#fran x reader

[rebornologist]

F and X for Fran from the Headcannon game? pretty please <3

nsf/w headcanons ♡ Fran ✧

༚✧⁺˳₊˚‿︵‿︵‿୨୧ · ˳ · ♡ · ˳ · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿˚₊˳⁺✧༚

✧ Favourite Position: I’ve said before that homie’s a fan of the prone bone, and finds a lot of amusement in imitating those stupid porn dialogues like, “oh, let me… help you get unstuck from the closet,” in his deadpan voice. He’s especially entertained by catching his partner off guard, and can be really handsy during sex. Any position where he can really let his hands roam is pretty good to him. One thing that he can actually really get behind is mutual masturbation, which.. isn’t a position, but he really enjoys the visuals of it and limit-testing how long they can last before they absolutely have to touch each other.

✧ X Ray: I did some very legit math for this, and just because of favouritism, I think he’s a liiittle above average for his demographic. A good 6.5 inches with a slight curve, he’s statistically likely to be uncircumsized, and he has a cute dick. It’s got some decent girth, uniform thickness and is fairly pale like.. the rest of him. He doesn’t grow a ton of body hair, but it could do with a trim every once in a while. Just as another thought, Fran's blush is really obvious whenever he does get flustered (not often), and the tip of his dick gets kind of rosy and reminiscent of that when he's really aroused.

Fran fanboys rise up I'm not sorry for babygirlifying him so hard..

[mercurycft]

𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐘 & 𝐈𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒 — 𝐋𝐁

## lucy bronze x reader !!

Hi all! Enjoy this very very smutty imagine with jealous and top!lucy.. there's also a possibility a part 2 if people want it!? Love always.. RG x

contains: jealous!lucy , top!lucy bottom!reader, fingering, strap-on, mentions of leah williamson, teasing, dirty talk b

1,413 words.

CONTAINS MATURE LANGUAGE & CONTENT 18+

"Strip."

Oh dear this is bad, you thought. It had been months since you had last seen Lucy in this state. Her hair was loosely thrown over her shoulders and cascading down her back, still dressed in her outfit from the party - her white shirt now unbuttoned and exposing her bra as she stood before you.

She was fuming. Not only could you feel it rattling around the room, you could see it. A fire of rage sat heavy behind her deep eyes, jaw clenching periodically as she studied you - her chest heaving as she inhaled and exhaled. You stood like a dear caught in headlights before her, eyes wide and mouth hung slightly agape at the sight of her. You had made it through the door only having it closed for maybe 30 seconds when you heard her voice ring through the room, your shoes were barely off when you turned to follow her voice.

She had gotten home before you, leaving the after-party early and ready to call it a night. The night was still young when she had decided to leave so, you stayed. Draped across your teammates as you collectively laughed, danced and sang horribly through the DJ's playlist of old-school hits.

That was two hours ago now, and after stumbling through the door of your shared apartment as quietly as possible - you were caught.

She wasn't upset you had stayed out, it happened often between you both. She wasn't upset you were dancing on tables in a dress that fit like a glove - clinging to your curves and leaving little to the average imagination. You internally ran through the possible causes of her current situation but were stumped. Then you remembered, the way she had her eyes locked on you from her seat. Your back pressed against Leah's front, bodies swaying to the beat of the song that echoed through the place. Fuck you thought, remembering how she clenched her glass and jaw in unison at the sight of you grinding against your captain.

"Did I stutter? I said, strip." Her voice ripped you from your thoughts, eyes now meeting hers. Noticing how she admired you from across the room, eyes sweeping from your head to your toes - lingering on your chest for almost a second too long.

You remained still for a moment after she spoke, thighs pressed tightly together. Don't push her, you thought. Slowly and carefully lifting your hands to clasp the fabric of your dress, pulling it up and over your head without argument - now exposed to her.

"Bedroom." She whispered, but it wasn't weak, it was strong. A command. An order. You followed it willingly, moving towards your bedroom with her following behind slowly. She couldn't help but watch how your hips moved when you walked, eyes fixated on the way they swayed with each step.

Once you had made it, you stood next to the bed back towards her. Before you had the chance to turn around and speak she had closed the gap between you, her front was pressed against you, her hand up and twisted your hair - pulling you closer against her chest.

She seemed to tower over you, five inches feeling like a foot when the back of your head met with the hot skin of her chest. Her mouth was instantly on your neck, peppering rough and needy kisses below your ear and down the length of your shoulder. Her breath was warm, goosebumps following in her path.

Your eyes were closed tightly, licking your lips as you felt her tongue travel up towards your jaw and stop when her lips pressed against your ear. "Bend over."

You and Lucy had established a long time ago that she liked to be dominant in the bedroom, giving orders and overall giving but it was rare to see her like this. You would be lying if you said it didn't set your body on fire, hairs all standing on end and heart thumping behind its bony cage at the thought of her having her way with you.

You were bent in seconds, weight resting on your hands and head facing down between them - gathering your thoughts and shuddering a deep breath in anticipation. You were left like this for a minute or two. First, there was a shuffling behind you as she searched through the drawers beside her and then silence when she had found what she was looking for. Deep down you knew what it was and the burning in the pit of your stomach increased, sending shockwaves through your lower abdomen and down your legs at the mere thought. Lucy, however, was busy admiring you from behind - on full display for her, clearly enjoying you trying to squeeze your legs together for some form of release.

When she finally caved it was her fingers, tracing through your slick folds methodically. Collecting the wetness on her fingers and circling your sensitive clit. She always knew how to please you, using the perfect amount of pressure with the pads of her fingers. You craved her, whimpering at the feeling of her fingers on you - pushing your hips back to meet her hand, begging for more friction where you needed it most.

You could practically hear her smirk from behind you, moving her fingers to circle your entrance now. Hesitating for a moment before she pulled away completely.

"Lucy, fuck, please.." You pleaded, head lifting in a contest to her actions.

"Get on the bed, on your knees." and you did, scrambling on top of the covers and planting yourself on your knees and elbows, head down facing away from her. You could hear her shuffle again, the sound of her clothes hitting the bedroom floor and her feet navigating their way into something new making your stomach somersault.

She made you wait longer, adjusting herself on the bed behind you. Amused at the way you whined for her, tossing your weight between your knees and squirming for her. Then, you felt it. The tip of her strap caressing you gently. She was gentle, but firm with her actions. Sliding the head between your folds, coating the silicone in your slick before sitting at your entrance once more.

"What's your safeword, baby.." She whispered, breaking character momentarily. It made your heart swell in your chest, perking up to reply.

"Red."

"Good girl.." She praised lowly, pressing into you. Stretching perfectly until it sat snug between your walls. She waited a minute until she was confident you were ready, bracing her hands on your hips as she began to move.

Her thrusts were calculated. Slow and hard. You whimpered into the sheets, eyes rolling into the back of your head as she filled you perfectly. Pulling out slowly just to force herself back into you, pulling your hips back to meet her halfway. Her pace increased with your volume, moaning out as the harsh slaps resonated through the room.

You could hear her breathing, it was erratic. Low curses under her breath matched her thrusts, watching as she stretched you around her.

"You take me so well, don't you baby?" She queried, voice hoarse.

You nodded below her, scared if you tried to speak you would scream out. Though the sheets did a poor job at muffling your moans when you felt her let out a breathy laugh from behind you. Your sultry noises ignited a wildfire in her veins, her hand moving to grip your hair roughly.

"God don't stop, Luce.." You begged, mouth left agape when she grumbled.

"Could she fuck you like this?" It caught you off guard, and you shivered beneath her. "Could she? Would you let her fuck you like this? Stretching you out? hm?" You knew it was rhetorical, but shook your head furiously. Unable to speak. As if she had snipped your vocal chords and stolen them straight out of your throat.

"That's what you want huh? Do you want her to fuck you? Maybe I'll send her a message... I know you love being used." You blushed at the thought, a deep pink cascading over your face and chest. You had never thought about it before, but the images she was feeding you were filthy and they contorted your stomach as her other hand snaked down to toy with your clit. "You want us both? Want us to take turns hm?"

That was all it took for you, overwhelmed by her thrusts and the images now prominent in your mind, your first orgasm ripped through you harshly. Clenching around her strap-on and crying through the room. she didn't stop though, instead pushing your head down further into the sheets and continuing.

—————————

This continued until you were spacey, head filled with the images she was compiling. The filthiest thoughts you can imagine, now after 3 orgasms you lay with her head between your legs. Her tongue grazed your swollen clit, lapping your juices up as you squirmed.

When she pulled away, her lips were red and her chin glistened with you. Smirking as she raised to kiss you passionately, passing your taste on.

She stroked your hair gently as she readjusted you and moved you to lay on the pillows, praising you for taking it so well when your eyes met hers and her shit-eating grin. She made sure you were comfy, kissing you softly in direct contrast to her previous actions.

She went to leave the room, off to grab water for you both and a towel. Though she only made it two steps out the door, poking her head back inside and you couldn't help but laugh when she uttered a low. "Maybe I'll give Leah a text.." fuck.

[valleyfae]

𝐈𝐧𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥

Paring: Daddy!Bucky Barnes x needy!reader

Warnings: dom/sub dynamic, spanking as punishment, smut 18+ ONLY MDNI, thigh riding, reader is not a brat, Bucky is just too perfect to resist hehe!!

Word Count: 1.2k

Synopsis: Bucky only needs ten minutes to finish his work, but you can't seem to wait.

𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐒 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝

𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐌.𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ✴︎ 𝐒. 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍 𝐌.𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ✴︎ 𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

"Who is it?" Bucky responds to your meek knocks interrupting the isolated sound of the typing keys of his computer. His eyes remained locked on the screen.

"Daddy?" Your voice is barely audible, afraid to intrude and nervous about being a burden on his work life — and on him in general.

"Is that you?" he tries to confirm your hushed breath. "Come in, angel. Daddy's just working."

You knew that, and he had been for the past three hours. The past three hours, you were overcome with a restlessness that has been brewing in various places inside you for the past couple of days. Trying to contain the hankering yearning for your Daddy's touch and affection.

The mahogany door is heavy as you shakily step into his office with an apprehensive timidness. Your eyes instantaneously draw to Bucky's sulky grimace and nimble fingers furiously typing at his keyboard.

Only a trace of your breath leaves your mouth when you attempt to address Bucky again, but his low sigh that exerts any remaining patience he has been able to hold onto has you crawling back into your withering skin.

"Come." Bucky leans back into his plush leather chair. He smooths out his dress pants with his palms, eyes finally connecting to the helpless pout you can no longer control as the spark in your core spreads like wildfire. "You can sit on Daddy's lap while he's working. Promise it won't be much longer."

That was not true. Well, at least too long for you to wait.

Thirty minutes of using all of your strength to not let out a whimper or plea, you slide your trembling hand between both of your pent-up bodies. “Miss you.”

Bucky coos, pressing his soft lips to your forehead — his hand securing you closer on the small of your back. “I miss you more.” He sighs deeply, finally detaching his gaze from his laptop screen. “Just need to finish this one last thing. Be a good girl and wait ten more minutes for Daddy. Then we can do whatever you want.”

You know the series of events that will unfold if you continue down your path of insistent whines and clingy huffs. You will succumb to the inevitable with every roll of your hips against Bucky's abundant bulge.

The pulse radiating from your neglected sex overpowers your capability to remain patient. Bucky has diligently worked on your capacity for patience — the reward is worth the wait — but you are, without fail, helpless.

"Daddy." A whimper falls from your pouted lips. Every muscle in your body grapples to Bucky. A single second of uncontrollability.

The silence is agonizing.

"Alright," Bucky quickly closes his laptop and pushes his chair away from his busy desk. "That's enough from you." He lets out a deep sigh; frustration casts down on you, and the look displayed across his face is evidence of his instincts to correct your bratty behavior and lack of patience.

"Ten minutes and all my attention would be on you. You know this, been working on it so hard."

Bucky hushes your silent cries as tears flood your waterline. Your brows contort as you shrink into your shell, burrowing your shameful frown in his chest — hips still softly bucking in an erratic pattern.

You grip the crisp fabric straining Bucky's biceps. "'m sorry," you hiccup. "Can't—can't..." Attempts to bypass the thumping of your core tremble your legs.

"I know, I know," he tuts. Bucky's hands engulf your form as he pets the small of your back. "Take a deep breath for me."

You do as you're told. Take slow deep breaths as Bucky instructs and soothes you.

"You know I have to give you a punishment, yeah?" Bucky pecks your forehead as you shyly nod in response, sniffling and rubbing against him. "Now, be a good girl and take your pants off."

Again, you do as you're told, even though your arousal seeps through the fabric of your panties, provoking more squirming as Bucky guides you to lay over his lap. Bucky's calloused hands trail up and down your supple pristine thighs.

Groping the tender skin of your bottom, his unoccupied hand makes his way to the places that caused you to receive an over-the-knee spanking.

Bucky smirks at the wet patch your slick has created as he removes the last garment separating him and your bare backside.

"I'm gonna give you ten, alright, honey? One for every minute Daddy told you to wait. I know you're feeling needy, but you have to count for me, or we'll have to start over. I don't want to make this more difficult than it already is."

You nod, clinging onto Bucky's shin tighter with each firm strike that hits your skin. His bulge grows hard under your docile frame, letting out satisfied grunts harmonizing with your meek whimpers.

You squeak a desperate hiccup, "T-ten."

Bucky's gratifying praise flows past his content smile, his deep whispers fuzzy as you try to form a coherent sentence, but it fuels the fire rising in your abdomen. Shifting in his chair, Bucky bends forward dexterously, situating you back on his lap, juxtaposing your frantic scurrying to reconnect your aching clit to the lush fabric that encases Bucky's brawny thigh.

Leaning back in his seat, your freshly spanked flesh makes contact with Bucky driving your hips to jolt against your Daddy. Heedlessly, your hips begin to rut, sensitive bud gliding against Bucky’s thigh, painting his dress pants with your slick. 

Bucky tuts. "There you go. Just needed Daddy, huh?"

You continue to nestle further into the crook of Bucky's neck —helpless mewls from your trembling lips are muffled by Bucky's golden skin. "S-sorry, Daddy."

"You're okay. I got you." Hushing you, Bucky gently bounces his leg, sending gentle jolts of pleasure into your core. "Can you cum for Daddy now, angel?" He strengthens the grasp on your hips, asserting his dominance.

You frantically nod your tucked head, causing Bucky to chuckle. Your feverish whimpers remain steady, along with Bucky's reassuring praise. You subconsciously clutch Bucky's button down as you clench your fluttering sex around nothing, alerting Bucky that you are close.

"You can cum; go on."

Your thighs tremble when your climax hits, rushing down your body and sending goosebumps down your spine.

"That's a good girl," Bucky hums, kissing your head tenderly. "Cum for Daddy."

Pliant and yielding, your chest heaves against Bucky's — he guides you to ride out your orgasm, his palms kneading your lithe hips. Your sensitive folds graze over the apparent wet spot you have left on Bucky's dress pants.

Finally catching your breath, you giggle. "Made Daddy hard."

"Uh-huh?" Bucky grins smugly. "Are you gonna thank Daddy for stopping his work for you?" Alluding to you shimmying off his lap to suckle at his now fully hard erection. "Go on and thank Daddy, angel."

You nod up at Bucky with a sheepish smile as you move down until you're kneeling on the floor. "Thank you, Daddy."

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌

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[madame-fear]

𐙚 𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐈𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐎𝐍𝐄.

ೀ amira speaks.ᐟ : father forgive me for I have sinned— but I regret nothing. first time writing a threesome so I hope I did it well !! 🤧 also,, rightful honourary tags will be all the way below the fic! 💕 ˗ˏˋ ꒰ summary : your boyfriend, Francisco, proposes to you to have a threesome with his friend & cast mate, Esteban. you might be reluctanct at first, but you’ll end up mentally thanking him for coming up with the idea. ˗ˏˋ ꒰ word count : 4.5k

˗ˏˋ ꒰ genre : smut, some fluff. ˗ˏˋ ꒰ pairing : Francisco Romero x (fem!)Reader x Esteban Kukuriczka

WARNING.ᐟ THIS FIC CONTAINS ; threesome, fingering, slight breast/nipple play, tiddy sucking, oral sex (m receiving)/facefucking, handjob, getting cummed in your mouth & having to swallow it, P in V, unprotected sex, creampie, profanity, some praising, them fighting a little bit for your attention (sorry I had to lmaoo).

“Don’t you think it could be fun?”

And yet again, your boyfriend insisted on having a threesome. It seemed that the idea of sharing you somehow thrilled him.

Delicately, your fingers played with strands of his dark blonde hair as his head rested on your lap. Arching your eyebrows, you lowered your gaze — since you were supposed to calmly be watching TV together — to stare at him, only to find him attentively staring back at you with his pretty green eyes.

Several days had passed since Fran first proposed a threesome, but he had been particularly insisting on it since a few days ago. You felt shy at the thought of it, but not uncomfortable — you couldn’t deny, you felt quite intrigued and curious.

“Okay, fine. You might be right, and it could be fun.” you replied, continuing to play with his hair lovingly. “But with who are we going to have a threesome, anyways? I can’t really think of anyone to join us, if I wanted to.” some seconds of silence loomed between you two after your question, no one in particular really came to your mind to have such intimate experience. “Well... I might be able to think of someone,” his words trailed off, quietly.

You raised your eyebrow curiously, awaiting for him to continue. His gaze lingered elsewhere, thinking silently, before going back to stare at you with a meek grin. “Kuku told me many times before that he thought you were a very pretty girl, and that I was lucky to have you, so...” at his comment, you immediatly furrowed your eyebrows, feeling a heated fluster occupy your cheeks, understanding what he tried to imply. You felt reluctanct at the idea of asking Kuku such a thing, but at the same time... He was a good option.

Before you officially began dating Fran, while they were still filming La Sociedad de la Nieve, he had introduced you to his cast mates. All of them were incredibly sweet and fun to be around — but at that moment, you felt particularly attracted to one of them, and that was Esteban Kukuriczka. It was a crush that didn’t last long, as you began dating Fran a short while after crushing on Kuku, and of course, all the love and affection you had to offer, was devotedly given to your now boyfriend.

“Are you... Being for real?” you seemed baffled, dumbfounded. “What if he isn’t into that type of thing, and gets upset at us—” quickly before you could further continue with your objection, Fran shifted positions so instead of having his head resting on your lap, he was sitting next to you, with one of his arms wrapped around your body, pulling you closer to his own.

“I’m certain he won’t decline, trust me.” he continued, “Besides, I know you’d like him to join us. I remember being jealous when you had a crush on him, before we started dating... And now, I don’t mind sharing you with him.” you clicked your tongue at his teasing, failing to hide the growing blush in your cheeks. “And... I also know he’s certainly going to appreciate the fact that I’m willing to share you.” moving your gaze away to avoid his own strong staring, you considered what he had told you.

Both of them were extremely close while, and after filming the movie — Fran knew him much better than you did, and if he said Kuku would accept having joining you for a threesome, you wholeheartedly trusted him. After all, despite being hesitant, you were willing as well to try new experiences. And it was even better if there were two involved with you, rather than just one.

His hand gently moved up and down your arm, caressing it, as you thought quietly to yourself. And it didn’t take you long to consider it, as you turned around once again to stare at him, slightly grinning. The expression on his face resembled that of an eager puppy, knowing you’d most likely accept.

“You know what? Fine,” you began, “I’d very much like him to join us. You can ask him if he wants to.” and with your approval, a sigh of relief escaped from him. Your boyfriend had always been committed to pleasuring you in any possible way that there was, and he was insistent on trying new experience because, eventually, Fran knew you would like them.

“Gracias, mi amor.” cupping both your cheeks firmly, Fran pressed a loving smooch on your forehead, making you widely grin. All that there was left to do now, was send a message to his cast friend, and simply find a proper day where you would all be free.

“You won’t regret it, we will both make sure you are properly taken care of.”

You knew your reluctance would eventually bend into acceptation of the idea of a threesome— and to further develop into genuinely fancying it.

The pounding of your heart increased rapidly, beating loudly against your chest; it made your entire body tremble slightly. As Fran had previously reassured you, Kukuriczka did accept the proposal of joining the two of you for a threesome — and currently, you found yourself in the bed you shared with Francisco... Being pampered in loving kisses and gentle touches by both him, and Kuku.

It felt strange, to have two men thrown entirely at you, showering you with a teasing affection; but you weren’t complaining at all. In fact, you could quite get used to the feeling with no problem at all, as you enjoyed receiving the attention from both of your favourite boys.

Soft groans spurred delicately from your lips. Your eyes were closed, tilting your head to a side as you sweetly, yet fervently kissed Fran; moaning quietly against his lips. His warm hand was under your shirt, possesively caressing one of your breasts, squeezing it and brushing his thumb across your hardened nipple; knowing it was an easy way to get you turned on.

It didn’t help either to feel the elder Argentine man’s thin lips pressing smooches all over the soft spots of your neck, occasionally on your shoulder, as his hand had sneaked inside your underwear, rubbing his fingers across the wet entrance of your pussy in a teasing manner. “Already eager to feel two cocks inside of you, hm?” he teased, feeling his hot breath against your sensitive skin, making you pull briefly from your boyfriend’s lips. “And to think you were making such a fuss of it yesterday, not wanting to get him upset at us— Now, you’re all wet for us.” your boyfriend remarked, smiling proudly, squeezing your breast possesively.

“Shut up.” you muttered in between soft pants, trying to dismiss both as you were being stimulated by them. It seemed as if they enjoyed taking their time with you and playing around, appreciating every single reaction of yours. A crimson tint notoriously occupied your cheeks, spreading across your face at the teasing actions of both men.

Before you, or any of the boys, could say anything else, you felt two fingers abruptly entering deeply into your moist cunt, thrusting gently. “Fuck,” you gasped, spreading your legs wider unconsciously— leaving both men satisfied with your response. For your aching hole, being filled with Kuku’s fingers was a relief.

Initially, his movements inside of you with his digits were careful, appreciating every inch of your inner walls — and it didn’t take too long until both fingers were coated with your slick, working as a lubricant to slide inside of you more easily. Aching for more, you began moving your hips against his fingers, helping him to satisfy you.

“Your boyfriend’s right, you do look so pretty when you’re wet.” a grunt spurred from your lips, trying to think of something coherent to reply, but you felt too fogged by the pleasure you received. You squirmed even more when his lips were pressed against the corner of your lips for a brief moment. “He’ll need to share you with me more often.” something that was both adorable and fun to notice, was just how flustered — and incredibly wetter — you got at the mention of both men talking about you in a sexual manner, being taken care of by both of them.

On the other hand, Fran shamelessly lifted your shirt, leaving both your tits exposed. If there was a part of your body that never failed to fervidly turned him on, those were your breasts — and he adored getting his hands and mouth on them. Faint grunts kept escaping from you as the pace of the fingerfucking increased, and the dark blonde haired Argentine’s mouth took your breast that he had been previously squeezing, moving his hand to your other tit, trying to give as much equal attention to them as possible.

Wet kisses were placed across your aureola, only to then teasingly, leisurely pass his tongue over your stimulated nipple, and he occasionally nibbled on the sensitive skin of your breast. At the feeling, you moved your chest forward, giving him more access to use his mouth. Your hand went to the back of Fran’s head, interwining messily your fingers in between his blonde curls, burying his head on your chest to encourage him further to keep going.

The other man’s fingers began thrusting harder, and faster in and out of you. Your head was slightly thrown back; the sound of your timid moans and the fleshy sound of your pussy being continously stimulated were the only things heard in the room.

“It seems that your boyfriend treats you quite well, doesn’t he?” with his free hand, Kukuriczka delicately took hold of your chin, forcing you to stare into his beautiful brown eyes. Your own wetness oozed out of you, staining your inner thighs — and having Fran’s mouth ravenously taking your breast and kneading the other wasn’t helping at all. You bit your lower lip as you stared at the older man, feeling another one of his fingers slip inside of you. “He’s stretched you so well, that I can fit three fingers inside of you.”

He had been previously given permission to kiss you if the opportunity was presented, and so, he did. Tilting his head softly, Kuku leaned closer to your face, pressing his lips against your own in a delicste manner while his three fingers intensely thrusted inside of you, beginning to hit that sweet spot of yours.

It didn’t take him too long to figure out which spot of your insides was the most vulnerable, as his fingers got further coated with your dripping slick, you arched your back and your moans became loud whimpers — Esteban was going to abuse that one spot as much as he could.

Moaning against his lips as your hips rolled against his fingers, you felt a knot beginning to faintly form on your stomach. “Such a sweet, good girl you are. You must be enjoying all the pampering we are giving you, aren’t you?” he whispered quietly, pulling away from a moment before going back to endearingly kiss you, and all you could do in response, is deeply hum dumbfounded. By the feeling of your inner walls tightening around his digits, it was obvious you would be about to cum.

The hand resting on the back of Fran’s hair tightened it’s grip on his blonde curls, appreciating the blatant feeling of devotion for your tits; having him filling them with kisses, licking, squeezing them, and even some bruising would appear on your skin from all his nibbling and lovebiting.

The gentle kiss you had been giving to your boyfriend’s cast mate was interrupted as you suddenly broke it away, softly gasping. Fran had abruptly stopped from giving any more attention to your breast with his mouth, pulling apart as his green eyes darted towards the other man, and the hand that was pampering your other breast was playfully — and a bit jealously — placed on Kuku’s face to push him away from you.

“That’s my girlfriend, not yours. Don’t get too confident with her.” immediatly with a scoff, Esteban removed Fran’s hand from his face. The younger Argentine possesively wrapped an arm around you, placing his cheek against your own flustered one. “Too bad you agreed to share her with me, and she seems to be quite enjoying all the attention.” you huffed in annoyance at their little childish fight for you, frustrated at how the fingers inside of you stopped thrusting intensely, just when you felt like cumming.

“Just look at how I ruined your girlfriend.” with a soft whimper, the three fingers inside of you were pulled out from your abused cunt only to leave an empty aching space in you— but he proudly showed his fingers entirely coated in your dripping wetness to your boyfriend, and not only that, but as well as the sight of your visibly trembling legs already said enough. It was true you felt ruined by such stimulation, but they both deserved their rightful credits.

The blonde haired Argentine scoffed at the sight, feeling slight jealousy— but it was cute to see him like that, when he was the one to propose a threesome, and now he felt possesive over you. “It’s not like I haven’t left her like that before, and I’ve done a much better job than you!” he retorted, looking at you lovingly with his green eyes, searching for approval. “Haven’t I, cariño?”

Both men fixed their stare on you, making you simply groan out of frustration. You couldn’t care less about their possesiveness over you and their fighting about which one made you wetter— you needed them inside of you, at the same time. They already managed to make you wet enough equally. “I don’t really care, my love.” you replied frankly, with an increasing desperation to feel both of them. “I would appreciate it if you both shut up, and just fuck me for once.”

Either way, they both felt satisfied to hear your answer. They exchanged knowing looks for a brief moment, making your boyfriend grow a wide grin on his lips. In the atmosphere, it still lingered the possesiveness they both felt foe your attention— but they knew just how to take care of the situation. With the brief stare that they exchanged, it was as if they had told each other ‘we’ll see who makes her moan the most’; and it would be like an unspoken, fun little game between them.

“Don’t get too desperate, my love.” Fran, still grinning to himself at your response, nuzzled the tip of his nose against your cheek before placing a tender smooch against it. “We’re getting to that part now.” his gaze lowered to the shorts you wore, moving his hand to slip it under them slightly, teasingly. “Suck him off, now, and I’ll take care of you from behind, in the meantime.”

You quietly whimpered at the feeling of his hot breath against your skin, having his lips continuing to place gentle pecks. All you could do is hum and nod in agreement— you could feel your own underwear getting stickier with your own slick at the thought of being filled with their cocks. The sight of you being so ruined and sensitive at the slightest stimulation they provided to you was such a delight.

“On your knees, then.” the younger Argentine commanded, placing a last kiss on your shoulder before moving away slightly, giving you enough space to shift positions. An overwhelming feeling of shyness took over you, but you felt too fogged by horniness to even focus on the growing timid feeling.

Kukuriczka fixed his own position, softly leaning against the pillows in the bed, spreading his legs wide enough for you to have space to get in between them, as Fran allowed you to settle. Shyly, you crawled closer to the older man, nibbling on your lower lip delicately. Your hands trembled with anticipation, moving them to his pants to remove them.

“I-Is it okay if I take this off?” you meekly asked, looking up at him with puppy eyes. The nervousness you felt was notorious, and beautifully adorable for them. “Why are you even asking, love?” his hand moved to gently stroke your cheek with the back of his index finger, giving his approval for you to continue. A sheepish grin appeared on your lip, feeling your face grow flustered.

With your hands, you leisurely lowered down both his pants, and his underwear. It’s not like you hadn’t sucked off your boyfriend before— you did, many times; but this was another man, and it was another man you had crushed on before. As soon as you managed to remove his lower clothing, your eyes couldn’t help but stare at his hard cock timidly, and dumbfoundedly.

“Like what you see?” as it was obviously expected, he noticed you staring at his thick manhood, and his hand went to stroke your hair affectionately. You nodded vehemently, trying not to stutter. “Y-Yes, I do.” you replied, smiling stupidly to yourself at the way Kuku gently, yet teasingly treated you.

“But it’s not any better than mine, of course.” your boyfriend scoffed from behind of you, making the other man roll his eyes. “We’ll see that.” Kukuriczka answered back, helplessly making you grin at the little fights they had, to either get more of your attention, or praising.

Fran placed himself delicately on top of you, using his lips to place small, tender kisses on your shoulder as one of his hands played with your shorts, and the waistband of your underwear. In the meantime, you slowly wrapped your hand around Kukuriczka’s cock. From it’s tip oozed pre-cum, and your lips placed a small wet kiss on it, staining your lips faintly with the fluids. With your lips, you kept placing small kisses all over the tip, occasionally moving down a bit to spread the kisses further.

Teasingly, at one moment, you slowly passed your tongue through his tip, savouring all the dripping pre-cum. With pride, you smiled to yourself slightly at the feeling of his cock twitching for you, already— along with his soft grunts, and the way he moved his hips forwards needily, eager to have you suck him off.

Tenderly, your hand began moving up and down on his manhood, stroking him. Leaning closer and partly opening your lips, you took him into your mouth. You moved softly down onto his shaft as deep as you could, trying not to choke yourself as your tongue caressed his size, taking him entirely into your mouth. As his hand had been stroking your hair gently, his hand helplessly formed into a grip on your hair, helping you move your head.

“Fuck,” he grunted quietly, throwing his head back. Despite wanting to be as gentle as possible with you, Kukuriczka couldn’t help it— his hand buried you deeper into his cock as his hips moved forwards to make you take him further, while your hand increased the pace in which it stroked his shaft. Gods, you were atrociously good at it; Esteban never doubted it when he thought — and said — Fran was lucky to be your boyfriend.

On the other hand, Fran had already managed to lower down both your shorts, and underwear at the same time. He couldn’t help but notice the way you were dripping wet for both of them. “She’s so good at it, isn’t she?” Fran chirped playfully, noticing how Kuku seemed to enjoy the attention you were currently giving him— and saying he enjoyed it was an understatement.

“And she’s so beautifully dripping wet for our cocks.” those last words, had been whispered against your ear. All you could do in response was needily grunt, as your mouth was filled with the other man’s hardened shaft. A bit desperately, having noticed just how wet you were, he lowered down his own underwear in a swift motion. Just like Kuku, his own cock was erected as well— needy to feel your inner walls milking him ravenously. It didn’t take him long to place it’s tip on your entrance, and delicately slip his shaft inside of you.

The slipping-in of his cock inside of you had been quite easy and smooth, as your slick worked as a lubricant. You were no stranger to the feeling of your boyfriend’s cock, but you couldn’t help but feel pleasantly overwhelmed at the sensation of two cocks filling your holes. In response to his penetration, you grunted against the other dark haired Argentine’s cock, almost choking on it.

“Your girlfriend is such a good girl. Look at how well she can take two cocks at once,” a rosy haze overtook your cheeks as you heard the two men praising you, hearing their ragged breathing in between each words. You briefly pulled apart from Kuku’s cock, leaving a thin trail of saliva as you tried to catch some air, and a whimpered moan spurred from you. You didn’t know whose name to moan first.

Grunts continued to escape from your lips as Fran continously slipped deeper inside of you, and then out. His movements were initially gentle as always, only to become faster & rougher with the passing of the time. Your inner walls so deliciously tightened around the familiar feeling of his cock, making him proudly smile. Barely being able to think, you kept using your hand to masturbate Esteban, feeling fogged at the pleasure being received.

“Your boyfriend is fucking you so well, that you’re forgetting to use that pretty little mouth of yours— aren’t you?” Kukuriczka teased, as his hand moved towards your chin, using his thumb to brush it across your lips. “Keep going, bonita.” he encouraged, his thumb forcing it’s way into your mouth so you would open it, and his cock entered your mouth once again. There was no complaint from your part, as you needily began tasting his shaft again.

Your tongue swirled across his size, releasing some muffled groans as his hips moved in a way that they almost reached your throat, and Fran took a firm hold of your hips, fucking your overstimulated cunt a bit harder. His cock was entirely coated in your cum, causing a faint fleshy sound to echo across the room, along with the moaning and panting of both men, and your own grunts.

A tear threatened to escape from the corner of your eye, doing your best to focus on both giving, and receiving. Kuku moved his hand on the back of your head, interwining his fingers between strands of your hair, burying his cock deeper into your mouth— and you tried to keep up with the motion, trying not to choke as you were burdened with pleasure, your hand as well masturbating him faster. Their moaning became slightly louder, both occasionally muttering your name so beautifully in between pants.

Both their cocks inside of you pulsated heavily, indicating that they were about to cum— and they were going to cum inside you. “F-Fuck, you’re so tight. I-I’m going to cum,” your boyfriend grunted against your ear, feeling how your walls tightened even more firmly around his shaft, placing sloppy kisses all across your neck with his hot breath hitting against your skin. A knot formed inside your own stomach, aching for release, as well as a tighteing fiery feeling in your chest.

Some seconds had passed, with the increasing sound of the moans, praises, and the intensity in which they fucked your mouth and pussy, having you nearly melting between them. And as expected, it didn’t take long until all of you simultaneously came. Your boyfriend firmly pushed himself against you, burying his cock as deep as possible, releasing his own hot seed into your moist inner walls.

The other older Argentine kept your had as still as possible with his hand holding the back of your head, groaning loudly as you felt the warmth of his cum filling your mouth. In the heat of the moment, you didn’t doubt in proudly swallowing all the hot, salty seed— even having slightly pulled apart briefly after he came, with some drops of his cum staining your lips, and chin. You released a muffled groan, feeling their cum filling both your holes, and your own cum being pleasantly released; dripping through your inner thighs, and leaving Fran’s shaft all stained with your slick.

For some seconds after all of you released at the same time, you stood still. Leaving another trail of saliva behind, you pulled apart from Kuku’s cock, catching some air to breathe; panting heavily as your entire body shook with the pleasure that washed over you. While your hand let go of his shaft, with a wet pop, Fran slipped outside of you. It made your insides feel empty, and cold— yet, the feeling of his cum and your own oozing out of your pussy felt satisfying; and it was a sight he always admired for a few seconds with pride.

Weakly, you crawled towards Kuku, whose chest rose and fell continously as he panted, and fell on top of him. Fran did the same as you did, but instead, he gently laid on top of you. His arms were possesively wrapped around your body, placing some loving little kisses all over your shoulder blade, as Esteban placed one of his hands on your arm, and the other one sweetly stroked your hair. You were such a loving, beautiful girl— it made him feel good to know, he could share you with Fran.

Kukuriczka kissed the top of your head as you panted as well, meekly smiling and blushing to yourself while both men filled you with pampering little kisses. “T-This was rather fun, I liked it.” you muttered, as you could feel Fran smiling at your remark while he kept kissing your shoulders, and Kukuriczka grinned as well. “We should do this more often, all of us together.” you continued.

“We should, and we will.” Fran retorted, tracing a mindless shape on your arm with the tip of his finger. “Unless... You are both up for a second round, instead of waiting until next time?”

◞ ꙳ ๋࣭ ⭑ ` honourary tags to my darling beloveds.ᐟ

To my sweet love @lady-ashfade, for having accepted to be my beta reader despite not crushing on the actors, nor being part of the fandom. For your constant sweetness, tenderness, how you fangirl along me about my favourite boys (and I with yours!), and for your words of encouragement too. I love you so much, baby!! Thank you for everything we allow to share with each other! 🥺💗

And as well, to my most beloved sweet girls, @luceracastro + @castawaycherry!! You both also encouraged me to write this fic, and always support me on each work I do, and each idea I have for our boys— and also, you girls are both the loveliest, most positive people ever. Me siento tan afortunada de haberlas conocido, gracias por todo el cariño que me dan, y espero devolverles todo ese amor 1000 veces más!! 🥰❤

[xexyromero]

amo seus headcons!!!! Pode fazer um do cast na cama e no aftercare porfaaaaaa

wn: me empolguei tanto com seu request que separei em dois! hehehehe posto o restante amanhã <3 

meninos do cast x aftercare

fem!reader headcanon

tw: +18 (menção sobre s3xo, uso de drogas ilícitas, etc.)

enzo:

o after é um dos momentos mais especiais do mundo na visão dele, até mais do que o sexo em si - vê como uma oportunidade de reafirmar sentimentos e seguranças.

assim que o “último” goza, seja você ou ele, te agarra em um abraço quase que de urso e fica alguns minutinhos assim, só respirando, em silêncio, acalmando o corpo e te tocando.

aproveita esse momento para relaxar e jogar conversa fora, só vocês dois, abraçadinhos e peladinhos, curtindo as últimas ondas do orgasmo.

coloca uma playlist tranquila pra tocar de fundo, mas bem baixinha. o foco é te ouvir.

só te larga se você insistir que precisa fazer xixi logo ou beber água. 

agustin:

adooooora enrolar na cama depois que vocês gozam! rola de um lado pro outro, bagunça tudo mais ainda. é uma bolinha de energia mesmo que tenha gastado todas. 

gemeu até não poder mais e agora vai rir às gargalhadas. ele fica genuinamente muito feliz e compartilha essa felicidade com você. fofo!

é um pouquinho calorento, então vai preferir segurar sua mão e entrelaçar seus dedos do que abraço ou carinhos mais sufocantes.

vai se levantar pra pegar água e acender um, sim. mas vai te perguntar se você se sente a vontade antes e te oferecer um dos dois depois. 

fica super faminto e, depois de enrolar bastante, vai oferecer pra fazer um jantar simples mas super gostoso. 

fran:

provavelmente o único momento do dia que fran fica quieto. para ele, esse é um momento de calma, cuidado e silêncio. 

e silêncio, nesse contexto, não é ruim não, viu? é só que a descarga de energia entre vocês foi tão grande que ele acha que ajuda o corpo e a mente a se acalmar. 

é muito do toque físico - vai fazer uma massagem bem levinha com um óleo cheiroso e ter uma atenção especial as partes que podem ter ficado mais doloridas, tipo suas pernas. 

quebra o silêncio só para perguntar se você está querendo alguma coisa específica - seja água, chocolate, banho, qualquer coisa. é só pedir que você sabe que ele vai levar pra você.

o sorriso não sai da boca dele por nada - e um sorriso daqueles enormes. ele se sente muito bem em saber que você está muito bem.

matías:

muito, muito, muuuuiiitoooo beijo! te beija mais na boca no pós do que no durante. adora!

e os carinhos não param! no seu corpo todo e inclusive nas suas partes íntimas (mas vai ser mega cuidadoso porque sabe que você está sensível). 

fica extremamente meloso, reforça o quanto que te ama e o quanto que te acha linda. 

e, como fica um cadinho inseguro, vai perguntar se você gostou e se foi tudo bem, mesmo. naquela do “mas vem cá, você gozou mesmo?”

você não gosta e ele sabe disso, mas vai se levantar sim pra fumar cigarro pós sexo na janela mais próxima. não se preocupe que ele vai lavar a mão e escovar o dente antes de voltar a se aninhar com você. 

kuku:

o rei do aftercare! vai cuidar de você mais do que querer ser cuidado e com todo amor do mundo. 

como gosta das coisas um pouquinho mais intensas sabe que esse momento pós é necessário para você se sentir bem e amada.

deixou uma garrafinha d’água e uma toalha no quarto para te oferecer quando terminassem.

palavras de afirmação e confirmação até não poder mais! te elogia (até porque te xingou horrores, né), te eleva e repete o quanto que você é querida, amada e adorada por ele.

sim, ele vai querer te dar banho, te vestir e oferecer um jantar muito gostoso feito por ele depois. sim, esse é o jeito dele. completamente viciado em te amar. 

pipe:

aftercare é feedback! vai querer conversar sobre o momento que tiveram e entender o que você gostou ou não. e deixar você entender da perspectiva dele também. 

e vai conversar sobre tudo isso com você deitada no peito dele enquanto ele faz carinho nas suas costas. não tem outra opção.

apesar de gostar, não é muito do enrolar na cama. 

estimula muito que você faça xixi (viva a educação sexual do pipe) e tome um banho e vai insistir mais ainda que ele tem que ir junto nos dois momentos. 

pede pra você usar o pijama que mais gosta (uma blusa dele) e vai te chamar pra fazerem alguma coisa juntinhos (ver um filme ou uma série, por exemplo). 

juani:

ele não vai pegar no celular atéeeee muito depois de vocês já terem se vestido, tá? que fique claro!

fica com um pouquinho de vergonha, meio tímido, mas se esforça porque sabe o quanto que esse momento é importante. 

vai comentar sobre todos os momentos que mais gostou e querer que você fale também. mas evitando os termos mais literais - justamente pela vergonha!

trouxe um copo d’água e um chocolatinho pra vocês dividirem. 

é outro que fica com um sorriso enorme no rosto - e solta uma risadinha toda vez que te olha. é muito apaixonado.

[midgardian-witch]

can i request moon boys walking into the room to see reader just zoned out and like. slapping/tapping something repeatedly😭😭i know this sounds really weird but i do it all the time and i wonder how theyd react. i feel like theyd really understand zoning out often while doing some random task

It's not that weird, anon, no worries! I do hope I managed to fit what you imagined and that you like what I came up with 💙

Tapped Out

tags: fluff | domestic situations | established relationship | gn!reader

ships: Moon Knight System/Reader

AO3

Marc

The suit unravels around him as he crawls through the open window into your shared flat. Marc takes a cursory look around until he sees light coming from the bathroom. 

Walking over he makes sure to make his footsteps louder than usual so you don't get spooked when he suddenly appears behind you. 

As he opens the door to the bathroom further, the sudden light disorientates him for a moment. He blinks and squints his eyes before he sees your silhouette in front of the sink. The mirror in front of you shows your face, toothbrush hanging limp in your mouth as your eyes stare blankly into nothingness. You look kind of adorable like this, like a puppy that forgot where it was going and just looks off into space. 

It takes him a moment, distracted by seeing you and realizing how much he missed you even for those few hours, to notice the sound. 

Your hand is slapping against the bathroom sink, no rhyme nor reason behind the timing of the hits. Marc cannot discern any pattern behind the slapping. Maybe something you do subconsciously? Well, as long as you didn't hurt yourself he really doesn't mind. 

To get your attention he starts rapping his knuckles against the doorway, not too loud, softly starting a rhythm of his own. Slowly your slapping adjusts to his rhythm until the two of you are synchronizing. 

It takes a few moments until your hand rests flat on the sink, the sound of your tapping fading out as Marc stops his movements too. He watches how your eyes regain focus in your reflection. You blink a few times before you see Marc behind you through the mirror. Toothbrush still in your mouth you turn around to greet him. As your mouth forms the words to your cheery hello the brush tumbles from between your lips onto the bathroom floor. 

Marc chuckles and steps towards you, kneeling down to reach for the toothbrush and hand it to you. "Hey sweetheart," he greets you with a smile, "Sorry for being late. You know you don't have to stay up for me, right?"

You take the brush from him and place it on the sink. "I know, but I like to see you before I go to sleep. Preferably I'd be going to sleep with you in bed with me," you counter and lean down to kiss his cheek sweetly before he gets up from the floor. 

"Hmmm, bed sounds good right about now," he murmurs as he wraps an arm around you and pulls you close. He doesn't mention that you've zoned out, doesn't comment on the toothbrush debacle - that's not important. Important is that he can hold you in his arms. 

You wrinkle your nose at him. "Alright, but you're taking a shower first, Mister." You both laugh and Marc nods, "I get your point. Wait for me in bed?" 

Steven

Your lips pull into a sly grin. "Who said you're taking that shower alone?" 

As he gets home from work, a spring in his step at the thought of coming home to you, Steven is a bit worried when you don't respond to him calling your name. 

"Love?" he calls nervously into your shared apartment. As he walks into the living room he sees you staring at a book, your fingers tapping rhythmically against your thigh, the book held tightly in your other hand. 

He tilts his head quizzically, watching you in silence for a moment. You looked like you weren't even reading, your eyes just staring blankly at the pages in front of you. 

Steven doesn't know what to do. He doesn't want to scare you of course but you seem so lost in thought. The dull sound of your fingers tapping against your thigh echoes through the room. He doesn’t even dare breathe, afraid he may spook you with even that. 

Very quietly Steven makes his way over to you, the couch leaving enough space for him to fit comfortably beside you. 

You feel the weight on the couch shift, the subtle difference slowly pulling you back to reality. Steven freezes as you blink at him owlishly. With an embarrassed smile he waves at you. 

"Hiya, love," you watch him lean closer, taking a not so subtle peak at your book, "You ok?" 

"Yeah, I just spaced out a little. I didn't even hear you come in," you respond a little embarrassed. Steven just smiles at you kindly. "Ah don't worry, love. Happens to the best of us," he tells you with a wink. 

Jake

Carefully you put your book to the side, placing a bookmark where you left off and lean into Steven. He wraps his arm around you, pulling you close as you cuddle. 

As Jake enters your shared flat, his hat safely placed onto a coat rack, the sounds of something repeatedly hitting the granite counter and of something bubbling echoes from the kitchen. Curious, Jake walks over to investigate the noise and is greeted by the sight of you. 

You're standing at the counter, back turned to Jake. Your gaze seems fixated on the bubbling pot in front of you, a delicious scent emanating from it, as your hand repeatedly hits the granite counter next to the stove. 

Your hand is inching a little too close to the hot stove for Jake's liking, so without thinking he steps forward and gently grabs your wrist. You flinch, looking at him with wide eyes. "Perdón, mi vida. I didn't mean to startle you," Jake raises your hand up towards him and places a soft kiss on the inside of your wrist, an apologetic smile on his face. Your gaze softens and you lean forward to press your lips to his cheek and return his kiss.

"It's ok. I zoned out a little and didn't notice you." He hums thoughtfully and carefully lets go of your wrist. "I noticed. I was worried you might hurt yourself by accident, mi alma," Jake replies and points at the hot stove that still has a pot bubbling on top of it. You nod in understanding. As you turn back to your cooking, unsure what else to say, you feel Jake wrap his arms around you from behind.

"I know you can't control when you zone out, just as much as we can't control who fronts most of the time just…," he trails off and you can feel the nervous energy practically radiating off of him. You lean into his embrace. "I'll try to be more careful. Please don't worry too much about me, baby."

You can feel him smile against your skin as he kisses your neck softly. "I know you are capable of keeping yourself safe, mi vida. Just let me worry a little."

With a soft laugh you nod, "Just a little."

[kyuala]

♡ cast de lsdln como pensamentos intrusivos ♡

totalmente inspirado no hino das lobas brasileiras que adoram fazer uma caridade 🙏🏼 foi difícil achar letras pra eles pois são todos LINDOS QUE ÓDIO e apostei (tentei) mais em cenários menores, mas espero que gostem! 💛 avisos: linguagem adulta, sexo explícito (masturbação fem. e masc., sexo oral fem. e masc., puxão de cabelo, leve humilhação, tapas, asfixia, penetração vaginal, fetiche por tamanho; não interaja se for menor de idade) e num carro em movimento (não façam!), comportamento obsessivo, menção a acidente, espanhol fajuto, agustín pardella como marido de novo pq eu sou apenas uma mulher 💔 não é necessário conhecer a música para ler <3

enzo vogrincic

nem me preocupo com o tempo / eu sou bonita, é rapidinho

"mas já vai gozar, meu amor?" você pergunta, debochada, e ri da carinha de dó do homem sentado entre tuas pernas.

"nena..." enzo suplica num fio de voz, os olhinhos castanhos sempre tão tranquilos agora molhados e quase transbordando em desespero, a boca já se formando num biquinho atípico para o uruguaio. "porfi..."

"diz," você ordena, dissimulada, enquanto acelera o ritmo da mão que masturba rapidamente teu namorado, focando a polpa do dedão na cabecinha roxa, irada de tesão e coberta de pré-gozo - angustiada por algum alívio. "diz pra mim o que tu quer."

"por favor, eu preciso gozar," o homem volta a implorar, todo o seu tamanho reduzido apenas ao desejo de se desfazer em prazer e à humilhação de precisar fazê-lo tão rápido depois de terem começado e ainda na tua mão. os olhos se perdem no teu rosto e na beleza que tanto o enlouquece mas, mesmo que procurassem, não achariam um pingo de conforto agora. "deixa eu gozar pra você, meu amor."

você ri com vontade. "então goza, vai," começa, usando a mão livre para puxar os cabelos de enzo, sabendo que isso o leva à loucura mais do que qualquer outra coisa, e logo sente o líquido quente te melar a mão, escorrendo para sujar o abdômen e a virilha do namorado, "já que você é fraco e não se aguenta perto de mim," finaliza com gosto, se perdendo nos gemidos nada envergonhados que recebe em troca.

agustín pardella

toda noite ajoelha pra louvar a baddie / não gosto de barba mas, se for tu, mec

"diosa..." ouve a voz abafada do teu marido por entre tuas pernas e sente dificuldade em se concentrar no que ele fala entre selinhos molhados na tua intimidade. "divina..."

agustín nunca te decepciona. pelo contrário; parece sempre ter uma missão de se superar, te surpreender com o quão devoto ele é a você, ao teu corpo, ao teu prazer. já perdeu a conta de quantas noites passou com ele te levando às alturas apenas com a língua e, nessa em específico, de quantas vezes já chegou a elas e voltou.

"agustín..." você choraminga num sussurro, esgotada demais pelo prazer e ao mesmo tempo ainda sedenta por mais, puxando os cabelos do homem e mantendo-o no lugar.

"shhh..." ele te acalma, depositando selares molhadinhos e lambendo a pele maltratadinha da parte interna das tuas coxas por onde a barba já grandinha passou, roçando e queimando tudo; nunca gostou da sensação, mas depois de agustín e da forma como ele te cuida depois, agora é apaixonada pela ardência. "deixa eu te adorar, mi reina."

matías recalt

um garoto estranho à beça pra andar do lado / o meu tesão aumenta muito se ele for otaku / um que corre igual naruto, levantando o braço / um que minha tia fala: vai sumir, 'tá magro

você jura que não sabe qual é a tua.

estava sentada no sofá da sala, tranquilamente mexendo no celular enquanto o namorado assistia a algum episódio de anime que você não se importou muito em acompanhar. o foda foi quando o ouviu gritar com a tv, criticando duramente a decisão de algum personagem que ele tinha julgado como um "boludo, sabe fazer porra nenhuma direito!", e atraiu tua atenção para si. tinha então começado a notar como ele fica ainda mais lindo quando está concentrado nas animações, tão investido, sério, calado uma vez na vida - te deu até arrepios e tem certeza que foram os do tipo sexual.

é por isso que se encontra assim agora, ajoelhada entre as pernas do namorado no chão frio do apartamento, engolindo o pau dele com gosto, de boca cheia, e arranhando as coxas magrinhas de tanto tesão que te transborda.

"caralho, amor," matías suspira com as sobrancelhas franzidinhas, a mão que segura teu cabelo pesando sobre tua cabeça para te empurrar ainda mais o membro teso goela abaixo. "se eu soubesse que o kakashi te deixava safada assim eu tinha ligado a tv antes."

você acerta um tapa na perna do namorado, o amaldiçoando apenas mentalmente, já que a boca continua ocupada; ele não te dá um segundo de paz.

ouve a risada debochada acima de você e revira os olhos, apesar de agradecer mentalmente pela informação, quando ele completa: "não bate não que eu gosto."

esteban kukuriczka

ele ama se eu danço pra ele / fica nervoso falando comigo

você desce do palco onde acabou de finalizar teu show, cobrindo tua figura trajada só de calcinha com um roupão oferecido pelo segurança postado fielmente ao lado da escada e seguindo em direção ao homem alto, loiro e claramente tímido cujo amigo acabou de te contratar para um show particular. nem se importou muito em lembrar o nome do rapaz falante - algo como fernando ou francisco - ou dar muita atenção aos seus flertes rápidos, focando teus olhos no alvo que vai devorar hoje.

"qual seu nome, meu bem?" você pergunta ao se aproximar, estendendo a mão para lhe fazer um carinho nas mechas claras. tem certeza que, se abaixasse os dedos para o peito alheio e checasse, encontraria um pulso mais forte e mais acelerado que a batida da música que acompanha a próxima garota em sua performance; a visão dos teus seios tão próxima do rosto do rapaz com certeza não ajuda e você acha fofo.

"eh... es-esteban," o homem gagueja, te arrancando um sorrisinho, e parece lutar muito para não derreter com teu toque.

"já recebeu uma dança particular antes, es-esteban?" você caçoa, certa de que ele não faria nada; muito pelo contrário, se sentiria intimidado e, nesse ramo, você sabe que quanto mais intimidado um homem, melhor - pode se sentir mais segura e ainda arrancar mais dinheiro dele ao longo da noite. o cliente apenas sinaliza que não com a cabeça, a boca tão cerrada que você realmente acreditaria que um gato comeu a língua dele. "fico feliz de ser sua primeira, então," você se senta em seu colo, de costas, e encaixa as mãos grandes do rapaz na tua cintura, se surpreendendo com o quanto ele já está duro por baixo da calça social.

"obrigado," esteban sussurra, inalando profundamente teu perfume, e, de repente, você percebe que talvez esta não seja só a primeira vez dele recebendo uma dança particular.

é. definitivamente vai brincar com o coração desse homem hoje.

fran romero

touro, sempre que eu acordo, faço omelete / ele me chama de docinho, ele me diverte

você perambula pela cozinha, juntando temperos, ovos e outros complementos pro café da manhã que resolveu fazer de surpresa para o namorado. o cheiro dos omeletes logo toma conta da cozinha e você já sabe que ele é o culpado por estragar tua surpresa quando ouve a voz do namorado se aproximar pelo corredor.

"querida, cheguei!" fran cantarola tão alto que você não consegue evitar a risada.

"shhh! vai acordar os vizinhos!" você reclama, fingindo preocupação, e sente os braços do rapaz circularem tua cintura por trás, te fazendo um carinho por cima da camisa que roubou dele pela manhã e sussurrando um ah, é? vou acordar, é? com o sossego de quem não está nem aí. "e outra, você nem chegou. já 'tava em casa, só veio pra cozinha agora porque é um morto de fome. tinha que ser de touro..."

"eu 'tô com bastante fome mesmo..." fran concorda baixinho, depositando beijinhos no teu pescoço que te dão a certeza do duplo sentido que as palavras do rapaz carregam. "¿y vos, meu docinho? ¿quieres venir también?"

felipe otaño

uber 15 min' pra casa, mas ele quer no caminho / fica olhando pra estrada que a gente passa batido / só toma cuidado pra não me afogar com os seus filhos

conhecendo o namorado, sabe que felipe não deve ter parado de se parabenizar mentalmente até agora. foi ideia dele irem de carro até a festa, passou a noite inteira sem beber uma gota de álcool e fez questão de chamar uber para todos os amigos que lhe pediam carona; tudo isso para ficar sozinho com você, para te ter exatamente assim nesse momento.

"relaxa que eu 'tô de olho na estrada, princesa," pipe te assegura, passando a mão no teu cabelo e tentando se concentrar na visão à frente e não na de baixo, onde você alterna entre chupar deliciosamente a cabecinha do pau do argentino e engolir o membro o mais fundo que consegue na posição desconfortável, se estendendo do banco do passageiro até o colo dele. "a gente vai passar batido pelo posto da pm."

"não é disso que eu 'tô com medo," você para de sugá-lo para rebater, divertida. "você vai é me afogar se gozar tão fundo assim na minha garganta."

pipe ri, a mão que não guia o volante se dirigindo livremente ao teu queixo, por onde ele puxa teu rosto para deixar um selinho amoroso no biquinho formado nos lábios. "pode deixar então que chegando em casa eu te dou nossos filhos onde você quiser."

simón hempe

se me chamar de mami e for malcriado / te deito na cama e te bato / se disser que me ama e ir buscar outra / só toma cuidado, eu te mato

sente a gota de suor te molhando ainda mais no caminho que percorre pela tua espinha, escorrendo da nuca até o final das costas. sente tuas coxas arderem já de tanto tempo cavalgando no moreno, mas sabe que não pode aliviar agora; tem uma missão a cumprir e um ponto a provar.

"tudo isso é ciúmes, mami?" simón ri, te provocando com um sorriso convencido e um aperto sacana na bunda. "tua buceta é gostosinha também, eu ia voltar pra te comer depois."

você acerta um tapa estalado na bochecha do rapaz, descontando toda a tua raiva, e aproveita o momento de surpresa para acelerar o ritmo e sentar com força. não perde a oportunidade de admirar a boca que te dá tanto tesão e tanto estresse se formando num O perfeito de prazer.

"isso é pra aprender a não falar que me ama e depois ir atrás de outra," você o adverte, tentando disfarçar a voz ofegante quando leva as duas mãos ao pescoço do argentino, apertando no ponto certinho para lhe tirar a quantidade ideal de oxigênio. sabe pelo sorriso persistente no rosto dele - e pelas outras experiências de vocês - que ele está curtindo até demais, então ri junto, sarcástica e ácida, antes de completar a ameaça: "cuidado que da próxima eu te mato."

santi vaca narvaja

ele faz tudo por mim, então ele merece / ele é obcecado por essa mulher

sabe que as irides claras te fitam desde o momento em que entrou no quarto. agora, sentada na cama, sente-as queimando tua pele desde o outro lado do muro que separa as propriedades, desde trás dos vidros das janelas que espelham seus respectivos cômodos: o teu quarto e o de santiago, o vizinho loirinho com quem cresceu, a quem conhece desde que eram crianças.

sempre soube da quedinha do rapaz, mas só a percebeu se intensificar nos últimos anos, quando o contato de santi com outras pessoas diminuía ao passo que ele se aproximava de você e o número de pretendentes teus que se afastavam sem explicação aumentava. fora todas as vezes que pessoas que te machucavam surgiam com hematomas e olhos inchados pelas ruas da cidade, ou todas as vezes que você instalava cortinas no quarto para acordar no meio da noite sem a proteção delas e com a janela completamente escancarada, ou até as vezes que comentava que estava precisando de algo e no dia seguinte encontrava o presente perfeitamente embrulhado em cima da cama.

hoje, porém, foi a gota d'água para tua cegueira. havia comentado com apenas uma pessoa o quanto estava chateada pela nota baixa que havia recebido em um trabalho da faculdade; em menos de 24h, recebeu a notícia de que o professor responsável pela matéria havia se envolvido num acidente de trânsito, o colocando no hospital e atrasando as aulas de maneira que, com toda a certeza, ofereceria aos alunos trabalhos de reposição e mais oportunidades de aumentarem suas notas. suas desconfianças sobre o culpado foram confirmadas assim que virou a esquina da rua de casa, se deparando com o carro de santi, geralmente muito bem cuidado e guardado dentro da garagem, exposto na rua, exibindo uma frente completamente amassada.

agora você seca as lágrimas do teu rosto, finalmente levantando a mirada para encontrar os olhinhos azuis que te filmam - sempre, incansavelmente - de volta com curiosidade, anseio, antecipação. agora você sabe que ele te ama de verdade.

levanta a bainha do vestido florido que te cobre, revelando a calcinha de renda que usa por baixo - já muito bem conhecida por santiago - e leva a mão hesitantemente ao tecido, puxando-o para o lado e revelando tua intimidade úmida quando percebe o rapaz acenar desesperadamente com a cabeça, te incentivando a continuar com os olhinhos azuis vidrificados, fixados em você.

o vê puxar o membro já completamente duro de dentro da calça na hora em que você afunda dois dedinhos na tua entradinha, completamente em sincronia e vidrados um no outro, e nem mesmo a distância das janelas te impede de ouvir o gemido que soltam em uníssono.

agustín della corte

ou um bem grande e forte, L444 / eu não ligo pra aparência, só pra energia / quero um bofe agradecido por entrar na minha

"mais rápido, amor," você geme, arrastando o final da frase de tanto desejo sobrecarregando teu cérebro, as estocadas que recebe sentada na bancada da cozinha completamente nublando teus pensamentos. "mais forte."

"mais forte?" teu namorado confirma, já sem fôlego, "é?"

você só balança a cabeça em sinal positivo, incapaz de dar mais de algumas palavras a ele por vez, quando é acordada das profundezas do teu prazer de repente, se assustando quando agustín te pega no colo. ele apoia todo o teu peso sobre as próprias pernas e te segura pelas dobras dos joelhos, completamente em pé, tirando vantagem da nova posição para acelerar as investidas que dá com os quadris contra os teus.

"agustín!" você ri, não sabe se mais por diversão ou por incredulidade, e acaba deixando mais um gemido escapar junto. "muito obrigada por fazer academia, viu?"

agustín ri de volta, aumentando ainda mais o teu tesão quando responde: "eu que te agradeço por ser meu treininho particular, vida."

rafael federman

ele fica inseguro com homens bonitos / mas eu só quero dar pra ele / o outro é bonito, mas é meu amigo / vida, vem matar minha sede

pensaria que consegue sentir o corpo do rapaz à tua frente se tremendo inteirinho se não estivesse tão distraída com a música alta vinda de fora do banheiro e anestesiada pelas bebidas que consumiu mais cedo.

"achei que você fosse ficar com o seu namorado," rafa confessa baixinho e você ri soprado contra o pescoço dele, não parando de deixar beijinhos ali, achando graça da honestidade e insegurança do argentino.

sinceramente? fofo. exatamente o tipo de homem que você adora devorar.

"ele é só meu amigo," você responde, "além do mais, tu é muito mais bonito," levanta a camisa do rapaz e joga por cima da parede divisória da cabine onde estão espremidos, bebendo vorazmente a imagem do torso nu de cima a baixo com os olhos, "e gostoso."

rafael cora e você entende como a deixa para dar o bote.

"vem matar minha sede, vem," você pede com a voz mais baixa, como se fosse um segredinho entre vocês, as mãos puxando o cinto do rapaz tentadoramente, e rafael agradece por ainda conseguir te ouvir por cima da música alta, "eu ando sedenta por leite de homem."

masterlist principal | masterlist de lsdln

[idollete]

– 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞, 𝐤𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐲.   ⋆ ˚｡ 𖹭

𝑤arnings: conteúdo exclusivo para +18.

ೀ ׅ ۫ . ㅇ fran!fwb; college!au; menção honrosa ao esteban (e ele é canônico nessa história); do mesmo universo de ‘fran ♡ is typing…’ (não é uma continuação tho, eu só fiz uma rápida menção); pet play; palavras no diminutivo (tipo, muitas); uso de apelidinhos (‘gatinha’, ‘gordis’, ‘bebita’); penetração anal (gente sério tô muito fogosa); sexo desprotegido (PFVR NÃO FAÇAM EM NOME DA SANTINHA DAS FANFICAGENS); fingering; creampie; size kink (é bem implícito mas tá aí nas entrelinhas); rimming; muita saliva; oral (fem.); nipple play; uma lambidinha inocente no umbigo (hj eu tô freaky delulu insana me desculpem por isso); dirty talk; uma apalpada na bundinha do fran; uso de termos em espanhol (‘listo’ - pronto).

idollete’s typing… ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ. oiiiiiii foi aqui que pediram smut do fran romero? dinner is served mwah vcs foram dar palco pra minha loucura e saiu isso. pfvr não levem muito a sério o fato de eu estar escrevendo isso aki do nada hahahaha eu sei que disse que só ia escrever com outras pessoas hahahahaha mas é que me deu tesão e eu não resisti im literally just a girl ☝🏻😣🎀🕊️ also eu tô morrendo de vergonha das coisas que escrevi aqui hahahahahahahahahahahaha [ meme do coringa enlouquecendo ]. mas boa leitura eu espero que vcs gostem dessa palhaçada ♡

Nossa, ‘cê ainda tem isso aqui? Já saiu de moda séculos atrás…Fran já deveria ter repetido essa mesma frase mais de cinquenta vezes a essa altura do campeonato. Desde que ele decidiu fuxicar o pequeno guarda-roupa no dormitório que dividia com outras duas colegas, você havia perdido o resto que paz guardada para um final de semana entediante. 

Chamou o seu melhor amigo para ficar de bobeira contigo na esperança de tirar um término terrível da cabeça, um relacionamento de seis anos que acabou por uma baita injustiça do destino, seu namorado, agora ex, havia passado na prova do intercâmbio e você não. Você não tinha sorte mesmo. Sentia muita falta de Esteban, mas acreditava que uma tarde ao lado de Fran melhoraria o seu ânimo e repararia os danos ao seu coraçãozinho, o que se provou impossível, uma vez que tudo que ele havia feito até agora era criticar o seu armário e te colocar em uma deprê ainda mais. Quer dizer que agora você era uma sem-namorado e sem estilo também?!

– Mas é confortável! E custou dinheiro, Fran, ele não nasce do chão, sabia?! – Nervosa, você bufou, se jogando de qualquer jeito na cama, as esperanças de algo divertido acontecer naquela tarde minando a cada segundo que passava enfurnada no dormitório. – Será que dá ‘pra você parar de mexer…

– Dios mío! Qué es eso, gordis?! – Sua reclamação foi interrompida pela exclamação do argentino, a pergunta em um tom zombeteiro e surpreso. 

Você pensou em ignorar. Certamente ele só iria falar mal de algum vestido que você comprou e se arrependeu logo depois, mas a risada perversa que ecoou pelo quarto chamou a sua atenção. Colocando-se de bruços e apoiando o queixo nas mãos, você se virou a tempo de enxergar o garoto segurando dois objetos felpudos que te fizeram corar instantaneamente. 

– Francisco Romero! – Em segundos, você já estava voando em direção ao loiro, desesperada para esconder os seus adereços. – Me dá isso agora, nossa, me dá, cara. – Suas súplicas eram em vão, porque, se aproveitando da altura estatura e agindo feito um pirralho irritante, Fran ergueu os braços, fazendo com que os objetos pairassem no ar e muito longe das tuas mãos afoitas. 

Seu rosto queimava em vergonha, as bochechas ganhando um tom cada vez mais avermelhado enquanto encarava as palmas masculinas. Embora você e Fran fossem amigos de longa data e, vez ou outra, tivessem trocados uns beijinhos e outras coisinhas, sempre foi algo muito natural, até mesmo bobo, acontecia quando vocês estavam bêbados ou entediados demais, ao ponto de recorrerem um ao outro. Não era ruim, mas também não era sério o suficiente para que ele soubesse de todos os seus segredinhos sujos.

– Ay…Não acredito que você escondeu isso de mim o tempo inteiro. – O sorriso dele ia de orelha a orelha. – E que safada! Não sabia que você curtia esse tipo de coisa.

O Esteban gostava quando eu usava…Era mais fácil jogar a culpa em quem não estava presente para se defender, porque não era só o teu ex quem gostava da dinâmica. Você é quem a sugeriu, na verdade. Fran te conhecia muito bem, no entanto, mais do que você gostaria, porque ele não comprou o seu teatrinho, não se convenceu pelo jeito retraído, as palavras em um sussurro tímido. Não, ele sabia bem o tipo de garota que você era, mas não perdeu a oportunidade de alfinetar. Sempre soube que ele era um pervertido, aquela cara de nerd que tem medo de buceta nunca me enganou. 

Quando estava prestes a se deixar levar pelo comentário brincalhão, encontrando uma escapatória para mudar de assunto e tirar o foco de si, Francisco te surpreendeu ao ajeitar a tiara na sua cabeça, posicionando as orelhas felpudas e pontiagudas no meio dos seus fios. Ele te encarava de uma maneira difícil de descrever, era diferente, mais intensa. E você não podia negar que te intrigava, fazia com que você se sentisse desejada. Bonitinha. O elogio te amansou um pouco, o jeitinho que a voz dele se prolongava nas sílabas finais, cantarolando as palavras. 

– Gatinha, gatinha! – Provocativo, ele tentou te chamar, arrancar alguma reação de ti, mas você estava envergonhada e atônita demais para falar. – Não?! – Sonso, ele tombou a cabeça para o lado, rindo com uma falsa inocência. – Hmmm, já sei. – Fran parecia não dar a mínima para estar praticamente falando sozinho, se aproveitando do teu silêncio para enfeitar o seu pescoço com a gargantilha rosinha e delicada, um pingente de coração pendendo dela. – Listo. Agora sim, né? Gatinha, gatinha! – Ele realmente te tratava como se você fosse uma felina e aquilo poderia ser patético para qualquer pessoa que visse, mas fazia o pé da sua barriga revirar de uma forma preocupante. – No?! – Você sabia o que viria em seguida, parte de ti esperava por isso. – O que será que falta ‘pra você ser uma gatinha completa, hein? Acho que… – Observou pelo canto do olho quando ele levantou o plug delicadinho, a penugem branquinha com alguns detalhes rosados ficando entre os corpos. – Isso aqui, né?

– Fran… – Sua intenção era alertá-lo, pedir que parasse com a brincadeira sem graça, mas o apelido soou completamente carente dos seus lábios. – Para com isso…

– Não quer ficar de gatinha ‘pra mim? – O beiço formou um biquinho triste, a expressão caída, embora teatral. – Poxa, queria tanto ver…

O comportamento brincalhão contrastava com o olhar lascivo, incapaz de esconder a curiosidade em te montar e deixar bonitinha. Quando ele se aproximou mais de ti, você recuou. Assustada, a princípio, feito uma gatinha mesmo, mas relaxou com o toque familiar na sua cintura, te lembrando de que vocês já haviam feito isso outras vezes. Os lábios se encontraram em um selinho, suave no começo, carinhoso até, a destra te juntava ao corpo esguio, aprofundando o contato ao deslizar a língua para a sua boca.

Beijar Fran era sempre extasiante. Poderia facilmente ser o beijo mais gostoso que você já recebeu, era babadinho na medida certa, tinha o ritmo ideal e ele sabia muito bem o que fazer com a língua. O quarto era preenchido com o barulho estaladinho dos músculos se enroscando e pelos arfares que ambos soltavam. Sentiu quando o argentino soltou uma risadinha entre o ósculo, aumentando o aperto no seu corpinho, te guiando até a cama, fazendo seus joelhos cederem e te colocando deitada sobre o colchão macio. 

Suas pernas automaticamente se fecharam, expostas com aquela posição, a camisa larga revelando as coxas e a ausência de um short, vulnerável. Necessitada também. Era inegável o quanto a dinâmica mexia contigo, te obrigando se manter retesada, lutando contra o impulso de empurrar o quadril contra o nada só para encontrar um pouquinho de alívio, acalmar o pontinho que pulsava. Poderia culpar o término recente e a rotina corrida da faculdade, coisas que te colocavam em um celibato completamente involuntário…

Mas Fran tinha um papel nisso também, o jeito soturno que ele montou sobre ti, quase te encurralando, o toque delicado da pontinha dos dedos subindo pelas suas pernas, arrepiando ao sentir as unhas curtas arranhando a derme até alcançar a barra da camiseta, subindo o tecido, revelando a calcinha com uma estampa boba de corações, você sequer estava preparada para qualquer tipo de ação lá embaixo, não que ele se importasse com isso. Não se esconde de mim, não, ele pediu, pouco a pouco exibindo mais centímetros da sua pele, até te ter peladinha para ele, as roupas esquecidas em um canto qualquer do quarto pequeno.

A primeira coisa que Fran reparou foram os seus seios, os biquinhos duros chamavam a atenção do argentino e faziam a boca dele salivar, o olhar brilhar como quem acabou de ganhar um prêmio. As palmas grandes estavam te agarrando no segundo seguinte, ele brincava com os mamilos, beliscava de levinho, esfregava o polegar, espremia um peitinho no outro, tentava capturar um pouco dos dois de uma vez só, guloso. Sua pele queimava diante do toque masculino, ardiam quando os dentes eram pressionados na região sensível, se arrepiava por onde o rastro de saliva dele era deixado. 

Fran Romero era sujo e bagunceiro. Deixava o seu corpinho cheio de marcas, cheio de baba, brilhando de tesão para ele, fazia o seu melzinho escapar sem controle algum, melecando o cantinho das coxas. Fazia os estalos serem propositalmente mais altos que o normal, reverberando pelo cômodo e disputando com os seus chiados dengosos. Erguendo o tronco, você pode observar a cabeleira loura descendo pelo seu tronco, beijando, mordendo, lambendo, ia desde as costelas até o seu umbigo, onde enfiou a pontinha da língua, lambendo de um jeito completamente sugestivo, sorrindo cheio de malícia, arrancando de ti um gritinho esganiçado, indignada com o quão despudorado o seu amigo conseguia ser.

– Ay, perdón! É que você é tão gostosinha que eu quero te lamber em todo canto. – A justificativa não poderia ser pior e você, que estava pronta para xingá-lo, emudeceu ao sentir suas perninhas serem arreganhadas e um filete de saliva escorrer desde a buceta encharcada até a entradinha mais apertada, umedecendo o caminho. – Mas acho que aqui ‘cê gosta mais, né? Lembro até hoje de quando você sentou na minha cara pela primeira vez, ficou se esfregando em mim feito uma gatinha manhosa. – Os dedos em um ‘V’ abriram os seus lábios, deixando agora os seus dois buraquinhos expostos, os dois pulsando involuntariamente, sensíveis diante dos estímulos. – O cheirinho da sua bucetinha ficou no meu rosto pelo resto da noite, sabia? Docinha, docinha. 

Chegando bem pertinho de ti, o loiro inalou profundamente o seu aroma, fechando os olhos e soltando um arfar pesado, matando a saudade. O nome dele saiu dos seus lábios novamente, dessa vez com mais vontade, em um pedido para que ele acabasse com aquela tortura e te desse o que você tanto queria. Seu corpo inteiro estremeceu quando a língua ágil desceu desde o clitóris até o canalzinho estreito, fazendo com que você se agarrasse aos fios clarinhos quando Fran começou a - literalmente - te devorar com a boca. Sem pudor ou vergonha alguma, ele esfregava os lábios e toda a face contra o seu íntimo, não poupando na saliva e espalhando toda a lubrificação pela região. Os lábios finos envolviam o botãozinho sensível, mamando, sugando, usando os dentes para te provocar, às vezes descia, se afundava em ti, rodeava o interior com o músculo esponjoso. 

Da sua boca escapavam os murmúrios e frases mais desconexas, esquecendo-se da movimentação nos corredores do edifício universitário e da possibilidade de serem pegos no flagra a qualquer momento pela zeladora ou até mesmo pelas garotas que moravam contigo. Alucinadinha, você não conseguia pensar em mais nada enquanto Fran te comia com a língua, arrancando de ti um miado dengoso quando ele te tocou o cuzinho, babando o buraquinho para se enfiar ali também, te deixando preparadinha. 

Os olhos azulados só te deixavam quando eles eram fechados, quando o tesão tomava conta da cabeça do argentino e o fazia se deliciar no seu corpo, começando a esfregar o quadril contra o colchão, desesperado por um pouco de alívio também. Mas, no momento, Fran queria que fosse tudo sobre você, embora o pau estivesse pulsando freneticamente dentro da cueca. Por isso, te chupava com afinco, praticamente enfiando o rosto nas suas curvas, as mãos te mantinham parada, ou ao menos tentavam, apertando sua carne, espremendo os dígitos até eles deixarem marquinhas. 

Quando ele se afastou, a imagem não poderia ser mais indecente; os fios estavam desgrenhados, a pontinha do nariz brilhava, cheia do seu melzinho, assim como o queixo e os lábios, e um fio de saliva ainda o conectava ao seu corpo, te fazendo revirar os olhos em puro tesão. O indicador foi pressionado contra o seu rabinho, lentamente te alargando ali, enquanto os dedos da outra mão esfregavam o pontinho sensível, te fazendo derreter diante do toque, inquieta, rebolando em busca de mais.

– ‘Tá gostosinho assim, gatinha? – Fran questionou, apoiando o rosto na sua coxa, sem nem ligar para a meleira que ia toda para a bochecha dele. – ‘Tá sugando o meu dedo com esse rabinho guloso. Posso colocar outro, posso?

Sua resposta imediata o fez soltar uma risadinha soprada, empurrando mais um dígito para o seu interior, acumulando mais um pouquinho de saliva e cuspindo ali, facilitando a entrada deles. O punho se movia em uma lentidão torturante, o jeitinho que ele te olhava, meio carente também, fazia o seu corpo reagir com ainda mais intensidade, querendo sentir o toque dele em cada cantinho da sua pele. Você se tornava extremamente necessitada, lágrimas se acumulavam nos olhos, escorrendo pelo rostinho bonito, te fazendo fungar, carentinha, chega dava dó. 

Quando os dedos abandonaram o seu corpo, o seu olhar perdido automaticamente buscou pelo argentino, encontrando-o já de pé no meio do quarto e se livrando das roupas com pressa. Observou o físico magro, se demorando no caralho teso grossinho e rosinha claro na ponta, era médio, mas o suficiente para te fazer ver estrelas quando estava enfiado até o talo em ti. Abriu mais espaço para ele, controlando um sorrisinho sapeca ao admirar a mão envolvendo toda a extensão, bombeando rápido, apenas para se preparar. 

Com tanto tesão acumulado, você sabia que gozaria rápido. Por isso, estremeceu em antecipação no momento em que Fran usou mais saliva para espalhar na própria ereção, deixando babadinho para deslizar com facilidade em ti. Uma vez acomodado entre as suas pernas, ele te roubou um selinho demorado, rindo de modo descontraído, como em tudo que fazia, Fran parecia completamente à vontade e desinibido. Pincelando a cabecinha na sua entrada menor, um gemido arrastado escapou de ambos quando, de pouquinho em pouquinho, o pau começou a abrir caminho no seu interior. 

Sentia suas preguinhas alargarem ao redor do argentino, seus lábios entreabertos em um ‘O’, te dando uma expressão tolinha, como se todos os seus sentidos estivessem fora de ordem naquele momento. Com uma mão na sua cintura, Fran acariciou a derme, te distraindo da típica queimação, deixando vários beijinhos estalados pelo seu colo. Você fazia assim com o Esteban também? O questionamento infame fez um chorinho cheio da manha escapar de ti, a menção ao seu ex em um momento de intimidade com outra pessoa te deixando ainda mais sensível, fazia tudo parecer mais sujo.

– Ele não…Ele não botava a língua do jeitinho que ‘cê fez… – Você confessou, entorpecida pelo prazer, levando as próprias mãos aos peitinhos e brincando com os mamilos. 

– No lo puedo creer! – A exclamação veio cheia de surpresa, exagerada, mas a informação o fez aumentar a velocidade dos movimentos, socando com tudo no seu buraquinho apertado, te fazendo miar baixinho. – Que coisa mais feia, ele não mamava o seu cuzinho? – Quando você respondeu, toda carente, um ‘não’ choroso, o argentino juntou os lábios em um biquinho, sonso. – Aw, pobrecita…

Embora a expressão estivesse convertida em pena, o quadril de Fran não aparentava possuir nenhum pingo de dó do seu corpinho quando passou a meter em ti, a pontinha do pau alcançando o ponto que te fazia estremecer da cabeça aos pés, buscando desesperadamente pelos lábios do loiro novamente, em uma tentativa de abafar os seus gemidos que certamente já haviam denunciado para quem quisesse ouvir o que estava acontecendo dentro do dormitório. 

Frases incoerentes ecoavam de ambos, inebriados no prazer que davam um ao outro e envolvidos demais para se importarem com o barulho da cabeceira batendo contra a parede. Suas mãos percorriam as costas largas do argentino, deixando arranhões que marcariam toda a pele alva, indo desde a nuca até as nádegas, apertando a carne, empurrando ainda mais para perto de si, fazendo-o ir cada vez mais fundo e firme, certeiro nos movimentos. 

O seu orgasmo veio avassalador, arrancando da sua garganta um gritinho abafado por um beijo desengonçado e molhado, que cobriu também o gemido arrastado de Fran, levado ao seu limite ao sentir as suas paredes espremem o pau dele, com a boca grudada na tua, ele urrou quando a porra começou a vazar diretamente no seu rabinho apertado, te deixando molinha nos braços dele, a cabecinha vazia, tão desatenta que não se deu conta da movimentação alheia. Foi só quando sentiu o friozinho do metal te preenchendo que arregalou os olhos, desperta, dando de cara com um sorriso perverso estampado por toda a face delicada do loiro. 

‘Pra você guardar tudinho aqui, foi o que ele disse, enfiando o plug e descendo o olhar por todo o seu físico, brincando com a pontinha felpuda que agora te deixava uma gatinha por completo. Caindo ao teu lado, as palavras seguintes de Fran te fizeram soltar um grunhido irritadinho, embora todo o seu corpo tenha reagido positivamente. Quando você quiser brincar assim de novo é só me chamar, gatinha, eu te dou até leitinho quentinho, ó.

　　₊　⠀　⏖　　⠀⁺　　𐙚　　◌　⠀　✧ tag, you're it: servidas, senhoras?! @lunitt @bestgirlie @creads @daylighthts @jenniejjun @enzocoquette @pacifyherz @geniousbh @groupieaesthetic

[stuckwthem]

i'm so happy to know that you're also writing for the cast and i have a request for Francisco! (It's smut, i hope you don't mind)

could you write a scenario where he admires, contemplates, the marks and scratches that reader left on his body last night? like, he is almost obsessed with them and still admires the marks, hickeys and bites he also left on her. — and perhaps as a bonus; reader also ends up seeing what she did and becomes embarrassed, blushing.

love bruises | fran romero

summary: fran adores marking your body, so he knows you are all his. 1.5k. fluff/smutt.

tw: light smut

one thing was evident about fran since he had returned from filming: he had missed you. 

he had missed you, your smile, your scent that filled the room, your kisses, and above all, your body. you could feel it the night before, not only by the number of times he expressed his longing while tracing kisses down your chest, or how he murmured in your ear how hard it had been to be away from you, spreading sugary kisses across your temple, but also by the marks on your body.

there were small reddish marks, some adorned with a soft violet, all over your body. hickeys adorned your neck like a forbidden constellation, each one a silent declaration of his devotion.

you gently touched your marked skin, watching yourself in the reflection of the mirror, unable to contain the shy smile that grew on your lips as you were invaded by the memories of the night before. they were bruises accompanied by soft moans, declarations and desire, an intimate language that only the two of you shared.

you stood in front of the mirror, gazing at your naked body, letting yourself be wrapped up in the tranquillity of the morning. the sun's rays penetrating through the curtains caressed your skin, providing a comforting warmth. a surprised laugh escaped your lips when you noticed the teeth marks on your shoulder, forming a perfect bite. you tried to remember the moment you were marked, but the fog caused by too much wine the night before or the adrenaline of the moment made it difficult to recall.

fran's raspy laughter catches you off guard, and when you look back at your reflection in the mirror, there he is, sitting on the bed with the sheet wrapped around his waist, watching you with that peaceful, puffy sleepy face, completely adorable. his hair is a little mussed, a little from the events, a little from the pillow, and on his face there's a sly, passionate smile. 

"enjoying your work of art?" you joke, turning to him. the blond's gaze runs up and down your body and he seems pleased with the sight, proud.

fran crawls across the mattress to stand at the foot of the bed in front of you. silently, he stretches out his arms, pulling you close. his hands fit easily around the curve of your waist, as if you had been molded for the anatomy of his fingers, and he kisses just above another purplish mark, as if to soften it.

between the boy's legs, your hands wander along the nape of his neck until they reach his light, soft hair, and he tilts his head back, surrendering to the caress as your eyes meet, sparking with tenderness and complicity.

"a masterpiece, i rather say," he replies, his voice husky and sweet, resting his chin on the top of your chest gently, while your hands tangle in his hair. 

still sleepy, fran's fingers take the opportunity to gently trace your body, moving up from your waist to your back and then slowly down to your breasts, without malice, just pure, genuine appreciation. you sigh at your body's reaction when he circles with his index finger another mark, almost wine-colored, just below your areola, and suddenly, his finger gives way to his warm, attentive lips, which brush against the sensitive, abused skin of your right breast.

the sensation is delicious, invading your body in a wave of warmth and vulnerability, and quickly causing your breathing to become heavier as you concentrate on it, feeling the tip of fran's tongue draw small circles on your nipple. you gasp as your knees wobble and your fingers clamp down a little harder on his scalp, taking control away from you in a few seconds.

romero pulls you onto his lap effortlessly, and you let him massage your other breast while he sucks on the other, slowly with passion, delighting in the taste of your sweaty skin.

the sound of his lips detaching from your skin is almost disappointing, but it's quickly replaced by his voice, which echoes throughout the room, oozing affection and veneration, and you can almost taste the honey dripping from his words.

"i think this mark is my favorite," he declares, laying his face on your chest, allowing you to see every darker speck in his greenish orbs, which seemed clearer in the morning, but were now almost gone by the boy's dilated pupil. "i'd call it love bruises, if i may"

"you're the artist here, my love," you say in response, not stopping yourself from sliding your fingers down his smooth features, tracing the full length of his eyebrows to the tip of his perfectly drawn nose."call it what you want"

he spends some time like this, enjoying your touch, breathing softly against your skin, as if that moment would make up for all the others without you. soon, your longing lips meet his, which open easily to receive you, plunging you into another slow, lingering kiss. you can precisely feel the shape of his mouth every time it deepens, and it's something that fills your chest with a warm, ensnaring sensation, forming a fog in your mind that prevents you from thinking about anything other than francisco.

every movement is charged with a deep, burning emotion, creating a connection that transcends words. you feel overwhelmed by a wave of warmth and happiness, as if the whole world disappears around you, leaving only you and him, immersed in the moment.

when you finally separate, panting and starved for oxygen, fran has a flushed face and adorably swollen lips. he has an inexplicable aura about him that fills you with peace and comfort, and while you're together, it's as if you don't belong anywhere else. there is an atmosphere that surrounds you, reserved just for the two of you, impenetrable. you share devoted smiles and laugh with the intensity of the moment, recovering. 

suddenly, fran's gaze wanders behind your shoulder, and a provocative look takes over his angelic face. his hands tighten around your waist once more and his smile becomes almost mischievous as he returns his eyes from the reflection to your naked body beneath him, more precisely they fix on your waist and he seems obsessed, as if lost in amazement. the memory of your gasps, his name between your ragged breaths, of your body arching under his touch, sent a shiver of desire down fran's spine, and he couldn't help himself when his muscles tensed beneath you.

"what?" you frown, wanting to understand the boy's face, who leans forward to look at your back. 

quickly, you turn your face away, facing your reflection again, but this time, you lower your eyes to your waist where fran continues to press his fingers.

as they slide across your skin, they reveal ten perfect purplish blurs in the shape of the silhouette of the hands that seconds ago were squeezing you. you widen your eyes in surprise and laugh in exasperation when you realize what has happened.

"i don't think i was running away," you say with a dumbfounded smile and squinted eyes.

fran looks as surprised as you and laughs, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. 

"oh, i'm sorry," he mutters, laughing with a glimmer of guilt in his voice, not even he knew he was capable of it, but you didn't seem hurt or bothered, but he'd hate it if you felt that way.

deep down, a small flame of satisfaction flared up and grew, just knowing that you were his, only his, and your marks proved it.

in complete shock at the fervor of last night's events, you hardly know how to react, but you feel a surge of desire growing. it's an unfamiliar sensation that invades you when you take pleasure in knowing that your whole body is adorned with marks and bites, but it's good. it makes you feel belonging, proud.

lost in your stupor, you stroke fran's back, smoothing his soft, smooth skin until rough, prominent lines meet your fingertips, and you look down to understand them when you come across huge, repeated scratches. your mind processes quickly and you alternate your gaze between your fingernails and the boy's scarred back.

your heart beats faster as you understand what you see, a mixture of surprise and desire pulsing through your veins. suddenly, you feel ashamed of the intensity of your actions the night before, but at the same time, a wave of warmth spreads throughout your body as you realize that you have left your own mark on fran.

"wow, i... i didn't know i... did that," you mutter, feeling your cheeks heat up with the belated awareness of your actions. "sorry, i got a little...carried away last night."

fran feels the burning on his back as you slide your fingers over the scratches, but it's a pleasant burning. he closed his eyes, reliving the sensation, the intoxicating mixture of pain and pleasure that fueled his desires.

"it's all right, angel. we're even now," he replied with good humor and a small laugh, moving from the curve of your neck to look at you with the kindest possible gaze. his gaze explores your blushed cheeks, your eyes and everything about your face that he absolutely loves.

"besides," he continues, now with a mischievous glint in his eyes, "it's a kind of reminder that you're all mine."

thank you so much for your request!!! it was lovely to write <3

i would love to hear your opinions!! 💘

[sluttforromero]

missing you 🩰 ♡ ⁺‧₊˚🧸💌 🦢 fran romero

tw: smut, creampie e afins <3 não revisei, se achar algum erro mil perdões!!!

"por que saiu?" você ouviu a voz sonolenta de fran quando fechou a porta do guarda-roupas.

ele ainda estava do mesmo jeito que você havia deixado na cama, os braços ao redor do travesseiro e os cabelos bagunçados sobre o lençol. estava lindo. sempre estava.

"banho" você sorriu. "ao menos um de nós precisa estar limpo".

ele revirou os olhos e virou de costas enquanto você riu baixinho e rumou para dentro do banheiro.

era domingo à noite, o que significava que era o dia em que você tirava para fazer a manutenção do seu corpo, hidratava o cabelo, esfoliava a pele e literalmente se arrumava para dormir, porque depois de uma longa semana não havia nada melhor do que sentir o seu próprio perfume enquanto os lençóis pareciam seda sobre a sua pele. era o paraíso.

o banho demorou uns trinta minutos, somados aos quarenta que você passou escovando o cabelo e fazendo seu skin care, você viu fran com os olhos tranquilamente fechados quando retornou ao quarto.

o que te deixou um pouquinho desapontada, por que para finalizar o domingo e iniciar uma nova semana você precisava transar. e especificamente naquele dia você estava demasiadamente carente de fran.

depois de ponderar se iria realmente acordá-lo só porque estava com tesão, você desistiu, ainda era tímida demais para fazer esse tipo de coisa. você deitou na cama e puxou o braço de fran para cima do seu corpo, formando uma conchinha.

"você tá muito cheirosa" ele falou sonolento, te puxando para mais perto.

você apertou levemente a mão dele que estava entrelaçada com a sua quando ele enfiou o rosto na sua nuca. fazendo seus pelos se eriçarem a cada vez que o ar quente batia contra sua pele.

fran enfiou uma das pernas por entre a sua chegando ainda mais perto, nesse ponto, para quem visse a cena de fora era no mínimo confuso tentar distinguir onde um terminava e o outro começava. você não pode dizer que não tentou, os minutos se passaram e o tesão que você imaginou (quase torceu para) que fosse embora praticamente triplicou.

você precisava dele; e precisava agora.

um suspiro cansado escapou dos seus lábios quando você chamou o nome dele e ele não respondeu. seria um certo vacilo acordá-lo mas você faria valer a pena.

você segurou a mão de fran e a levou até de baixo da camisa que você usava, encaixando ela perfeitamente em um dos seus seios. em seguida você tornou a movimentar levemente o quadril contra o dele. não demorou para que esses movimentos sutis foram se convertendo em reboladas mais brutas e lentas.

o típico calor escaldante começou a se formar no seu ventre e sua mão pronta mente se movimentou até lá. você se agradeceu mentalmente por não ter vestido uma calcinha naquela noite. sua boceta estava pegajosa quando seu dedo começou a roçar de leve no clitóris, fazendo movimentos circulares. alguns minutos se passaram e quando estava prestes a gozar você parou quando ele apertou seu peito com força.

"você me acordou" a voz lenta de fran chegou a seu ouvido. ele estava tão perto que você podia sentir os lábios dele roçando contra o seu pescoço.

"desculpa" você falou um pouco envergonhada mas não o suficiente para tirar seus dedos do meio das pernas.

"você realmente não tem limites, não é?" o tom dele começou sério porém você sabia que era só pose. na verdade você conseguia sentir que ele queria aquilo tanto quanto você. dava pra dizer pela dureza que estava roçando na sua bunda.

"vamos fran, por favor" você pediu manhosa segurando a mão dele contra o seu peito, o fazendo te apertar com vontade. "não como se seu pau não estivesse duro feito uma pedra aqui embaixo..."

ele não pode evitar de sorrir. era novidade você dizer esse tipo de coisa.

"só porque você tá cheirosa demais pra deixar passar"

numa rapidez surpreendente ele já estava sem o shorts e você já tinha se livrado da camiseta.

você, como um gato manhoso, engatinhou até se sentar no colo de fran. a luz amarelada do abajur faziam os olhos dele, ainda semi cerrados, ficarem num tom de verde água que prendeu sua atenção por longos segundos.

"anda, se mexe, você não me acordou á toa" ele disse e você piscou algumas vezes voltando a si.

"você fala demais"

o beijo de vocês era úmido e pegajoso, daquele tipo que faz um barulho molhado sempre que os lábios se tocavam. ele suspirou contra sua boca no momento que seus dedos serpentearam até tocar-lhe o pau.

estava duro, as veias estavam mais pretupebrantes que o normal, o que te deixou satisfeita e sorrindo entre um beijo e outro. a sua mão o segurava firme, subindo e descendo mas de forma lenta. tortuosamente lenta. fran, que já estava ofegante e ansioso não demorou para mover o quadril para cima, tentando ter o máximo de contato com a sua mão mas você forçou seu corpo contra as coxas dele, o fazendo parar.

"sempre tão ansioso. nunca deixa eu brincar do meu jeito" você sussurrou no ouvido dele, que por sua vez te xingou baixo, te fazendo rir em resposta.

você até iria provocar mais um pouco caso não estivesse tão ansiosa e excitada quanto ele. você inclinou-se um pouco, só o suficiente para agarrar o membro duro e esfregá-lo contra seu clitóris, entre os lábios e até ameaçando enfiá-lo algumas vezes mas sem o fazer de fato.

você fechou os olhos e tombou a cabeça para trás, esfregando-se contra ele mais rápido, e fran, mesmo oscilando entre a linha tênue da realidade e fantasia, notou que só você estava se divertindo, então ele agiu.

você sentiu os longos dedos ossudos dele na sua mão, te fazendo abrir os olhos, e então você não conseguiu evitar sorrir da insatisfação estampada na cara de dele.

"se for sentar, senta logo." exigiu.

era justo, você já estava encharcada. podia literalmente sentir sua boceta molhada pulsar. Então, finalmente, fez a vontade dele. com uma certa pressa você fez o pau duro deslizar para dentro de você, e nossa, mesmo que não fosse a primeira vez que ele se alojava dentro das suas paredes molhadas, a sensação de euforia era como se fosse.

você rebolou um pouco, se ajustando e recuperando o fôlego antes de de fato começar a cavalgar feito uma verdadeira cowgirl.

você gemeu alto contra o pescoço dele quando sentiu o primeiro tapa na sua bunda. ele falava as maiores atrocidades no seu ouvido enquanto te ajudava a subir e descer com uma maestria que só você tinha. não demorou muito pra que você gozasse, não uma mas algumas vezes. podia sentir os líquidos escorrendo para fora da sua boceta calejada.

"fica" você sussurrou com dificuldade quanto ele tentou sair de dentro de você.

"mas você já gozou, não te incomoda?"

"tá me perguntado se ter so seu pau dentro de mim me incomoda?" vocês riram e ele beijou sua testa.

"não que eu esteja reclamando, jamais, mas de onde isso tudo veio, colocaram algum tipo de viagra feminino na sua bebida?" fran riu baixinho.

"eu só estava sentindo a sua falta"

escrevendo essa putaria toda como se eu nao tivesse visto aquela foto no instagram

[punkiebuttons]

Y/N: (Applying to be the batboys nanny) I come from the bad parts of Gotham. There’s nothing these kids could throw at me that I haven’t seen before.

Y/N: Except maybe their trust funds

Bruce: ….

Damian (Bursting into the room):Father! It’s your worst nightmare!

Tim: Oh would you stop announcing yourself when you enter a room.

Damian (glares at Tim then proceeds to commit attempted murder)

Bruce: Fortunately the Wayne men age gracefully

Jason: Well you’ve always been a rebel

Jason: Oh poor Damian! I can’t imagine what it feels like being despised by so many people

Damian: Oh come on, don’t be modest

[mercurycft]

𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐒 — 𝐋𝐁

## lucy bronze x reader!

Hello everyone! I’ve been working on this idea for a little while.. its definitely not my best work but i really liked writing this! Enjoy! Love always- RG! x

part 1 of 2! read part two here 2,603 words - this part is mostly build-up!

MATURE CONTENT & LANGUAGE WARNING 18+

The final stretch of the last training session before a break was always the worst, ending with all the girls heaving and sweaty as they piled back into the team changing room. It was Friday, and plans for the evening were already being finalised by the time you entered the room and made your way to your usual spot. Tucked away into the corner, happy to sit down and take off your boots before you heard your name hollered from within the fuss of conversation.

"Oi! Y/L/N, drinks at 8. You get no input or choice..." The voice belonged to Mary and was followed by a hound of laughs from around the room. Drinks were never your go-to, much preferring a takeaway and crap tv in the comfort of your own home. The girls knew this, so instead of asking - they would tell. You knew better than to fight it, laughing with them and nodding before throwing the group a sarcastic double thumbs-up as you placed your boots into your kit bag.

"I'll be there, Pre-drinks at Tooney's I'm guessing?" That was always the plan, meet at Ella's and either walk or get an Uber to wherever the group had decided to spend the remainder of the night. Your question was met with a couple 'obviously's and 'you know it's from the girls, who had now dispersed around the room and started packing their belongings away. You were packed up first, as per usual, and were sat chatting as everyone finished changing. Once everyone had grabbed what they needed and conversations were stalling to a halt, everyone made their collective way through the hall and out towards the front of the building. You, Ella and Alessia led the way, arms linked and phones in hand, already discussing the 'dress code' for the evening.

By the time you had finally made it home, battling through the usual city traffic it was nearing 4pm and all plans for an unrushed evening of preparing were out the window - so after dumping your bag in the kitchen you headed straight for the shower.

_________

The next two hours were spent rushing around your bedroom and flat, drying and styling your hair before applying your usual 'going out' makeup. Next came the clothes and after 6 failed attempts at outfits you had created in your head and two stressed glasses of whatever wine you had in the fridge, you settled on wide-leg jeans and a strapless bodysuit paired with a pair of comfy heels which gave you an extra couple of inches. After packing the essentials into the ridiculously small-seeming bag you had chosen and grabbing a jacket, you were finally ready to head out the door.

The journey to Ella's house wasn't long, 10 minutes at most, and the weather was in your favour - the sun starting to set and a gentle chill creeping through your clothes just as you had arrived at her front door. Holding a bottle of cheap wine close to your side, you rang the bell and waited, soon to be greeted by Alessia and ushered inside - music was already blaring from the kitchen where a few of the girls loitered. Ella grabbed the bottle from your grasp, pouring you a generous glass and placing the remainder into her fridge. "You look fit, mate!" She exclaimed as she turned back to you and passed your drink.

"Oh stop it, look at you Tooney." You said, holding your hand out towards her and feigning a dramatic gasp, you both fell into a burst of soft laughter and moved to join the rest of the group. You said your hello's, exchanging genuine compliments and stationed yourself by the sink, bringing the glass to your lips as the doorbell chimed through the house.

"Fucking hell, Luce! Didn't want to leave the rest of us a chance to pull then?" Ella squealed exasperatedly, throwing her hands up in fake annoyance and stomping back into the kitchen. You straightened up at the mention of the older right-back, taking another sip of your drink as she emerged into the room and said her hello's.

By the time she made it to you, you were sure you could draw her from memory. Watching her closely as she worked her way across the room - you noticed how the white shirt she wore was clinging to her arms and chest in all the right places, tucked neatly into a pair of slack-like trousers which sat loosely around her ankles to reveal a pair of crisp airforce. Before you could react she was in front of you, pulling you in with a gentle hand on the back and a warm smile, giving you a friendly cheek-to-cheek kiss and hug then pulling away and moving back into the centre of the room and retrieving her own drink.

She looked good and she was well aware, which made it so much harder to look away. Having to try your hardest to remind yourself of where you are and who she was. Her glasses sat on the bridge of her nose, with her hair pulled back into her usual bun. You had always found her attractive - how could you not? She looked as if she had been carved by the Gods themselves, with smooth olive skin and muscles that put everyone else to shame.

You had always gotten along well, laughing and joking across the pitch during training. Sometimes meeting her eyes for a moment too long during conversations or humouring the lingering touches when you brushed past each other in social settings. Though nothing had ever come of it, that didn't mean you didn't enjoy the warmth of her hands on the small of your back or the way you seemed to fall into her eyes and stumble on your words when she would catch you off guard and today was no exception. You couldn't help but watch her as she worked the room, engaging in conversations.

When the last of the girls had arrived, the house was buzzing with the type of giddy excitement only alcohol could provide - everyone was a few drinks down now and it wasn't long before you were sat in a taxi heading into town.

_________

10pm rolled around and the drinks were flowing, empty glasses scattered across the table which a few of the girls sat around. Some were stood at the bar, ordering the next round and a few more occupied a section of the dancefloor. You, however, found yourself perched on a bar stool with a drink in hand, ear forward as Lucy told you a story about one of her former teammates. Trying your hardest to pay attention, but too focused on how close together you were.

You could feel her breath on your ear as she tried to speak over the music that rattled through the room. Her hand was placed just above your knee for leverage as she leaned over you and it was all you could think about. The smell of her perfume flooded your senses, disorientating the logical side of your brain which tried to scream through the cloud of subtle arousal that sat heavy behind your eyes. 'This is so unprofessional!' you were aware and you knew deep down this could ruin you - but the sweet smell of her skin was intoxicating.

Your train of thought was interrupted as your eyes refocused, grounding you back into the moment. Realising she now stood away from your ear, instead looking at you with raised eyebrows and a slight smirk across her lips. shit. caught red-handed. You stiffened when she leaned back towards your ear, "Am I boring you Y/L/N? Did you even hear what I said?" You hadn't. but she wasn't asking, she was taunting.

She watched you struggle for an answer, pure amusement plastered across her face. Putting you out of your misery she leant back in, this time pushing you further into your pit. Lips pressed cautiously against your lobe, "Strike one, darlin'." She muttered and you were sure you could feel her smirk against your ear before she departed entirely and you lost her in the crowd of bodies around you. strikes? what strikes? You wondered silently to yourself, bringing your drink to your lips as your eyes scanned the dark room but she was already gone.

_________

An hour later you found yourself on the dancefloor surrounded by your friends, who were all individually butchering an Amy Winehouse classic. As the song wrapped up to an end, you were pulled into a loose group hug - maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was just the love you felt in that moment, but you couldn't explain the warmth that coursed through your veins as you looked at your people.

Before long a new song began, a low beat bounced off the walls and wrapped around the bodies on the floor. You didn't know the song but remained with the girls, swaying to the beat and laughing at some of their horrific dance moves. As the song hit the chorus you and Mary gravitated towards each other, dancing and laughing as you stood in front of her and attempted an awful twerk and grind move to the beat with her hands placed firmly on your hips. Both of you played into your roles, spilling your drinks as you did so and adding to the already sticky floor.

It wasn't unusual for the team to dance like this and it was very rarely serious when one of you was pressed back up against another, but today it felt different. One specific set of deep eyes stayed locked on your movements as Lucy watched from the opposite side of the group, tongue rolling along the inside of her teeth when you finally made eye contact from your compromising position. Through the darkness you could see her lips moving; she was talking - or at least mouthing something towards you. You couldn't connect the dots until she lifted her hand in front of her, showing you two fingers. "Two strikes."

What would happen at three? And why were you excited to find out?

_________

It was nearing 11 now and you stood at the bar, almost too close to a woman you had just met - sipping the fruity drink she had ordered you. Normally you would think twice about talking to someone at a bar, but tonight’s circumstances made it a thrilling game and you couldn’t wait to play. You knew she was watching, feeling her eyes bore into the back of your head but paying little attention while you focused on the task at hand. Lucy was standing a few feet behind you, between Ella and Leah who were trying to talk over the music. Lucy wasn’t interested though, her attention fixed on you and your new friend. Gripping her drink so tight she was sure it might shatter as she watched you lift a sly hand up and rest it on the stranger's shoulder. Lucy couldn’t pinpoint the feeling, internally confused at the sudden jealousy that burned deep in the pits of her stomach. Just as you were starting to think she had lost interest, a body was pressed to the side of you, pushing a wedge between yourself and the woman whose name you couldn’t even remember.

The game was no longer fun when Lucy ushered you around the room to say your goodbyes, excusing you both from the function. A few of the girls started to protest but she was quick to respond with “Y/N’s not feeling 100%, said I’d make sure she got home okay.” And that was enough for them. She held you close as you walked out into the street, whispering a small but steady “Third and final.” as she pulled you into a waiting taxi.

_________

The pair of you didn't even make it through the front door before she pounced, your key still in the lock when she had you pinned between her frame and the door. Her hands sat heavy on your hips, eyes locked on yours. "God, you've been drivin' me mental all night.." she groaned, scanning your features.

"Do something about it then," You pushed. This was new but unbelievably exciting, you had never seen her like this. Before you could speak again her lips were on yours. Rough and urgent, like she was scared someone would rip you right out of her grip. "Inside," You managed to mumble against her lips, unlocking the door and pulling her inside - not wasting any more time to attach your lips together again.

This time was different, a rage of hunger alight in the depths of your stomach. Your hands sat on the nape of her neck, lacing through the small amount of hair that had fallen from her bun throughout the night. Her hands couldn't settle, exploring your figure and fisting at the fabric that separated skin from skin. Somehow during this you had travelled through the hall and were now fighting through your bedroom door, shoes and jackets kicked off and discarded around the flat - highlighting your erratic path.

Once inside the safety of your bedroom, things seemed to slow. The initial hunger and speed now dimmed into lust. Yearning. She pressed rough but calculated kisses down your jaw, lingering below your ear for a moment before moving across your collarbones. The feeling made you shudder, holding her head in your hands.

She had you stripped in minutes, now pulled tightly against her in your underwear. "Jesus Christ Y/L/N are you trying to kill me here?" She murmured, thumb caressing the lace across your chest, tracing the shapes for a second before her eyes met yours. A moment passed and you were growing impatient, inhaling deeply when the pad of her thumb found your nipple through the thin fabric and circled gently. You could tell she was enjoying this, watching you shift your weight from side to side as she slowly broke you down.

"On the bed." You were quick to obey, laying down in front of her - on display. She made her way towards you, situating herself above you and lifting your legs to bend and sit beside her hips. She kissed you deeply, hands latched onto your thighs. The world seemed to melt away around you and all you could think about was the throbbing between your legs.

"Need you," You managed to croak out, hands pulling at the fabric of her trousers - desperate for some form of friction. She let out a cocky scoff from above you.

"I'm not sure you deserve it, love. Haven't been behaving, have you?" She spoke rhetorically, tutting and raising her hand to toy with your bottom lip. "And only good girls get rewarded.." She added lowly as her hand travelled down from your face, tugging at your bra and moving to take your nipple into her mouth. You let out a small moan when you felt the warmth of her mouth on you, legs constricting around her and your back arching into her touch.

You writhed beneath her as she moved between left and right, her hand now finding its way to your underwear. She had two fingers pressed against your clit through the fabric, letting out a soft hum against you when she felt your arousal through the barrier. "Got you all wet for me, hm?"

"Please," You whimpered, lifting your hips up towards her hand. Desperate for some relief for the ache, eyes glassed over with desire.

"Begging for it already and I'm only just getting started. What a shame.."

[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.

[valleyfae]

thinking about mean!stepbrother bucky manhandling you until your shivering under his touch 🎀☹️

Some visuals because he is just so (I haven't really been able to get myself to answer asks and stuff, so I'm sorry) dialogue masterlist

Bucky’s demeanor morphs into an increasingly angered grimace, subconsciously provoking his pent-up agitation with your sheepish sniffles and frail writhes.

Slap.

Bucky strikes across your cheek as a disgruntled snarl slips past his lips, terminating your pleading cries and leaving you frozen in fright.

"Please... B-Bucky, please."

Despite Bucky's unsatisfied scowl, his eyes have a dark glimmer shining down on you, cocky and smug. He tenderly strokes your quivering bottom lip with the hand he slapped you with. Your once struggling limbs are now back to being indefinitely fragile and docile. You have gone entirely lax — fearfully pliant and resistless.

Your head too fuzzy to comprehend Bucky guiding your shaking hand to the jutting bulge straining against his pants. “You see what you’ve done to me? Fucking hell...” Bucky groans, freeing your wrist.

The clanking of his belt buckle startles you out of your rigid panic. You open your mouth only to let out a pitiful cower from where you are caged under his towering frame.

Bucky spits, “Dumb little girl.”

Unzipping his jeans and fluidly pulling his belt out from the loops, Bucky smiles when you flinch at the sound of the metal buckle hitting the hardwood floor.

“Poor thing,” Bucky mocks. “Now be a good girl and listen to your fucking stepbrother.

[xexyromero]

Xexy, eu te imploro, faz um headcanon dos meninos como pai de menina 🙏🙏

wn: talvez eu morra

meninos do cast x pai de menina

fem!reader headcanon

tw: muito fofo cuidado

enzo:

primeira coisa que fez quando descobriu que ia ser pai foi colocar aquelas cadeirinhas de bebê na traseira da bike. quando descobriu que era menina, colocou uns adesivos de girl power e you go girl.

inclusive, é super contra essa coisa estereotipada de menina rosa com bonecas e exigiu que o enxoval fosse bem neutro, com bichinhos, e procurou uma educação mais livre.

é pai estilo montesori com o quarto todo adaptado.

faz de tudo pra ser o pai mais presente do mundo, mas, como o trabalho exige que ele viaje muito e fique um pouco ausente, deixa mimos e presentinhos escondidos pela casa antes de ir - pra filha ir achando um todo dia, se fazendo presente.

gosta de assistir filme e desenho com a neném, mas prefere atividades ao ar livre. isso não impede que ele saiba todos os nomes dos amigos da hello kitty. ou saber recitar todo o pequena seria de trás pra frente só pra ver a filha sorrir.

agustín:

é o maior bobo de todos os tempos: guarda cada coisinha que a filha o presenteia, inclusive flores secas e desenhos indecifráveis.

chora na apresentação de dia dos pais da escola com o sorriso mais bobo do mundo. todo ano. e vai chorar quando for mostrar o vídeo da apresentação pra outras pessoas.

tem uma tatuagem com a inicial da neném, tamanho do pezinho e da primeira vez que ela escreveu te amo pra ele.

apesar de ter sim um caminho mais estereotipado, com bonecas e lacinhos e vestidinhos, ele apoia muito a liberdade da filha e deixa ela sempre à vontade pra se expressar como quiser.

é daqueles pais que dá muito apoio a tudo que a filha se propõe a fazer: vai levar pras aulas de dança, de skate, de bateria, de piano, de qualquer coisa. e vai achar ela a melhor da turma, sempre.

fran:

é o pai mais carinhoso do mundo - se não está abraçando a menina, está com ela no braço. enche de beijinho, abraço, eu te amos e você é linda.

gosta de fazer penteados até na época que o cabelo é super duper ralinho.

inclusive, é daqueles que compra roupas fashion pra bebê e criança. a menina é um luxo, anda sempre o mais atualizada e antenada com as tendências possíveis. param a rua. ainda mais quando eles resolvem sair combinando.

convidado número um e vip dos chás da tarde e brincadeiras de boneca. e ele entra na brincadeira mesmo, viu? cria personagem com história e tudo.

adora fazer a hora da dança.

matías:

quase caiu pra trás quando descobriu que ia ser pai? sim. mas assumiu desde o primeiro momento e chorou um pouquinho quando descobriu que ia ser menina.

tem a mesma idade mental da filha, então se dão super bem.

isso significa que ele também birra quando ela desobedece ou faz algo que ele não gosta. é muito engraçado.

deixa ela rabiscar ele todinho, encher de adesivo, cortar cabelo com tesoura e maquiar ele com aquelas maquiagens de criança. os dois adoram.

bebê quer? papai dá. faz todas as vontades e todos os quereres. mas tenta explicar que faz porque quer e pode, porque ela é uma menina educada ou porque fez algo de bom. ele mima, mas tenta evitar que ela se torne mimada.

kuku:

é aquele estilo de pai que, caso a filha comente que gosta de maçã, aparece no dia seguinte com 20 maçãs de baixo do braço com a maior naturalidade possível.

é apaixonado pela filha. cheio de fotos dela no celular, na geladeira, em porta retratos. mostra inclusive pra estranhos quando tem oportunidade.

primeiro da fila de todas as apresentações que ela resolva fazer na vida. e o primeiro a aplaudir de pé.

são super grudadinhos e ela sempre corre pros braços dele quando se sente mal, doente ou ameaçada. é um grude só.

adoram assistir filme juntos e toda sexta-feira é dia de cinema em casa.

pipe:

pai de menina daqueles que sai na rua usando blusa escrito pai de menina com a menina em questão nos braços.

leu e releu oitenta vezes vários livros sobre os cuidados e particularidades de ser pai de menina.

inclusive, sabia mais sobre menstruação que a própria mãe no sentido técnico da coisa.

chora se ela se machuca ou se é machucada. é horrível quando ela tem que fazer exame porque pipe não se aguenta de tanto chorar, atrapalhando todo mundo no processo.

fez uma mini cozinha pra ele e sua mini querida cozinharem omeletes e pratos simples juntos. deixa ela ter a maior autonomia possível.

[midgardian-witch]

From the prompt list: “Because every time I see you, all I can think about is kissing you and I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about that.” with Steven Grant please.

Since I already did this prompt with Jake I decided to approach this a little differently. And it turned out much longer than I had planned. I still hope you'll like it, anon 💙

Stupid Sexy Steven

tags: friends to lovers | kissing | cursing | Steven being effortlessly adorable and sexy | gn!reader

ships: Steven Grant/Reader

AO3

Edit: added AO3 link

“Because every time I see you, all I can think about is kissing you and I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about that.”

You've been avoiding Steven. It's not the bravest thing to do and you're not exactly proud of it but you don't know what else to do. 

You need the space to figure out how to deal with your emotions. It's not an everyday thing you realize you're in love with your best friend. So avoiding it is. 

You know you'll have to say something at some point, you just didn't know how to say it. It's like your brain just shuts off when you look at him nowadays. He's just so genuinely kind and loving, and that goofy little grin he makes when he gets excited, and the way his brows furrow when he focuses on something-

Focus. Don't get distracted. 

So yeah, you get a little silly around him since you figured out that you have a crush on him. It happens. But also you don't want to make a total fool of yourself so some distance was in order. 

You just didn't account for Steven to just not let that happen. 

It's your day off when the inevitable happens. You were just getting ready to catch up on a TV show you had on your watchlist for a while when your doorbell rings. You get up, confused because you didn't expect any visitor or delivery, and walk over to your door. You open it to find the one man you didn’t plan on seeing. 

Steven smiles at you, standing there in your doorway like an excited puppy. 

"Hello! I hope I'm not disturbing you but we haven't seen eachother in a while and I wanted to check up on you."

Curse him and his puppy dog eyes. How could you turn him away like this? 

You clear your throat awkwardly and step aside to let him in. 

"Hi Steven. Yeah it's been a while. I didn't want to worry you."

He steps inside and you lead him into your living room. 

"You've been busy then, yeah?", he sits down in front of your TV and you join him, "I mean you didn't answer my calls or texts either so I thought maybe you weren't feeling well."

It's only now that you see the little container he's holding. Your heart squeezes in your chest. 

He got you soup because he thought you were sick. 

And all the while you had muted him in your contacts so you wouldn't be tempted. You were the worst human being on the planet. 

You take the offered soup, thanking him profusely. Quickly you carry it into your kitchen and return with some water for Steven. 

"You really didn't have to do this. See, I'm fine."

You smile at him as you place his water on the table. Steven returns your smile before his face turns thoughtful. 

Fuck, he looked so pretty even like this. His mouth twists into this little pout and you are once again wondering what it would feel like to press your lips against his, what sounds he would make as you lean in to kiss him, how he-

"-so it was either that or you were avoiding me."

You didn't even notice Steven was talking again. Curse Steven and his stupid, kissable mouth. 

"I- well…", you stammer. You couldn't lie to his face, you had to say the truth. "I was kind of avoiding you."

You regret it immediately. Steven looks at you like a kicked puppy. "Why?", he asks and just with that one word your heart breaks for him. 

It's too much, the guilt and the still lingering thoughts of Steven's lips on yours destroyed any brain-to-mouth filter you've ever had. 

“Because every time I see you, all I can think about is kissing you and I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about that.”

You slap your hand over your mouth, a desperate attempt to stop the words that have already left your lips. Steven stares at you, mouth agape and cheeks flushing. He starts stuttering and you can’t really make out what he's saying. 

"I'm so sorry. I didn't want to just dump this on you. I swear I had a plan and everything.", you groan, annoyed at yourself and hide your face behind your hands. 

Cautiously, softly, Steven asks: "Do you really want to kiss me?" 

He sounds like he doesn't believe it, that you couldn't possibly want that. And that could not stand. 

You take your hands off of your face and look directly into his eyes. 

"Steven Grant, I have been thinking about nothing else for the past weeks than how badly I want to kiss you. So believe me when I say that yes, I really really want to kiss you."

The noise that leaves Steven's mouth is the sweetest sound you've ever heard, something between a whine and a moan. You can't believe that he doesn't know what an effect he has on people. But you're happy to show him. 

"Would you- Do you want to- now?", he stumbles over his words, nerves overtaking him as he looks at you with such need in his eyes it almost leaves you breathless. 

Not a moment later you are on him, lips locked with his in a desperate first kiss. You swear you can see fireworks behind your eyelids as your lips connect. Steven whimpers into your mouth and his trembling hands hold onto you for support. In your rush you push Steven into the couch, all but laying on top of him as the two of you kiss to your heart's content. 

You force yourself to break apart from him with a gasp, forcing as much air into your lungs as possible. Steven looks up at you with dreamy eyes and a far away look, his face even more red than before. 

"Could we- Can you do that again?", he all but begs and with a laugh you nod. 

"Yes, Steven. As much as you want, whenever you want."

Immediately he pulls you back on top of him and seals your lips together again in another heedy kiss.