⁀➴┊includes: ferran torres, pedri gonzalez, pablo gavi, alejandro balde x 𝒇!reader
FERRAN TORRES
⁀➴┊okay, first things first. i think ferran just likes his women smart. he loves to be able to learn from you, to look up to you. he loves to admire you. whenever you’re telling him a story about what happened at work, he’d listen so intently, his eyes glistening. or whenever you use specific jargon, he’d literally think to himself in wonder that he’s bagged such a smart, intelligent and competent girl.
⁀➴┊he loves taking photos with you, and most importantly, he loves taking photos of you. no matter where you are, no matter what you’re doing. you could be sitting in a restaurant, and he’d snap a quick shot of you sitting pretty in the booth opposite him. you could have sauce on your chin, or you could be wearing a pretty smile, ferran thinks you always look absolutely beautiful.
⁀➴┊ you’re ferran’s comfort person. ferran is quite an emotional guy. he feels his feelings deeply, and he loves to be with someone who is also in touch with their feelings. someone with emotional depth, someone with emotional intelligence, who is able to pull him out of the gutter when he feels down or when he’s too harsh on himself. he enjoys a good late night convo, where the two of you stare up at the ceiling, all judgement-free with raw feelings. He loves being heard, being valued by you, especially when he gets to hold you close to his chest when he tells you softly what’s on his mind, confiding in you.
⁀➴┊especially now that he has longer hair: absolutely loves when you play with his hair. just carding your fingers through his locks, brushing stray strands of chestnut hair out of his face. you love doing it, scratching your nails over the back of his neck, too. ferran just revels in it, and when you take your hand out of his hair, he’s quick to put it right back. “why’d you stop, baby?” he’ll say, suddenly all clingy.
⁀➴┊his favourite spot to kiss you is your temple. i believe he genuinely likes the softness it brings, it’s so kind. it’s deliberate, slow, with intent. he literally can’t leave the house without pressing his lips against your temple, leaving you alone with his delicacy.
PEDRI GONZALEZ
⁀➴┊oh, he’s so husband. sooooo husbandish. i have no doubt in my mind that pedri would take over household tasks for you. with love, even. maybe you’re in the bathroom, busy with your nightly skin care routine, a million different droppers and tubes with face masks scattered all over the sink, and pedri would just pop in unannounced, cradling a laundry basket between his arms. “hi, babe,” he’d say lightly, as if the sight of him being all responsible and domestic isn’t a major turn on for you. “you got any laundry for me? i’m doing lights right now.”
⁀➴┊he would let you control the aux. he’s the designated driver whenever you two go out, and you’re the dj. he thinks your music taste is better, anyway. bopping his head along to the melody of the music, your feet on the dash, arm slung out of the window, all the windows down with the warm wind swishing past your heads.
⁀➴┊would also let you use his hand to test out different lipsticks whenever you drag him to sephora. pedri’s willing to sacrifice his clean hand if that means you’d leave the shop with a beautiful, new lip product you’re content with.
⁀➴ ┊i also think pedri loves unwinding with you. i can vividly see the two of you on the sofa, both watching something lighthearted, the laughing track ricocheting off the walls as he lightly cards his fingers through your hair, looking at you like you’re the most precious thing in the world. he’d ask you what you would be doing the next day, what time you would have to get up. literally just soft, gentle small talk.
⁀➴┊ he’ll check up on you throughout the day. especially when he’s away for a game and is mostly travelling, he’d shoot you a quick text asking how it’s going at home, if you’ve already had lunch, or how your classes for the day went. speaking of school, i think he’d be the biggest hypeman ever. he’s always asking you if he can read one of your essays. pedri just stares at your laptop screen, nose scrunched up in confusion while he reads paragraph after paragraph. “well,” he huffs when he’s finished, “you’re the smart one from the two of us.”
PABLO GAVI
⁀➴┊ he gives me major lover and best friend vibes. with that being said, he’s a teaser. loves prodding you in your side when you’re concentrated, lightly pulling your ponytail to get your attention, shadow-boxing at you, he does it all.
⁀➴┊pablo absolutely loves a night in, especially if it’s on a cheat day, and he can eat whatever he prefers. Will spend the entire night binging another random 2000s tv series with you whilst munching on sushi, or pizza, way too invested in all the shit that’s happening on the screen, and obviously gives his unvarnished commentary on it, too. “wait, why did seth pick anna? he needs to end up with summer. he named a fucking boat after her!” you two watch episode after episode, and eventually end up falling asleep on the sofa, his arms securely tucked around you with half-eaten sushi on white plates.
⁀➴┊ i know for a fact that he also loves a good gossip session. “baby, i’m home!” he yells the second he comes home, dropping his car keys on the marble counter, a mischievous grin on his face. when he finds you somewhere else, behind your laptop, he’s immediately like: “you’re never gonna guess what carmen just said to marco,” already pulling up his phone to show you the receipts. he just talks so excitedly, and you two spend hours dissecting everything that happened.
⁀➴┊brings you random trinkets when he gets back from holiday. frivolous cheap keychains, a little tile from portugal, all the cheesy shit. it’s just a cute token of love, and it shows that he always thinks of you. literally always.
⁀➴┊ he’s the silliest drunk ever. when you try to take the car keys from his hands — because he’s obviously way too drunk to drive — he’d be like: “who are you?” he’d ask, a confused expression on his face, eyebrows scrunched up. “you’re not my girlfriend.” you sigh out, deep and loud, already opening up your hand palm. maybe you get a little gooey on the inside, because he’s just so cute and endearing. “i am, come on. keys.”
ALEJANDRO BALDE
⁀➴┊we all know alejandro seems like quite a playful person, and especially if you’re on the shyer side, he’d do anything to get you out of your shell more. he’s so spontaneous, carefree. from dancing in the kitchen to an oldie, to twirling you around when you’re wearing a pretty dress; alejandro is doing everything within his abilities to put all of his attention on making you comfortable. “there she is,” he’d say with a dopey grin as he looks you up and down when you step out of your shared bedroom, ready to go out on a date together.
⁀➴┊loves showing you off. you’re his phone wallpaper, and when you two are together, his heavy arm is basically glued around your waist, or hips, or shoulders. he sees it as a statement: she’s mine, back off.
⁀➴┊yeah, sorry i wholeheartedly believe he loves to touch your waist, or any part of your body. he’s a big body worshipper. he’ll literally trace your curves with his hands, trying to cover every inch of your skin as he scatters fluttery kisses down your neck. he’s, like, totally obsessed with you and the way you feel under his fingertips, playfully swatting your ass.
⁀➴┊he cooks for you. we’ve all seen that video of alejandro saying that he can cook and that he can clean? yeah, i definitely believe that date nights with him would include him cooking something for you, something he puts a lot of love in. your hands clasped together on top of the table like a lovesick couple.
⁀➴┊alejandro loves to make you blush like crazy. calling you the cheesiest, corniest pet names on the planet. he loves to inspect your face, tilting your chin up with a crooked finger, and tell you how he loves your sparkly eyes, your cute nose and your chubby cheeks until your heat hovers over your face.
a/n: oh also, i can’t stop thinking about pulling on ferran’s hair when… WHEN…. ugh i might have to write smth about that
guys check it outtt i wrote ferran smut!! 18+ tho!!!
✮⋆˙ where you enjoy the rest of the night after one of his matches
✮⋆˙ staring: anyone you like x fem reader
✮⋆˙ a/n: i spent hours searching here for a player who fit what i wanted to write about, but i didn't find one so i'll let you guys choose. i hope you guys enjoy it <3 it's just a silly little thing
He had told you that he might not be able to meet you before the match, but he promised to meet you soon after.
So you waited for him in the parking lot, leaning against the side of the car he'd driven you home on your first date two weeks ago. You're seeing people leaving, some players, some members of the coaching staff, people from his world.
His world. This is the first time in a month and a half of conversation that you're really seeing his world, his life.
And apparently he's letting his people know about you, since his best friend in the squad walked past you and winked – not in a flirty way, more like "I know what you two are up to" way.
He doesn't intend to hide you from anyone, he's not that type. He knows he would only hide you from the world if that were your wish. And that's what is not happening right now, actually. His mother already knows about you, his friends back in his hometown already know about you too.
He couldn't keep it a secret even if he wanted to.
The invitation to watch the match came last weekend, after long conversations during the nights and him almost missing training the next day because of it.
It's just that you two were acting like lovestruck teenagers, but the feeling was inexplicable. He makes you feel good and you make him feel good, so there's nothing wrong with acting like you're both 13, right?
"On a scale of 0 to 5, how many stars does my performance deserve?"
His voice startled you, perhaps because you were too lost in thought. He saw you trembling slightly and placing your hand over your heart, this made him smile slightly.
"Sorry," he chuckled, scratching the back of his neck, "I think this will make you give me fewer stars than I really deserve."
You rolled your eyes playfully, "Good thing you know," you returned the smile, "joking aside, you did very well."
He bowed in thanks, eliciting a loud laugh from you that quickly covered your mouth and looked around.
"Don't be shy," he whispered before changing position and standing in front of you.
You swallowed hard, adjusting your posture and crossing your arms in front of your chest – maintaining eye contact was proving difficult because this man possessed some kind of magic which caused your confident spirit to almost leave the room completely.
"I'm not shy," he raised an eyebrow after hearing your words, "can we talk about your match?"
He ran his tongue over his lower lip, "Sure, we can talk about the match."
He crossed his arms just like you, his eyes repeatedly darting between your mouth and your eyes.
"You can't act like a normal person," you pretended to whine and put both hands over your face.
"I'm acting like a normal person," he lowered his voice as he shifted positions once more, standing beside you.
Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him with a smug smile on his face.
He ran his hand along the edge of the car window, biting his lip, "Want to talk about the match somewhere else?"
You sighed and nodded, "Sure. Would the team nutritionist be very angry if you ate a hamburger with me?"
He chuckled lightly, "No. Once a week doesn't hurt, and I deserve it because I played a good match."
He opened the passenger door for you.
"If you say so."
ᥫ᭡
"You didn't tell me," he said after taking a bite of the french fry he was holding, "Would you go to the stadium again if I invited you?"
You looked at him and smiled, "maybe. I thought it was an amazing experience, and my favorite part was watching you try to find me among so many people."
He rested his head against the car's headrest, "Did you notice?"
You nodded, "Yeah. Every chance you got, you seemed to be looking for someone."
"I was nervous," he admitted, "And worried about whether you were enjoying it or not."
Your smile softened, "I was genuinely happy for being there. I loved watching you play."
"Yeah?" he leaned in slightly to get closer to you.
"Yeah."
He gently touched a strand of your hair, as if it were something too precious.
"Your hair is very beautiful," he smiled.
"Thank you," you chuckled softly, "But is that all you have to say to me?"
He shook his head in denial instantly, "I want to tell you so much more. But before anything else, I have to ask you something."
"I feel like I already know what you're going to ask," you pressed your lips together.
"Do you feel it?" he continued, smiling, "It's a favor I need, something that could save my life."
"Save your life?"
He nodded and lowered himself, gesturing for you to lower yourself as well, looking around as if there were someone else nearby besides the two of you.
"When I was younger," he whispered, looking into her eyes as if he were about to tell her the biggest secret of his life, "I was swimming in a lake when a mermaid tried to pull me under. She couldn't, but she looked into my eyes and said something that changed my life forever."
You did your best to hold back your laughter and try to go along with his craziness.
"What did she say?"
He widened his eyes and stared intently at you, "She said she had cursed me, and the only way to break the curse was by receiving a kiss from a beautiful maiden whose features she described to me, and now I tell you, they are the same as yours."
You're trying to figure out if he was being serious or just indirectly asking for a kiss, but a laugh escaped anyway.
"Will you rid me of the curse?" he pouted.
You pretended to think, "What do I get in return?"
"A place in heaven for having a good heart and helping a helpless man."
She laughed in disbelief, "You're a good player and a good actor, congratulations."
He placed his hand on his chest, "I'm dying. Where's my kiss?"
He reclined his seat and closed his eyes while you stared in disbelief.
"That's unbelievable," you laughed before bowing to his request, "but lucky for you that I'm truly a kind-hearted girl."
He gave a wide smile before feeling his lips touch yours. It was a quick peck, just to tease him.
"There. You are free from the curse."
He opened his eyes slowly, "Is that all?", he was being playful.
"You're very ungrateful, aren't you?"
He sat down again, "Never. You saved my life with that little kiss," he kissed your cheek, "an angel."
summary: in which you prank your bf saying that you found his teammate on tinder
warnings: none !
a/n: it's been so long since i've written for the barca boys, i missed it sm <3 also this was requested on my wattpad ! i also couldn't fit everyone so the last 5 guys are here and the first 5 guys are linked here
barca boys - pablo gavi, pedri, ferran torres, pau cubarsi, alejandro balde, lamine yamal, hector fort, marc bernal, fermin lopez, eric garcia
lamine yamal
lamine was sitting on the living room floor with keyne in front of him, helping him build a tower out of blocks.
“lamine.”
“hm?”
“i saw pau on tinder the other day.”
everything stopped.
the car froze in lamine’s hand.
“...what?”
you looked up innocently.
“pau?”
“yeah.”
“cubarsí?”
“mhm.”
he blinked.
“on tinder?”
“yes.”
lamine immediately sat up.
“no.”
he shook his head.
“that’s not possible.”
“why?”
“because it’s pau.”
you smiled.
“that’s your reason?”
“yes.”
he looked genuinely serious.
“he’s with martina.”
“maybe they broke up.”
“they didn’t.”
“how do you know?”
“because they’re literally pau and martina.”
you laughed.
“that doesn’t explain anything.”
“it explains everything.”
he pointed at the phone.
“are you sure it was him? maybe it was someone else.”
“lamine.”
“no, seriously.”
he frowned.
“pau would never be on tinder.”
“why?”
“because he’s not like that.”
you laughed.
“too nice?”
“yes.”
“that man is not on tinder.”
you smiled.
“you really trust him.”
“of course.”
he picked up his phone.
“i’m texting him.”
“lamine.”
“what?”
“what are you going to say?”
“‘bro, explain.’”
you laughed.
“that’s so dramatic.”
“dramatic?”
he looked at you.
“my friend is apparently on tinder while dating martina. i need answers.”
you watched him unlock his phone.
then pause.
his eyes moved from his phone to you.
slowly.
“wait.”
you blinked.
“what?”
he narrowed his eyes.
“how did you see pau on tinder?”
you shrugged.
“what do you mean?”
“how did you see him?”
“on tinder.”
“amor.”
“yes?”
“why were you on tinder?”
you blinked.
“what?”
“how did you see pau if you weren’t on tinder?”
“maybe someone showed me.”
“who?”
“a friend.”
“what friend?”
“just a friend.”
lamine stared.
you stared back.
keyne was completely focused on his blocks.
then lamine’s eyes widened.
“wait.”
you bit your lip.
“what?”
“you’re on tinder.”
you immediately burst out laughing.
lamine just stared.
“you’re laughing.”
“because—”
you couldn’t finish.
“it’s a prank!”
his face changed.
“what?”
“i don’t have tinder.”
“you don’t?”
“no.”
“you lied?”
“yes.”
he looked at you dramatically.
“you made me think pau was on tinder?”
you laughed.
“yes.”
“and you made me almost text him?”
“yes.”
lamine put a hand over his heart.
“that’s evil.”
“sorry.”
“no, you’re not.”
“okay, i’m not.”
he narrowed his eyes.
“come here.”
you immediately knew.
“no.”
“yes.”
“lamine.”
“come here, tramposa.”
you started backing away.
“no.”
“yes.”
keyne looked up.
“what happen?”
lamine pointed at you.
“she tricked me.”
keyne gasped.
“tricked?”
“yes.”
keyne thought for a second.
then pointed at you.
“get her.”
you froze.
“keyne?”
lamine’s face lit up.
“see? he agrees.”
“he’s three!”
“he has good instincts.”
you laughed as lamine quickly moved toward you.
“lamine, no!”
“too late.”
he grabbed you and pulled you down onto the couch, immediately attacking your sides with tickles.
“lamine!”
“this is revenge.”
“stop!”
“no.”
you were laughing too hard to fight back.
lamine laughed.
“come here, keyne.”
“no teaming up!”
you said through laughter.
“too late.”
keyne joined in, gently poking your sides while lamine continued tickling you.
“you’re both evil!”
lamine grinned.
“you started it.”
“it was just a prank!”
“a bad one.”
“you believed me!”
“because i trust you!"
you laughed again.
“lamine!”
eventually, lamine let you go, pulling you close while keyne crawled into the middle of you both.
“okay.”
you caught your breath.
“okay what?”
“i forgive you.”
“that fast?”
“yes.”
“why?”
“because you’re lucky you’re cute.”
hector fort
the room was quiet.
rain tapped softly against the window while you and héctor lay tangled together under the duvet.
his head rested on your chest, one arm wrapped tightly around your waist while you lazily played with the ends of his hair.
“you're comfy.”
he smiled without looking up.
“i know.”
“you've been lying on me for twenty minutes.”
“and?”
“my arm's asleep.”
“small sacrifice.”
another minute passed in comfortable silence.
then you looked down at your phone.
“héctor.”
“si, mami?”
“i just saw pablo on tinder.”
he didn't even look up.
“what pablo?”
“gavi.”
his head lifted immediately.
“…what?”
“i saw pablo on tinder.”
he blinked.
“nah.”
he frowned.
“that's fake.”
“how do you know?”
“because it's pablo.”
you tried to keep a straight face.
“and?”
“and he's literally obsessed with ana.”
you laughed.
“obsessed?”
“yes.”
“that's a strong word.”
“it's the correct word.”
he sat up properly now.
“have you seen the way he looks at her?”
“maybe they broke up.”
“they didn't.”
“how do you know?”
“because…”
he paused.
“because they just didn't.”
“great evidence.”
“thank you.”
you smiled.
“you're very confident.”
“i am.”
he reached for his phone.
“i'm asking him.”
you looked at him.
“asking him what?”
“why he's apparently on tinder.”
“that's a little dramatic.”
“dramatic?”
he looked at you.
“my friend is supposedly on tinder while dating ana.”
he pointed at himself.
“i'm investigating.”
“investigating?”
“sí.”
you bit your lip to stop yourself laughing.
“héctor…”
“what?”
“maybe leave it.”
“no.”
he unlocked his phone.
“i'll just ask if everything's okay.”
his thumbs hovered over the screen.
then—
he stopped completely.
“wait princesa...”
you blinked innocently.
“what?”
he slowly turned to look at you.
“how did you see pablo on tinder?”
you shrugged.
“he came up.”
“came up where?”
“on tinder.”
“yes.”
“that's where i saw him.”
he narrowed his eyes.
“amor.”
“yes?”
“why were you on tinder?”
you blinked.
“what?”
“how did you see him?”
“he came up.”
“on your phone?”
“mhm.”
he stared.
you stared back.
“you have tinder.”
you shrugged dramatically.
“for what?”
“people.”
he looked genuinely confused.
“you already have people.”
“do i?”
he pointed at himself.
“hello?”
you bit the inside of your cheek.
“i'd quite like to stay your boyfriend.”
“that's nice.”
“nice?”
he frowned.
“that's all i've got?”
“maybe.”
he shook his head.
“nah.”
“what?”
“you're joking.”
“i'm not.”
“you are.”
“i'm not.”
he watched you for a few seconds.
then his eyes narrowed.
“…you're smiling.”
“am i?”
“you only smile like that when you're playing with me.”
you couldn't hold it anymore.
you burst into laughter.
héctor dropped his head back onto the pillow.
“joder…”
“i'm sorry!”
“no, you're not.”
“okay…”
you laughed again.
“no.”
he looked at you.
“it's a prank?”
“yes.”
“you don't have tinder?”
“no.”
“pablo doesn't either?”
“no.”
he let out the biggest sigh.
“i knew it.”
“did you?”
“…no.”
you grinned.
“you believed me.”
“because i trust you.”
your smile softened.
“aw.”
“don't 'aw' me.”
he suddenly lunged forward.
you squealed.
“héctor!”
“come here.”
“no!”
“yes.”
he wrapped both arms around your waist before you could escape, pulling you back against the pillows.
“this is revenge.”
“for what?”
“emotional damage.”
you laughed.
“that's dramatic.”
“i don't care.”
he immediately started tickling your sides.
“héctor!”
“yes?”
“stop!”
“no.”
you dissolved into laughter, trying to grab his wrists.
“i can't breathe!”
“good.”
“good?”
“you made me think pablo lost his mind.”
you laughed harder.
“he would've never cheated.”
“he literally worships ana.”
“héctor!”
“apologize.”
“i'm sorry!”
“say it like you mean it.”
“i'm very sorry!”
he finally stopped, but only because you were laughing too hard to fight him anymore.
instead, he wrapped you up in his arms again, burying his face against your neck.
“you're evil.”
“just a little.”
“a lot.”
you smiled and kissed the top of his head.
“you were so protective of pablo.”
he mumbled into your shoulder.
“someone had to defend his honor.”
"you're cute."
he looked up.
“i'm always cute.”
“debatable.”
he gasped.
“wow.”
“sorry.”
“you're not.”
“okay…”
you smiled.
“i'm not.”
he grinned.
“thought so.”
then he squeezed you tighter, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead.
he settled back down with his head on your chest again, closing his eyes.
marc bernal
the room was peaceful.
you sat at your vanity, carefully applying a coat of mascara to your lashes while marc lay across the bed behind you, one arm tucked under his head as he scrolled aimlessly through his phone.
every few seconds he'd glance up at you through the mirror.
“how much longer?”
“five minutes.”
“you said that ten minutes ago.”
“because you asked ten minutes ago.”
he sighed dramatically.
“i miss you.”
you smiled at his reflection.
“marc.”
“what?”
“i'm literally three metres away.”
“still too far.”
you laughed quietly and reached for your mascara.
“dramatic.”
“just honest.”
you smiled to yourself.
“marc.”
“hm?”
“i saw fermín on tinder the other day.”
he didn't answer.
you watched him through the mirror as he kept looking at his phone.
then—
“…what?”
“i saw fermín on tinder.”
his head shot up.
“what?”
“on tinder.”
“fermín?”
“yeah.”
he stared at you.
“nah.”
“yes.”
“no.”
“yes.”
he immediately sat up.
“berta's gonna kill him.”
you bit your lip.
“that's your first thought?”
“yes.”
he looked genuinely concerned.
“oh my god.”
“what?”
“she's actually gonna kill him.”
“marc.”
“i'm serious.”
he rubbed a hand over his face.
“he's finished.”
“maybe they broke up.”
“they didn't.”
“how do you know?”
“because…”
he frowned.
“they're always together.”
“that doesn't mean anything.”
“it does.”
“how?”
“because it's them.”
he shook his head.
“no chance.”
“you're very confident.”
“i am.”
he reached for his phone.
“i'm calling him.”
you laughed.
“calling him?”
“yes.”
“why?”
“to ask him what he's doing.”
“don't you think that's a bit dramatic?”
“dramatic?”
he looked at you.
“if my friend is about to get murdered by his girlfriend, i think i should warn him.”
you laughed.
“warn him?”
“yeah.”
“about what?”
“that berta's gonna find him before i do.”
you shook your head, trying not to smile.
marc unlocked his phone.
his thumb hovered over fermín's contact.
then—
he frowned.
“…wait.”
“what?”
he slowly looked up at your reflection in the mirror.
“how did you see fermín?”
“what do you mean?”
“on tinder.”
“he came up.”
“on your phone?”
“yeah.”
there was silence.
marc blinked.
once.
twice.
“…amor.”
“hm?”
“why were you on tinder?”
you shrugged.
“just looking.”
“looking?”
“mhm.”
“for what?”
“people.”
he frowned.
“what people?”
“people.”
he sat there for a second.
still staring at you through the mirror.
“you downloaded tinder?”
“maybe.”
“maybe?”
“maybe.”
he scratched the back of his neck.
“i'm confused.”
“why?”
“because…”
he looked down at his phone.
then back at you.
“i thought we were good.”
you had to look away.
he sounded so sincere.
“we are.”
“then why would you need tinder?”
you bit your lip.
he immediately noticed.
“…you're smiling.”
“no, i'm not.”
“yes, you are.”
“am i?”
he narrowed his eyes.
“you're taking the piss.”
you couldn't hold it anymore.
you burst into laughter.
marc dropped his phone onto the bed.
“i knew it.”
he laughed, rubbing both hands over his face.
“madre mía.”
“it's a prank!”
you turned around in your chair, still laughing.
“you were actually worried.”
“of course i was.”
“about me?”
he looked at you like you'd asked the dumbest question ever.
“yeah?”
“really?”
“i was trying to figure out why my girlfriend suddenly needed tinder.”
your smile softened.
he climbed off the bed and wandered over until he was standing behind your chair.
his hands rested lightly on your shoulders.
"i hope berta never sees him on tinder."
you laughed.
“that's what you're stuck on?”
“yes.”
“why?”
he smiled.
“because i genuinely think berta would appear out of nowhere.”
you laughed harder.
“poor fermín.”
“poor berta.”
“why berta?”
“because imagine opening your phone and seeing your boyfriend on tinder.”
he shook his head.
“nah.”
“he wouldn't survive that conversation.”
you grinned.
“you're so dramatic.”
“i'm realistic.”
you reached back and took one of his hands.
“you're lucky it was a prank.”
he smiled.
“he's lucky too.”
“fermín?”
“yeah.”
“because otherwise…”
he laughed.
“…i would've killed him before berta did.”
fermin lopez
the apartment was unusually quiet.
you were curled up on the sofa, half watching a film while fermín was stretched out beside you, one arm around your waist and the other lazily tracing shapes against your leg. every few minutes he'd glance away from the tv just to look at you.
“what?”
“nothing.”
“you keep staring.”
“because you're pretty.”
you smiled.
“that's smooth.”
“i know.”
“did that work on me?”
he grinned.
“apparently.”
you laughed, shaking your head.
“fermín.”
“hm?”
“i just saw pablo on tinder.”
he smiled.
“good one.”
“i'm serious.”
he looked at you.
“…what?”
“pablo.”
“gavi?”
“yeah.”
“no way.”
“why not?”
“because…”
he frowned.
“ana.”
“what about her?”
“he's with ana.”
“maybe they broke up.”
fermín's face actually fell.
“don't say that.”
“why?”
he looked genuinely sad.
“because…”
he sighed.
“we literally went to dinner with them last week.”
“okay.”
“and we're supposed to go again next weekend.”
you nodded.
“that's true.”
“if they broke up…”
he looked down at the blanket.
“…that'd be sad.”
“for pablo?”
“for both of them.”
he shrugged.
“i like them together.”
“you do?”
“yeah.”
he smiled a little.
“they're cute.”
“aw.”
“and…”
he scratched the back of his neck.
“our double dates are fun.”
you laughed.
“that's what you're worried about?”
“a little.”
“fermín.”
“what?”
“really?”
“what?”
he looked completely serious.
“who are we going to bully if they break up?”
you burst out laughing.
“that's your concern?”
“well…”
he smiled.
“mostly because i'd miss seeing them.”
you smiled.
“so you don't think he's on tinder?”
“absolutely not.”
“why?”
“have you seen the way he looks at ana?”
he pointed dramatically.
“that man is in love.”
“that's dramatic.”
“it's true.”
he reached for his phone.
“i'm texting him.”
“fermín.”
“what?”
“don't.”
“why?”
“because it's not your business.”
“if they broke up, it kind of is.”
“how?”
“because he's my best friend.”
he unlocked his phone.
“and because now i'm worried.”
his thumbs hovered over the screen.
then—
he froze.
“…wait.”
you blinked innocently.
“what?”
he slowly turned to you.
“how did you see pablo?”
“on tinder.”
“on whose phone?”
“…mine.”
there was silence.
fermín blinked.
then he slowly lowered his phone.
“…amor.”
“yes?”
“why do you have tinder?”
you shrugged.
“i was curious.”
“curious?”
“mhm.”
“about what?”
“people.”
he stared at you for a few seconds.
trying to make sense of it.
“you downloaded tinder?”
“maybe.”
he looked genuinely confused.
“…did we miss a conversation?”
you had to bite the inside of your cheek.
“what conversation?”
“the one where we broke up?”
you looked away before you laughed.
he caught it immediately.
“…you're smiling.”
“no.”
“yes, you are.”
“am i?”
he narrowed his eyes.
then suddenly—
“…you're joking.”
you burst into laughter.
fermín dropped back onto the sofa dramatically.
“ay dios mio.”
“it's a prank!”
he covered his face with both hands.
“i was actually sad.”
you laughed harder.
“you were?”
“yes!”
he looked at you.
“i thought pablo and ana had broken up.”
“aw.”
“don't 'aw' me.”
“you were thinking about the double dates.”
“it would've been weird without them.”
your smile softened.
“don't worry.”
“they're still together?”
“they're still together.”
“good.”
he let out an exaggerated sigh of relief.
“and you don't have tinder?”
“no.”
“good.”
“you were worried?”
he looked at you.
“of course i was.”
“why?”
“because i love you.”
he said it so casually that it almost caught you off guard.
“and because…”
he smiled.
“…i quite like being your only boyfriend.”
you laughed.
“that's fair.”
“very fair.”
he reached over and pulled you into his lap.
“you're mean.”
“just a little.”
“no.”
he smiled into your hair.
“a lot.”
“sorry.”
“no, you're not.”
“okay…”
you grinned.
“no.”
he laughed and kissed your forehead.
“one day i'm getting revenge.”
“sure you are.”
“i mean it.”
“okay.”
“stop smiling.”
“make me.”
he narrowed his eyes.
then immediately attacked your face with kisses instead.
“fermín!”
“what?”
“that's cheating.”
“i know.”
another kiss.
“fermín.”
kiss.
“fermín!”
“yes, amor?”
you laughed, giving up completely.
he smiled.
“that's better.”
eric garcia
the two of you were sprawled across the sofa after dinner.
eric was half lying against your shoulder, scrolling through his phone while one of your legs rested over his.
the tv was on but neither of you were actually watching it.
“eric.”
“hm?”
“i just saw ferran on tinder.”
he looked up.
“ferran?”
“yeah.”
“on tinder?”
“mhm.”
he frowned.
“since when?”
you shrugged.
“don't know.”
“he didn't tell me.”
you smiled.
“why are you offended?” you laughed.
“i'm not offended.”
“a little.”
“just…”
he frowned.
“that's weird.”
“why?”
“because i talk to him all the time.”
“okay.”
“you'd think he'd mention it.”
“maybe he forgot.”
“forgot?”
he thought about it for a second.
“good for him, though.”
“really?”
“yeah.”
he shrugged.
“he's single.”
“that's true.”
he nodded.
“hope he finds someone.”
you smiled.
“that's sweet.”
“i have my moments.”
he went back to his phone.
about ten seconds passed.
then—
“…wait.”
you looked at him.
“what?”
he slowly lowered his phone.
“how did you see ferran?”
“what do you mean?”
“on tinder.”
“he came up.”
“yeah…”
he frowned.
“…on whose phone?”
“mine.”
silence.
eric blinked.
“…your phone?”
“mhm.”
he looked at you for a long moment.
“amor.”
“yes?”
“why do you have tinder?”
you shrugged.
“just looking.”
“looking?”
“mhm.”
“for what?”
“people.”
he stared.
“you already have people.”
“do i?”
he pointed at himself.
“yeah.”
you bit your lip.
“maybe.”
“…you're smiling.”
“no.”
“yes, you are.”
“am i?”
he narrowed his eyes.
“you're joking.”
you burst into laughter.
he stared for a second before letting out a quiet groan.
“madre mía.”
“it's a prank!”
he dropped his head against the back of the sofa.
“i actually believed you.”
you smiled before leaning in to kiss him.
he turned his head at the last second.
your lips landed on his cheek instead.
you blinked.
“eric?”
he folded his arms.
“hm?”
“did you just dodge my kiss?”
“maybe.”
you laughed.
“seriously?”
he nodded once.
“maybe you should go kiss your tinder boyfriend.”
you stared at him.
“…my what?”
“your tinder boyfriend.”
"who?"
"ferran."
you couldn't stop yourself laughing.
“eric.”
“what?”
“you're jealous.”
“i'm not jealous.”
“you absolutely are.”
“i'm making a very reasonable suggestion.”
“oh, are you?”
“yeah.”
he looked away dramatically.
“go on.”
“go find ferran.”
“eric.”
“i'm sure he's waiting.”
you laughed so hard you had to grab his arm.
“you're ridiculous.”
“am i?”
“yes.”
“then why are you laughing?”
“because you're sulking.”
“i'm not sulking.”
“you're pouting.”
“i'm reflecting.”
“on what?”
“betrayal.”
you gently took his face in your hands and turned him back towards you.
“look at me.”
“don't want to.”
“eric.”
he tried very hard not to smile.
failed.
“what?”
“there is no tinder.”
“i know.”
“there is no ferran.”
“i know.”
“there is only you.”
he looked at you for another second.
“…okay.”
“okay?”
“okay.”
you smiled.
“can i kiss you now?”
he pretended to think about it.
“hmm…”
“eric.”
“fine.”
the second you kissed him, he smiled into it.
when you pulled away, he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you straight back against him.
he kissed your forehead.
“you're my girlfriend.”
“i am.”
“exactly.”
“i still think you were jealous.”
he smiled to himself.
“…maybe a little.”
“i knew it.”
“don't tell ferran.”
“too late.”
“traitor.”
taglist: @barcapix, @universefcb, @nngkay, @joaosnovia, @ilovebarcaaaa, @levidazai, @hollyf1,@mxryxmfooty, @halfwayhearted, @landoslutmeout , @meganesanchez, @linnygirl09, @spidybaby,, @vicolette, @bernalswifeyy, @ohwhoisyou-rubyjane, @anothershhposter, @justaf1girl, @ivegotparticulartaste, lmk if you want to be added/removed!
This month, in my country, there's a challenge among men to not masturbate/have sex for a month. Do you think the drivers would participate, or Dean Huijsen? If so, would they win?
the one month challenge
pairing: some selected f1 drivers/footballers x gf!fem!reader
summary: what the request says really ._. // headcanons
warnings: 18+ (minors dni), unprotected and protected sex, p in v, eating out, blowjob, masturbation, mention of toys, themes of possessiveness, light degradation | barely proof read <3
a/n: oooh this is exciting! love a quick drabble since i'm notorious for waffling. i'm so curious what country this is from!!! anyways, hope you like it ♡︎ if anyone wants a part two with other people lmk.
🏎️ masterlist | ⚽️ masterlist
oscar piastri
honestly he's not that into it initially. he couldn't give a damn because it's not about his pride or ego. the man just wants to feel good and make you feel good. why would he want to stop that? but then you start with the teasing.
"i think you're saying no because you're afraid you'll lose, osc."
he looks at you blankly. "what?" i'm not afraid i'll lose... i just think it's stupid."
"then why don't you prove it?" you raised a brow.
that sets him off. so he tries and he tells you to be fair. to not tease him. but you're only just innocently eating an iceblock. and it's only fair to walk around in nothing but his shirt because it's laundry day. now oscar's struggling. he thinks about just jerking off while your asleep. but now you've hurt his pride a bit. and he knows you won't let him hear the end of it if he loses. so he goes through with it. he wins. plain and fair. and with a lot of pain. and you wake up the next morning getting absolutely pounded.
"look at you," oscar huffs, hands on your hips, gripping you tightly as his thrusts from behind. the sounds of your skin slapping are obscene. "could've been fucked like this all month but no," he muttered, grunts falling from his lips at the speed of light.
you fist your bedsheets tightly, knuckles white, whimpers matching the pace of his cock drilling into you. your skin flushed, hot, and bothered. "fuck, osc," you moaned, eyes shut. "ngh– feels so good!"
"just had to be a brat about it. didn't you?" oscar growls, brown eyes rolling at the way his cock disappears into your pussy. fuck, he wasn't going to say it. you would definitely tease him afterwards. but he missed being inside you.
does the challenge once. never again. absolutely not.
lando norris
literally has to pause when you ask him about the challenge. like his ego has to process what you're saying. and he's looking at you like... "pff yeah i can do that. easy."
if only his ego hadn't spoken before his brain.
you haven't even done anything. no provoking. no teasing. its business as usual. (you're pretty sure he would've lost on the first day if you did.) but the abscence of your intimate touch has him reeling. because he's only halfway through the damn month and you cuddling him while watching your favourite movie has him hard as shit.
it's only three days later, where you're dressing up to go out to dinner and lando comes out of the bathroom, stopping in his tracks when he sees you in that goddamn dress. his favourite. his favourite waist hugging, breast clinging, backless dress. fuck.
you hadn't even made it to dinner. you were on his lap, dress riding up your body, staring at the both of you through the mirror in your bedroom. and he's fucking up into you, trousers half undone, buttons of his shirt loose. sweat covering you two from head to toe.
"i was doing so well," lando moans, moving your hips up and down onto his cock, one hand wrapping around your stomach, pressing you closer into him. "but you just had to wear that dress, didn't you?"
"i felt you on the couch that night. y-you probably would've fucked me while watching superman," you retort, teeth biting your lips as you feel his tongue wipe down the side of your neck, low hums flowing out of his throat.
lando chuckles darkly. "yeah i would've," he admits, hips snapping faster, cock dragging deeper and deeper into your cunt. the way you were clenching around him... christ. "let me show you how much i missed you, doll."
that dinner wasn't made even hours later. by the end it, you were both sitting in the kitchen, naked and next to each other, munching on some fries and ice cream.
lando would try every year just to see if he could improve his time.
isack hadjar
he's actually the one who brings it up to you. on a whim. he saw it on some tiktok. and he doesn't understand why you're laughing.
"isa, amour," you breathe quietly, calming yourself down, "listen, i love you... but you won't win."
isack looks at you blankly. like you had just told him he had grown two heads. "w-what?" he shifts on the couch, sitting up all serious and firm. "why not?"
you press your lips together, trying not to laugh at the small whine in his tone. you clear your throat, hooking one leg over his waist and then the other. you can feel his body tense underneath you, already proving your point. "you can't go a second without touching me let alone fucking me. we just went two rounds yesterday."
isack swallows at the sight of your pretty lashes blinking at him as you lean in, lips grazing over his. he blinks, pushing you away gently. "i'll win. you'll see."
and much to your surprise, he does.
you probably should've known better to challenge him. he always had such a big ego. because the next morning, you're on the bed, legs wide open with isack's head between them.
you're sweating. and not just because of how hot you feel. "isa, i-i can't," you breathe, body torn between pulling away from his tongue on your clit and staying.
"another," isack moans, voice muffled between your cunt. your back arches at the feel of his tongue gliding down your folds, prodding at your gaping hole.
"y-you said that four rounds ago," you moaned, hand darting to to grab those beautiful dark curls. you gasp when his nose collides with your clit, tongue lapping up every single drop of you.
the ghost of his smirk is embedded onto your pussy. "i'm trying to make up thirty days here."
he won. so he'll never do it again. but he will always brag about it.
kimi antonelli
wouldn't do it. absolutely not. and it's not a matter of pride or anything. he just knows he couldn't last. he's not experienced enough to hold out on you either. he loves spending those intimate moments with you. and banning it for a month would simply make him go crazy. besides... why would he deprive the both of you?
yeah no. he couldn't do it.
"aren't you so happy so you didn't do it?" you query, legs on either side of him, straddling his lap while you rode him.
kimi nods numbly, eyes fixated on the way your breasts hung in front of him. just so delicious!
you sigh at the feel of his mouth wrap around your nipple, tongue swirling around in small, brief circles, teeth grazing and nipping at the ample flesh surrounding it.
you were right though. he was happy. because fuck, the way you were riding him, walls all pressed around his cock, gripping him so good, so warm... all he could think was, "thank fuck i didn't do it."
his hands fly to your waist when you start picking up the pace. he moans, head falling back into the pillows, squirming at the deep grind on his cock. "fuck, baby, i'm gonna come."
you hum, feeling the blooming heat unfurl in your lower stomach. "yeah? you gonna come, pretty boy?" you coo, nails grazing his lower abdomen, sending shivers up his body.
"yes, yes, yes, yes," he moaned, fingers tightening into your flesh, eyes shut as a long whine falls from his lips, body stilling as his cum spills into the condom.
dean huijsen
he's cocky and young. he thinks he can do it. scratch that. he knows he can do it. for him, it is about the pride. you weren't the one who even proposed the idea. it was his stupid brothers, much to your disappointment.
all of them had decided to bet on who would last the longest. winner gets an all expenses paid holiday. dean wants to win, of course. he tries to convince you when you complain about it.
"cariño, it's just a month. and then we can make love all day wherever you want to in the world, hmm?" he hums, hugging you, batting those sleepy blue eyes at you.
"or... you could do that whenever you want to. literally," you retort back, brows raised, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you put.
dean swears to god he almost folded right there and then. but no. he was going win.
and he was so serious about it. keenly keeping his hands on you, careful to not linger for too long. yes... this was it. he was going to win.
unless, of course, he were to lose a day before he could've won...
dean's jaw is wide open, hand tightening around your hair curled around his fist as you let your throat accomodate his large length down the tight path.
his eyes roll at the sound of your gag and the sight of his cock creating a small bulge in your throat. oh jesus...
you pulled back up, breathing hard, grinning smugly as your lips graze over the side of his cock, tongue lingering over the vein on the underside. "regret losing?"
dean looks down at you, cheeks flushed, pupils blown. "shut up," he huffs, groaning when your lips stretched over his cock again. "oh my god," he cried out, hips jerking up. twenty nine days of nothing had him so sensitive.
you only chuckle around his cock, humming to send small vibrations. your scalp slightly burns at his grip but god, it doesn't help with the wetness between your legs.
you weren't sure about it but if you had to guess, he was pretty happy to lose. even if his brothers teased him afterwards. he would try again next year only to fail within two weeks.
pedri
to everyone's pedri is a sweet guy. and he is. but you've also never met someone more competitive than pedri. it's just a fact. so when you say that he can't last more than two weeks, his feelings are lowkey pretty hurt.
he takes that challenge with open arms. the first week passes and pedri's thinking, "this is easy." he walks around the house a cocky smile.
it only drops when you shrug. "i can still get myself off."
truth be told, pedri hadn't thought of that. so he's definitely not caught off guard when he comes back home from practice and the small crack of your door leaves him watching you finger yourself. he has to literally turn around and do breathing exercises and think of something horrifying to stop the blood rushing to his cock. it's a lot easier said than done when all he can hear are your moans in the air.
he survives another week. somewhat. he reminds himself what this was about. he needs to win this. to help him, he tries to make peace with the fact you're getting yourself off with your fingers. fine. of course. that's only natural considering he can't pleasure you himself for the time being.
pedri only knows he's walking on thin ice when your usual shower together turns into you teasing him. standing in front of him, warm water pelting off your skin. his brown eyes glued to the way your hands travel down your stomach and push into your cunt.
he swallows thickly. "s-seriously?"
"what? you can't lose from just this," you teased, voice soft and light as you moan his name. you can see his cock twitch, making you grin.
pedri closes his eyes, taking in a sharp breath. it's okay. all he needs to do is win.
but he loses. he can take you pleasuring yourself. but he absolutely cannot stand for the use of the godforsaken dildo you stored at the back of your drawer. the same one he banned you from using because, "why use that when you have a real one right here?"
"don't ever do that shit again," pedri huffs, body hovering over you, your heels digging into his back as he slams his cock into you, rutting his hips at an obscene pace. "you hear me, cariño?" he murmurs.
but you can't. your heart is thrumming, blood rushing. your skin burning with need. this is so much better than that dildo. "fóllame," you beg, hands travelling to his forearms, tightly gripping his skin.
"i am fucking you," he grunts, snapping his hips faster, cheeks flushed with at pretty pink you loved so much.
"shit!" you moan.
refuses to do it again because he's embarrassed af. proceeds to say, however, that he would've won if you didn't tease him.
alejandro balde
dubious. kinda weirded out by the idea. like why in earth would you do this? but he also thinks it could be fun. he always like a challenge. kinda laments on the fact that he doesn't get to touch you but you said you'd reward him if he wins.
so obviously he tries his very best.
the second week was actually worse than the first. initially, he didn't really realise anything was happening. walking around you and with you like he wasn't doing the challenge. he was so busy with training and recovering...
but then you came to training. he didn't notice at first. not until all the younger team members started complimenting you. maybe he was having withdrawals or something. maybe he was crazy. but you looked prettier than normal. with the sun shining over you, skin radiating, pretty wide eyes only staring at him.
and now everyone was telling you how pretty you were except for him. and that kind of pissed him off.
that why you were here, in the empty locker rooms, getting your brains fucked out by alejandro, being reminded of you who belonged to.
the locker room shower is cold as it runs over you. but you can't tell. your moans and whimpers and alejandro's grunts are covered up by the pelting water. his hands on either side of you, flat and pressed on the tiled walls as he fucks up into you, teeth grazing your bare breast.
"never doing that again," he moans out against your chest, pulling away to admire your flushed expression and the way the water sticks to your hair and skin. "never realised how much i missed this."
your hands rake over his bare back, nails digging into his skin while you moan in his ear. "ale– ugh, fuck," you drawl out, gasping for air.
alejandro smiles, placing his lips onto yours. "gonna come for me, princess?" he teases, one hand moving from the tile to find your clit, rubbing in short, firm circles.
"shitshitshit," you cry out, body writhing under him, coil in your lower stomach beginning to unravel.
"come on. let go, cariño," he murmurs against your lips.
you only see white stars, body shuddering as waves of pleasure roll over you. you pick up your slack jaw, catching your breath, still feeling his cock thrusting in your cunt, making you whimper. you nod finally. "never again," you agree.
english isn’t my first language, enemies to lovers and a little bit suggestive content
── ✦ ──
You hated Barça players. Straight up. Okay, maybe hate was a strong word. But something about them just rubbed you the wrong way. Was it the arrogance? The way they walked around like football gods? Or was it that your heart had been white since the beginning of time, and anything that smelled remotely blaugrana made your blood pressure spike?
Probably the last one.
And yet, there you were. At a party in Madrid. Surrounded by unfamiliar jerseys, laughter, loud music, and for some reason players from the rival team.
More specifically, Héctor Fort.
You weren’t sure how he even ended up there (rumor had it he was friends with a couple Atlético players), but the point was: he was there. Right in front of you. Wearing that “I know exactly the effect I have” smile, his hair artfully messy, and a tight black shirt that, honestly, was not helping your anti-Barça stance.
“Mind if I come closer?” he asked, holding a drink in one hand, eyes locked onto yours with shameless amusement.
You gave him a flat stare.
“Only if you’re not about to bring up the 2009 treble.”
“And what if I talk about the one that’s coming next?” he replied smoothly, leaning against the wall beside you.
You rolled your eyes.
“Not even in your dreams, Fort.”
He laughed — clearly enjoying this.
“You know my last name? I’m flattered.”
“I screamed it once when you scored an own goal. One of the best days of my life.”
He clutched his chest in mock pain.
“And here I was, about to offer to buy you a drink. Life is cruel.”
“Buy it for someone easier,” you said, turning your back on him and walking back to your group of friends.
But of course, he didn’t leave.
Because he was Héctor Fort. And you’d just bruised his ego. Now, you were his challenge.
It didn’t stop that night. It never did.
You started running into him at events, mutual hangouts, rooftops where someone always happened to invite “that group of Barça boys.” And every single time — he was there. With those flirty lines. With the way he leaned in just enough to hear you better. With that annoying accent you were starting to maybe find attractive.
And each time, you replied with sarcasm.
“So… switched sides yet or still playing for the villains?”
“How are you gonna resist me when ‘visca el Barça’ doesn’t even make you flinch anymore?”
“You know, you’re kinda hot when you pretend to hate me.”
And you who had sworn never to smile at him started doing just that. Without even realizing it. Because that stupid flirt knew exactly what he was doing.
One night, after a particularly intense match (which Madrid obviously won), you ran into him outside a rooftop bar. He was alone. So were you.
Both of you stopped.
“Here to rub in the score?” he asked, flashing that crooked smile he wore when he was tired but still ready to play.
“Do I need to? I saw you disappear in the second half. Looked like it hurt to watch Bellingham celebrate.”
Héctor chuckled quietly, stepping closer.
“What really hurts is you still pretending you don’t want to kiss me.”
Your eyes widened.
“Excuse me?”
“Come on,” he murmured, leaning in way closer than what was polite. “I’m not the only one feeling this. Don’t look at me like that if you’re not going to do something about it.”
You said nothing for a second.
The air between you shifted heavy, electric.
You were one bad decision away from something irreversible.
“I would never hook up with a Barça player,” you whispered.
“Then look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want me,” he said calmly. Confident. Like someone who already knew you were shaking.
You bit your lip.
And said nothing.
Because you couldn’t.
Because… maybe you did want him.
Because that annoyingly charming idiot had slipped under your Madrid jersey and into your head.
Nothing happened that night. But after that, everything changed.
Your texts with him became more frequent. Your “I’m not into you” turned into “you’re so annoying.” And your “you’re so annoying” slowly transformed into I think about you more than I should.
And when Héctor texted you after El Clásico saying: “We lost… you coming to comfort me or still pretending you feel nothing?”
Your reply was: “I’m on my way. But don’t think I like you.”
He replied with just one word: “Liar.”
You said you were going just for fun. That it was just to mess with him. That it didn’t mean anything.
And yet, there you were. Standing in front of the hotel where Barça was staying in Madrid. Heart pounding. Phone shaking in your hand. His last message still on the screen.
You hated him. You hated that he was right. Because you’d said you didn’t like him, that it was a game, that you’d never fall for a guy like him.
But you thought about him.
You thought about him way too much.
Héctor came down a few minutes later. No hat, no rush. Like he didn’t care who saw him. Like he already knew you were coming. Like you did, too. “I didn’t think you’d actually show,” he said, in that low, soft voice he only used when he wasn’t joking.
“I didn’t come for you,” you replied quickly, arms crossed.
“Oh no? Then why?”
“For… pride. To prove you don’t affect me.”
He smiled.
“Then stay. And prove it.”
He gave you that look the one that wasn’t just a look. It was a statement.
You both went to the top floor. Not his room, obviously. The rooftop. It was empty. Quiet. Just a couple lights and the distant hum of a city that never really sleeps.
You sat at the edge, pretending to be calm.
He stayed standing, watching you like every little move you made fascinated him.
“I don’t get why you bother me so much,” you muttered.
“Because you like me.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
You glared at him. But it wasn’t hate. It was that other thing. That burn in your mouth every time you were near him and didn’t kiss him.
“I don’t like you.”
“Then look me in the eyes and say it,” he replied, stepping closer.
You did.
And you couldn’t say it.
Because it wasn’t true anymore.
“This is stupid,” you whispered.
“Then kiss me. Show me it means nothing.”
“Don’t be an idiot,” you snapped but you were already standing, barely a breath away from him.
“I’m not asking you to fall in love. Just stop lying.”
You froze.
You could feel his hands close, feel his presence, the heat, the tension building in your chest. Like your whole body already knew what you wanted before your mind caught up.
“I’d never hook up with a culé,” you whispered, almost like a mantra. But it was losing power.
He leaned in closer, his lips just a breath from yours.
“And I shouldn’t want a madridista who hates me. But here we are.”
You stood there.
In that dangerous silence.
That line between walking away… or giving in.
And you wanted to leave.
But you wanted to stay even more.
And that terrified you.
Excited you.
Set you on fire.
“You know what the worst part is?” you whispered, not moving.
“What?”
“I didn’t even like you.”
“And now…”
His fingers brushed your cheek. Barely. Like he was asking for permission.
And you didn’t stop him.
“Now you annoy me in a different way,” you murmured, voice shaking.
He smiled.
“Then kiss me.”
Your lips were so close, the next move could change everything.
And he knew it.
Because you weren’t his enemy anymore.
You were his obsession.
You didn’t know who moved first.
Maybe him.
Maybe you.
Or maybe the universe had just gotten tired of the tension and shoved you two together.
What you did know… was what happened next.
His mouth crashed into yours with a mix of frustration and hunger. Like he’d waited too long. Like he needed to prove, once and for all, that this wasn’t a joke. That it wasn’t a game. That it was you.
It was a rough kiss. No softness.
Tight lips.
Hands gripping your waist.
All that pent-up energy finally set free.
And you kissed him back.
With every ounce of the frustration you’d buried.
With all the want you refused to admit.
With the overwhelming urge to rip off your white jersey and forget the colors just for tonight.
His fingers traced your back, tangled in your hair. He pulled you closer closer like any space left between you was an insult.
You were breathing against his mouth, between kisses, barely catching air.
But you didn’t want to breathe.
You didn’t want to think.
You pushed him gently against the rooftop wall, hands on his chest. You felt the heat of his skin through the fabric. He let out a low breath against your neck, like he still couldn’t believe this was happening.
“Fuck…” he murmured against your jaw, lips trailing your skin. “I swear I didn’t know how bad I wanted you until now.”
You squeezed your eyes shut. Because it hurt, too.
You’d fought this for so long. And kissing him was surrendering and at the same time, the most freeing thing you’d ever done.
“This doesn’t mean anything,” you lied, voice trembling.
“Then kiss me like that again,” he said, biting softly at your lower lip. “And tell me you feel nothing.”
So you did.
You kissed him like you were trying to forget him and memorize him at the same time.
Your legs were shaking. His hands slid down your sides with dangerous slowness. Your back hit the cold wall, and instead of pulling away it just ignited you even more. You needed him closer. Deeper. More.
“What are we doing?” you whispered, forehead pressed to his.
“Something we shouldn’t… but I can’t stop.”
His lips trailed down your neck. Short kisses.
Like little promises you didn’t yet understand.
Your fingers slid under his shirt.
He shut his eyes and exhaled deep and shaky.
“We’re not going further here,” you said suddenly, trying to take back some control.
“I know,” he whispered, eyes dark and full of want. “But don’t ask me to walk away from you tonight.”
And you didn’t.
You stayed.
Wrapped in each other’s arms. Kissing in silence. Touching like the world outside the rooftop didn’t exist.
And when you finally went back downstairs, lips swollen, shirt slightly rumpled there was no pretending anymore.
It wasn’t a war.
It wasn’t a rivalry.
It wasn’t pride.
It was Héctor.
And he had won you in the one way you never thought you’d fall:
by kissing you until you stopped fighting.
note: i don't speak english, only spanish n a little portuguese. any errors are the translator's fault.
w: smut.
request open!
HECTOR FORT:
Hector is pretty easygoing when it comes to sex, well, it depends on the day. If he's tired but also horny, he can go slow and deep while pulling your hair from behind.
But if he comes home angry, it's a different story; he prefers to go fast and rough, making your bodies collide, echoing in your room.
Hector is also a fan of fucking with Anuel's music playing in the background, especially. Hector gets turned on, and if you fuck with Anuel's "Or Nah," ugh, you won't be able to walk tomorrow.
FERMIN LOPEZ:
Fermin does it however you ask: fast, slow, hard, soft, however you want and whenever you want, but his favorite is fucking before and after games.
Before games, it's like good luck; after games, it depends on how the team did. If things go badly, he gets even and fucks you hard. If they win, he does it quickly and with kisses.
PEDRI GONZALES:
Pedri is a madman when it comes to sex. Anywhere, anytime, but with you and only with you.
Tongue, fingers, he knows how to use everything at his disposal.
Pedri likes rough sex, pulling your hair, telling you what to do, controlling your orgasm, or simply anything that involves him dominating you.
FERRAN TORRES:
Ferran is a serious man when it comes to sex. He seeks to take you to the limit, until you even forget your name. He likes a good, hard fuck.
Nothing better than watching your wife squirm for you while you fuck her. He loves it, especially if you moan his name, begging for more of him.
Like Fermin: he fucks you before the games for his good luck. It's a quickie, and after the game, you can continue.
ALEJANDRO BALDE:
Alejandro is playful. He likes to talk during sex and laugh at you. He also controls your orgasm or just lets you want it and that's it.
Could say he likes it when you beg him or tell him how good he feels. He's satisfied with that and loves the little voice you make while you tell him.
PAU CUBARSI:
Cuba is a sweet guy. He likes to kiss you while you're doing it and occasionally laugh at the sounds of pleasure you make.
Pau likes flattery. Fuck him while telling him he's a handsome guy, and he'll do it with even more desire and talent. If you like, you can pull his hair or bite his shoulder; it turns him on because he knows he's doing it right.
If you ask him, he can be rough, but he has a hard time treating you badly or talking dirty to you. He can't; he's too embarrassed.
summary: What are their kisses like or how do they like to kiss you?
warnings: none. cute, soft, fluff, headcanon.
—Pedri Gonzalez.
His kisses are too long and affectionate. He likes the sensation of feeling you close to him, he thinks it is intimate and the most tender way to show love.
He could spend hours kissing your lips, soft and delicate, showing you how much he likes your lips. He is very shy at times but if you kiss him first, he will not be able to stop.
Your soft and full lips are like an addiction for Pedri, he loves the sensation of feeling them on his skin at any time. Whether on his cheeks or forehead. During sex, he also kisses your lips a lot, especially to silence his squeals and to make you feel loved. Because he really loves you and your lips a lot.
—Pablo Gavi.
One of the most amateur kissers in history, not of your lips but of your neck and jaw. He likes your lips but is obsessed with the soft, supple skin of your neck.
Especially because he likes to mark his trails, so when his lips are on your neck, he will play with you until you turn red. He loves the sensation of hearing you gasp and laugh at the same time.
During sex, he prefers not so much to kiss as to watch. Watching you is more his thing, but, after the action he is very affectionate and caring. Maybe there he kisses you too much to make up for what he couldn't kiss you before.
—Ferran Torres.
Ferran knows what a good kisser he is, he always received compliments about it and you always remind him of it. So when he is with you he likes to kiss you all the time because he knows how much you like his kisses.
He kisses you anywhere, no matter where it is, he knows how to make your skin bristle with so little. On your lips, neck and shoulders. Your shoulders are his weakness.
When you are having sex he doesn't kiss so much because he likes to concentrate on you but from time to time he seeks your lips. His kisses are very long and seductive.
—Fermin López.
Fermín loves kissing, loves kissing you and loves to be kissed by you. An exchange of mutual love which, for Fermín, is heaven itself. He loves to feel your lips on his, short or long, he doesn't care.
He could kiss you all day long, on your lips, your thighs, your belly, your neck or your face. He's super cheesy and tender. He knows you like it and he will take advantage of it to feel you.
Not necessarily during sex, because sometimes he can't hold back the moans and has to let them out but after he's done, he'll be a ball of love. He will kiss you so much, until you fall asleep. Just like the next morning, he will wake you up with his kisses.
—Alejandro Balde.
Although he loves to kiss your lips, his lips always find your hands to kiss them delicately. He is so tender and delicate, he loves to make you feel like a princess.
Although your lips are his favorite, he will kiss them whenever you can. Every now and then he will give you a peck on your lips. He finds it fun and romantic. He is obsessed with your mouth, so lips and tongue for him.
When you are having sex, he likes to kiss you even more. It's a different kind of connection and he loves to feel your warm lips on his.
—Hector Fort.
He's definitely a kisser, a lot. Too much. And not only that, he kisses like the gods. Hector has a gift and he knows how to use it on you.
Kissing your neck, chest and shoulders is his favorite pastime while you're together. No matter what you do he will come and take his time with you. He concentrates on you, kissing your skin delicately with that seductive and haughty touch he has.
During sex he kisses much more your breasts or shoulders than your lips. But when you're done, he'll take care of leaving you with lungs and lips asleep.
—Lamine Yamal.
He is overconfident and despite being young, he has a certain amount of experience. He loves to kiss you either on the lips or on your forehead, he finds it protective and tender.
He likes to kiss your nose too, as a little detail he has with you. But sometimes he plays rough and wants you to kiss him and take the initiative.
In sex he is a little kisser but not so much, maybe more your neck or bite your shoulders but he will definitely do it when he finishes and kiss you for a while afterwards.
—Pau Cubarsí.
He is not a big fan of kissing on the lips because he thinks he doesn't give them correctly. He's still young and just learning, he's also a bit insecure.
Clearly he doesn't agree with that, Pau is a good kisser and when he kisses you he is intense and fiery. But he likes it when you kiss him long and deep.
He prefers to kiss your face how, forehead, nose, cheeks and ears. He finds it tender and that is his way of showing his love. In bed he may be a little more kissy to show his love for you, he likes to be gentle and soft with you.
