#pedri does scratch that

[hugs4pedri]

girllll, they know what we want

(now we want another one with the new tattoos)

[obvithe-bestsoph]

41 with Pedri pleeeeease I’m actually begging

No. 41 | "Talk dirty to me." PG8

masterlist requests

prompt list (if you request a prompt, please request a player for it as well!) warnings: very suggestive, but nothing suggestive.

You’re not wearing much when he walks into the room.

That’s not on purpose, or, at least, that’s what you tell yourself, but the tank top is thin, and your shorts barely count. Your legs are stretched across his couch, glowing with leftover sun from the afternoon. You don’t even look up when you hear the door shut.

Pedri knows you heard him. You always do. His eyes sweep over you, slow like a wave pulling back, not crashing yet, just gathering.

“You couldn’t wait for me to shower?” he asks, voice scratchy from the heat, freshly clean and towel-damp around the collar of his shirt.

You tilt your head toward him, mock-innocent. “Took too long. Got bored.”

He tosses his keys on the counter and walks over, dropping onto the couch near your hips, deliberately not touching you. His thigh is close, though. And his eyes are closer.

“Bored?” he echoes. “That's why you look like that right now?”

You smile without showing teeth. “Like what?”

He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t need to.

The silence stretches, but it’s the good kind. The charged kind. The kind where you’re hyper-aware of every place your body isn’t touching his, like absence has its own temperature.

“I missed this,” he says finally, running a hand through his hair. “You, lying around my apartment like you live here.”

You stretch your arms over your head, lazy, deliberate. “I practically do.”

His eyes track the movement. “I know.”

He leans in, one hand on the couch behind you, not quite touching your back, but close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off his skin.

“You’ve got no shame,” he murmurs.

You raise your eyebrows. “You’re just figuring that out now?”

His breath hits your jaw before his lips do. A kiss, featherlight. Barely there.

Then another, just under your ear.

You don’t move.

“You wear less every time I see you,” he says.

“You complain every time I don’t.”

He laughs against your neck, a low, rough sound that rumbles all the way down your spine.

“I’m not complaining,” he says.

You turn your head toward him and finally let your knees bend, shifting so you’re half in his lap, casually, like it means nothing. It does. He knows it. You know it.

“You’re just talking a lot for someone who hasn’t touched me yet,” you say, mouth close to his, tone dangerously light.

He pulls back slightly, eyes narrowed like he’s trying to decide if he wants to push this or let it unravel slowly.

Then, calmly, he says, “Talk dirty to me.”

You blink once. A beat of silence.

You could laugh. But you don’t. Because you know he’s serious, not in a demanding way, but in a curious one. He wants to hear how far you’ll go. How much you’ll give him without needing to be asked.

So you lean in, lips brushing his, and say quietly, like a secret, “You’re not gonna make it through the first half of tomorrow’s match if I get on top of you tonight.”

Pedri’s fingers tighten slightly around your thigh.

“That’s not fair,” he mutters, jaw tensing.

“I’m not trying to be fair,” you reply.

He kisses you harder this time. No hesitation. His hands finally find your waist, palms sliding up beneath your shirt like he’s been dying to feel your skin for hours and only just gave himself permission. You let yourself melt into it for a second, let your fingers twist in the collar of his shirt.

But then you pull back, just enough to speak again.

“I’ll leave marks,” you whisper, deliberately soft.

His breath hitches, and it thrills you more than you want to admit.

“You’ll what?”

“Scratches. Here.” You trail your fingers down his bicep, then across his stomach. “And maybe a few here. Depends on how annoying you get.”

Pedri laughs, but it’s broken in the middle.

“You’re gonna ruin me.”

You smile against his mouth. “Isn’t that the goal?”

His lips press to your throat, hot and insistent. You let your head tilt back, eyes fluttering closed. You feel his hands tighten, then shift, then settle on your hips like he’s anchoring himself. Like he’s still trying to hold on to the last bit of control he has left.

You sit back slightly and look at him, properly look, and ask, “You want me to stop?”

He shakes his head instantly. “I want you to shut up and stay right here.”

You nod. “That’s what I thought.”

And then you move, slow and sure, shifting fully into his lap, your legs straddling his. You kiss him again, deeper this time, hands threading through his damp curls, and his grip on your waist tightens like he might actually lose it if you keep going.

But he doesn’t stop you.

He never does.

[pedriache]

pedri fic where he’s feeling playful and does something that elicits a loud noise and gf!reader is obviously worried bc hello and he’s holding in his laugh until she rounds the corner and sees that he’s completely fine and it’s just fluff OOOHHH…

New additions — Pedri Gonzalez.

Pairing: Pedri Gonzalez x Fem!Reader, no mention of y/n

Summary: In the midst of making lunch, you hear a loud noise, almost pained, come from outside where unknowingly, your boyfriend was sitting. Nearly stumbling over every object possibly, you get outside only to find him with… a dog?

Word count: 642

Disclaimer/s: mentions of light dog bite and a butter knife.

A/N: FINALLY HAD INSPO TO WRITE FOR THIS SINCE HIS NEW DOG ANNOUNCEMENT?? Welcome Nilo. Okay it took me a bit to actually finish this so im late but…

Finally arriving home for your lunch break, you find your way to the kitchen almost immediately. Hunger reached all points of your body, making you nearly salivate as you took out the ingredients to make a quick sandwich.

Usually, you would first find your boyfriend, but the house was a bit quieter today, so you assumed he was still at practice.

With no loud noises of him gaming or a tv show playing in the background, you open your phone to play some music. Clicking shuffle, you smile to yourself the second Frank Ocean’s “Ivy” starts playing.

As you begin the sandwich, spreading apart the two pieces of bread, you hear a slight… growl?

Instantly, your body goes rigid. One thing you hated for certain, were wild animals that growled. Pausing the music, you freeze, waiting for another noise. Thats when you hear it.

A loud, almost pained, “Gahhh!”

Your heart drops to your ass as you recognize who the sound was coming from. As if it kick started your brain, you grip the butter knife you’d been holding tight in your grasp as you stumble around the kitchen counter.

Making a bee-line toward the back patio, you find yourself nearly tripping over all the scattered things on the ground. Maybe if you looked a little harder, you would have noticed the “objects” were toys, and not your boyfriends scattered clothing like you’d assumed.

“Pedri!” You yell out, over and over again, mumbling small curses in between as you do reach down to pick up the object you’d nearly slipped on.

Without looking you toss is aside, grimacing at the dampness of it. What the fuck was going on?

“Pedri! Where are you!” You shout again, worry lacing every syllable as you finally reach to the sliding glass door.

Opening it with a harsh pull, you let out an exasperated sigh, your eyes land on your smiling boyfriend. Smiling? His face drops the second he notices the worry etched into your face.

“You okay?” He asks, still sitting on the wooden flooring. Thats when you notice whats on his lap.

Everh inch of you that once felt concern, was now just confused. “What the hell is that?” You point to the little black dog that was sitting ever so still and panting, a tennis ball in its mouth.

Not looking at what you were gawking at, Pedri feigns innocence. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play coy with me, Pedro. Why do you have a dog in your lap, and better yet! Why did you sound like you were being strangled, I thought there was an intruder!” Your voice raises just a tad as you wiggle your hand that still held the butter knife clutched in it.

A laugh escapes Pedri’s lips as he struggles to stand, still holding the animal in his arms. “And you planned on defending me with… that?” He glances at the knife in your hands before laughing, “I’m fine, he just bit me.”

“Bit.. You?” Your lips form a slight frown as you look down at the puppy, “i’m sure he deserved it.” You say in a baby voice, setting the knife down on the railing before scratching behind his ears.

Offense flashes across Pedri’s face, “what—“

“What’s his name?” You interrupt, scratching under the dog’s soft chin, a look of endearment replacing your frown as you take the pup from Pedri’s arms.

“Nilo.” He answers. Pedri adored the way you took him so gently, cradling him like a baby. “So we can keep him?”

Once again your eyes snap toward Pedri, “oh I dunno.. between work and your practice—“

“Please! We’ll make it work, please.” He was begging now. Your big strong boyfriend was begging. So of course you folded.

“Fine! Fine.” You chuckle, pressing a kiss to Nilo’s head. “Welcome to the family, Nilo.”

DTS , @halfwayhearted ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི love you…

[agardenofbasil]

Hi sweetheart! for the prompt thing, what about "you're easy to love" with Gavi and Íñigo? Like in a fatherly way, if that is allowed?

I love that you requested this. Sadly, I've chopped up the longer version into this small, 1000 word version, but if you like this part, the longer version is linked at the bottom. I hope you enjoy. 🍃

“Do you think she’ll like it?” 

“Man, I don’t know. I don’t even wear the Barca rings we got that one year.”

“Wait. We got rings?”

Iñigo chuckles to himself. He can only imagine what the hell those two are up to. Trouble, no doubt about it. Now that Gavi is finally back to full health, he torpedoes any sense of routine simply by existing and causing a ruckus. 

But it’s so loved and appreciated, especially when they’ve suffered a recent draw.

“God Pedri, I can’t rely on you for anything. Iñigo, come look at this.”

Iñigo groans and gets up. “What is it?”

“A gift for Anna for her birthday.”

It’s a silver necklace with an obnoxious heart at the center.

“Ah.”

“It’s good, right?”

Iñigo scratches his head. “Have you already bought it?”

“No, but it’s on reserve at the store.”

Iñigo sighs. “I would get her something else.”

“Wait, why? What’s wrong with this?”

“Heart jewelry isn’t exactly top of any woman’s list.”

“But I love her.”

“Yes, you do,” Iñigo agrees. “But does she wear heart jewelry?”

“I’ve never seen her wear one before.”

“What does she wear, usually?”

“Mostly gold, but-”

“Go look at what she’s wearing and show it to the shop. They’ll find something that suits her style.”

“Won’t that be too similar to what she already has?”

Iñigo shakes his head with a laugh. “It won’t matter. Because you got it for her, so she’ll wear that piece over the others.”

Pedri looks like he’s taking notes with the way his jaw drops. “Damn, I didn’t even think about looking at what a girl already wears.”

“That’s smart, not gonna lie,” Gavi adds, impressed. “Look at you, Iñigo. Romantic.”

“I just have a wife,” he gruffs. “Been doing this for a long time.”

“How long?”

“Coming up to eleven years.”

“Wow!”

Pedri smiles. “And two daughters later.”

Iñigo nods. “Good luck, boys.”

“Thanks, Iñigo!”

Gavi arrives late for practice and is subsequently taken off the starting eleven. He doesn’t argue with Flick, choosing to get ready for practice in total silence.

“Have you spoken to him?” Iñigo asks Robert.

“I think they’ve split,” Robert laments with a sigh.

Iñigo swears. “His first break up?”

“I can’t say, but it seems so.” Robert unlaces his shoes. “At that age, it feels like the world will end.”

Iñigo is well aware. Before Nerea, he had his fair share of heartbreak. At least Gavi showed up for practice. Iñigo recalls spending days in bed and in the bottle before Nerea came around. When the midfielder is still scrolling through his phone while the rest of the dressing room clears out, Iñigo has an idea.

“Hey Gavi. Do you want to come over for dinner?”

“Gavi!”

Nikole squeals happily when both men step into Iñigo’s house. Nerea is surprised, shooting her husband the “tell me when guests are coming over” look that he’s become all too familiar with. Nevertheless, she sets another place at the dinner table while Gavi twirls around with Nikole, Paule hot on his heels yelling, “Me next! Me next!”

“Don’t let him tire himself out before dinner!” she calls out.

Gavi is never tired on the pitch. And this also applies to Iñigo’s living room, where both girls are now shoving toys at Gavi and demanding he play Princesses and Pirates.

“You have to be the princess,” Nikole says.

“Me?!” Gavi asks, aghast. “You’re the girl!”

Nikole plucks on a captain’s hat. “I’ll rescue you, Princess!”

Gavi goes positively red faced at this, but he succumbs quickly to his role. He even throws in a fake fainting spell, one that has the girls laughing as they crawl over him. Iñigo watches before escaping to the kitchen to help Nerea with the rest of dinner. It’s not long before they’re all seated at the table. Iñigo cuts up the chicken for Paule and Gavi is relaying stories about his cousins who are not too different in Nikole’s age. 

“I hate all boys,” Nikole pouts while folding her arms. “Except Papa. And Cuba.”

“What about me?” Gavi asks, genuinely offended. 

“You’re okay, but you have to get better at Princesses and Pirates.”

Gavi holds up a hand. “I promise you I will.”

The kids finish first, racing through dinner so they can get their coveted television and iPad time. “They’re so well behaved,” Gavi remarks as they sit on the couch, waiting for Nerea to pass out their respective devices.

“They’re just doing that to impress you,” Iñigo laughs. “They know they’ll get an extra hour if we have a guest.”

Nerea puts down a simple rice pudding for dessert. “I’ll leave you both in charge of them,” she sings sweetly before kissing the top of Iñigo’s head.

“How was Cuba’s birthday dinner?”

“Was okay.”

“Just okay? He’s 18 now. You should teach him how to drive.”

This makes Gavi chuckle. “Every time I drive Cuba anywhere, he does the sign of the cross. Pedri keeps a copy of his will on his phone because of me.”

“You kids.”

“Not kids, men.”

“Men aren’t late to practice,” Iñigo points out, effectively trapping Gavi into a corner. “That’s twice this week.”

Gavi turns away. “It’s complicated.”

“The girls are watching cartoons. Nerea is in her vanity room. And we’re eating dessert. It doesn’t have to be complicated if you don’t want it to be.”

“You have a nice family.”

“I do. It didn’t happen over a year.”

“I figured.”

“And it took more than jewelry. Or fancy trips.”

“I know,” Gavi grits out. “I thought I came here for a meal. Not a lecture.”

“You did. There’s no lecture here. All I’ll say is that you should continue to be who you are, even if someone else wants otherwise. Because you're easy to love. ” Before Gavi can respond, Iñigo offers him another serving of rice pudding. “Also, Nerea is going to pack up the rest of this for you. Whether you like it or not.”

And here is the not so short Ao3 version.

[pedripics]

Do you have a pic of Pedri leg that was cut??

tw: blood

it’s just a tiny scratch (but it does match the kit lmao)