loved your most recent work, especially because the dinner one was very submissive😭 and you asked so I shall deliver: I was thinking trying to get some alone time to get freaky with Franco while on break with his family around. You know how he has been caught shirtless multiple times already😭 or maybe slow mornings with him and teasing him
back in his hometown
FC43 🏎️. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . franco colapinto (smut)
f1 masterlist
pairing franco colapinto x gf! reader
summary its your first time in his hometown, and God, you love it here
notes tysm for this amazing plot bcs i rlly want to write one based on those many pic of him in argentina but i dont have the plot yet. so this one for you anon hope u enjoy <3
It’s finally the F1 off-season, and for the first time, Franco is taking you to his hometown to meet his family. You’ve met his parents at the GP before, but actually coming to their house? That’s different. Especially after such a long journey.
Nervous? Very.
But Franco keeps reassuring you, telling you his parents already love you. You’re an overthinker, especially about how others see you, and coming here means meeting not just his parents, but his entire family.
Franco has a big family. He talks about them all the time, about how much he loves them. So you do your best to make a good impression. You bring gifts—so many gifts—for everyone.
“Amor, I don’t think all of this is gonna fit in the suitcase…” He looks at the neatly wrapped presents piled up beside you.
“It’ll fit. Just let me arrange it,” you say, fully committed.
The day finally comes. After a long flight, you arrive in Buenos Aires. The sun is blazing, and thankfully, you packed summer clothes.
While waiting for your ride, Franco handles all the luggage. Traveling with him means you don’t have to worry about anything, he’s always prepared. Like now, holding a portable fan up to you when he notices you sweating, not used to the heat yet.
“Thank you, mi amor, mi vida, mi corazón,” you smile, pressing a kiss to his cheek. He lets out a small giggle.
When you finally arrive at his house, you’re met with the warmest welcome imaginable. There are so many family members you lose count. It’s been almost a year since Franco’s been home, so of course they miss him, but they’re all incredibly kind to you too. They ask you endless questions, and you happily answer every one.
Not everyone here speaks English, and your Spanish isn’t really great, but Franco is always there, translating. Eventually, he feels comfortable enough to leave you alone with them. A few hours later, you find yourself in the kitchen with some of his relatives, chatting about everything—mostly about your relationship with him—while Franco is outside helping prepare the barbecue.
You try to help, but the aunties won’t let you lift a finger.
“No, no, hermosa, sentate acá tranquila y mirá.” they say, laughing.
(“You’re too pretty to be doing this,”)
Eventually, they let you cut fruit, nothing more.
“How is Franco with you?” his mom asks. “Is he nice? Does he cook for you?”
You laugh softly. “He’s very kind. He cooks, cleans, takes care of everything. It’s all thanks to you for raising him to be such a gentleman.”
Your smile is sincere. Her eyes sparkle, like she’s holding back tears.
“Thank you for taking care of him when I couldn’t,” she says quietly. “It’s hard, being so far from your child as they grow. But he talks about you so much. I know he’s not alone anymore. You’re a good girl. I can see that. Especially now.”
You think about her words a lot. Being here makes you so happy and content. You feel accepted, embraced in a way you’ve been longing for your whole life. You excuse yourself to the bathroom, crying. It all feels unreal.
When you step back into the hallway, you nearly bump into Franco. He’s smiling, until he notices your red nose.
“Amor, are you crying? What happened? Did someone say something?” He panics, pulling you into his arms.
“No,” you shake your head, eyes glossy. “I just… really love it here. Your family is so nice. I feel so loved.”
“Oh, amor…” He strokes your hair, kisses the top of your head. “You don’t know how easy it is to love you.”
He uses his shirt to dry your tears. “Now stop crying. Let’s eat!”
You spend the next few days exploring the neighborhood with Franco and his family. Everyone knows him, he’s like a local hero here. People stop him for photos and autographs, and you can’t help but feel proud. He deserves every bit of it.
One thing you learn quickly, Franco never wears his shirt here. Ever. You can’t even blame him, the heat is brutal, but still, he can't keep getting away with that!
He’s running around the neighborhood shirtless now. You wait for him on the porch, iced drinks and small treats already prepared. When he finally comes back home, he’s drenched in sweat—and God, his body speaks to you in ways it really shouldn’t.
Franco takes the cold water from your hand and drinks it greedily. You swallow, your mind drifting to all the things you could do with him. The angel in you reminds you that you’re in his family’s house, that it wouldn’t be wise to even think about it. But the devil whispers otherwise. "It’s kind of exciting, isn’t it?"
“Amor?” Franco snaps you out of it. “You okay? You seem distracted.”
“Uh, yeah. Let’s take a shower. I’m hot,” you blurt out, standing up quickly and leaving him confused.
In his childhood bedroom, you stand under the AC, trying to cool down, while Franco just flops onto the bed.
“Franco! You’re gonna sweat the bed. Shower first!”
Franco pouts, sitting on the edge of the bed. He suddenly pulls you into his arms. “Now we’re both sweaty!”
“Franco Colapinto!” You try to wriggle free, but of course he’s stronger than you.
He steals a quick peck from your lips. “Let’s shower together, amor.”
“Franco? No! Are you insane? Your family is downstairs!” You protest, before finally giving up and letting him hold you.
“What’s wrong with that? We’re just taking a shower, aren’t we?” he says innocently, far too innocently. “Unless, you can’t keep your hands to yourself.”
Oh, he knows exactly what he’s doing. You narrow your eyes. “I think you’re the one who can’t control himself here, sir.”
He tilts his head, that smug smile already forming. “Well then… let’s prove it, shall we?”
You both head to the shower inside his bedroom. Franco strips out of his boxers and steps under the water first, glancing back at you with a tilted head.
“Come on,” he smirks. “Or are you changing your mind now?”
You hesitate, then slowly slip out of your sundress, letting it fall to the floor along with everything underneath. You can feel Franco’s eyes glued to you the entire time. Finally, you step into the shower with him. He turns on the cold water, letting it cascade over your body, stealing the breath from your lungs.
“Come here. I’ll wash your hair,” Franco says, pulling you closer.
You hold your breath as your back meets his chest. He pours shampoo into his palm and works it into your hair, fingers massaging your scalp with practiced ease. Then his hands move to your back, spreading soap over your skin. His touch lingers before sliding forward, squeezing your chest just enough to make a soft sound slip past your lips.
He laughs, low and teasing.
You hate how fuzzy your thoughts feel, but you refuse to let him win.
You turn to face him, eyes locking with his. “My turn.”
That wicked smile of yours appears as you grab the soap, lathering it in your hands. You glide it over his chest, down his stomach, and along his thighs. You end up kneeling in front of him—definitely not an ideal situation for Franco as he instantly tenses.
The way you touch him doesn’t help. Neither does the way you look up at him.
For a moment, you think you’ve won.
But Franco never plays fair.
He grips your head, pulling you closer to his cock. You gasp in surprise, but don’t pull away, still taking him like a good girl you are. Franco groans, head tipping back as relief washes over him. You hold onto his thigh, steadying yourself, moving just enough to drive him insane.
He cups your cheek gently. “Just like that, amor.”
After a few moments, he pulls you back up, hands firm on your arms, guiding you to your feet. He presses you against the glass, body close behind yours. His fingers find your clit easily, rubbing it just hard to draw a sharp reaction from you as your back arches into his chest. His other hand works higher, kneading your breast, trying to give you more pleasure.
You’re overwhelmed—too close, too fast. And just when you’re about to fall apart, he stops.
“Franco—no,” you whisper, voice breaking.
“Oh, don’t be selfish, mi vida,” he murmurs. “Share it with me.”
He positions himself behind you, hands gripping your hips while his hard cock slowly get inside your slicks. You brace yourself against the glass, biting back every sound as he finally stills, forehead pressing into your back while he exhales.
He turns your face just enough to kiss you, slow and deep, stealing your breath. Those sloppy kiss can’t distract you from the fact that he already making move down there. His hips working hard to thrust into your core. With position like this, you can feel his cock deep inside you. Especially when it hits the right spot. Every thrust just make you feel like floating.
Franco finally let go of your lips. But that’s not a wise decision because now you can’t hold your moan. Your mind feels hazy.
“Quiet, bebé,” he whispers by your ear. “You don’t want my mom hearing you like this, do you?”
That only makes it worse.
He covers your mouth with his right hands, while the other hand meets your clit again, rubbing it hard just like the first time. His hip thrust to you even more, pushing you both over the edge together. Your eyes widen. Can’t keep up with all the stimulation he gave you.
You can’t believe he just ran ten kilometers and now he fucks you this hard. Where the hell does all that stamina even come from?
You’re right on the edge, and Franco can feel it. “Wait for me, amor,” he murmurs. “Come on, you can do that.”
His fingers keep circling on your clit, relentless, until one final movement pushes you both over, leaving you clinging to him as you come undone together.
When it’s over, he rests his forehead against your back, breathing heavy, arms wrapping around you as you both come down.
“Te amo mucho, mi querida,” he murmurs.
He kisses your shoulder, then turns the water back on, carefully rinsing you off, gentler now. Every place his hands pass, he leaves a small kiss behind, as if grounding you both again.
After you both dry off, Franco pulls you into his bed, wrapping you in his arms like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He presses his chest to your back, still warm, still steady.
“That was thrilling,” he says with that dumb, satisfied grin you know too well.
“It was not,” you reply, rolling your eyes, though the smile on your lips betrays you.
“Stop lying, bebé. I know you’d do that again.” He leans in, peppering your cheeks, your nose, your lips with soft kisses, relentless and playful.
“Franco, Stop that!” you laugh, trying to push him away, only for him to pull you closer.
You end up tangled together, breathless from laughter instead of anything else this time, trading kisses like it’s a competition neither of you wants to lose.
Wrapped in his childhood bedroom, in his hometown, with his arms around you,
hi i love your stuff so much but i think that hashtag on franco stuff you put is not right(franco colanpinto instead of franco colapinto x reader) not sure if that's intentional or if you noticed but i decided to notify you. if you've already noticed it then please ignore this message. i'm so sorry to bother you!
im literally sooooo dumb like honestly if u dont tell me i wont even realize bcs its alr kind of automated when i choose the tags 😭😭 tysm for this reminder anon ILY!!
so many request for franco rated PLS TRUST ME i have few drafts and will finish it SOON pls wait for me i wont let u guys down 🥺🥺 AND thankyou for loving franco 🩷
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