This Is So Wholesome Aaagh

this is so wholesome 😖💗💗 aaagh

Sup!

If you're not busy can I request a Camilo x Fem!Selective Mute/Quiet!Reader who's really good and making decorative stuff?

(This takes place after the events of the movie)

Alma decided to hold a party for Mirabel and her Family as an apology for what she did and as a way to let them relax. Alma also thought they should minimize using their powers as a postive way to tribute Mirabel's no gift and make her feel special.

Cam meets the reader in the party giving Isa a small crystal lanterns with her exotic plants adorning it, Luisa a detachable skirt that can be used as a comfort blanket, and Mira a butterfly hairpin (He also sees some jewelry boxes in her bag) so he decides to go and chat with her, only for the reader to write that she's mute. They hang out for the while (Mostly Cam speaking and the Reader using body language and notes to "communicate") and he gets to know she's the town decor and accessory maker who came to give every single Madrigal a gift of her own making but has a hard time doing so. (Cue Camilo helping the reader give the trinkets to his fam.) After the party ends, Camilo lays in his bed grabbing the gift he received from the reader and is surprised when a note was hidden in it.

"If you're free, come visit my shop tomorrow."

–[Y/N]

(Again Cue Camilo grinning softly of this new foundation of friendship or maybe romance)

You can change this request if you want, maybe even ignore it. Anyway tysm for reading and bye, have a good day! ^–^

Hi anon! This idea was so cute! This takes place the day after Camilo gets the note! I hope you enjoy it and have a wonderful day/night <3

Warning: Pairing: Camilo x mute!fem!reader Masterlist || Requests are open || Request Guideline TAG: @toodeepintofandoms @slytherinambitious @dai-tsukki-desu

Camilo stood outside her shop, the not she had given him the night before was burning a hole into his pocket. When he had met her the night before, he did not think he would be seeing her again so soon. Despite living in Encanto all of his life he had rarely gone into her shop. He had never needed to enter the store, Mirabel often made the things he needed.

The shopfront was nice, it looked like many of the other shops in Encanto. Yet it held her own little spark, the hand made decorations hanging in the windows and from above the door. Taking a deep breath he walked inside the shop, the bell ringing to signal his arrival.

The store was overflowing with everything the girl made. The smaller things sitting on tables, clothing was hung up or on a mannequin. There was a lack of people in the store, it seemed bare of life. But the sounds of beads hitting together caused him to look near the back, behind the counter.

Coming from the back room (Y/N) held a half-finished shirt in her hand. Pins stuck out of the fabric, the girl being careful as she placed it on the counter. Ensuring it did not lose any of the pins that she stuck in them.

Seeing Camilo there her eyes light up slightly waving to the boy, one he returned a little too eagerly. "I got your note....thank you for the gift." As usual, she said nothing, but her smile brightened at his praise.

Grabbing a paper and pen from behind the counter she walked over to him as she wrote. Despite not looking she managed to not hit anything. Holding up the paper he read the words on it 'thank you :) I am very happy you liked it.'

"Of course I liked it! How could I not?" Camilo exclaimed with a smile on his face. (Y/N) grabbed his hand to lead him through the shop towards the back room she had come from. The only thing separating the room from the shop were some coloured beads, he assumed she had made herself.

Passing through the beads the back room was much brighter than the shop. A little desk sat against a wall, while many unfinished projects acted like tripping hazards on the floor. Still pulling him around she lead him to the far side of the room, where something large was hidden by a large cloth.

"What's this?" Camilo asks reaching forward to grab the cloth, his hand was quickly smacked away by the girl. A frown on her face, clearly displayed her distance that he tried to see the object prematurely. It surprised him how easy you conveyed so many words despite not saying a single word.

It wasn't until she shooed him away that she grabbed the cloth and revealed what it was keeping hidden. It was a mirror with a wooden outline, the wood had lots of added detail along with many words.

Stepping forward he ran his fingers over the wood, allowing his fingers to trace over the creaves. It was very stunning yet he had no idea why she had it. "What's this for?"

It only took her a moment to write down what she wanted to say. 'Its for you, so you never forget who you are <3'

guys my age DRABBLE "my whore" folder"

Bruno Madrigal x Fem Reader

NSFW CONTENT! MINORS DNI!!! 18+!!!!!! HARD KINK!!!!!!!

cw/tw: bimbo reader, incel bruno, dom bruno, sub reader, masturbation, various BDSM/kink scenarios, blackmail mention, incel bruno being an emotionally repressed asshole, what else is new?

a/n: yall..... well, yall did it. here I am. unable to resist you all.

buy me a ko-fi?

He's on his couch, alone, in absolute, complete, utter silence.

His TV is silent, dark, he didn't bother turning it on. He also didn't bother wearing pants, only in his boxers and a stained wifebeater. He doesn't even want to think about how badly he reeks.

That... pathetic whore has been busy. He scoffs. Busy. What the fuck can this brainless thing be busy with, huh? On and off photoshoots, modeling, showing her body off to the camera, he hates it. Hates every second of it.

So he makes her life as hard as possible, usually. He leaves as many hickeys, bruises and marks upon her body, as he can, so she's embarrassed when her makeup artist tries to hide them, thick, purple blotches upon her skin, which even makeup can't hide.

And he's sure the makeup artist thinks it's from a boyfriend. Pfft, boyfriend. Bruno stares at the ceiling with a small, amused smile. As if. She'd never get a boyfriend. She's far too dumb for that. She's far too brainless for that.

What would she even need a boyfriend for, when she has him, her bestest friend?

And even if that thought doesn't feel as comfortable, any longer, even if those two words leave a bitter, sour, taste in his mouth, even if they feel sharp and pointy against his teeth, he says them, over and over again.

Fuck it.

There's nothing new on discord. There's nothing new on reddit. There's just nothing new, it's the same old bullshit, the same old messages, the same old memes. They're all the same.

Bruno can't believe he's saying this but.... he's bored. So bored. There aren't any new plays or scripts to write. He could drive down to the parlor and just hang around there. But he's too lazy to move.

By sheer accident, his finger slips, lands on the gallery icon. And he feels a jolt of annoyance, but then he's calm again. He hasn't looked through his camera roll for a long, long while. It's not the worst possible thing to kill time with.

In his Camera folder, there are barely any pictures. Like two, or three blurry pictures of his rats, or their cage. Nothing more. There are two more folders, screenshots and downloads, but those folders are almost completely filled with pictures of sketches for his tattoos, of client's inspo pictures, or some random IT shit, nothing interesting, really. Damn, does he really only have like two, three folders on his phone? Really?

Suddenly his body grows warm.

Well, there is... one more.

Hidden under a special wall of protection, coded to literally self destruct if someone enters the wrong password three times. That wouldn't ever happen to him, but... just in case.

Hey, he just wants to protect what's his, okay? Fucking sue him.

Bruno quickly types his way through the protection, enters countless passwords, before finally, finally, a couple hundred of pictures appear on his screen.

His eyes narrow, a cruel smile blooming upon his lips.

Oh, gorgeous. Blackmail material. Nothing more, nothing less.

He scrolls down to the very first picture he took of her. Back when they had only started becoming... very, very good friends. In the dressing rooms, when she stood on her knees in front of him, all while he filled her mouth up with his seed.

A white hot jolt of arousal rushes down his spine.

He clicks onto the pic, holds her gaze with his, as she looks up at him with her pretty, brainless eyes, all while her tongue is stuck out, his cock resting upon her bottom lip.

Blood rushes down to his groin, and Bruno lets out a scoff.

She should know better than to let him take pictures of her.... But... here they are. Nearly 290 pictures in this folder, which he could use anytime he'd like to ruin her life. But, alas, he keeps them for himself. For no particular reason at all.

His hand travels down his body on its own, wraps around his half hard cock as he swipes towards the next one.

Oh, right. Pictures he took of her, when she passed out upon his cock.

Bruno smiles to himself. Ah yes. Good times. Her falsies fell off and he found so, so much pleasure in spitting in her face to "glue" them back onto her cheeks...

The next picture is of her, when he was choking her with a belt he found on the floor, while simultaneously choking her on his cock, the thick, bulbous head of his member lodged deep, deep within her throat.

There are a few pictures he took up her skirt, or of her undressing, or of her sitting under his desk, with her nose buried in his stained boxers, as he forced her to "breathe him". He made her lick his balls afterwards, he recalls. An apology for looking so stupid.

His thumb furiously swipes, as his hand lazily moves up and down his member, rock hard and leaking.

This is a picture he took of her when she blew him behind a gas station. He forced her to wear a bra two sizes too small that day, that's why her face looked extremely stupid.

His cock jerks in his palm at the next picture.

Her, licking a Popsicle he held out for her. A colorful explosion upon her tongue, as she looked up at him through her falsies.

Fuck....

His hand speeds up, slightly, and Bruno licks his dry lips.

This is a picture he took of her warming his cock with her mouth. And this is a picture he took of her, after he nearly drowned her. He filled the entire sink with water, and then held her head underwater, just to watch her struggle.

He did buy her a cute dress afterwards, he thinks, and rolls his eyes.

Ugh, whatever, next picture....

Her face buried underneath his armpit. He had been down at the parlor all day, tattooing, and the fan had just stopped working, out of nowhere. He reeked of sweat by the end of the day, wearing what used to be a shirt, but he ripped the sleeves off, so it was tattered and torn, and Hernando's wife, Maria, rolled her eyes each and every time she saw him wear that thing.

So of course he crashed by his whore's place, just to make her lick his armpits clean. And then he came on her pillow, threatening to literally bury her underground, if she doesn't sleep upon the mess.

She sent him a picture in the morning. Her face caked in his come. Because apparently she went to sleep the moment he left, rubbed her face in his sperm.

His cock jerks in his palm and Bruno shifts. Oh fuck....

The pictures are a blur as he swipes and swipes and swipes, barely focusing on all the different times he's humiliated and degraded her.

But then he's caught off guard.

There's a picture of her sleeping on his couch. Soft and gentle and so, so beautiful.

Yes, beautiful.

He leaks against his fingers as he stares onto the picture.

Swipes to the next, but it's even... worse.

Because it's not degrading. Not... humiliating at all. It's her, smiling up at him, from his lap.

When did he even take the picture?

His fist moves faster, he can barely breathe as he swipes onto the next one.

Her, gently kissing the tip of his cock.

Her, sleeping in his bed.

Her, laughing at the sign of a cafe.

Her, cuddled up to him, throwing a peace sign, while he looks mildly annoyed at the camera.

Her, playing with his rats.

Her, kissing Arepa on his fluffy little head.

Her, peppering his thighs in kiss marks, staining his skin with pink lipstick.

Bruno comes with a strangled moan.

Spills into his palm, spills against the fabric of his boxers, against his fingers. It's messy and it's hot, and he can barely breathe. Fuck... He's nearly suffocating, but he almost feels as satisfied as when she sucks his cock.

Almost.

He lets out a breathy giggle, and only then, does he notices, that the door is open. That someone's watching him.

There's a familiar jingle of charms upon a bedazzled phone.

"Beeb..?"

He barely turns his head, glancing up at the whore in the doorway, as she shifts upon her huge heels. He offers her a cruel grin as he lifts his hand, still sticky with his come.

She giggles, she kicks her shoes off, slowly walks towards the couch, not bothering to close the door behind herself.

First, Bruno freezes.

Then... he chokes.

And then he nearly falls off the couch, when he notes the huge bouquet of pink roses she's holding within her arms.

To be continued....

Camilo: yeah I give up. I'm tired

Dolores: quick, get the emergency supply!

Mirabel: *brings y/n into the room*

Camilo: AND I AM BACK BABY LET'S GOOO

how i feel bringing up my new comfort character to my friends

my baby's bd is on DEC 28❤️ aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagh ✨ I'm pinning this on my calendar rn

OMFG , CAMILO'S BDAY IS ON DEC 28!!!

December baby ❤️❤️❤️

guys my age DRABBLE "my whore" folder" pt.2

Bruno Madrigal x Fem Reader

NSFW CONTENT! MINORS DNI!!! 18+!!!!!! HARD KINK!!!!!!!

cw/tw: bimbo reader, incel bruno, dom bruno, sub reader, spanking, bdsm, jealousy, possessiveness, fingering, female orgasms

a/n: bro, yall went insane about the last part, huh??

buy me a ko-fi?

"What the fuck is that."

Never before has his voice sounded more threatening, his head spins as he slowly raises from the couch, as he slowly, oh so slowly, makes his way towards the whore.

And she has the audacity to giggle. To look up at him with those big, trusting eyes of hers, when he knows for sure, there are his marks under her pink choker. She has the audacity to actually look fucking confused, and Bruno's fingers tremble.

Finally, she notes the huge, humongous bouquet in her arms. She laughs, and Bruno feels his blood boil.

"What. The. Fuck. Is. That." He asks again, and corners her, slams the front door shut.

"Oh, that... Gosh, Beeb, I gotta tell you the fuuuuuunniest story, so I was at this photoshoot, right, and there was this guy-"

He doesn't want to listen any longer. He doesn't need to. He isn't thinking straight.

Grabbing her fragile wrist, he drags her towards the bedroom, throws her onto the bed, the bouquet landing right next to her, bouncing off his mattress.

It's wrapped in pink paper, complete with hearts and kisses. Even in the dark, Bruno notes the card sticking out between the flowers.

"You are the most beautiful being, my love. xoxo" Is written in a messy font, completed with a number.

And Bruno halts. He feels his body grow freezing cold then boiling hot, as he stares at the flowers, then at the whore, who's staring right back at him. Dark, horrible, downright revolting thoughts, voices, howls fill his brain as he stares at her legs, at the silky dress, at the roses.

"Oh.... you whore," he whispers, and she lets out the most delicious whimper.

He spits at her, and she jerks away from him, when he straddles her, his clean hand pressing right into her windpipe.

His rats scratch at the wires, alarmed, while she struggles against his grip, as he pries her mouth open with his cum soiled fingers, forces her to lick them clean, to clean his come off his skin.

She heaves for air, she scratches at his hand with her painted nails as she sputters at him some half formed phrases, pleas, words. But Bruno doesn't hear anything at all, the only thing he sees is red.

He lets go of her throat, only when he's sure she'd die if he wouldn't. She coughs, tries to get away from him, tears spilling down her cheeks.

"B-Beeb," she starts, looking up at him, and Bruno grabs her shoulders, slams her into the mattress, stares into his whore's eyes.

"Who gave you the flowers...." He whispers, and his voice is barely a whisper, barely a scratch. Even his rats halt, even the cars outside halt. Time seems to freeze.

"A fan," she answers, immediately, then raises her hands, as if to show him, that she's defenseless. "B-But Beeb, listen, you don't understand, he's just.. I would never-"

"Shut the fuck up."

She quiets down.

Raging hot jealousy bubbles up inside him, and suddenly, instead of freaking out, of slapping her, of lashing out.... He feels smug.

He sits back, observes her for a moment. Observes the way she licks the remains of his come off her lips, breathing heavily, her tits spilling out of her skimpy dress. Blinding hot, black, inky dark possessiveness courses down his body as he stares at the roses.

And suddenly, he knows what he has to do.

"Pretty flowers," he muses, reaches for the bouquet, struggling to lift it with one arm. It's heavy, thick, expensive. Far more expensive than any bouquet he's ever gotten her.

You never bought her flowers, you piece of shit. You "don't even like her", remember? a new voice chimes in, and Bruno furrows his brows, confused, for a second. What the fuck....

He shakes his head. Muses over the flowers. Unwraps them, slowly.

"They must've been expensive, hm?" He asks her, and she nods. He nods along. A cruel, evil smirk blooming upon his lips. "You must like them a lot, right, dolly?"

"Yeah...." She smiles, almost bashfully, and Bruno's grin widens even further. "I like flowers sooo much..."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah..."

Bruno runs his calloused fingers down the flowers, and then notices the thorns.

Oh.

Perfect.

"You never told me you like flowers, dolly," he whispers, leaning in closer. "Are you keeping secrets from papi? Papi's gonna be soooo upset if you do..."

She looks down onto the mattress.

"Oh, but Beeb....." She mutters, folds her hands in her lap, bashfully. "I just love flowers sooo much, and I never get any and you... You just... You always said flowers aren't for best friends.... And you're my best friend! I wouldn't want to bother you...... with.... stuff....."

He wants to bash his head into the nearest wall. His heart flutters and he feels his cock twitch in interest again. How in the fuck...

The flowers brush along her chin, force her to keep her head up straight as he removes the last bits of paper, folding it, so he can hold onto the flowers, without hurting himself.

"That's right," he says, and his teeth hurt from the words forming in his mouth. "Papi's your best friend..... But best friends neeeever keep secrets from one another..."

His other hand finds the zipper upon her back, rips at it so hard, it literally tears the fabric. And he's glad it does.

She looks better covered in his come, anyway.

Instead of protesting or saying something, she helps him undress her. Sits in front of him in only her white, lacy stockings and panties. No bra.

Just like he likes it.

"Turn around," he says, and she obeys him, immediately. Kneels into the mattress with her back straight, looking prim and proper.

He fucking hates her.

"Now lie down, come on, dolly, I don't have all day," He ushers her, and she does, with a worried look upon her face.

She lies down, tits pressed into his bedsheets. And a dark, possessive warmth bubbles back up in him, as he observes his whore.

Fuck, she's just like he left her. Fading hickeys and bite marks upon her inner thighs, the ones he left on her. Her pussy might as well still be dripping with his come...

His jaw flexes as he tightens the grip around the flowers.

"Now, you're going to tell me just what happened, and papi's going to decide, whether he wants to keep you as a best friend, or not," He says, as he slowly rakes his fingers down her plush ass. "Because papi does not need whores for friends, okay?"

"B-But, Beeb-"

"Ah, ah, ah," he tuts, and grabs a fistful of her hair. "Are you talking back to me? Come on, my doll, you know better than that. You know better than to talk back to papi after you came back reeking of other men..."

She looks ashamed, but her eyes glaze over, and Bruno feels his teeth grind together.

"I'm sorry papi," she whispers, and then she licks her lips. "I don't talk back to papi, I'm papi's good whore..."

He sighs, satisfied.

"Go on then.." Bruno hooks his fingers in the thin, spider like silk of her panties, pulls it down her legs. "Tell me what happened, and maybe papi's gonna forgive you..."

"M-Maybe?"

She sounds so pathetic, and there is still the deep, dark scratch upon her skin in form of a capital letter B. Something he meticulously scratched into the inner side of thighs while he ate her out.

He can't help it.

The bouquet flies up and lands right onto her plush ass, and she jolts. Not from pain, at least yet, but from the surprise. There's a hefty weight to the flowers, and Bruno grins, cruel. Evil, almost.

"Start talking, whore," he barks, after a few seconds of waiting, and the whore scrambles to answer, as he lifts the bouquet up into the air again.

"I-I was just a-at the... I was at the photoshoot- AH!"

The flowers land against her plush inner thighs, but this time, the turns dig right into her skin. He can barely imagine what it's like for her, the pain itchy and uncomfortable.

It makes his skin crawl with heat.

"There w-was this guy... A-And h-he h-had flo- UGH- flowers, with him..."

Bruno grinds his teeth, slams the bouquet against her ass, full force, and then even presses into the flowers from the above, just to hurt her worse. She squeals as the thorns scratch her ass.

"Keep fucking talking, you piece of shit."

"H-He just... He w-wanted to tell m-me how c-cute I w-was and-"

SMACK!

SMACK!

SMACK!!!

Some of the flowers break off, red bits of petals land upon her ass, and Bruno grabs her hair, fisting it, pulling at it, until she arches her back.

"And what the fuck did he do then...?" He says, and it's threatening. His nails dig into her thighs, scratch at the fading bruises and she yelps in pain.

"NOTHING!! Nothin! I promise, Beeb!! He just gave me the flowers and then left!!!"

Bruno lifts the half dead bouquet into the air again.

"Nothing?! You call that nothing?!" He forces her ass higher into the air, before landing blow after blow onto her sensitive skin, making sure to throughly scratch as her ass with the thorns. "You brainless," Smack! "Pathetic," Smack! "Whore!" Smack, smack, smack!!!

She squeals and tries to wriggle away from his grasp, but Bruno pulls her right back. The flowers are almost completely broken by now, but he spanks her with the stems, then, uncaring of her pained gasps and squeals and her screams.

"D'you wanna know what men think, when they see you?" He asks, leaning in close, all while he scratches down her sides and ass with an especially thorny rose. "D'you wanna know that?"

"Y-Yeah.." She mutters, glancing back at him, while Bruno digs his nails into the small of her back.

"They think about you, like that. Bruised and marked and craving their cock," He throws the stems to the floor, grabs her waist and hoists her up, so her ass is right within his lap. "They can practically smell that you're just a whore..."

She lets out a sob, and he plunges two fingers right inside her cunt, barely surprised to find her leaking.

It's a good thing there's a belt right upon the floor next to them. Why stop the party here?

"You think he really liked you? You think he liked you for your pretty eyes, dolly?" He whispers, scissors his fingers just to stretch her out. "Oh.... No, my pathetic piggy... you're just a piece of meat to him..."

She cries as he grabs the belt, pulls his fingers out of her cunt, folds the leather in two and immediately lands three, four heavy blows against her ass.

Now he finally has her crying.

Fat, black mascara tears land against his sheets, as she fists the crumbled fabric, jerking in his lap when he slams three fingers inside her, while landing blow after blow against her ass.

It's an angry red color, welts raising up, caked in red bits of petals, her precious bouquet ruined. Bruno grins, reaches for one of the roses upon the floor, looks at it for a while, before turning back to his whore.

"Open your mouth," he commands and she does. Her shoulder shake with her soft hiccups, but she shakes when he allows her to look at the ruined flower, before sticking it in her mouth, a makeshift gag.

She sobs as he finally throws the belt to the floor, and fingers her. Roughly, uncaring, so, so deep inside her, right up to his knuckles.

"That's right, whore," he muses, as he reaches under her, his fingers find her clit and she jolts in pleasure. "Cry for me.... Cry for my forgiveness..."

She comes as soon as he pinches her pathetic clit.

And he nearly comes as well.

Her back arches and she fists the sheets, she trembles and shakes all over, goosebumps rising all over her skin as she gushes around his fingers, her creamy, tangy juices running down his palm, and Bruno groans.

He'd be damned if some bastard got to see his whore like that.

He puts up with her. He's the one who has to listen to her pathetic voice all the time. He's the one who has to look at her tits and put up with her constant whining and her overuse of "soooooo cute!"

He's the only one who has any right to see her like that.

Only him.

She clenches around his fingers a last time, before she grows heavy against the sheets, breathing heavily. He slowly, carefully pulls his fingers out of her wet heat, and, without even thinking about it, licks her juices off, laps at the drops until there's nothing left.

He lets out a shaky breath.

Bruno stares at the welts and the marks upon her ass. He stares at the droplets of sweat rolling down her skin. He stares at her face, hidden away from him, buried in his sheets.

And then, he slowly raises from his bed, and stumbles, in a trance like state, towards the kitchen and bathroom, to grab a glass of water and a towel from the towel rack.

Then he returns.

He cleans her, he forces her to drink, and he sits next to her, looks down at her, with a warm feeling in his belly.

She glances up at him, tired, sleepy. Her ass must be on fire, and he feels wonderful. Now she'll know better.

"Beeb...?"

He doesn't touch her, but he does push a strand out of her forehead.

"Hmm?"

"You don't have to worry.... You'll always be my only best friend, she whispers softly, and Bruno freezes.

"I didn't worry," he says and barely hides something akin to a pout. "I couldn't give less of a fuck."

She smiles, gently and Bruno groans in annoyance. Grabs her by her hair, drags her towards the front door, but not before grabbing a shirt for her to wear, and pulling the remains of her dress down her legs. It looks better as a skirt, anyways.

"Bye Beeb," she yawns, and stretches. She reminds him of a sated kitten, not afraid of him in the slightest when he grabs her cheeks, pries her mouth open and spits inside.

"Get the fuck out of here," he grumbles, and lands one last blow to her ass, revels in her pained whine as she stumbles out of his apartment.

Three days later he makes sure, she receives a bouquet of flowers, thrice as huge as the one she's gotten from that pathetic guy at her photoshoot. Ripe, pink roses, with none of the thorns removed.

On the mint green card she finds only two words.

"eres mia."