PORTUGAL GIRL | PEDRI'S WIFE | WRITER

Hi everyone! I'm Annelise, and I'm new here on Tumblr. I come through this blog to share my work and do what I love most, which is writing. Account made by fan for fan, in search of entertainment.

WHO DO I WRITE FOR?

For everyone at Barça, however, the priorities are:

Hector Fort

Pau Cubarsí (I don't write smut about)

Marc Bernal (I don't write smut about, for obvious reasons)

Pedri Gonzalez

Ferran Torres

Pablo Gavi

João Felix (My darling, because he plays for my national team)

HOME, MARC BERNAL.

➤ Summary: You and Marc were dating long distance, because your college was in a small town next to Barcelona, so he decided to come visit you after three months of not being there.

➤ Warning: fluff.

➤ Author's note: I really love him, I LOVE HIM SO MUCH 😭

English is not my native language, so there may be errors due to translation and me not knowing 100% of English.

The sound of the key in the lock was enough to make your heart race, almost painfully. You shot up from the couch so quickly that the cozy blanket fell to the floor, but you didn't even care. The long months of waiting, the never-enough video calls, the cold nights... all of that was going to end now.

The door opened and there he was. Marc Bernal. He looked a little more tired, with a large backpack and a small rolling suitcase, but the smile that spread across his face when he saw you was exactly the same—the one that made the corners of your eyes crinkle and lit up any dark corner.

"My life," he said, his voice a little hoarse from the journey, but filled with an emotion that made her eyes well up.

Without a word, you ran to him. He dropped his backpack on the floor with a thud and opened his arms, engulfing you in a hug that smelled of airplanes and of him, that unique scent of his that you tried to remember every night on your pillow. You buried your face in his chest, feeling his cool coat against your face, but his warmth was already beginning to win out.

“Finally,” you whispered, voice shaky, clinging to his back as if he would disappear.

Marc wrapped his arms tighter around her, a deep, relieved sigh escaping his chest. He pressed a long, wet kiss to the side of her neck. "See? I told you it would work. I'm here."

You pulled your head back, just enough to look up at his face. Your eyes roamed over every detail of his face—the tired but happy eyes, the nose, the mouth that smiled just for you. He did the same, his expression softening even further, filled with an adoration that left you breathless.

"I love you," you said, the words coming out in a whisper, like a secret only he could hear.

The declaration made her eyes shine. "I love you more."

He then lowered his head and captured your lips in a kiss. It wasn't a kiss of desperation or frenzied lust, but of recognition. It was slow, deep, and sweet, filled with all the pent-up longing of the past few months. His lips moved with a familiarity that sent a shiver down your spine. It was your safe haven, your home. You cupped his face in your hands, feeling the texture of his skin, slightly rough from the journey. Leaving your feet at his toes so he wouldn't have to bend down too far.

When they broke apart for air, he rested his forehead against hers, and they both lay there, panting, just looking at each other, absorbing each other's presence.

"I need a shower," he chuckled softly, his warm breath mingling with hers.

"Later," you murmured, pulling him into another kiss, this time even sweeter, an 'I don't want you to move an inch away' kiss.

He chuckled against your lips and allowed you to guide him to the couch, never breaking contact completely. He sat down and pulled you onto his lap, wrapping his arms around you as you snuggled against his chest, listening to the strong, steady beat of his heart. His hand began to trace slow circles on your back, a soothing, loving touch you missed every day.

"How are you?" he asked, his chin resting on top of her head. "Really."

"I'm perfect now," you replied, pressing yourself closer to him. "Before, I was... incomplete. Without you here."

He pressed his lips to her hair. "I know. Me too. But it was worth every second away, knowing that in the end I would come back to you."

He pulled you back to see you again, his large, warm hands cupping your face with a gentleness that contrasted with their strength. His thumbs caressed your cheekbones.

"You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my life," he whispered, the sincerity in his voice making her stomach churn with happiness. "And you're all mine."

"All yours," you confirmed, turning your head to leave a kiss on the palm of his hand. "Always."

And they stayed there, entwined on the couch, in the dim light of the apartment. The silence was comfortable, broken only by their synchronized breathing and the distant sound of traffic outside. Marc's hand never stopped caressing you: gliding down your back, up to your hair, playing with the ends, down to your arm, always with a tenderness that spoke more than a thousand words.

Suddenly, he sighed, a deep sound of contentment. "Remember that night on the phone, when the connection was so bad and we were trying to hear each other for almost an hour?"

You laughed, your face still hidden in his neck. "I remember. You were telling me about training and suddenly your voice became robotic. I was so frustrated."

"Me too," he admitted. "I was so angry at that sign. I just wish you could hear me properly. I just wish you were there." His voice softened. "Or here."

“I’m here now,” you whispered, lifting your face to meet his again.

This time, the kiss was a little more intense. The longing was beginning to transform into a more palpable, more urgent need. His hands moved from your face to your shoulders, pulling you closer to him. You felt his fingers tangle in your hair, tugging lightly, and a shiver ran through you.

You shifted on his lap, adjusting yourself so you were kneeling on the couch, facing him, so you could wrap your arms around him completely. Now you were the one holding his face, kissing him with a devotion that made him moan softly. It was a sound you loved, a sound that meant he was as lost in that moment as you were.

Between one kiss and another, words continued to escape, as if they both needed to fill the void of months of forced silence.

"I thought about you every day," Marc breathed, his lips trailing along her jawline. "Every damn day. At the café, I'd think, 'She should add more sugar to this.' In the locker room, I'd hear a song and think, 'I need to send this to her.'"

"Me too," you confessed breathlessly as he found that sensitive spot just below your ear. "Everything reminded me of you. I missed everything."

He paused for a moment, just to look into her eyes. The dim light of the room captured the dark brown glow of his eyes, filled with such raw emotion that they seemed almost vulnerable.

"You make me so strong," he said, his voice deep and serious. "Knowing you're rooting for me, believing in me... There's nothing I wouldn't do for that. For you."

The words echoed inside you, filling every empty space the distance had created. You couldn't speak, so you just fisted your fingers in his hair and pulled his lips to yours again, kissing him with all the gratitude, all the love, and all the promise you felt.

Gradually, the slight urgency of the kiss faded, returning to its slow, lazy rhythm. The initial anxiety had dissipated, replaced by the comforting knowledge that they had time. All the time in the world.

"Okay," Marc murmured, after a long, sweet kiss. "Now I really need that shower. I smell like a plane and an airport."

"I like it," you protested softly, still clinging to him.

He laughed, a rich, warm sound that vibrated in her own chest. "You're the only person in the world who would say that. But will you come with me?" he asked, raising his eyebrows in invitation. "Tell me everything I've missed these past few months. Every detail."

He got up from the couch, pulling you with him, never letting go of your hand. His touch was firm, secure, as if to say 'no more distance.' And as he led you toward the bathroom, your suitcase still abandoned in the hallway and the blanket still on the floor, you knew that no matter what the future held, it didn't matter. In that moment, with your hands intertwined and the sound of his voice filling the house, everything was absolutely perfect. The long distance was over. Now, it was just them.

-🐝 anon

Can you make more smut for Hector

Maybe something with overstimulation (+squ!!rting maybe only if u comfortable)

Also who else do u write for

➤ Summary: You're watching a movie and you end up getting distracted, and Hector does a great job on you with his fingers, taking you to the extreme. REQ

➤ Warning: SMUT +18, Fingering. Unprotected sex (Protect before you touch!).

➤ Author's note: English is not my native language, so there will be mistakes!

English is not my native language, so there may be errors due to translation and me not knowing 100% of English.

Summer was in full swing in Barcelona, and with it, the break between seasons. Hector Fort finally had time for himself — to train his way, to wake up later, and most importantly, to breathe away from the cameras and the demanding eyes of the football world. It was on one of those slow mornings, in a discreet café in the Gràcia neighborhood, that he saw her for the first time.

She was sitting next to the display window, legs crossed, her face buried in a book. The sunlight caught her messily tied hair, making a few loose strands shine as if they had been placed there on purpose. Hector bumped into the table next to him as he sat down, the sound of his glass nearly knocking over, but she didn't even look up. That caught him.

The next day, there she was again. And the day after that. The third time, he risked a comment about the book she was reading. Even without knowing who the author was, he complimented her. She responded with a short but honest smile, and the conversation flowed. Effortless, without posing. As if they had known each other since other summers.

The connection grew. First coffees, then walks, then texts during the day. Until the first kiss happened, on a sultry night, at the door of her building. It was slow. With the lemon taste of the ice cream they shared and the tension of weeks accumulated melting away at the touch of their mouths.

That night, Hector arrived tired. He had had a hard workout. His clothes were hanging on his body, his eyes were downcast, his muscles were tense. But when he saw her on the couch, her legs bare, one of his shirts slipping off her shoulder, the tension shifted.

She didn't even need to say anything. He crossed the room and grabbed her by the waist. The kiss was direct, wet, full of urgency. Firm hands holding the back of her neck, fingers threaded through her hair. She responded with a restrained moan, a sound that only he had ever heard.

He carried her into the bedroom. He threw her on the bed slowly, but with a heavy hand. Her blouse rode up to her waist, revealing her thin panties, clinging to her already damp skin. Hector stood, staring for a moment. His jaw clenched, his eyes dark, hungry.

“Take it off,” she whispered, and he obeyed.

He tore off her clothes with his nimble fingers, touching her skin as if he had no time. When she was completely naked, he knelt between her legs and ran his hands over her waist, moving up to her breasts. He squeezed and massaged them, while his mouth moved down to the center of her thighs.

She was already wet. He ran his tongue slowly along the length of her vulva, teasing her. Then he concentrated on her clitoris, making firm, circular movements, keeping pace with the two fingers inside her. She moaned loudly, writhing, her hips moving with impulse.

When she came for the first time, it was fast and hard. Her legs trembled, her whole body stiffened. But he didn't stop.

“Hector…” she gasped, trying to push him away, too sensitive.

“Just a little longer,” he murmured, his mouth pressed against hers.

Overstimulation took over. With every touch, every lick in the right spot, her body twitched between pleasure and desperation. The second orgasm made her scream his name, her eyes closed, her body hot and surrendered. Hector kept his focus, savoring every reaction, every shudder.

She could barely breathe. But she wanted more. She needed to feel all of him.

“Come to me,” she asked, opening her legs again.

Hector positioned himself between them, now completely naked, his thick, erect member sliding against her entrance before slowly penetrating her. She was so wet that he entered her easily, but the sensation was intense. He leaned over her, supporting his weight on his forearms, keeping their faces close, eye to eye.

The position allowed for everything: depth, connection, rhythm. He began to move inside her with a steady rhythm. It wasn’t rough, but it wasn’t soft either. It was just right—intense, hot, precise.

She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. Her hands on his sweaty back, her nails digging into his skin. He kissed her neck, her jaw, her lips between muffled moans and whispered dirty words in her ear.

“Fuck…” he said between thrusts. “So perfect.”

The sound of skin slapping, her moans getting louder, the rhythm getting faster. Her body was on fire. Another orgasm was approaching. He noticed and changed the angle, burying himself even deeper.

“That’s… just like that…” she moaned, her eyes rolling back.

The third orgasm was almost violent. She grabbed the sheets, her legs trembled, her whole body contracted — and an unexpected jet came out, the squirt that wet his hips and part of the bed. Hector moaned loudly without caring, lost the rhythm for a second, but continued until he came too, with a hoarse grunt, inside her, their bodies glued together, their hearts racing.

Then they stood there, sweaty, stuck together, panting.

Hector rested his forehead against hers and smiled, still inside.

“I think this was my best game of the year.”

She laughed, weakly but sincerely.

➤ Summary: A to Z of what he would be like in bed.

➤ Warning: SMUT +18, Mention of sex, mention of reader.

➤ Author's note: Translated into English, meaning there may be spelling errors.

A = Aftercare (how they look after sex)

Pedri is the type of person who cleans you with great affection, kisses your forehead, pulls you to his chest and rubs your back until you fall asleep. He likes to hear from you afterwards, to know if it was good, if you want something different. He needs that moment.

B = Body part (his and his partner's favorite part of the body)

He loves the curve of your waist, where his hands fit naturally as he pulls you towards him. You? He loves it when you kiss his neck — it gives him goosebumps.

You love his hands. Strong, sure, and when they're where you want them... well, you know.

C = Cum (basically anything to do with sperm)

He loves to cum inside you, but only when he can — with a condom or on the right days. The idea of "filling you up" drives him completely crazy. He also loves to see you licking him afterwards.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, their dirty secret)

Sometimes he masturbates thinking about things you haven't done yet. Like picking you up at the gym or in the locker room at Camp Nou. He's thought about recording you — but hasn't had the courage to ask yet.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they are doing?)

He's not a veteran, but he knows what he's doing. He learns quickly, listens to his body. He likes to test what works. You? You also know what you want, and together you've become masters in tune.

F = Favorite position

He loves to take you sideways, with one leg over his. He can look at you, kiss you, and still go deep. You love it when he turns you over and whispers things in your ear while he fucks you.

G = Goofy (Is he more serious at the moment? Is he funny? etc.)

Every now and then he'll crack a joke in the middle of it — especially if you're being really serious. But overall, it's intense. When you laugh together during sex, it just makes everything more intimate.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they?)

Always trimmed, well cared for. He likes you to keep it the way you want, but he loves it when you appear all smooth — he notices, even without commenting. And he kisses every part.

I = Intimacy (how are they at the moment? the romantic aspect)

Having sex with him is never just physical. He looks into your eyes, compliments you, calls you "my life". There are days when you cum while hugging each other, almost crying from feeling so much.

J = Jack off (masturbation)

He does, of course. But it's slowed down since you started. He'd much rather have you. But he loves it when you masturbate in front of him - he can't even watch for five minutes.

K = Kink

He has a soft spot for light submission — you giving the orders, he obeys. But he also loves it when you beg. Hands tied, blindfolds, and dirty words... he's into it all.

L = Location (favorite places to do it)

He loves places where they shouldn't be: cars, dressing rooms, building stairs. But nothing beats the couch in his house — a little uncomfortable, but that's where it all started.

M = Motivation (what excites them, what keeps them going)

Seeing you in lingerie? That's it. You wearing his shirt? Damnation. But what turns him on the most is hearing you moan softly. It's instant combustion.

N = No (something they wouldn't do, discouraging)

Nothing that involves real pain or major humiliation. He doesn't like to see you uncomfortable. Anything that takes away the connection — it's out.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He loves to suck you. Like, really waste your time. He stays there until he makes you tremble. Receive? He loves it too, but he gets even crazier when you look up with your mouth full.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Or, Slow and sensual? etc.).

Alternate well - start slow and provocative, then go deep and merciless. But always pay attention to whether you're enjoying it.

Q = Quickie (your opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Amman. In the bathroom before going out, in a dark corner at a party, or even during a break in training. It's pure adrenaline. But then you want a full round.

R = Risk (Are they willing to experiment? Are they risk takers? etc.)

He loves a little risk. An unlocked door, almost getting caught. Having you in public, even if it's just with his fingers, is his biggest addiction.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they last? How long do they last?)

Holds up well. Usually two rounds with stamina — and still gets excited for a third if you provoke him. Likes marathons on the weekends.

T = Toys (Do they have toys? Do they use them? In a partner)

He has a few—a vibrator he holds while he fucks you, and soft handcuffs. He likes to watch you squirm in them. And he's always open for more.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He's the king of provocation. He makes you beg, stops you right on the edge of orgasm, leaves you wet all day long just with messages. He likes to see you lose control.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He's not loud, but he lets out deep moans and muffled groans in your ear. You? He loves it when you moan loudly—he shows off when he makes you scream.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

You have a playlist just for the two of you — and he’s already “accidentally” put it on in the car with his friends. He blushes, but inside he’s all proud.

X = X-ray (let's see what's going on under those clothes)

Athletic, defined body. Strong thighs, firm abdomen. Thick, proportional cock, visible veins — and you already know what he can do with that.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Very high. He wants you all the time. He sends you a message in the middle of training, comes home and grabs you by the waist. He misses you even when you sleep together.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

After all, he quickly falls asleep — but only if you're in his arms. If you get up, he wakes up. It's as if your body is his favorite pillow.

➤ Summary: You have a fight because of his jealousy, so he gets stressed out with you in the car.

➤ Warning: SMUT +18, Unprotected sex, start angust, Cute ending, violent sex. Toxic.

➤ Author's note: Translated into English, meaning there may be spelling errors.

Hector didn’t like the feeling. A warm knot in his stomach, like something was out of place. The party was still going on in the background, with colorful lights flashing in the garden of one of his teammates’ houses, but to him it all seemed like a blur. His eyes were fixed on her—and the guy she was laughing with.

He was one of her friends from college. Handsome, confident, cool. His hand would brush her arm a little too much whenever he laughed at a joke. Hector knew the look of an interested guy—because he’d looked the same way. But what really irritated him was that she didn’t seem to make an effort to pull away.

She was wearing that tight black dress he loved. She knew the effect she had on him. And now, in this moment, she seemed to be throwing it in his face. Like she was teasing him.

When she pulled away from her friend and turned, she found Hector leaning against the wall, arms crossed, jaw clenched. His gaze was dark, hard.

“What is it?” she asked, frowning.

“You’re having fun, aren’t you?”

"Like this?"

“With him. Laughing at his jokes, pretending not to notice the way he looks at you.”

She snorted.

“Hector, he’s my friend. That’s all.”

“Fucking friend,” he snapped, pushing himself off the wall and walking toward her, his body tense. “He wants to fuck you, and you know it. He’s loving the attention.”

She crossed her arms.

“Don’t talk to me like that.”

“Then stop acting like you’re single.”

The silence between them grew heavy. She stared at him defiantly. He stepped closer, the tension between them almost palpable.

“We’re going to talk,” he said firmly. “Now.”

He grabbed the car keys and pulled her by the hand, not giving her any room for argument. She went, out of pride and anger, but also because she wanted to understand how far he would go with this.

The silence was thick inside the car, broken only by the sound of the engine. Hector drove fast, his jaw still tense, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. She stared out the window, but she could feel his gaze burning into the side of her face from time to time.

When he stopped on a more deserted street, far from the house, he turned off the car with a sharp click. He turned to her.

“You like to tease me, don’t you?”

She turned her face slowly, her eyes burning.

“I don’t have to walk on eggshells because you’re insecure, Hector.”

He laughed humorlessly.

“Insecure? Do you think that’s it?”

“I think so. Because I didn’t do anything wrong. I just talked to a friend. If you see that as a threat, that’s not my problem.”

He licked his lips, staring at her with that intensity that always came before he lost control.

“Do you want to see how far I’ll go?”

She didn't answer. She just challenged him with her gaze. And that was enough.

Hector leaned over the console and kissed her hard, his hand going straight to her thigh, pulling up her dress. The kiss was hot, angry, full of everything he couldn't say. She responded with the same intensity, digging her nails into his arm, pulling at the hair on the back of his neck.

“Is this what you want?” he whispered between kisses, his lips trailing down her jaw, biting the skin down to her neck. “To drive me crazy? To remind me that you’re mine?”

She gasped when she felt his hand between her legs, firm, determined. His touch was urgent, possessive. He knew exactly how to tease. And now, he made sure to make it clear who was in charge here.

She squirmed in the passenger seat, trying to maintain control, but his fingers were already sliding firmly up the inside of her thigh, pushing their way in with authority. The car was dark, stuffy, the windows beginning to fog up with the difference in temperature between the inside and the world outside.

Hector pulled the back of her seat hard, reclining it all the way back, making her body slide a little. He straddled her with one knee on the seat, his eyes fixed, wild.

“Spread your legs,” he ordered, his voice low and filled with more than just lust. It was control. A warning.

She hesitated, just for the teasing, and saw his eyes grow even darker. He dug his hand into the base of her neck, squeezing lightly.

“I said... open.”

She obeyed. Slowly, defiantly, but she obeyed. And he smiled sideways, satisfied.

“That’s the way I like it.”

While the hand on her neck kept her there, submissive, the other slid between her legs with a precision that set the rest of her body on fire. She moaned softly, trying not to scream, but he leaned closer, his lips brushing her ear.

“Shout to me. The car is ours. The night too.”

She moaned louder, the sound muffled by the heat of the moment, and he bit her jaw lightly as his fingers delved deeper. She trembled, arching against him, and he held on tight, as if he owned her every reaction, her every breath.

“Only I can make you tremble like that. Speak.”

“Only you,” she gasped, her eyes nearly closing with pleasure.

He removed his fingers and licked them slowly, his eyes fixed on hers.

“You will prove it to me.”

In one swift movement, Hector unzipped his pants, pulling the fabric just enough. Gripping her thighs tightly, he positioned himself between them and thrust into her, deep, angry, needy. The bench creaked beneath them, the leather slipping with sweat from their skin, and her moans mixed with the wet, rhythmic sound of his movements.

His hand returned to her neck, squeezing a little tighter now, but not hurting—just enough to show her that she was his. That he could take her to the edge and bring her back.

“No one else is going to touch you. Ever,” he growled, his hips thrusting hard. “You’re mine. Understand?”

She tried to respond, but all she could do was moan, her eyes watering with the intensity. He leaned in closer, pressing his forehead against hers, keeping his grip firm on her neck while his other hand gripped her waist roughly.

“I fucking love you,” he said through gritted teeth. “That’s why I’m like this. Crazy. Possessive. Addicted to you.”

The climax came like a rough wave. She writhed beneath him, gasping, her muscles contracting around him. He lost himself with her, slamming into her hard one last time, hissing a husky groan against her sweaty skin.

They stayed like that for a few seconds. Panting. Silent. The only sound was their hearts beating fast in their chests, still processing what had just happened.

He gently removed his hand from her neck now, and kissed her there, like a silent apology. The anger was gone. All that remained was that intensity that always connected them, even in the worst moments.

“No one will ever love you the way I do,” he murmured, resting his forehead against hers.

She ran her fingers over his face, feeling the stubble, the sweat, the weight of the moment. She knew it was true. And even if she wanted to, she couldn't escape it.

“I’m yours,” she replied, her voice hoarse.

He smiled. A small, satisfied smile, and kissed her slowly this time.