#franco colapinto 43 x reader smut

[interruptedtrance]

Stress relief (franco x reader)

Smut; 18+

contains: calling franco master, nicknames (amor), reader being a brat, being used as stress relief, hands being tied behind the back, spanking, using a ruler, crying, aftercare

masterlist

“come here”

“yes master”

“over the desk”

“i'm sorry, what?”

slamming down his work, “bend over the desk, i've had enough of you amor” now slightly getting up from his chair, pointing where he wants you on the desk, “you have been such a brat, teasing all morning, disturbing me while i work, and now again walking around in a skirt that doesn't even cover anything!”

hesitation fully leaving your body, you move to his desk and bend over it, “i'm sorry master” you let out a small whimper.

he gently runs a hand on the inside of your thigh, before roughly grabbing your mound, and ripping your panties off you, “amor,” he inhales a deep breath, only making you more worried, “i want you to be quiet, and let me use you as stress relief.”

you lightly tremble, “yes master”, you feel franco grab both of your arms and pull them behind your back, firmly holding them to your lower back. his other hand, working off his tie, and carefully binding your arms together, making sure the knot isn't done too tightly.

soon franco sits down and returns to his work, while reading over some documents he gently traces his hand along your thigh, every now and then giving it a gentle squeeze, making you let out a tiny breath.

but the touches don't stop there, his hand moves to your ass giving it a rough squeeze, pulling a moan from you. “what did i tell you?” he questions without easing up his grip on your ass.

“to not make any noise”

“and what did you do?”

“i made noise, i'm sorry master” you knew better than to piss him off even more.

“amor, what do brats like you get?”

“they get punished sir”

“that's correct amor, now pick a number between one and five”

hesitating a bit, before you answer “four”.

“four times five is twenty, exactly how many swats you will be getting”

“what, why so many?” you try protesting. but franco now pulls you over his lap.

“why twenty, well you chose four swats, and the five is for every offence you have done, i see that before each session you will need to explain why you are getting them”

“yes master” you hang your head in defeat.

“can we start? why are you getting the first set?”

“i went over my spending limit”, as soon as those words came out you felt the first slap on your right cheek, the second soon following to your left, and the next two landing in the middle, each one making you hiss out in pain.

franco now gently rubbing your ass, “you should be thankful it wasn't for every dollar you went over, now what's the next thing?”

“i wore short skirts in the hopes of getting your attention sooner”

“shame you didn't ask for it” and with that another set is done, he makes sure to hit the exact same spots to really drive the message home, each spank harder then the last, making you cry out in pain.

franco is still gently caressing your bruised ass, and cooing at you to get you to calm down, “aaa amor it's not so bad, i wouldn't be doing this if you were good for me.”

“i disturbed you while you worked”

franco didn't start as soon as you stated what you did wrong, he caressed your ass for a second longer, “the next round will be with a ruler.”

“yes master” and again, in the same pattern he abused you ass, this time laying down even harder smacks making you shed a few tears.

“what color amor?” he questions, while gently running one hand over your burning cheeks, and with the other grabbing the implement.

“green master” you say with a tremble.

“alright amor, for what are you being punished now?”

“i didn't listen when you said i had to be quiet”

“correct” franco gently drug the ruler up your thighs to your cheeks, making sure both of them felt the ruler equally. when he brought the instrument to your ass, he held it there for a moment, and just gave you a few light swats with it, not enough to hurt, just enough to sting a bit, making you release a breath you didn't know you were holding.

“and what is the last thing amor?” he questioned, while pressing the ruler into your burning skin.

“i've argued with you”

before he spanks you for the final four times, he gently kisses you on your head, and gives you another four light swats, making sure to spread them out so it doesn't hurt too much.

“thank you master” you say, while he is undoing the knot.

“stay over my lap for a second” he orders, while moving to grab something from his desk drawers, in the meantime you move and fold your arms under your head so it's being supported a little.

“this might be a bit cold amor” he mentions, before he softly traces his palms against your red cheeks to spread the ointment so you don't bruise. the cold from the ointment makes you let out a content breath.

he moved you, so that you are now sitting on his lap, careful of the area where he has delivered the hardest spanks too. “did the ointment feel good?” you only nod in return, now tired from the punishment.

franco gently grabs your face in his hands, and with his thumb lightly wipes away the tear streaks on your face, before softly connecting your lips together.

[ayrtonswnna]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ʚïɞ welcome to my masterlist!

you can find every work of mine in here and check for parts II or any other. drop your own request! i mostly write driver x oc content, but i do write for most of the drivers, feel free! these are either upcoming or published works, this list will grow within time. (:

ʚïɞ oscar piastri 81

✧₊⁺ "can you bring my girlfriend?" (angst, hurt/comfort)

✧₊⁺ "a podium to celebrate", part I and partII (fluff)

⠀⠀

ʚïɞ lando norris 04

✧₊⁺ "next door" (angst, hurt/confort)

⠀⠀

ʚïɞ carlos sainz 55

✧₊⁺ "fuck your way into my contract" (crack, smut)

✧₊⁺ "toxic" (crack, smut)

⠀⠀

ʚïɞ charles leclerc 16

✧₊⁺ "tell me, what's my flavour?" (fluff, smut)

✧₊⁺ "we ain't angry at you, love." (angst, hurt/comfort)

⠀⠀

ʚïɞ max verstappen 33

✧₊⁺ "best man" (angst, hurt/comfort)

✧₊⁺ "little nightmare" (crack, smut)

⠀⠀

ʚïɞ franco colapinto 43

✧₊⁺ "the sweet life" (fluff)

✧₊⁺ "you got me good" (fluff)

⠀⠀

ʚïɞ lewis hamilton 44

✧₊⁺ "such a savior" (angst, hurt/comfort)

✧₊⁺ "you know what they say" (crack, smut)

⠀⠀

ʚïɞ george russell 63

✧₊⁺ "my look up to" (fluff)

✧₊⁺ "best believe!" (fluff, smut)

ʚïɞ texts au!

✧₊⁺ "2019 4life 🏎️" (2019 rookies x driver!reader)

✧₊⁺ "i really do" (lewis hamilton x ex wife!reader)

✧₊⁺ "i'm still here, ok?" (max verstappen x thalia philips (female!oc)

✧₊⁺ "damn we're equally dumb" (lando norris x winter brown (brown!female oc))

ʚïɞ AO3 links!

✧₊⁺ "SOLO" (carcar!single parents au)

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀and more!

[trashytracktales]

Adrenaline state of mind | FC⁴³

🌧 summary ──── After a long, eventful Sunday in São Paulo, Franco finds himself sharing an unexpected ride back to his hotel. What starts as a casual conversation about racing and dreams, slowly turns into something deeper, as the quiet intimacy of the night pulls them closer.

🌧 pairing ──── Franco Colapinto x she/her reader

🌧 rating ──── explicit

🌧 category ──── F/M

🌧 warnings ──── 18+, mature/sexual content, smut, explicit language, mentions of alcohol and drinking, mentions of racing incidents (Franco’s crash in Brazil), swearing, suggestive/flirty behavior, unprotected shower sex (pull out game strong lol).

🌧 word count ──── 4.6k

🌧 date ──── Nov. 17, 2024

🌧 a/n ──── Every single time I open my silly writing app I think to myself, this is the day I’ll go for pure smut & no build-up, and every single time I fail miserably 🤍

FRANCO KNOWS IT could’ve been much worse. So, he’s done overthinking for the night. After a chaotic race that ended with a crash on Lap 43, all he wants is to go back to his hotel room and wash the day off.

The adrenaline is still there, giving him random rushes throughout his body every time he remembers his error. The rain made it all difficult, of course, but he can’t blame the weather, because that’s what amateurs do.

The impact was jarring, even from the angles the cameras caught. But for Franco, being inside the car while it was happening — it scared him. And he’s now too scared to admit that he’s scared. He’s spent hours afterward in the paddock, walking the line between shaking it off and dwelling on it, and still, he can’t help but coming back to the same feeling. Again and again.

It’s past midnight now, and most of the lights in the paddock have dimmed. The Brazilian night is humid, shadows stretching out beneath a heavy, damp sky. The sounds of engines are quieted for once, replaced by the murmur of distant voices and the occasional clash of closing garages. There aren’t many people left — just a handful of team members gathering last equipment, and a few scattered mechanics.

And her.

He knows her only through Alex. She’s the friend he’s seen around a for a couple of races — in Italy first, then US, and now here. Formally, they met in the Williams garage, after qualifying in Monza. They didn’t talk much, but enough for him to remember her name. And her smile.

She’s leaning against a barrier near the Red Bull hospitality area, shielded from the light shower while scrolling on her phone. The light that comes from the screen is softly reflecting on her face, Franco noticing the little frown between her eyebrows and how focused she is, for some reason. Her head is tipped forward, strands of hair falling loose around her face, and he finds a softness in her expression that catches his eye the second he gets closer.

“Thought you left already?” he says with a thick accent, but it sounds more like a question in the end.

She looks up, a little startled, but then her face lights up in surprise. “Oh, Franco. Hey. No, just… I’m actually trying to find a ride. Alex and Lily took off right after the race. Probably should’ve left with them,” she says with a small laugh. “Caught up with some familiar faces and I lost track of time,” she explains, moving her weight from one foot to the other.

There’s a faint tension behind his easygoing demeanor, but he holds her gaze with a calm confidence. “Want to come with? We’re at the same hotel, no? I was just heading there.”

“Are you sure?” she asks, her eyes widening in recognition. “That’d be nice, actually.”

“Of course.”

They start walking together, cutting through the raindrops, neither of them looking very bothered by it. The crisp smell of rain blends softly with her sweet, floral scent, making Franco’s mind wander, and he realizes too late she just asked him something, only because the space between them went quiet for a bit.

“I’m sorry, come again?”

She puffs a little chucke out, “I asked how are you feeling, but just got my answer.”

“Oh, yeah,” Franco shrugs, “Could’ve been worse,” he finally says it out loud.

“Still. It looked pretty intense on the screens.”

His heart clenches, but tries to keep a neutral tone, “It was. Maybe a bit too much,” he laughs dryly. “Felt like it happened in slow motion, honestly.” Franco glances down at her, half-smiling. “But I survived.”

She hums softly, nudging him gently. “Guess that’s what you’re supposed to do, right? Crash, pick up the pieces, do it all again?”

He shrugs, “Pretty sure I’m supposed to try and not crash at all.”

He didn’t even try to be funny, but she finds it hilarious the way Franco emphasizes the words, as if he pours his passion into each one of them. Her arms wrap around her own body as they walk, their footsteps the only sound echoing in the quiet paddock. He notices it immediately, taking off his Williams jacket and draping it over her shoulders.

“Cold?” asks Franco, smirking, without looking in her direction.

She blushes at the warmth that instantly wraps around her, the faint scent of his cologne somehow comforting. It’s not intoxicating, or too strong. Just a slight trace of cardamom, followed by an unexpected freshness.

“Thanks,” she murmurs, wrapping the jacket close around her.

THE RAIN IS still falling lightly when they get back to the hotel, the sound a steady rhythm against the roof of the car. None of them kept quiet the entire drive. They started off boring, agreeing that the capricious weather was a real pain in the ass throughout the entire weekend, but their conversation took off, flying like ping-pong balls from one topic to another.

Now, the tension between them is like a subtle current that neither is rushing to acknowledge, but it’s buzzing just beneath the surface.

Who would’ve thought they have so much in common?

“You up for a drink?” asks Franco, taking even himself by surprise.

She has to think about it for a while, because she knows it can’t be a good idea. He’s had a long weekend and needs rest, and she desperately needs to dry up. However, her pulse starts racing just at the thought of being around him more.

Her lips lift in a small smile. “Alright. Just one,” she agrees, raising a finger in the air to accentuate her determination.

One drink turns into two.

Then three, each sip bringing them closer, the conversations drifting from track tales to late-night jokes, then back to stories about his unexpected rookie season. She listens intently, her laughter genuine, her gaze warm and focused, like he’s the only one she’s interested in hearing from. There’s a depth to her that Franco can’t look away from, a curiosity and calmness that makes him feel understood; he didn’t know he needed that until now.

���So,” says Franco after taking a sip of his fourth drink. “Can I ask you something?” his gaze is observant yet gentle, as he decides to take the conversation to a more personal tone.

“Shoot,” she nods once, just starting on her third Negroni.

“You seem to know a lot about the world of racing, and the people involved in it. But you’re not part of it. Why?”

She smirks in his direction, “Yet. I mean, there is no school to prepare someone for the position I want, but I hope I’ll get to be in front of the monitors one day. To tell your engineer when is the optimal time to pit or what tires to use in order to gain competitive advantage, maybe,” her voice is lost in reverie, like she’s been dreaming about this for a long time.

He cocks an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by her answer, “You want to be a race strategist? That’s quite unique, no? Most people,” adds Franco, pointing at himself, “Dream of being racers.”

“I work better with my brain than my body. Plus, it’s too late for me, even if I wanted to do something about it,” she says, a tint of nostalgia embracing her by the shoulders. “I’ve also seen Alex training before,” she continues, shaking her head while laughing, “Nope, thank you.”

“So then, brains over brawn, huh?”

“In my case, yes. Something like that,” she agrees, catching the little hint of interest in his eyes.

He studies her for a moment as if he tries to figure her out, because he knows there’s more to her than what meets the eye; their interaction so far proves that. It’s a pleasant surprise for him, because it means there is a chance he’ll get to see her around the paddock more frequently. And the thought makes him happier than it should.

Franco leans back, a playful smirk on his lips, “I see you, mystery girl. You seem to be full of surprises.”

“What about you?” she challenges him, copying his body language. “Who’s Franco when he’s not in the car?”

He grins, amused by her question. He takes one more sip of his drink, swirling the amber liquid around, stalling for a moment before he decides on his answer.

“Gonna sound cringey if I say I’m just a regular guy?”

“Oh, dear God,” she laughs, and Franco’s eyes light up at the sound of it.

“I mean, I like the simple things, you know? Hanging out with my friends, music, enjoying good food… and drinks,” he continues in a suggestive manner.

“And drinks,” she repeats, nodding at his insinuation.

She looks back at him through her eyelashes, realizing for the first time since they bumped into each other tonight how late it must be. But, somehow, time seems to stay still when she catches him staring, her heartbeat fastening.

Franco’s gaze darkens slightly, the tension between them becoming suddenly palpable.

“And pretty girls,” he adds, lifting the glass and emptying it in one go, without breaking eye contact.

The warmth blooming in her chest catches her off guard, spreading from her neck to her cheeks as she shifts slightly, desperate to escape the intensity of his gaze. She tells herself it’s just the alcohol, of course. But then his lips quirk into a small, knowing smile, and her heart stumbles again in a way she can’t control it.

It’s not the alcohol, she realizes; it’s him.

It’s the way Franco looks at her like she’s something worth getting lost in, and she’s not sure she knows how to handle that.

He puts the glass back on the table and leans in slightly, as his eyes flicking from her lips to her eyes, and back again.

She looks at him, intently, feeling the warmth, and the way his breath hitches. It’s not just what she finds behind his gaze, but the reflection of her own desire, the undeniable pull that could easily make her lose it, if she’s not careful.

And the realization is overwhelming.

“I think… we should call it a night?” she does not sound confident in the slightest.

“Probably a good idea,” replies Franco, studying her expression for a moment.

By the time they get to the elevator, the tension settles over them like a heavy blanket. He stands close, his hand brushing against hers as they walk inside, their gazes meeting in the reflective walls of the elevator the moment the doors close.

“Can you press 7 for me?” she asks, stepping back and waiting patiently.

He smirks, leaning over to do so, then he presses his own floor, just a few levels up.

The faint hum of the elevator is the only sound that surrounds them, but it barely registers over the rapid beating of her heart. Franco’s scent surrounds her from every direction, remembering the same unique smell from earlier.

His eyes catch hers in the mirrors again, and the look is almost unbearable, even through the reflection. They both know that, whatever this is, it’s begging to snap. And it will. It’s just a matter of when.

Every nerve in her body is dancing on the edge of patience — or lack thereof — and when he finally turns to look at her, she can’t help but smile.

He takes it as a sign.

After that, Franco doesn’t think anymore; he just acts, leaning in, bringing his hand to her cheek as their lips meet in a soft, lingering kiss that deepens gradually, both of them feeling the weight of the night hanging heavily on their shoulders.

The kiss is experimental at first, like he asks a gentle question to which she answers to with a soft press of her lips on his. Then suddenly, they both start to feel the adrenaline of being in each other’s space like that, so close and heated up that it makes them wonder what contributed to the state they’re in.

Aside from the alcohol, of course.

The elevator feels way smaller when Franco’s free hand finds home on her waist, his fingers pushing the jacket away and then her blouse, gripping her warm flesh. The air gets heavier as they kiss, the oxygen becoming a secondary need for them, after tasting each other.

The soft ding of the doors opening goes almost unnoticed. But then she pulls back, stepping away, just enough to put some distance between them. Her lips are tingling with the aftertaste, mind so dizzy that her legs are currently made of jelly. She’s about to step out when Franco’s hands pulls her back to him by the edges of the jacket, their bodies colliding halfway.

So are their lips.

“That was me,” she manages, whispering against his mouth, her voice shaking slightly.

“Not tonight,” he whispers in a rush, just as he attaches his lips to hers again.

They stumble together, barely registering the way the doors close again to take them up to his floor. And by the time they reach his room, her back presses against the door as he fumbles for the key card, their mouths never straying far from each other.

Inside, the dim light of the room casts a golden hue, welcoming them as if it’s not the first time.

“We walked through rain,” she reminds Franco, flushed as she catches sight of both their reflections in the mirror that’s hanged on the wall in the hallway. “Can I shower first?” she asks with a nervous laugh.

Franco smirks, his accent thick with the heat of the moment, “Ahora eso no me importa nada, bebita.” (I don't care about that at all now, baby.)

“No… vamos a ducharnos, por favor,” she cuts him off, “I feel dirty.” (No… let’s take a shower, please.)

Franco freezes for a split second, his eyes snapping to hers with a mix of surprise and something deeper, more intimate. He feels as though she has cast a spell on him, leaving Franco unable to resist doing everything in his power to fulfill her every desire, right here, and right now.

“¿Hablas español?” his voice is tinged with a boyish curiosity, as if her understanding of his language has just unlocked another layer between them.

It makes his head spin.

And that makes her smile.

���Un poquito,” the Spanish words roll off her tongue effortlessly, and he can’t help the slow grin spreading across his face.

“This just got even more dangerous,” he admits with a chuckle.

She lets out a breathy laugh as he steps back, tugging his shirt over his head and tossing it aside. Her pulse quickens at the sight of him, the lean definition of his torso illuminated under the soft light. Franco follows, finally ripping off her — his — jacket, then her blouse, revealing her smooth skin.

Each piece of clothing dropped on the floor is another barrier that’s falling away, leaving a messy trail to the bathroom.

His hands roam up and down her body, frantically, kissing slopply until they get inside. Franco lets the shower run, stepping back for a moment, his breath catching as his eyes take her in completely, as if he just realized they are completely naked; no barriers, no hesitations, no inhibitions, just them.

It overwhelms him. The way the light skims over her skin, highlighting every curve and line. It reminds him of the first time he jumped into an F1 car and how each of his senses was somehow heightened up to the max, his pulse quickened by the gravity of what he was about to experience. He was over the moon then, and he’s over the moon now, though this time around, everything feels infinitely more personal.

“You’re staring,” she notices his lingering eyes, a shy smile tugging at her lips.

Instead of contradicting her, Franco reaches for her hand, guiding her toward the shower. The steamy air envelops their bodies, giving them a sense of comfort and safety. She steps in first, letting the water cascade over her. He follows closely, pausing just before the spray to watch her tilt her head back, the droplets tracing paths down her body.

Franco swallows hard, parts of him awakening at the sight of her, while the heat soaks into his skin almost as quickly as the feeling of her presence does. His hands find her waist instinctively, pulling her in while his chest presses into her back.

The steam cloaks them in a moment that feels completely detached from reality.

He brings his hand up to tuck her hair out of the way, then he leans down to press his lips on her neck. She closes her eyes for a short moment, admiring his tenderness, but something tells her that it’s him who needs it more. She turns around in his arms, finally facing each other again, her heart picking up the pace once she sees his hooded eyes filled with nothing but want.

“Turn around,” she tells him, managing to get a confused expression in return.

However, he doesn’t question her, complying, while she stands on her tiptoes to reach his hair. Her fingers start threading through it with care, massaging shampoo into a lather. At first, it’s easy, an act of intimacy that’s supposed to bring them closer. But then she notices the way Franco’s shoulders sag under her touch, the tension radiating from him like a silent cry for help.

Her movements slow down, “Franco?” she says softly, stepping closer.

He exhales sharply, his head tilting forward, “It’s fucking stupid, I don’t know why it scared me so much,” he speaks softly, the words raw and heavy.

She doesn’t ask him to elaborate, she doesn’t need to. Everyone saw the state his car was in after the crash; of course it scared him.

She remembers holding her breath, the way time seemed to stop until she saw him climb out unscathed.

“It’s not stupid,” she assures him, her hands sliding down to rest on his shoulder blades, placing a tiny kiss between them. “You’re okay, Franco. It’s all that matters.”

He turns around, slowly, the water falling over his face, his expression torn between vulnerability and something deeper, something he doesn’t know how to name. It’s not shame, but it could be.

Her hands rise to cup his face, her thumbs brushing over his wet cheekbones. As a response to that, Franco leans down, his forehead resting against hers, their breaths blending in the warmth of the shower.

“How did I come across you,” he whispers thoughtfully, feeling her hands sliding down his chest, slick with water and soap.

As her touch grounds him, something shifts between them in an instant.

The vulnerability melts into something else entirely, a need, urgent and impossible to ignore. When their lips touch again, her back presses against the cool tile behind her, the contrast making her gasp as his hands find her waist, drawing her closer. The water pools around them like it’s simply forgotten, as the intimacy of the moment consumes them both to the point it washes away the fear and everything else in between, leaving behind only one thing — the present moment. The now.

“I know we’re both un poquito tipsy and the alcohol would be such a pathetic excuse tomorrow morning, but you have to understand that I’ve wanted you since we were in the car, and I wasn’t drunk then.”

His confession makes her heart tighten, smiling up at him.

“Okay,” she says, giggling while looping her arms around Franco’s waist to bring him closer to where she wants him.

Franco chuckles, “Okay?”

“Okay,” she repeats, feeling his hands cupping her breasts, making her whimper as a result.

He pauses for a moment as he looks at her reacting to his touch. “Are you sure?”

She nods, arching more into his touch.

To cover her sounds, his lips attach back to her mouth, moving against hers with increasing fervor, the weight of the day dissolving into the way she kisses him back. Her hands slide up his chest, water-slicked skin beneath her fingertips, and she presses closer, desperate to erase the lingering fear she can still feel surrounding him.

“Franco…” she whispers his name against his lips, her voice shaky, but laced with want. “Let me help?”

He doesn’t need words to reply, instead he’s deciding on tilting her chin up to deepen the kiss. The other hand wanders all over her body, mapping out her curves that fit against him as though they were always meant to. Her head falls back, resting on the wall as his lips move from her mouth to her jaw, then lower, tracing a line along the column of her neck, discovering her sweet spots for the first time.

“Is this good?” he asks, reaching her thighs, brushing the pads of his fingers between them and pushing his hand further, gently opening her.

“Yes,” she agrees, moving her hips against his hand, forcing his fingers inside her.

Her moans sound like they are accompanied by a choir of drunken angels, encouraging him to find a pace, fucking his fingers in and out until he feels her squeeze him tightly. Her arms are draping around his shoulders, pulling him towards her tightly.

“Franco,” the girl gasps his name into his wet skin before she lowers her head to watch his fingers slipping free of her.

“Joder. You’re so sensitive,” he figures, widening his eyes at her.

She looks back at him, her chest rising and falling rapidly, “That turns you on?”

“Sí...” he responds gruffly, taking a small step back, his eyes not leaving her body, drinking in every curve.

“Do something about it,” she urges, raising one leg up on his thigh to pull him closer.

Franco gets the memo, lifting her in his arms. Her legs instinctively wrap around his waist, the motion pulling him even closer. For a moment, everything else disappears — the crash, the weight of the day, the entire world. There is only her, her touch, her breath, her whispered name for him that sends his heart racing faster than any race car ever could.

She grips his shoulders tightly as he hovers above her. His dark eyes lock onto hers with an intensity that leaves her breathless, and Franco can’t be sure either of them are breathing as he guides his cock to her entrance, hissing at the contact before sliding inside.

“Ah, fuck,” he breaths hard, feeling her body welcome him in, warm and wet.

She can’t help but moan at how full she feels once he’s all in.

Franco lets out another low grunt, his body responding to hers. He’s struggling to hold back, to control a need that’s consuming him. But soon, he realizes he can’t resist the feeling of being inside her. So, he starts moving, slow at first.

“Feeling you so thight around me,” he mutters against her skin, “There you go, cariño,” he ends up proppting a hand on the wall next to her head, to steady himself when he feels her fucking back against him.

“Franco, please,” she whimpers, digging her fingernails into his shoulders, breathing heavily at the sweet stretch.

Franco lets out a shaky breath, sliding all the way inside her, again and again, until his brain turns into mush. “You’re so good, bebé. So good, unbelievable,” he rambles, his thrusts so measured and gentle, that make her see little white dots all around.

His mouth finds hers again, kissing her intently while fucking her so painfully slowly. It bothers her, but she knows it’s about him right now; she doesn’t want him to rush. Franco’s had enough of that today; enough speed, enough chaos. He doesn’t need to race toward the finish this time.

If he needs it slow, then she can take him that way.

She cups his face in her palms, forcing his eyes back on her — such a rookie mistake. The sight of him looking through wet eyelashes and glossy lips makes her pussy clench involuntarily around his cock, aggravating the need for him, causing a string of moans out of her mouth.

“Fran…” she loses her head, squeezing her eyes closed and rocking her hips harder against the wall to meet Franco halfway.

The way she molds to his rhythm, grounding him in the here and now, sends Franco to a completely different universe, where everything is pleasure. He needs it. Not to escape, but to rebuild himself. They move together, each of his thrusts a reminder that not everything has to be fast to be meaningful, or to take your breath away. She’s never been this close to coming from such a slow fuck before. His cock is hard and demanding inside her, though, throbbing against her walls the second he decides to pull all the way out, so he can fuck back in, finally setting a more alert pace.

“Such a good girl, aren’t you? Letting me have my way like this?” asks Franco, his tone high and breathless. “Even though it’s not how you like it, no?”

He’s so close to the edge, too. She can sense it in the way his breaths are ragged and erratic.

“Talk to me, bébé. What do you want?”

“Mhm… more,” she manages, her body so close to collapsing in his arms.

That’s all Franco needs to hear. His control snaps, the need and the pressure taking over as he lets out a low moan, “Sí, that’s it. I’ve got you.”

He grabs her hips firmly, his fingers leaving indents on her skin as he slams into her harder, the feeling leaving her gasping for air. Franco smiles, burying his face in the crook of her neck, his breath hot against her wet skin.

“God, Franco. Don’t—yes, don’t stop.”

“So tight, and pretty, and hot, and—fuck, you’re not real, bébé,” he’s muttering in between deep thrusts, his words half-incoherent as he moves inside her, giving in to the primal lust, the pleasure almost too much to bear.

He can hear how wet she is, knowing it’s just a matter of time until she finally lets go. So, he rises his head slightly, whispering sweet nothings in her ear, his voice raw and rough.

Franco’s grip on her hips tightens, and it’s almost painful, but then he suddenly stops, his body stilling inside her, the pleasure receding just slightly as he feels her come all over his throbbing length.

It takes everything in him to stop himself from following her, thrusting a couple more times to prolong her high. Then, he pulls out completely, guiding his cock between their bodies and pressing into her until his cum starts leaking onto her stomach. For a few seconds, it leaves a hot, dense trail before the water washes it away.

“Oh, my…” she breaths heavily, struggling to find her words.

As Franco finally releases his hold on her thighs, her legs falter beneath her, the strength utterly sapped from them. The slippery tile meets her feet, so unsteady, her body still trembling from the intensity her orgasm. Instinctively, her hands grip his arm, clinging to him like he’s the only thing keeping her from falling.

“Tranquila, bebita. ¿Estás bien?” he asks, his voice soothing while turning the water off. (Easy, baby. Are you okay?)

She lets out a soft, shaky laugh. “Sí.”

Franco chuckles softly, his grip on her tightening slightly.

For some reason, he feels the need to hold her, as though he’s afraid she might slip away, not in the shower, but from him.

“Have you ever been to Argentina?”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ MASTERLIST . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

© trashy track tales, 2024

[interruptedtrance]

Want to recreate? (franco x reader)

Smut; 18+

word count: 1,0k

contains: nicknames (amor), franco finding out you are reading smut about him, breeding kink (the fic they are reading has cum pushed back into the reader, mentions of them in the fic), unlocking a door with a knife, female anatomy, franco being a tease, italics is the fic they are reading, just so it's a bit more clear

masterlist

“Hey amor, what are you doing?” franco says while moving to the couch where you are laying down and reading.

quickly you lock your phone and let it drop to your chest, moving your arms towards franco, motioning wanting a kiss. “nothing i was just reading”.

“what were you reading?” his brow raising.

“oh nothing much, just my book”.

franco gives you a confused glance, “you are reading it on your phone, when you have the book with you?”

you nod, “yeah”, while franco is moving the couch, he quickly snatches your phone and locks himself in your shared bedroom. “FRANCO, GIVE IT BACK” you yell, while running after him, not getting a chance to catch him, making you slam your palm against the door in frustration.

“franco, please don't read it!”

“WHAT IS THIS” he speaks after a few seconds, “why is he fucking the cum back into them with his fingers” he states in disbelief, you can only imagine what his face looks like now, his eyebrows raised higher than even, and his mouth covered by his hand.

quietly you move to the kitchen to grab a knife, and slide it into the slit of the lock, where you apply steady pressure to unlock the door. once the lock clicks open, you burst through the door and snatch your phone back from him. “oke, this is enough invasion of my privacy”.

“you read porn? ABOUT ME?” franco yells while gently but firmly wrapping his arms around your middle and bringing you to stand between his legs.

your face now heating up, with the quietest of whispers you confirm his questions.

“wow, i can't believe my own girlfriend reads porn about me, do i not please you?”

“no franco, don't be stupid” you say, “ i just wanted to know what people were writing about you”.

“and is it any good?” he teases, moving your hips to now straddle his lap.

where an idea crosses your mind, “why do you think our sex life is so great? where do you think i get the ideas from?” you question while playing with his hair.

his eyes flew open, “what-”.

“yeah, maybe we could recreate the one you were reading” you speak, while moving your lips closer to his, but not connecting them. “hmmm how does that sound?”

“the whole thing?” he stammers, him now looking up into your eyes, while his hands move under your shirt. “i wouldn't mind fucking you, cumming into you, and you having to keep my cum in”.

“yeah? so what are we waiting for?” you ask, before you got to finish the sentence franco has flipped you over so that you are now kneeling on the bed.

he moves his hands to your waistband, “can i remove these?”

“please."

while sliding down your underwear, he catches a wet spot in them, making him groan, “fuck amor, was the story this good?” he questions, moving one of his hands to your clit, gently circling it, making you moan.

“here amor, open your phone, and read to me what else i have done to you”, he speaks, while still playing with your clit.

“mhm”, you let out a breath, “you finger me next preparing me for your cock”.

“no, no, amor, read it out to me, the same way it’s written in the story”, the teasing of your clit never stopping.

“fuck fran, please just fuck me” you whine out.

“i don't think that's what it says in the story”, he now moves his fingers to run along your slit, “the sooner you read it out for me, the sooner i can do it amor”.

“fuck” you mumble lightly, making franco smile, you grab your phone, unlock it, and find where the smut begins. and you start to read “he gently circles your clit-” making franco move his fingers from your slit back to your clit, gently circling it, pulling a breathy moan from your lips.

“-making sure you are wet enough, and carefully slides two of his fingers in you-”, so franco follows your lead, he softly drags two of his fingers from your clit to your entrance, where he slides his fingers in, moving them rhythmically in and out of you, making you bite down on your own hand to keep focus on the fanfic you are reading.

“-he brings his other hand to your hips, and holds you up with it. the argentine slowly scissors his fingers, stretching you out for his third finger-” and with utmost care in the world, franco starts scissoring his fingers to stretch you out, making sure to always brush against your g spot.

the sensation makes you drop your phone for a second, releasing a loud moan from your lips. after a moment you catch your breath and continue reading. “-gently he adds a third finger, and keeps on thrusting until he deems you ready.”

“want us to skip this step amor, you are very wet?”

“yes please”. as soon as those words leave your mouth, franco removes his fingers from your hole, and brings them to his cock, stroking himself a few times. he climbs on the bed behind you, lines himself up with your entrance, and with one gentle motion bottoms out.

you start reaching for your phone again, when he interrupts, “that's enough amor, i have read this part, put your phone away, just focus on the pleasure”, his words pull a moan from you. while franco is pulling moans out from you, from his perfect pace and perfect hits to your g spot, he also brings one of his hands back to your clit, again gently playing with it.

all of the sensations combined, of his pace, of him hitting your g spot and him playing with your clit, without warning bring you to the edge. making you grab on to the sheets and moan francos name.

the sensation of your walls tightening around him, also brings him to the edge where he cums into you, once he catches his breath, he gently pulls out of you, brining two of his fingers to your entrence, to keep all of his cum inside.

gently he brings you down from the kneeling position to your stomach, so that you are now laying flat on the mattress.

“we are doing this again amor”.

[interruptedtrance]

Period sex (franco x reader)

Smut; 18+

contains: period sex, cock warming

masterlist

“querida, what’s wrong?” franco asked swiftly moving to you

“nothing, it’s just my period”, his eyebrows furrow.

“again, isn’t it early?” he asks with a bit of worry and shock in his voice.

shrugging you answer “yeah, it happens”

“oke, let me go get you supplies” franco says practically running out the door.

“i don’t need anything!” you try yelling after him, but he is already long gone. with a small exhale you lay yourself back down onto the bed, hoping resting will ease the pain. after some time franco returns from the shops with pads and chocolates, and cranberry juice because the internet said it helps with cramps. “i don’t think it does, but thank you” looking through the supplies you notice he managed to get all of them correct, “franco, how did you get all of them right” you ask in confusion.

“i just pay attention” he says, kissing your cheek, gently moving to your ear and whispering “the internet also said having sex during your period eases the cramping.”

bringing your arms up to his chest and slightly moving away from him, you look at him weirdly “i thought you were scared of blood?”

“i think i'll manage” he says with a smile spreading across his cheeks.

“you sure?” you are still not fully convinced.

“positive” he mumbles against your lips. while sloppily kissing you, franco moves his hands from your hips to your waist so he can guide you more easily to the bed where let’s go for just a second so you can climb on it.

before he manages to follow you and get on the bed you tell him to grab a towel, and he is gone for less then a second, coming back with the fluffiest towel you have ever seen. you lay down on your back and lift your hips so he can slide the towel underneath you, after doing so franco gets on the bed and eagerly crawls over to you, stopping when your faces meet.

shyly smiling at him you pull him in by his hair, kissing him sweetly, he deepens the kiss by gently moving his arms along your waist under your shirt, “sit up a bit, let me take it off” he quickly takes both of your shirts off and throws them to the side, making sure he obliges to your soft tugs at his hair, he comes back face to face with you, lovingly looking into your eyes, and kissing you again.

gently working his hands down to your waist he hooks his fingers into your shorts and underwear and tugs them off, looking at your naked body with lust, which you are now trying to cover from his gaze with your hands, he lightly prys your arms away, kissing you on the jaw, and whispering in your ear “please don’t cover up, i love every bit of you”.

with a blush spreading across your cheeks, you cup his face in your hands, “kiss me properly” you say turning an even deeper shade of red in your face. franco could never say no to you, lovingly he moves his lips onto yours. “can we start” he asks you slightly out of breath from your makeout session, you nod your head, wanting nothing more than to feel him inside you, so franco in a swift movement takes his sweatpants and underwear off, his dick springing up, and hitting his lower abdomen. the sight pulling a quiet moan from your lips.

franco smirks at that, and gets on the bed between your legs, adjusting slowly at your entrance, glancing up at you one last time to ask for permission, “please” you whine, now becoming desperate, so he bottoms out in a single thrust. kissing and lightly nipping along your neck while you adjust to him, turning your head to him, you catch his lips in another short but sweet kiss. breaking the kiss you look at him, him finally getting the hint and thrusting his hips slowly but firmly against you, making sure to pull out almost all the way out.

after a while of franco keeping the same perfect speed, you bring your hand down to play with your clit, where he playfully swats it away, “let me do it”, saying it at the same time as placing his thumb on your clit and moving it in figure eights, making you moan from the pleasure. “you like that?” he asks, a smirk forming on his lips.

“you know i do” you playfully snap back, making him also smile and lower himself onto his arms which are now resting next to your head, his face millimeters away from yours, where you can smell his minty breath, ever stopping his movement. teasingly you drag your nails up his sides from his waist to his shoulders, where you slightly dig them into the skin, making him release a breath groan.

“can you thrust harder? i’m getting close now” you ask sweetly, making him release another groan.

“your wish is my command” he says with a smirk, thrusting in you harder.

you let out a moan, “yeah, like that”, and with a few final thrusts franco brings you over the edge making you cum all over him, now thrusting very slowly and lightly to help you ride out your high. he gently wraps his arms around your waist and rolls you over onto him, while still being comfortably situated in you.

moving your head to look up at him, you give him a questioning glance, “what, cock warming is supposed to further help with easing the cramps”.

“i don’t think that's true, but whatever, as long as i can cuddle with you i’m happy” you say, now moving your head to rest it against his chest, where his steady heartbeat slowly lulls you to sleep.

“just try resting a bit” he says, giving your temple one final kiss and dragging the covers over you two.

[interruptedtrance]

Interview (franco x reader)

Smut; 18+

contains: bow job, nicknames (alma)

your boyfriend wasn't paying enough attention to you, so you took matters into your own hands.

masterlist

scrolling through tiktok, you try to pass the time while your boyfriend is doing an interview, when a tiktok catches your eye.

“support your boyfriend from under the desk while he is playing video games” that's all you needed to hear before you switched off your phone and left it on the couch.

while walking over to the room where franco is, you start taking off your clothing, first discarding your shirt, and then your pants. now in your new white lingerie set, you make your way to the door separating you two, as quietly as possible you open the door and slip in the room, franco not paying any attention to you.

still as quietly as possible, you make your way towards him, gently dropping to your knees in front of him and gliding your hands up his thighs, making him hitch a breath, and stop your hands with his, silently pleading that you stop.

but you don't, the interview has been going on for so long, and he has promised to spend the day with you. so you remove his hands from yours, and softly move them to the waistband of his shorts, from where you release his cock, making him hitch another breath, which he covers up with a cough, excusing himself to the interviewer, you allow him to get himself together.

once he is answering a question, you gently trail your fingers against his cock, making him swallow hard between sentences. quietly you shuffle closer to him, him glancing down at you as trying to warn you not to do anything. which of course doesn't stop you.

after you kiss his tip, you take the rest of him in your mouth, once at the bottom you stop for a minute, allowing him to catch his breath. slowly you move your head up and down his shaft, paying more attention to his head, gently kissing it, sucking it and playing with the slit.

franco now sweating, he grabs your hair with one hand, pushing slightly on your head, making you bottom out, bringing tears to your eyes. he brings his other hand to his laptop and switches it off, quickly he grabs his phone, and texts his pr manager that he is having some technical difficulties and isn't be able to rejoin.

“alma, i see you are wearing a new set” he smiles, making you raise your head to his lips, connecting them in a soft kiss, “now finish what you have started”.