra frente, de joelhos no estofado. Alinha a ereção entre as pernas, desce devagarinho, toda meiguinha, com a boquinha entreaberta.

As mãos de Enzo seguram na sua bunda, apertam a carne. Quando se empina para que o outro possa te tomar junto, resvala a ponta do nariz na do Vogrincic, o qual sorri mais, acaricia a sua bochecha. Matías utiliza a própria saliva pra molhar o caminho, bem devasso, esfregando a cabecinha de cá pra lá, instigante. Ao forçar pra dentro, arranca um resmungo seu, um lamúrio doce que é facilmente calado com o selar nos lábios de Enzo.

Queria poder saber descrever a sensação. Deveria ter se acostumado, quando tem uma referência de já ter experimentado com os seus contatinhos, mas, sei lá, porque é com alguém diferente, tudo aparenta mais intenso. A completude. A fadiga. Ambos jogam o quadril até ti, ocupam tudo no seu interior quase que ao mesmo tempo. Matías torce os fios dos seus cabelos no próprio punho, a mão de Enzo envolve o seu pescoço, o geladinho do anel prateado dele contra a sua pele ardente.

Se sente não só passível, mas conquistada, deliciosamente domesticada. Leva o olhar pro sofá adjacente e flagra os outros dois capturados pela cena sórdida. Fran com a cabeça descansando no ombro do amigo, e Esteban com tamanho amor nos olhos que você não dura muito tempo.

Quando Enzo continua metendo depois do seu orgasmo, procurando pelo dele, é ainda mais gostoso. Te inunda por ali, te dá tudo de si pra te deixar pingando. E Matías faz o mesmo, claro. Enche o outro buraquinho, orgulhoso dos jatos de porra abundantes, quentes, que te faz reter.

Você desmonta sobre o uruguaio, exausta. O corpo não aguenta mover ao mínimo, pesado, espasmando. Com a lateral do rostinho no peitoral suado, até cerra os olhinhos, tentando regular a respiração junto com ele.

— ¿Estás bien, cariño? — Esteban se ajoelha pertinho do sofá, de frente pra ti. Acaricia na altura da sua têmpora.

Uhum, você responde de volta, a voz tão frágil e doce que ambos riem. Enzo beija a sua cabeça, afaga os seus cabelos.

— Te odeio, Matías — Fran resmunga, pegando uma almofada pra abraçá-la. — Olha só pra esses filhos da mãe... Já tô sentindo que vamo’ ter que dividir ela com eles de novo...

Matí sobe a calça, abotoa de volta. Com um sorrisinho de canto, oferece um olhar para os amigos mais velhos, que agora parecem fazer parte dessa dinâmica casual.

Abre os braços, e se curva, vaidoso. De nada.

[madame-fear]

I have enough inspiration to, perhaps, write something for Fran Romero. I don’t know what to write first though ahshfhj so you guys will choose !! I have more requests for him on my drafts, but chose these few for the poll. 💕

note; on the third option, I meant scratch marks*** in plural, woops

[recaltera]

i need, and i'm also begging, for some writing or scenario for Francisco that might involve him forcing eye contact, while he's fing*ring reader and praising her at the same time, please!!

fingering with fran…

pairing: fran romero x fem reader

🏷️ smut (minors dni), fingering, praising

a/n: omg i love this request sm his fingers ar eliterally perfect for this

there was just something he loved about feeling your walls contract around his fingers, how at first it would be difficult for him to introduce one of his fingers into your awaiting hole because you were so tight, after a while as he sucked on your neck and rubbed your clit in circles with his other hand you would loosen up, letting him fuck his fingers in and out of your pussy making wet sounds ring around your shared bedroom.

he watched your every move intently, studied your body, learning what pleases you and what makes you scream in pleasure, this is how you would end up every day you got home frustrated from work. he knew exactly what you wanted when you threw yourself onto him as soon as you stepped into the apartment, straddling his lap and wrapping your hands around his neck, giving him a hard passionate make out as you grind your wet core down on his cock making him groan.

fran forced you to watch him no matter how hard it was for you to keep your eyes open while his fingers were hitting that spongy spot inside of you and your clit was being messily rubbed by his other hand. “open your eyes, princess. eyes on me. i want to see your pretty face when you cum for me” because you always tend to hide your face on his neck as you reach your climax. you are not sure why tho, you weren’t ashamed or anything it was just a reaction by default and he would always let it pass.

this night was different tho, he knew you were close he could feel your walls spasm ing around his slim long fingers. grabbing your face roughly and squishing your cheeks making your lips pout. “if you close your eyes im going to stop, princess so better keep them open this time” . as soon as your orgasm hit you did everything in your hands to keep your eyes on fran, watching him watch you, he enjoyed every second of it. talking you throught it “good girl, you are doing such a good job” as he rode out your high, “you sound so pretty when you cum, angel” he would whisper in your ear as you were floating around cloud nine still in your post orgasm high.

letting him fuck you with his fingers was probably the best part of your frustrated days, sometimes you would fake it just so he could play with you, he knew when it wasn’t real tho. he still played along because he just loves feeling you around him in any possible way.

[madame-fear]

The amount of times I read and re-read this already is INSANE. Like I am genuinely in love with this man??? He’s so damn adorable?! 😭💗

I just know he would be the most committed and loving boyfriend ever and that has me absolutely melting at the idea of it. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR POSTING THIS IM CURRENTLY IN NEED OF MORE FRAN ROMERO X READER FICS AND THIS IS SO PRETTY JSJDKDJFKSK ughh I feel obsessedddd 🥰🥰❤❤❤

Some random headcanons about what it would be like to date Fran. I haven't wrote anything in ages so apologies if this is shite. Please no hate. 💗💖🍓💕❤️🎀

*Disclaimer: This is my own work and my own self-indulgent ideas, none of this is based in reality.

If anyone wants a part 2 please let me know or has any questions or suggestions for improvements then please let me know, I apologise in advance for spelling and grammar errors.

🎀 This man can cook. He is amazing in the kitchen, will make you whatever you fancy no matter what time it is or whatever you fancy, nothing is too much trouble for him. Cooking you something is his love language.

🎀 He would much rather read then watch something. On the evenings you spend together you're sat on the sofa together reading. He will also read aloud to help you fall asleep.

🎀 No matter what the time is this man will come and pick you up. "But babe, I'm probably gonna be staying out till like 3am" "Ok mi amor, I come get you then" "But aren't you due on set at like 5:30am?" "Yes, and? I come pick you up at 3, I love you."

🎀 Will pay attention to all the little things that you like and remembers them so he can surprise you later on.

🎀 Never ever puts you down or makes fun of you when you're practicing Spanish with him and vice versa for when he is talking with you.

🎀 100% that annoying couple which never seem to argue. Just a walking disney film. The guys all tease him about it. "But you must argue over something, anything!?" "No, nothing" "I bet he leaves the toilet seat up" "No, always puts it down"

🎀 Believes in the art of letter writing and writes you letters in that fancy calligraphy writing. (Something he learned for a part in a theatre production)

Here is a small imagine, no TW etc, a little bit of making out etc, pg/13

A surprise

"My love" Fran said as he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you closer. "I can finish the dishes, it's ok".

"No I got it" you said as you began drying off some of the plates. "Besides you must be tired after yesterday's wrap party".

"It was fun, you need to come to the next one" he said as he brushed your hair aside to kiss your neck softly. "I missed you alot, the others were asking for you".

"I'll be at the next one babe, I promise" you answered setting the plate down and turning to face him. Fran was beautiful and you couldn't believe how lucky you were. You wrapped your arms around him and rested your forehead against his. "I think you need a second helping of that dessert you made. You need it". Fran smirked and kissed your nose.

"I said you don't need to ever worry about me. I promise, I'm going to be ok" he answered.

"Oh I got you something, to celebrate the film being done" you said going to pull away.

"No wait, just one more second, I want to stay like this forever with you" he said enjoying the moment, he felt he could be anywhere in the world but as long as he was with you he was home. You smiled and held onto him a little tighter.

"You did not have to get me something. I already have everything I need, I'm very lucky like that you know. Can carry everything I'll ever need in my hands" he smirked as he picked you up, catching you off guard.

"Fran!" You laughed as you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist. "O my gosh put me down, I need to go and get your present". You looked down into his beautiful deep eyed and cupped his cheeks and began kissing him. He had the softest lips and skin. He kissed you deeper savouring the taste of your peach flavoured lip balm. Peaches were his favourite fruit. A fact you'd noted quite early on. You remembered the look of surprise and satisfaction on his face the day he'd realised your lip balm was the same flavour as his favourite fruit.

"Fran... I need... to get... your gift" you said between kisses. "Please mi amor". Fran smiled against your neck, there was something extremely hot about you using Spanish pet names for him. He was so in love with you it was unreal.

"Just one more my dear, please" he begged staring up at you. How could you say no to him? You lent down and kissed him, twice though. It was a small little ritual the two of you had. He would always ask for one more kiss whether it was before going off to sleep, before he would leave for set or an audition or before going on stage. You always kissed him twice just to be safe. He gently set you down and stroked your cheek.

"Te amo, mi amor" he smiled.

"I love you more" you answered before squeezing his hand and leaving. He heard you going upstairs and into the second bedroom. He was excited at the prospect of seeing what you'd got him although he was more excited to see your face at his gift for you. He smiled wider as he placed his hand into his trousers pocket and felt the box with an engagement ring inside.