Summary: How they would react at you calling them by their name instead of their nickname.
Warnings: cursing.
Pedri
"Flaco!"
You call from the laundry room, you were searching for the mop because of something that spilled.
You don't hear him answering you. "Flaco." You call again, giving him a few minutes to call back. You sigh, finding the mop without the mopping part. "Flaco!" You shout, trying for him to hear you.
You leave the mop there, knowing that it was easier for you to clean the spill with napkins than to find it.
"Pedro!" You call, grabbing a few napkins to clean the mess.
He hears you from the outside of the house, where he is playing with Nilo. He walks inside, finding you cleaning something.
"Did you just call me Pedro?" He asks,
"Si, please turn off the spaghetti." You say, throwing the napkins on the trash can. "Also, I called you like a thousand times. Where were you?"
"I was outside with Nilo." He explains, pointing to the door. "You never call me Pedro." He says, confused at you.
You smile at his confused expression, pitching his cheek.
"I was going like < flaco, flaco, flaco > and no answer, so I used your name." You explain, shrugging. "Pass me the sauce, please."
"But Pedro?" He shakes his head. "I'm your flaco, guapo, bebé. Not Pedro." He pouts.
"Isn't that your name?" You ask, squinting your eyes at him. "Pedro." You say, teasing him.
"Don't call me that." He pouts even more. He walks over to where you are, placing his chin on top of your shoulder. "I'm your flaco." He says, hugging your body.
"You are going to burn yourself with the hot pot, Pedro." you smile, pitching his hand lightly. "Food is almost done, seat down."
"Flaco." He hug you tightly. "Say it."
"I don't know what you are talking about." You laugh, trying to escape his hold. "Pedro"
"Bua, you are killing me." He sighs, letting his hold go.
You smile at him, how cute he looked while pouting and giving you those puppy eyes.
"Grab the plates," you say, pushing him towards the cabinets. "Flaco." You whisper.
He pauses, turning his head to where you are. "Repitelo!" He points at you, leaving the plates on the counter. "Go on, repeat it!"
"What are you doing?" You laugh, hugging him as his arms wrap around you. "You are so funny, flaco." You smile, giving him a kiss on the top of his nose. "Or should I say platanito?"
"Love that nickname." He smiles.
"Okay, let's use that one." You laugh, pushing him lightly. "Platanito."
Gavi
"Can you pass me the remote, ojitos?" You ask him.
He was on his phone while you two were sitting on the couch. You put on a movie but your phones seemed more interesting.
"Ojitos." You call again, taking the eyes from the phone. "Ojitos?" You say, looking at him being dso focus on the phone.
You try to reach for the remote, failing for the third time. You turn no look at him, he was still on his phone, watching this video.
"Pablo!" You call, tired already.
He looks up for the phone. "Si?" He asked
"Pass me the remote, please." You smile at him, stretching your arm for him to pass it to you.
He frowns, grabbing the remote. "Sorry, didn't hear you."
"Thanks, Pablo." You smile, turning the tv off. "That movie was boring."
You return to your phone, checking your tik tok for new things. Pablo, on the other hand, is looking at you with a frown.
"Look at this." You giggle, showing him the tik tok. His questioning eyes are looking at you. "What's wrong?"
He pouts even more, you only use his name when you are mad or you are fighting, so he wonders if that's the case.
"You call me Pablo."
You roll your eyes, trying not to laugh at him. "Oh, don't be mad. You weren't listening, and I needed the remote." You say, moving closer to him. "Love you, ojitos."
He changed his expression, smiling and getting closer to you. "That's better."
Ferran
"Can you hand me the sauce?" He asks, placing the meat on the grill. "Please."
He was fresh out of the hospital, wanting to cook for his friends and family. He was trying to feel like he could do normal things, even tho he couldn't eat that heavy for a while.
"I still think you should be resting, nene."
"I'm fine, I'm a shark. Don't worry about it." He smiles, placing more food on the grill. "Sauce, please."
You nod, going back to the kitchen to grab it. You notice that there were two types of sauces.
"Nene, I have two sauces here." You say loudly for him to hear you. "Nene!"
You wait for a few seconds, nothing. Ferran was too busy watching a tik tok to hear you calling his name.
"Nene!" You try one more time, still nothing. You roll your eyes, walking back to where he is with both sauces on your hands. "Ferran!"
"Hey! I learned how to do chimichurri on this tik tok." He smiles, showing you his screen. "Why do you have both sauces?"
"Cause I called you to ask which one, but you never answered." You hand him one sauce. "Also, we just bought chimichurri, Ferran."
He looks up to you. "Are you mad?" He asks, frowning a little bit.
"No, why?" You ask, confused at his question.
"You don't call me Ferran, like ever. I'm Ferran to my sister, to my mom, to my dad, to the culers, but to you, I'm not."
You smile, getting closer and hugging him from behind. "Sorry, I keep forgetting you are mi nene."
Fermin
You walk inside of his house, a small cake box on your hand. You left your things on the table next to the entrance.
"Guapo!" You left the cake on the table, sitting down on a chair. "Guapo!"
You frown, Fermin texted you earlier that he was home. You meet up to him because you were going to a friend's birthday party and she asked you to take the cake.
You wait for a few minutes, still nothing. You walk upstairs, trying to find him to get going.
"Guapo, are you here?"
You open the door to his room, finding him watching something on tik tok with so much volume it was obvious why he couldn't hear you.
"Fermin!" You shout.
He throws the phone somewhere, grabbing his chest with both hands. He looks at you with wide eyes, scared because of your shout.
"Joder, me he cagao'" He says. "You never use my name, and now you come here and shout at me."
You roll your eyes. "I called you like three times, I thought you were asleep." You explain. "Put your shoes on, let's go."
He nodded, doing what you told him. You walk downstairs to see if you had everything you needed.
"Can we agree on you never calling me by my name again?" He asks, grabbing the car keys. "That was scary."
You chuckled at him, he looked so worried. "Vale, guapo."
Can you do something about Pedri being jealous? You choose if it ends in smut or not. I love your writing.
౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ Pedri - Jealous
⋆｡˚Pairing - Pedri x fem!reader
౨ৎ Summary - When a colleague drops you home from work, Pedri can't seem to control his jealously.
⋆｡˚Word Count - 3.4k
౨ৎ Warnings - jealous bf! possessiveness!
౨ৎ
It's 6:30pm and you're on your way home from work in a unfamiliar and abstract way. The train route which you usually took was cancelled at short notice, the bus routes were always packed full of people, the walk was far far too long and your boyfriend Pedri was still at football training when you clocked out the office.
So, instead you had been waiting around for thirty minutes for your co-worker, Julian, to finish his work and drop you off back at your boyfriends house.
And so here you were, in his navy blue Porsche which smelt of sandalwood and cologne which tried to hard to smell expensive. The city passed by like a blur as the engine purred under you. You engaged in conversation about work, and your colleagues and how their was weird smell in the break room today. Mundane laughter and simple flowing chatter filled the drive to Pedri's place in the Barcelona suburbs.
Julian was a good man, and a good friend in the office. During work hours he was someone you would spend a good chunk of your time with, sometimes going on lunch together with a few others or grabbing an after work drink together. If you both arrived early enough you would go grab a quick coffee from the local café around the corner form the office. But being in his expensive car, in a dark lit space, it made your tummy flip. Being in any Porsche that wasn't Pedro's felt foreign and forbidden.
Had Pedri not have been at training he would have come and got you. In fact, he offered to leave training early just to make sure you got to his home safely. When you told him that leaving his training session early just to pick you up from work was ridiculous he offered to send a car to come get you instead. You were about to take him up on the offer but then Julian came like a knight in shining armour. You text Pedri and let him know a friend from work was heading in a similar direction and would just drop you off on the way.
For Pedri, that was a relief. A girl friend was going to drop you off safely and he could get back to training without a worry. It also seemed like you would be arriving home at a similar time to him now, or he would get home a lit bit earlier than you which was a nice change for once. So, when training ended he rushed into his own Porsche filled with only the excitement of seeing you.
Julian turned the wheel with an easy confidence, glancing at you briefly as he merged onto a quieter street lined with the sloping trees of Pedri’s neighborhood. You were nearing the end of the drive now, the tension that had quietly built in your shoulders beginning to ease with the familiar sight of the Barcelona suburbs rolling into view. It was a strange feeling. Your work life seemed to be meeting you real life. Sure, the office knew you were dating Pedri. You'd get teased about it all the time but you never thought your work life would intertwine with him, with your love. But now it was about too. You just hoped that Pedri was already home.
The Porsche pulled to a gentle stop just outside Pedri’s house, that same navy blur now parked against the pale dusk like it didn’t quite belong. You glanced at the big house you had spent so much time in it was like your own home. The driveway was empty. Your boyfriend was not back from football yet, and for a moment you let your shoulders drop in relief. A sigh you didn't know you were holding in realised from your chest.
You unbuckled your seatbelt, "Gracias, Julian" you said while dusting your hands down your tight black work trousers just to give your hands something to do.
“Of course,” he said, one arm resting casually on the wheel. “Anytime.” His Rolex was catching in the light of the setting sun. Everything about him was so expensive and exuded old money, so old fashioned and chivalrous. Most girls looked at Julian and could not contain their blush, you'd seen it happen countless times at the café. The young baristas eyes cowering with nerves when they speak to him, or the older ladies who couldn't stop fawning over his muscles. But not you. Never you. You had Pedri. And Pedri was all you ever wanted.
You exchanged quick goodbyes and then reached for the door handle. Just as you did headlights washed across the front of the car. Another car, one which was sleek, black, and unmistakably familiar, rolled into the driveway at just the right moment to make your stomach drop and your heart quicken.
You froze, fingers still curled around the door handle.
The headlights flickered against the rear-view mirror, casting long shadows across Julian’s face as he looked toward the driveway, then back at you with a small, unreadable smile.
“That him?” he asked, voice low but casual, as though he wasn't fazed by the fact one of the best footballers in the world hadn't just showed up in front of him. Like he didn't watch him play week in and week out.
You nodded, too fast. “Si. That’s him.”
The engine of Pedri’s car purred low as it rolled to a stop. The light cut out as the ignition shut off, and for a beat, everything felt suspended. Caught between the final scene of one moment and the first flicker of the next.
You opened the door before the pause could stretch too long.
The air outside was cooler now, with the early evening breeze tugging gently at your white work blouse. You stepped out of the Porsche, the sound of the car door clicking shut unnaturally loud in the quiet street.
Pedri emerged from his own Porsche a second later, gym bag slung over his shoulder, dark hair still damp from a post-training shower, his Nike hoodie zipped halfway up. He looked good; flushed from training, tired in that soft way he always looked when he’d come home from training. He was smiling when he saw you, but it faltered slightly when his eyes landed on the navy Porsche.
Then they looked at you again.
He slowed a little as he crossed the driveway, his hand coming up in a lazy wave, his eyes trailing you up and down because something about you in tight fitting office wear always got him worked up. But, he could not stop himself from wondering who was in the navy Porsche that still waited outside his house. Who had driven you home?
Julian didn’t move, but the driver’s side window lowered slightly. You could feel his gaze watching, calmly, from behind the wheel. Not smug. Just curious.
Pedri greeted you with a small kiss on the cheek. Then his eyes flicked to the car again, then to you. “Didn’t know your friend from work drove a Porsche.”
You smiled, small and tired, brushing your hair behind your ear as you adjusted the strap of your handbag on your shoulder. You could feel the question lingering in his voice, wrapped in velvet but edged in something firmer. Curiosity, maybe, or protectiveness. Possibly both.
“He offered,” you replied softly, not wanting to make it a bigger deal than it was. “I didn’t want you leaving training early, remember? You’ve got a match in a few days. I was going to take a cab but Julian said he was heading this way. Made sense."
Julian. The name of man made Pedri's ears ring. It was a man who had driven you home. A man who you spent eight hours a day working alongside. Suddenly, that fact clicks in his head. The fact that you almost have a separate life existing in an office building in Barcelona's city centre. A world where he doesn't really exist. It makes his stomach turn.
You watched your boyfriend's eyebrows crease in the way they do when he's thinking hard. The way his jaw tightens in what was seemingly annoyance.
The noise of the car window rolling down even further broke some of the tension between us.
Pedri’s head turned slightly toward the sound, his eyes sharpening with something unreadable, his hand slipping from your waist back to the strap of his gym bag. He didn’t say anything , he didn’t need to. You could feel the shift in him, like something inside had straightened up, alert.
From the car, Julian leaned slightly into view. He looked out through the lowered window, his face calm, casual, eyes flicking between the two of you with no rush, no nerves, no intention of stepping out or overstepping.
Pedri looked at him. He was full of muscles, a sharp set jaw and wavy light brown hair. He was older, and looked it. Not in a bad way but in a manly way. He looked like most girls dream guy. His suit perfectly tailored, he expensive watch glinting away. He was stable, and respectable. He had a proper job and a good salary.
This was the man you were spending eight hours a day with. Your friend. Pedri thought.
“You good?” Julian called out to you lightly, in Spanish, just loud enough to carry across the short distance.
You nodded, turning your body more toward him instinctively. “Yeah, I’m good. Thanks again.”
Julian offered a small nod and half a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Alright then. I'll see you on Monday morning, the usual time. Have a good night.”
And just like that, the window rolled back up. The navy blue car rolled away into the dying light of the evening. The engine roar getting further and further away.
Silence.
Pedri watched the spot where the car disappeared for a moment too long, then turned back to you.
"The usual time, eh?"
You blinked, caught slightly off-guard by his tone—not sharp, but not exactly light either. It hovered somewhere in the middle. Almost playful, but laced with something else; something heavier. The usual time. Three little words who have flicked the night like a switch.
You gave a small smile, trying to brush it off. “We get coffee most mornings before work. It’s not a big deal.”
Pedri nodded slowly, but his lips pressed into a thin line. The same look he gives when he has been fouled on the pitch and disagrees with the referee. A frown. “Right. Coffee. Just you and him?”
“Sometimes with others. Sometimes just us,” you admitted, honestly, but gently. “It’s just a routine. We both get there early and it’s convenient. That’s all it is.”
Jealousy was seeping through his veins. He couldn't stop imagining it. You and Julian in the corner of a café in the early morning, alone. Did he pay for your order? Did he pull out your chair? Did he carry your work bag just to be a gentleman? Did he fill the role he was absent from? He began to overthink the whole interaction that just happened, the way Julian checked to make sure you were okay. The way he didn't even really acknowledge Pedri, his eyes only ever remaining on you. He looked at you with what Pedri knew as desire, forbidden attraction that he could not act upon. Did your work attire work Julian up as much as it worked Pedri up?
Pedri didn't say anything, he just nodded his head to the front door and you followed behind him. You could feel the heat fuming from him. The raw jealousy.
౨ৎ
Inside the house, it was too quiet. The kind of quiet where you can hear your own heartbeat in your ears, your kitten heels clicking on the hardwood, the distant hum of city noise wrapped in a suburban quiet.
Pedri dropped his bag on the floor by the door in a sudden thud. He didn’t look at you when he did it. He stood for a moment with his back to you, still in the threshold, fingers flexing once at his sides like he was trying to contain himself from emotion.
You closed the door softly behind you, the click small and definite. Your bag slid from your shoulder and landed by your feet. You wanted to speak, but your throat felt thick. You weren't used to this side of your boyfriend. You didn't know how to navigate it.
You followed him into the kitchen, walking slower than usual. He opened the fridge, stared at it blankly, then closed it again. He leaned against the counter like he needed something to hold him up.
You stood near the kitchen island, your fingers worrying the strap of your handbag, waiting for him to speak first.
He finally turned toward you, his expression unreadable. “So, he drives you home. You get coffee together. What else?”
The words weren’t cruel, but they felt precise. Like he was picking them out carefully, deliberately. You blinked.
“It’s just coffee,” you said. “Just work stuff. That's all it is.”
Pedri nodded, but it didn’t feel like agreement. It felt like stalling. He looked at you again, really looked, his brown eyes dark under the overhead kitchen lights. His under eyes tired from his workout.
“I don’t like it,” he said. Simply. Without apology.
You opened your mouth, maybe to defend yourself, or maybe just to say his name, but he cut in before you could.
“I know you love me,” he added. “I’m not insecure about that.”
He walked a few steps closer. His voice didn’t rise. “But I don’t want you being close with another man. Not like that.”
“Like he knows you,” Pedri said, now standing just in front of you. “Like he knows you before nine in the morning. Like he knows all your wants and all your needs. Like he takes care of you. That's mine.”
You looked at him carefully, but he didn’t flinch under your gaze.
Pedri was watching you, waiting. His hand moved like he wanted to reach for you but didn’t.
"I know how men look at women they want but can’t have. He looks at you like that. I don’t want him anywhere near you.” His eyes darken with a serious glare you rarely ever saw.
Your stomach flipped because your body betrays you by liking this side to him. This man that's claiming you so boldly all while dressed in a matching black training tracksuit with curly wet hair, smelling like hard work and musk.
The air felt so charged, like you were being struck with electricity and flying sparks.
You opened your mouth, then closed it again. “He’s just a friend,” you said finally. Your voice sounded small in the big kitchen. “He’s never crossed a line.”
Pedri’s eyes flickered, a tiny movement, like a muscle twitch. He took another step, closing the space between you until the counter pressed against your back. His voice dropped even lower.
“He doesn’t have to cross it,” he said. “He's already standing on it.”
You swallowed. He was so close now you could smell the faint chlorine from the training ground shower still clinging to his hoodie, the sharpness of his cologne dulled by sweat.
“I’m here,” you said gently. “I come home to you.” You try to reassure him.
You reached up and touched his wrist, his skin warm under your fingers. Slowly, his hand lifted, hovering before it finally settled at your waist. His thumb pressed against the fabric of your blouse, not hard, just enough to feel you there.
“I’m not asking you to quit your job or anything stupid,” he said, eyes still locked on yours. “I’m just saying, if he’s giving you rides, if he’s sitting with you in cafés, if he’s paying for your lunches, he’s not just being polite.”
“I don’t let him pay,” you said quietly. “And it’s not--” you stopped, trying to choose the right words, but none of them seemed to fit.
Pedri’s thumb drew a small, slow circle against your waist, like he wasn’t even aware he was doing it. He looked at you the way someone looks at a photograph they’ve stared at for too long, their eyes tracing every line until it becomes burned into the brain.
He tilted his head slightly, eyes still locked on yours. “you don’t see it. But I do. That’s my job.” His fingers pressed a little harder into your waist, not rough, but enough to feel it. “To see it before you do.”
You swallowed. “Your job?”
He nodded once. “To protect what’s mine. Not because I’m afraid of losing it, but because I won’t let anyone else have it.”
Your stomach flipped again. He had no doubts. Only certainty and confidence.
His hand slid a fraction higher, palm spanning the curve of your waist now, his fingers warm against your skin through the fabric. "No more morning coffee, Si?". It wasn't really a question but he tried to make it sound like one. His lips dropping to your ear making your breath catch in your chest. Instantly your body responds to him. A rush of heat at the base of your spine and between your legs.
“I’m yours,” you whispered, voice small but sure, meeting his dark, steady gaze.
His eyes flickered with something deep and fierce, a quiet fire behind the calm. “Good girl,” he said, his voice dropping even lower. “Because no one else gets to touch you like this.”
Without breaking eye contact, he leaned down, mouth brushing your collarbone, leaving a trail of heat in his wake as he unbuttoned the white blouse you had spent the long day wearing.
Your hands found his sweatshirt, fingers curling into the soft fabric, holding him close. The subtle power in his touch, the deliberate claiming, sent a shiver straight through you. Your hands tugged gently at the hem of his hoodie, and he let you, lifting his arms without a word as you pulled the fabric over his head and dropped it beside you.
Pedri's forehead rested against yours for a moment, the tip of his nose brushing yours. His breath was steady, his eyes searching. As if he needed to see you clearly. As if this wasn’t just about jealousy anymore, but something deeper. Possession, yes. But also an undying love.
You kissed him. He kissed you with back with hunger and want. His fingers threaded into your hair, cradling the back of your head.
He tugged you down the hallway, lips still longer. Breathes panting. Your back hit the edge of the bedroom door, your blouse falling the rest of the way open under his hands. He paused, just long enough to look at you, to take you in.
And then he said it, low and certain:
“It's just me and you. No one else matters”
You didn’t respond. Not with words, at least. You didn’t need to. The way your hands found his face, the way your mouth found his again. That was the only answer he needed.
The rest of the night unfolded slowly, wrapped in warmth and low murmurs, in the quiet promise of closeness. Skin on skin. Moan after moan.
Come Monday morning, Pedri woke up early enough to drive you to work. A little later than usual. No morning coffee. No Julian.
And that evening, he was there again; parked outside your office, leaning against his car in sunglasses, waiting. You walked out to find him like that, calm and oozing confidence, while Julian trailed behind.
Pedri didn't say a word, he just watched as Julian watched him open the car door for you, and instead of jealousy -- this time it was something sweeter. The satisfaction of watching Julian realise he would never have you, no matter how hard he tried or how long he waited.
Can you do a Pedri imagine x reader where they go on vacation after world cup,somewhere beachy. He suprises her with tickets for a beach vacations,she has no idea. Boys all tease him in their group about how whipped he is for his girl.
➳ 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐲 𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 | 𝐏𝐞𝐝𝐫𝐢
➳ summary: A trip to the Maldives is the most needed thing after the world cup, especially after winning it.
➳ masterlist | taglist: @agirlallalonee (dm to be added!!)
➳ feedback is appreciated and requests are open ♡
The guys saw Pedri sitting in front of his laptop all stressed out, while they were supposed to be out celebrating their win, but Pedri was the one holding them back.
"what are you doing? we should be out celebrating our freaking world cup" Ferran groaned, dropping down on the bed next to Pedri to glance at his screen.
Pedri sighed, aggressively pressing on the keyboard.
"I'm booking a vacation for me and my girl after leaving here" he said, his eyes not leaving the screen.
"ohh look at Pepi here trying to be romantic" Gavi teased, while all the guys started laughing and making fun of him.
"He's so whipped you guys"
"Just marry her already!"
His cheeks were burning up from all the laughing, but he ignored them and finished booking at the hotel and activities, before they all left to continue celebrating together.
He was supposed to meet his girl at the bar where they were all going. He wanted to surprise her, knowing she hadn't been around much because of the world cup and that she'd love to have a getaway with him.
⋆⭒────────⭒⋆
The loud music was euphoric, bodies dancing intimately and glasses clicking against each other.
Pedri hugged his girlfriend close, afraid someone might take her away from him.
"Are you having fun bebé " he said in her ear, while she nodded with a smile.
"My legs are hurting though I think I'm gonna go sit at the booth" she said.
When she tried walking away, Pedri grabbed her hand and followed her.
"You should enjoy your night with the guys, I'm just gonna be here" she tried pushing him back but he kept refusing.
"I've been with these guys all month, I want to be next to you" he smiled, sitting down next to her.
They sat in silence, her head on his shoulder and their hands intertwined as they took a sip of their drinks every once in a while.
"I have a surprise for you" Pedri mumbled against her hair, making her sit up and look at him confused.
"What?" she asked.
"I booked us a trip to the Maldives" he said with a smile, watching her face lit up as she jumped from her place to hug him.
"No way, are you serious?" she asked again.
"Yes! I booked us for swimming with stingrays, dolphin watching, scuba diving...everything you would like to do amor " he said, tightening his grip around her waist.
Her smile turned into a pout, which made Pedri confused. He placed his hand on her cheek, gently caressing her cheekbone.
"What's wrong?" he asked, inspecting her face to see.
"I just missed you so much, I was ready to stay home if it meant I had you next to me" she murmured, making his smile widen.
"God I love you so much" he whispered, before pulling her down to press his lips on hers.
⋆⭒────────⭒⋆
Stepping out of the plane, the hot breeze brushed against their faces.
"our vacation starts now" Pedri smiled, holding her hand up to his lips to kiss it.
They waited for their bags, drove to the hotel, and started unpacking their bags in their room.
By the time they were done, it was about 5:30 in the afternoon.
"wanna take a walk by the beach to watch the sunset? we have a reservation at the restaurant down by the beach at 7" Pedri said, walking up to her as she stood in front of the bathroom mirror.
"I'd love to" she smiled, kissing his cheek before she started getting ready.
She wore one of the flowy long dresses she had gotten, and put on some make up. Then she sprayed her favorite perfume, and applied gloss, just as Pedri finished getting dressed.
"Ready?" he asked.
When she turned to look at him, he was stunned to say the least. He walked to her, eyeing her up and down.
"You look so beautiful mi amor" he murmured, his hands sliding down to her hips, pulling her closer to him.
She put her hands on his chest, smiling up at him.
"And you look quite handsome bebé" she said, puckering her lips to peck him slightly, careful not to ruin her lipstick.
⋆⭒────────⭒⋆
The two walked hand in hand by the beach, Pedri holding his girl's heels in his other hand. The sun was slowly setting into the ocean, as the sky was a mix of pink and orange colors.
The cold breeze was chilling, but also refreshing. She took a deep breath, tightening her grip on his hand.
"I like this" she said in a low voice, closing her eyes for a second.
"Yeah...I missed you" Pedri said, stopping their walk to pull her body closer to his.
"I missed you too, but I'm so proud of you for winning and representing our country" she said, wrapping her arms around his neck.
He smiled, leaning down to kiss her. He connected their lips gently, kissing her like there was no tomorrow.
"I love you" he whispered against her lips, resting his forehead against hers.
"And I love you...so much" she whispered back, kissing him once again.
And while the sun was setting by the beautiful beach of the Maldives, the couple were sharing moments that won't be forgotten.
Can u do pedri fluff and it’s them cuddling in bed together and reader massages his scalp til he falls asleep in her arms, like major whipped pedri and he’s just so soft with reader
✮ Abracadabra - Pedri González
pedri gonzalez x fem!reader
sy: what the req says. need i say more.
a/n: yes it’s basic. no i will never stop writing these because it always comes back to these reassurance fics that i love equally reading n writing. 🙇🏻♀️
warnings: just fluuuff.
pedri spends over an hour in the bathroom. doing god knows what. all kinds of things that don’t even require attention to detail.
if you ask anybody, they’ll tell you he’s pretty low maintenance. atleast, that’s what they see on the outside. felicitously, you’re one of the few who see’s the inside, aka, the fanatic he becomes when it comes to personal care. there’s been a few times in which you’ll joke about how he’s “a woman trapped in a man’s body,” and as a result, he isolates himself in a sulk, and proceeds to give you silent treatment for a solidifying 5 minutes.
note to self: never stop. it’s hilarious.
amidst chewing on a handful of gummy bears, sprawled out across the bed, indulging with a new episode of: the summer i turned pretty, you notice your boyfriend waddle out of the bathroom.
“well that’s a new record,” you glance sideways at the clock, back at the tv. “63 minutes that took you. beating your seemingly futile-to-break 59.”
the spaniard has a towel patting at his head, rubbing his fingertips along the clean shave on his cheek; his shorts hang inappropriately low on his waist, exposing a little too much of his v-line that has you nearly choking on a gummy after forgetting to chew it.
“i think the clocks broken—” the tv catches his eye and earns a frown. “what’re you watching?”
“a show. it’s good. don’t criticise me.”
pedri yawns, stretching before tossing himself onto the bed. “i’m too tired to criticise. remind me to do so in the morning.“
back to being high maintenance, every pastime, without fail, pedri craves for you to pet him like a stray puppy before he can even think about letting himself sleep. in one way or another, you like to imagine yourself as a magician—because his ability to fall asleep just. like. that. with your help, is unmatched. if you were to resist and be a windup, what follows is pleads, or wide brown puppy eyes.
(un)luckily, you’re feeling like a windup tonight.
so, just how it always replays out, pedri shuffles close to rest his head on your chest, one hand bracing your hip and the other drawing idle, vertical lines on your arm. you stable one hand against the ceramic bowl, the other stationary at your side.
it doesn’t take long, at all.
first, he kisses your collarbone. then, he brings your hand up to the nape of his neck, as if silently begging for what he wants, but you purposely slide it back down to the mattress, teasing him.
he hums lazily. “cariño.. what are you doing?”
“watching tv.”
pedri pauses for a wink, another moist kiss to the base of your neck. “are you.. forgetting something?”
your eyes flicker blatantly-sluggishly between the bowl and the illuminated screen. “nope.”
your boyfriend lifts up with an resentful sigh, fisting his palms either side of your shoulders as he towers above you, his curls still sodden and dripping. “you are.”
the sudden change in his tone makes you sear your teeth into your tongue to curb a smirk. “what am i forgetting?”
“uhh—hello?” with disbelief, he points to himself. “me maybe.”
you knit your brows together, playing dumb a final time. “im forgetting.. you? but pedri you’re right h—”
his thumb flattens against your mouth, whilst he snuggles back up, breathing you in like oxygen in a world full of methane. “for that, you can scratch my head for a further 10 minutes.”
high maintenance, you don’t say.
you snort. “oh i can, can i? well, thanks for the permission.”
you start off slow, raking through the damp tufts of hair at the back of his head, then carefully glide to the crown of his head where you push the front strands of his hair back. he forgets to reply, completely short-circuited by the soft sensation of your fingernails dragging tenderly across his head in feather-light loops; you feel the tension in his muscles melt.
“mmmhm,” your boyfriend shivers, goosebumps prickling over his skin. “i feel bad for ferran. he doesn’t get this stress relief for free.”
“ferran? why him?”
the footballer blinks, clocking how asinine that sounded. “first, uh—first guy that popped into my mind.”
you giggle to yourself. he’s probably not aware of what he’s saying, whilst unobservantly you carve his name into the side of his scalp.
“your hair feels unusually soft mi cielo,” you compliment, taken aback that he’s ditched the repulsively, rotten apple-scented shampoo he previously swore by. “new shampoo?”
“oh uh, yeah, si,” he gulps. “i bought it yesterday.”
the scent wavers up to your nose, stronger this time. you approve until you freeze your fingers in motion; he mewls. it’s yours.
“pedri.. is that—?”
a sudden weight tears you seconds away from sitting up to confront him, and pedri exhales in blissful relief—the last thing he wants to do is move right now. before you register the weight, you feel nilo stretching himself out over the pair of you, licking once at pedri’s bare back.
“hola, mi niño,” your boyfriend ruffles at his ears. “get bored of your own bed?”
the furball lets out that petulant pant dogs do, tail wagging as he bares his teeth in a toothy smile, padding across pedri’s spine to nestle beside you instead.
“you want petting too, huh?” you coo.
nilo paws nimbly at the wool of your sweatpants, his chin resting on your thigh.
so that’s a yes.
“stealing the spotlight as always,” pedri mutters, pecking your cheek twice like an attention grab.
“he is not,” you defend, affectionally stroking the side of nilo’s belly. “he just wants love too.”
“i think he gets more than enough,” pedri protests. “especially from you.”
you shrug, running the pad of your finger to his temple. “its not my fault fernando deprives him of love when he looks after him.”
your boyfriend chuckles, his breath itching at your neck. he yawns again, exhausted.
a yawn infects you, your eyes beginning to blur the lines between scene and sleep. nilo has already passed out besides you, still curled up like a toasty loaf of bread. you take your hand from nilo’s ear to caress pedri’s back, linking the moles dotted over his perfectly tanned skin, just how you know he loves.
“hey baby,” pedri randomly jutters, his voice already groggy. “you still love me right?”
despite how heavy your eyelids feel, you crane your neck a little just to look at his face. his eyes are a mirror of yours: squinting in the dim aqua light, lips partly separated.
“of course i do. what makes you say that?”
“nothing.. i just—i love you.” his neck strains to take in the absorbing features of your face. “i don’t think i’ve loved someone as much as i love you.”
“pedri,” you laugh lightly. “you’re blabbering.”
“no. no i’m not. for like the first time ever im finally thinking straight,” pedri inhales, cupping the side of your cheek. “i only want you nena and if i don’t say it enough, i love you.”
your smile widens, so much so that an ache tugs at the corner of your cheeks.
“i love you too amoré. so much.”
your boyfriend stations his palm on your cheek, guiding you closer until your lips meet. it’s a mellow, languid kiss, like he’s not in a rush to let go. when he finally reels back, his head settles just above your lips. pedri’s once-steady breaths now come in slower puffs, as his heartbeat steadies enough just to know sleep captures his body.
you wonder if he’ll remember what he’s confessed in the morning—whether it will take a pillow to the face or a cold splash of water to jog his memory.
abracadabra.
|| 🔖🏷️: @n0vazsq @hearzdiarx @paucubarsisimp @diarieeeelils @joaosnovia @httpsdana @universefcb @madamsoulette @mariejuli @bwueden (lmk if you wanna be added or removed ◡̈)
Warning(s): Dacryphilia, El Classico rivalry, Madridista!Reader, mean bf!Pedri, m!dom, f!sub, pet names, hate sex, unprotected p-in-v, dick riding, allusions to blow job, slapping and spanking, body writing, pinching, taunting, licking, mind break. 18+
. . .
The crimson hue in your blurry eyes makes them burn as they glare into the smug hazels of your lover’s. Everything is on fire and the weight of the world and its contents is crashing down on you. You are suffocating and the clamped up position of your sex does nothing to aid the round and tight ball of pure suffocated tension in your chest.
The sting of pure humiliation seeps into the joints of your thighs, the base of your stomach, the ghastly tint of your tear stained cheeks and the tips of your fingers that curl around the strong shoulders of your lover. You're repulsed; hateful. Your hands long to even smack the smirk and taunting lulls right out of that dirty mouth of his.
But what do you actually do?
You ride, that's what.
Matter of fact, that's the only thing you're capable of doing in the present moment which holds you in a fucked and half-brainless state.
“Such a pretty girl, vida… The prettiest crier I've ever seen” Pedri, your forbidden lover but your only and most precious, cooes in that voice of his that is so full of hubris it makes you sick to your fucked guts even in this state. “Go ahead,” he lovingly soothes the inflamed prints of his strong hands that burn on your blushing ass as you repeatedly stomp it down on his strong and muscular thighs, the milky secretions of your sex tainting the colour of his dark blue shorts over and over. “Amor knows you want it” you hate it when he uses such endearments in moments like these when he knows how much you cannot stand him and his teasing on victory nights.
He tuts and tsks and an involuntary sob wrenches itself free from your hoarse throat. Yes, hoarse. Because that is the rule. On victory nights you welcome him home on your knees in your club’s jersey, the thick digits of the score written on your forehead and the Madrid flag and symbols painted on your embarrassed cheeks. He strokes the score of his triumph on your forehead with his thumb as he unloads his remaining stress down your throat while the insides of his hand warm up your pretty face and the backs of them soothe it.
You sob again in frustration because you try to stop but your body has developed a numb mind of its own where the only thing you can do is hold for support the shoulders of the very man you cannot bear to stand at the moment as you sink down on the veiny girth of his cock over and over. His proud chuckle shakes you to the very base of your spine because it makes you vibrate where your bodies are connected. Your thighs tremble and so do your arms.
But the deep, heavenly burn in your pussy hurts way too good.
“Tsk… your kind would do anything to dirty this jersey, huh?” His words nearly echo in your empty head as he clicks his tongue and holds his jersey up to examine it. Your tears have mixed with the white paint on your cheeks and dripped down onto the red and blue of his shirt in thick, cracked and chalky drops. “That's fine, I guess. You'll clean it up for your amor like a good little girl, won't you, cariño?” You do not burden yourself with any demonstrations of pride such as shaking your head or growling denials through your mouth that is drooling his cum.
He snickers and raises one amused brow, relaxed back onto the couch as he makes you do all the work.
Pedri is not one to enjoy your tears. Your rival clubs are in fact the only source of disagreement between the two of you. But on victory nights; the nights when he walks into the apartment buzzing with the adrenaline of triumph and pride, the man revels in the sight of your tears and savours every white-yellow-red drop that spoils the fabric of his kit.
And he absolutely hates you going quiet. Oh, no. The struggling and cursing and verbal denials are what keep him hard even after a post-game orgasm. He has won the game, what is a pouty little girl?
So his hands snake through the pearly silk of your jersey and his masculine fingers creep up your balmy skin, the difference in temperature between his digits and your tender flesh causing goosebumps to chase his touch that soon cages your sensitive and erect breasts in it.
“What was that? Huh? Did you say something, vida?” You glare at him as you gurgle on his cum in an effort to let out a moan when the tips of his trimmed nails close down onto your nipples and pinch them until he has you squealing like a little mouse in big trouble. “I am sorry, it's a little hard to understand you over the sound of sore loser” and his free hand pinches one of the petals of your pussy at the same moment so your back arches and you are forced to succumb to him just how your club had to tonight.
A black drop of sweat blurs the score that is presented on your forehead in big bold numbers and it trickles down the side of your head and mixes into the teary mess of the Madrid flag painting, the desperate shaking of your head only helping it traverse down faster as you shakily nod your head without stopping, the barrage of your orgasm only increasing the sounds of your gagged shouts. The last moment placement of one of his big hands over the mound of your pussy so his thumb can tickle your clit silly only aids his cause.
“YES! YES! GOD, YES! I WOULD LOVE TO! OF COURSE I WOULD–” and your chest crushes into a series of yet another squeal-sobs as you finally collapse atop him and shudder out broken ‘no’s because you just cannot do it anymore.
And so Pedri throws an arm around your back and pulls you closer before his tired yet much stronger hips fuck his cock up your trembling cavern, the sharp tip of his long tongue swaying past his lips to lick away at your tears.
. . .
It is going to be a long night indeed.
MASTERLIST
My brain took that first goal and RAN with it. Ps, this forbidden love kink of mine is gonna get me in big trouble one day lmfaooo
I was wondering if you could write a story where the reader is the older sister of Pau Cubarsi (she is 22 years old) and she goes out with Pedri Gonzalez, but Marc Bernal one day confesses to Pau that he likes his sister, and she listens to them and the reader when she has a moment alone with Marc tells him that she heard the conversation with Pau, and that she only sees Marc as another little brother.
Thank you 🇨🇴💛✨️
never yours
pairing: pedri x reader, platonic!marc bernal x reader, pau cubarsi x sister!reader
summary: in which you're dating pedri but marc starts having feelings for you leading to your brother giving him a talk and you rejecting him because you see him as a "little brother"
warnings: none !
a/n: i forgot how to write omd this is so cringe
the funniest part is that everyone else can see it.
especially pau.
because marc has had the exact same stupid little crush for years.
years.
it's honestly impressive.
sometimes pau catches him staring when you're talking.
sometimes marc immediately volunteers to help when you're carrying something.
sometimes he laughs a little too hard at your jokes.
and every single time pau looks at him like:
"seriously?"
but the thing is, there was never actually a chance.
not because marc isn't sweet.
not because you don't care about him.
but because from the second you and pedri got together, everyone knew.
including marc.
especially marc.
you were ridiculous about each other.
the type of couple that made people roll their eyes.
pedri waiting for you after training.
you stealing his hoodies.
pedri unconsciously reaching for your hand every time you were beside him.
the way his entire face softened whenever he looked at you.
it wasn't subtle.
at all.
and every time marc saw it, he felt a little stupid for still holding onto a crush that should've disappeared years ago.
one day pau finally gets fed up.
they're leaving training when marc glances across the parking lot.
you've just arrived.
pedri immediately lights up.
actually lights up.
like someone switched a lamp on inside him.
marc watches him walk over to you.
watches you smile.
watches pedri pull you into a hug.
watches you kiss his cheek.
watches pedri look at you like you're the greatest thing that's ever happened to him.
and then—
"stop it."
marc jumps.
pau is staring directly at him.
"what?"
"that."
"what?"
"the staring."
marc groans.
"i wasn't staring."
"you've been staring since 2022."
later that week pau corners him.
not aggressively.
just because somebody has to say it.
"you know she's never leaving him, right?"
marc nearly chokes.
"what?"
pau shrugs.
"i'm just checking."
"i know that."
"good."
"pau."
"i'm serious."
marc sighs.
because honestly?
he does know.
everyone knows.
you look at pedri like he hung the moon.
and pedri looks right back at you the same way.
it's almost annoying.
eventually marc tells you.
mostly because he's tired.
tired of carrying around a crush that started when he was basically a kid.
tired of pretending it doesn't exist.
so one afternoon he asks if he can talk to you.
you agree immediately.
and somehow that makes him more nervous.
when he finally blurts it out, your eyes go wide.
"marc."
immediately.
that's all it takes.
the way you say his name.
he already knows.
you look horrified.
not because you're angry.
because you don't want to hurt him.
which somehow makes it worse.
"i'm sorry."
"don't apologize."
"but—"
"seriously."
he laughs softly.
because you look like you're the one getting rejected.
you hesitate.
then smile sadly.
"i think you're really sweet."
marc immediately groans.
"oh no."
"marc."
"that's never a good sign."
you laugh despite yourself.
then shake your head.
"i've known you forever."
"yeah."
"you're basically my little brother's friend."
"wow."
"and honestly?"
he already knows.
he can see it coming.
"i've always kind of seen you like another little brother."
marc drops his head.
"there it is."
you feel awful.
until he starts laughing.
then you start laughing too.
and suddenly the whole thing feels lighter.
less dramatic.
less heartbreaking than he'd built it up to be in his head.
because the truth is—
he wasn't really in love with you.
not completely.
he was in love with the idea of you.
the cool older sister he'd had a crush on forever.
when you get back to the others, pedri is waiting.
of course he is.
he's sitting on a bench scrolling through his phone.
but the second he sees you, he stands up.
immediately.
without thinking.
you smile.
and walk straight to him.
like it's instinct.
like it's the easiest thing in the world.
pedri wraps an arm around your waist.
leans down.
asks quietly,
"everything okay?"
you nod.
"yeah."
his shoulders visibly relax.
and marc suddenly understands.
because pedri wasn't worried you'd leave him.
not for a second.
he just cares about you that much.
and you care about him exactly the same.
the way you look at each other makes that painfully obvious.
some things are just meant to be.
and unfortunately for marc, that thing was never him.
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!
hii could you do one with pedri where he comes home from a stressful day of training but he wants to appear strong and be there for his kids and wife but the reader notices that something is wrong and at night when he can't sleep and like can’t hold it anymore the reader comforts him
i love your writing 💗
when the house is quiet.
masterlist requests word count: 1062
a/n: sad pedri :(
genre: comfort.
warnings: stress.
summary: pedri comes home from a stressful day of training and tries to stay strong for you and the kids. later that night, unable to sleep, he breaks down and admits his struggles.
You know something is wrong the moment he steps through the door.
Pedri’s smile is there, the one he wears like a shield, but you can see the heaviness behind his eyes. Training days can be brutal, especially when the team’s morale is shaky or the media has been circling like vultures, waiting for the smallest slip. He tries to shake it off before he crosses the threshold, you can tell, but you’ve lived with him long enough to read between the cracks.
Still, he bends down immediately when Bea barrels into him, her little arms wrapping around his neck, her tiny voice shouting, “Papá, you’re home!” She’s in her pyjamas, even though it’s still early, her curls a wild halo from playing too hard all day. Pedri scoops her up, spinning her once, twice, before he sets her down and crouches to greet Leo.
Your son is slower, more deliberate, toddling over with his stuffed elephant dragging on the floor. Pedri lifts him carefully, pressing a kiss to his forehead, whispering something soft that makes Leo giggle. For a moment, it almost feels like everything is fine.
But you know better.
He sits with them on the floor, Bea showing him a drawing she made, Leo babbling nonsense words while Pedri pretends to follow every detail. His laugh is genuine when Leo trips over his elephant and then plops into his lap, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. It’s like there’s a wall built there tonight, one he doesn’t want anyone to see past.
You don’t push. Not yet.
Dinner is noisy, Bea talking a mile a minute, Leo making a mess with his spoon, Pedri nodding and chuckling, pretending to be completely immersed. He’s present for them, and for you too, asking how your day was, teasing you when you roll your eyes at the chaos. If anyone else were here, they would never guess something was wrong.
But you feel it. In the way he exhales just a little too heavily when he thinks no one notices. In how his shoulders don’t quite relax even after the kids are tucked into bed. In the silence he carries when the house finally goes still.
Later, after you check that Bea is curled around her stuffed bunny and Leo is breathing evenly in his crib, you find him in your bedroom. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor, fingers laced tightly together like he’s holding himself in place.
“You okay?” you ask gently, leaning against the doorframe.
He looks up immediately, forcing a smile. “Yeah, of course. Just tired.”
You nod, but you don’t press. You sit beside him, close enough that your knees touch, and he leans into you without even realizing it. His arm slides around your waist, pulling you closer, his head resting against your shoulder. He’s quiet like that for a while, and you let the silence stretch.
You know he wants to be strong for you, for the kids. He always feels the weight of being the one to hold everything together, the one who doesn’t falter. But there’s only so much a person can carry.
When the house has settled into deep night, you wake to find him still awake beside you. His body is tense, his breathing uneven, eyes wide open in the darkness.
“Pedri,” you whisper, turning toward him. “You’re not sleeping.”
He doesn’t answer at first. Then, finally, he admits, “I can’t.” His voice is rough, low enough that you know he’s been keeping everything buried all day.
You slide closer, pressing your forehead to his chest. “Tell me.”
He exhales shakily, like he’s been holding that breath for hours. “It’s just… everything. Training was hell today. Nothing felt right, every mistake got magnified, and I could hear the whispers. The pressure doesn’t stop. I try to push it away but it follows me even here. And I don’t want the kids to see me like that. I don’t want you to see me like that either.”
Your hand finds his, fingers untangling his clenched fist until he lets you hold it. “I always want to see you. All of you. Not just the strong parts.”
He swallows hard, his other hand covering his face. “I hate feeling like I’m failing. On the pitch, with the team, with you, with them. I come home and I want to be the dad they deserve, the husband you deserve, but inside I feel like I’m breaking.”
Tears prick your eyes, but you blink them back. You don’t want him to think you pity him. You want him to know you see him, every version of him, and none of it changes the way you love him.
“You’re not failing,” you whisper firmly. “You’re human. And you don’t have to carry all of it alone. It’s okay to let go here. With me.”
For the first time all day, he lets himself crumble. His shoulders shake as you wrap your arms around him, pulling him against you. He buries his face in your neck, and you stroke his hair, murmuring soft reassurances as the tension finally breaks. You don’t rush him, you don’t tell him to stop. You just hold him until his breathing steadies again.
After a long while, he pulls back, eyes red, face vulnerable in a way he rarely lets anyone see. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“You’ll never have to find out,” you promise, pressing a kiss to his temple. “We’re in this together. Always.”
He nods, slowly, as if letting your words sink in. He curls into you then, arms tight around your waist like he’s afraid to let go. The silence that follows is different from earlier, softer, safer. His body relaxes against yours, and eventually his breathing evens out as sleep finally finds him.
You stay awake a little longer, watching the lines on his face smooth out, brushing your fingers over his cheek. This is what you’re here for. Not just for the smiles and the victories, but for the nights when the weight of the world feels too much. For the moments when the house is quiet and he needs somewhere to fall.
When you finally close your eyes, you know tomorrow will bring its own challenges. But tonight, he is not alone.
warnings: smut, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), 18+, sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), cockwarming
a/n: he is so cute I can't
"Baby I'm home!" you heard Pedri shout as the door was closing behind him.
"Oh hey handsome. I missed you..." you replied as you kissed him full on the lips.
You felt his hands on your waist, grasping you tightly yet softly. You could feel his need as you conveyed your own through your kiss.
"I-I need some tet-a-tet time with you hermosa" he whispered quitely as he slowly bit your earlobe.
"As do I guapo..." you replied, your lips on his again, biting lightly.
With strong arms, he carried you to your bedroom with ease. Stopping along the way to grasp your ass or kiss you with a more tongue effectively slowing the two of you for a while. You knew that he wanted to take his time with you. Make love to you, not have sex.
You were used to being something sacred for him. Sex wasn't something that existed in this relationship. He refused. It was only love making and you were his object of adoration. That was the only description that was good enough for your boyfriend's work on your body.
He helped you lie on your bed as he started caressing your body slowly. Hands calm, soft, gentle. Like you were a diamond. Unbreakable yet too beautiful to ever be tested in that cruel way. You were his entire world and right now the only thing on his mind was how to show you that.
He got the two of you undressed in minutes. He was skilled enough with his hands to do it in seconds but he would never rush that much, not when his aim was to make love to you and make you feel his love through pleasure.
The moment all your clothes became a pile on the floor he was once again on top of you, his lips locked with yours. A second later ou felt his lips trailing down your neck, his tongue licking your collarbone. He kissed the valley between your breasts and then took his time kissing and sucking on your nipples.
He had kissed your whole body but the place where you needed him most. Suddenly, you felt his hot breath against your core while his hands rubbed circles on your hips.
"May I please you hermosa?" his voice dripping like silk from those lips you knew like they were your own.
"Hmmm yess please-" you replied seductively but you were cut of by his tongue entering you, a moan ripping through you from the pleasure.
Like always, he took his time pleasing you. You could feel his tongue brushing spots inside you while he brushed his nose on your clit, yet none of those was enough fr you anymore. You couldn't take his ministartions. You tangeld a hand in his hair and pushed his face closer to you, his tongue hitting your g-spot making you cry out from the feeling and him moan against your tight walls. You came just like that a mmnt after.
"Can I have you now amor?"
"Si guapo...give it to me...." you responded quietly as yu kissed him again.
Without further ado, he positioned his tip in your entrance and groaned at the feeling of your walls surrounding him. He circled his hands around your waist as he pushed his length inside you gently. You felt so full when he actually -finally- bottomed out, you were sure that when he started moving you would feel him rearranging your entire existance because of his hard dick.
His pace was kept calm and adoring through out the time the two of you spent together in bed. He came inside you as you finished all oer his cock. The night was serene and so was he...
