(This chapter includes smut!)

The shower stall was thick with steam, the hot water beating down in a heavy, steady roar against the glass walls.

The hot water rained down over Y/n’s hair, soaking her face as she looked up at him through her wet lashes. Ferran was already hard as a rock, towering over her with his back against the tile, his eyes fixed on her mouth with pure, heavy anticipation.

Y/n didn't hesitate. She cupped his heavy balls in her wet hand, lifting them slightly as she leaned in and pressed her warm tongue against the sensitive skin underneath. She licked from the base of his shaft all the way around his sack, swallowing the wet sounds of the shower with her sloppy, uninhibited licks.

Ferran’s head snapped back against the wall with a sharp gasp, his hands instantly slamming into the tile beside his head. "Fuck... Y/n..."

She didn't stop. She took one of his balls into her mouth, sucking gently while her hand pumped the length of his shaft. She could feel him trembling beneath her hands, his breathing turning ragged as the hot water streamed down his muscular chest.

Leaving his balls slick, she shifted her focus up to the head of his dick. She swirled her tongue around the tip, taking his pre-cum into her mouth before wrapping her lips tight around the head and sucking hard. The wet, loud, messy sound filled the small shower space.

"Jesus Christ," Ferran growled raw, his knuckles turning white against the wall.

Y/n opened wide and took him deep into her throat, swallowing him whole until her nose brushed against his pubic hair. She took him all the way down, her throat gripping him tight, before sliding back up slowly, letting her tongue drag along the underside of his shaft. She kept it as sloppy as possible, taking him deep again and again, saliva and shower water running down her chin in mess.

Ferran’s hand shot down, tangling tightly into her drenched hair. His hips began to twitch forward, thrusting into her throat with a needy, unrefined rhythm.

"You're fucking insane with that mouth," Ferran rasped down at her, his voice hoarse and completely undone as he looked down at her swallowing him whole. "Suck it deeper, baby... damn."

She looked straight up into his dark eyes, taking him all the way to the back of her throat and holding him there for a beat, letting him feel how tight and wet she was for him.

Ferran couldn't take another second of it without losing control completely. He gripped her under her arms, hauling her up off her knees in one swift, powerful motion, spinning her around so her wet palms slammed flat against the slick glass wall.

He pushed her legs apart with his knee, grabbed her hips tight, and drove straight inside her from behind in one deep, ruthless stroke.

The wet sound of skin hitting skin echoed loudly over the hiss of the running water. Every hard stroke hit so deep that Y/n’s knees buckled, her fingers clawing at the foggy glass just to keep her balance.

A hard slap landed right across her right ass cheek, leaving a hot, red mark. Y/n let out a sharp gasp, her head dropping low.

"Fuck, you like that?" Ferran growled raw in her ear, his breath hot and ragged against her skin. He didn't wait for an answer before delivering another hard slap to her other cheek, making her arch her back into him. "Tell me, Y/n. Tell me how good this cock feels”

"Ferran, it’s so fucking good—" she choked out, her mind spinning from how intense and filthy he was being.

If someone told her a year ago that she’d be pinned against a glass wall getting fucked by Ferran Torres, she would have laughed in their face.

Back then, he was just an annoying football player who threw a ball in her face. Now, he was her boyfriend, acting like an absolute animal, his chest beating heavy against her back, completely obsessed with every inch of her body.

"I'm gonna miss you so much," Ferran rasped into her neck, biting down gently on her sensitive skin while his hips kept up a punishing rhythm. "Ten days without this tight pussy... it's gonna drive me crazy."

"I'm gonna miss you too," Y/n whimpered back, pushing her hips back hard against his every stroke. "Don't stop, Ferran... please..."

Ferran reached one hand down between her legs, his wet fingers finding her clit and rubbing it hard in fast, tight circles while he kept slamming into her from behind.

"Cum for me, baby," Ferran commanded filthy into her ear, his pace getting faster, harder, and dirtier. "Cum all over my cock before I leave."

He gave her ass one last hard slap, and that was the breaking point. Y/n let out a loud, breathless scream into the steam as a massive wave of pleasure crashed through her body, her tight walls clamping down hard around him.

Hearing her scream and feeling her tight around him blew Ferran's mind completely. He let out a low, guttural growl, burying his face into her wet shoulder as he drove in deep one last time and finished heavy inside her, his whole body shuddering under the hot water.

For two long minutes, neither of them moved.

The heavy stream of water kept running over them while Ferran stayed buried inside her, his chest heaving up and down against her back. His hands on her hips softened, his thumbs gently rubbing the red marks on her ass.

Slowly, he pulled back and turned her around in his arms so she was facing him.

The dark, dirty look in his eyes was completely gone, replaced by a soft, smitten smile. He wiped the wet hair out of her face with his thumb and pulled her into a long, quiet kiss, their tongues tangling slowly under the rain.

"You okay, baby?" he whispered softly, his voice super sweet now, as if he hadn't just wrecked her against the wall moments ago.

Y/n let out a weak, breathless laugh, resting her head on his warm chest. "Yeah... I'm very good."

-

The steam from the bathroom finally faded, replaced by the cool afternoon air as Ferran drove through the bustling streets of Barcelona. The silence in the car felt thick, heavy with the quiet sadness of their impending separation.

Ferran pulled up to the curb right outside Y/n’s university building. He put the car in park, keeping the engine idling, and turned toward her.

Y/n sat still in the passenger seat, staring down at her lap. Her bag was slung over her shoulder, but she made no move to unbuckle her seatbelt. The reality of the next ten days was finally crashing down on her. No late-night coffee runs, no waking up next to his warm body, no quick half-hour visits between her classes and his training. Ten days felt like an eternity.

Ferran reached across the center console, gently cupping her chin and tilting her face up to look at him. His dark eyes softened completely, all the raw intensity from the shower gone, replaced by pure warmth and devotion.

"Hey," he whispered softly, his thumb gently stroking her cheekbone. "Look at me."

Y/n swallowed the lump in her throat, her eyes glistening slightly as she looked into his. "I hate this. Ten days is way too long."

Ferran smiled tenderly, unbuckling his own seatbelt so he could lean all the way over, pulling her tightly into his arms. Y/n instantly buried her face into the crook of his neck, inhaling his familiar scent and wrapping her arms firmly around his shoulders. He squeezed her so tight she could barely breathe, but she didn't care—she didn't want him to let go.

"I know, baby," Ferran murmured into her hair, pressing a sweet, lingering kiss to her temple. “I hate it too. It’s going to drive me crazy not having you near me. But the time is going to fly by, I promise."

He pulled back just enough to look at her, framing her face with both of his hands.

"I'm going to call you the second I land in Istanbul, okay? Every single day, before training, after training, before bed. You won't even have time to miss me." He gave her a small, playful smirk, trying to lighten the heavy mood. "And hey... I'll bring you back something amazing from Turkey. Whatever you want. A whole suitcase full of gifts, just name it."

Y/n let out a soft, watery laugh, shaking her head. "I don't need gifts, Ferran. Just score a goal and come home fast."

"Deal," Ferran whispered, his tone turning serious again. "You better watch the match, okay? Keep your eyes on the screen, because when I score, that celebration is going to be 100% for you."

"I'll be watching," Y/n promised.

Ferran leaned in, capturing her lips in a deep, agonizingly slow kiss. It wasn't rushed or dirty like earlier; it was heavy with affection, tasting like a quiet promise that distance meant nothing to them. He kissed her again and again, lingering against her mouth until Y/n finally forced herself to pull away with a soft sigh.

"I have to go before I miss my lecture," she whispered, her hands resting against his chest.

"Go on," Ferran smiled warmly, giving her one last soft peck on the lips. "Study hard, sweetheart. I love you."

"I love you too. Fly safe," Y/n said, finally opening the car door.

She stepped out onto the pavement, giving him one last wave before heading toward the university entrance. As she walked up the steps, she turned back one last time to see Ferran still parked there, watching her with a warm smile until she safely stepped inside the doors.

-

The next morning, a chaotic yet familiar atmosphere filled airport. The Barça players, looking sharp in their official club suits, walked through the terminal toward the gate for their flight to Istanbul. Walking among the fans, cameras, and luggage, Ferran’s mind was still half-stuck in yesterday’s shower and that sweet goodbye in front of her university.

Once onboard the plane, Ferran dropped into his window seat. Moments later, Pedri walked down the aisle, shoved his bag into the overhead bin with a heavy sigh, and sat down right next to him.

"So, Mr. Romantic," Pedri started immediately with a wide smirk, clicking his seatbelt into place. "You were glued to your phone up until the very last second. Let me guess: Y/n?"

Ferran couldn't suppress a soft smile. He stared out the window at the runway, but his thoughts were clearly somewhere else entirely.

"Yeah," Ferran admitted honestly, his voice soft and filled with affection. "She's completely turning my head inside out, man. She's just... different. Yesterday, with all that media garbage and even when Lucía showed up out of nowhere—she stayed so unbelievably chill. She’s so confident, funny, and sweet. I swear to you, Pedri, I’ve never felt like this about anyone before."

Pedri looked at his teammate and shook his head, laughing. "Damn, you are completely down bad. It's almost scary to watch. But seriously, when are we finally going to meet her? We practically know Lucia by now, but we definitely need to properly approve the mystery girl who drove you this crazy, right?"

"Soon, for sure," Ferran said, leaning his seat back a bit. "Once we get back from Istanbul, we're definitely setting something up."

Pedri kept looking at him for a second, the playful look on his face slowly fading into something more serious. He leaned in a little closer to Ferran and lowered his voice.

"Hey... just between us though. Have you actually told her yet about what the original plan was?"

The moment he heard that question, Ferran froze completely. The warm, dreamy mood in his head shattered instantly. The plane's engines began to roar louder for takeoff, but to Ferran, it felt like all the air had just been sucked out of the cabin. He kept his jaw clenched tight and stared straight ahead without saying a word.

Pedri noticed the sudden silence and let out a deep sigh. "Ferran... are you serious? You still haven't told her?"

"It's not that easy, okay?" Ferran snapped back quickly, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He immediately started spinning excuses to justify it to himself. "The timing just wasn't right. We're having such a good time, everything is going perfectly. If I bring up that old PR plan my management came up with back then, I'll ruin everything. She's going to think the whole thing was a lie, even though what I feel for her is 100% real!"

"Bro, you know this is a ticking time bomb, right?" Pedri warned him sternly, crossing his arms. "Lucía knows. Your agents know. If she finds out through someone else, you're going to lose her for good. Then she'll really think you just used her."

"I know, I know!" Ferran said frustatedly, rubbing a hand over his face. "I am going to tell her. I really am. Just... as soon as I get back from Istanbul. I didn't want to leave her behind with all that stress while I'm away in another country for a week and a half. That makes sense, right?"

Pedri looked at him skeptically, shaking his head. "You're just putting it off because you're scared, man. But whatever, your choice. Just make sure you're the one who tells her before someone else does it for you."

Ferran didn't answer. He stared back out the window as the plane lifted off into the clouds. The tension settled deep into his chest once again. He knew Pedri was right, but the thought of losing Y/n terrified him more than any match ever could.

Meanwhile, back in their shared apartment, Y/n was floating on cloud nine.

She was sitting on the living room rug, her back resting against the sofa, absently staring at her phone screen. A soft, dopey smile was plastered across her face as she replayed every single memory from the past twenty-four hours—the insane heat in the shower, the way Ferran held her so tightly before her lecture, and the gentle promise in his eyes. She was completely, head-over-heels in love.

Antonia walked into the room carrying two mugs of tea, taking one look at Y/n’s dreamy expression before letting out a loud, dramatic sigh.

"Okay, wipe that ridiculous grin off your face before you embarrass yourself," Antonia joked, handing her a mug and plopping down onto the couch right above her. "You've been staring into space for the past twenty minutes. I take it the big goodbye was... eventful?"

Y/n felt her cheeks instantly burn red, but the smile stayed right on her face. "It was really nice, okay? He was just... super sweet. I'm already missing him, which is crazy because he only boarded the plane a few hours ago."

"Oh, please! Sweet?" Antonia raised an eyebrow, a devious, mischievous smirk spreading across her lips. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "Come on, Y/n. You can't fool me. You came home yesterday after spending the night at his place looking like a brand new person. Skip the romantic stuff—how is the famous Ferran Torres in bed?"

Y/n’s jaw dropped, her face flushing a deep crimson shade. She hid her burning cheeks behind both of her hands, letting out an embarrassed squeal. "Antonia! Oh my god, I am not telling you that!"

"Why not?!" Antonia laughed, nudging Y/n's shoulder with her foot. "We're best friends! Details! Is he passionate? Is he a wild animal? Does he put all that athlete stamina to good use?"

"Antonia, stop!" Y/n giggled, squirming on the rug as she tried to dodge her friend's teasing. She took a sip of her tea just to buy some time, but her blushing face gave everything away. "He's... he's amazing, okay? Like, super good. Incredible."

Antonia leaned in even closer, her eyes glittering with unholy curiosity. "Okay, okay... but scale of one to ten, how big are we talking? Is he—"

"OMG, Antonia! You can't ask that!" Y/n squealed, grabbing a throw pillow from the couch and shoving it directly into Antonia’s face to muffle her laughing. "You are completely unhinged!"

"What?! It's a valid question!" Antonia suffocated out a laugh, pulling the pillow away. "The girlies need to know!"

"Well, the girlies are going to stay curious," Y/n teased back, her heart doing happy little flips in her chest as she hugged the pillow tight.

She buried her face into the cushion, her mind drifting straight back to the shower—to the wet glass, his heavy breath against her neck, his possessive grip on her hips, and the sweet, lingering kisses afterward. She truly felt like the luckiest girl in the world, completely unaware of the ticking clock heading her way.

The weekend rolled around, and Y/n found herself standing in front of her mother’s front door with a heavy sigh. She really, really didn't want to be here. But after endless phone calls and guilt-tripping texts from her mom demanding she come home for a visit, Y/n had finally given in.

She took a deep breath, trying to prepare herself mentally before unlocking the door and stepping inside.

The front door hadn't even fully clicked shut before the atmosphere in the house felt suffocating.

"Finally," her mother called out from the living room, not even bothering to get up from the couch. "I thought you forgot where you grew up."

Y/n walked into the living room, setting her bag down near the armchair. "Hi, Mom. Traffic was a bit heavy."

Her mother barely glanced at her, taking a sip from her mug while eyeing Y/n up and down with that familiar, critical stare. "Right. Well, sit down. It feels like I have to book an appointment three weeks in advance just to see my own daughter these days."

Y/n swallowed her annoyance, taking a seat at the dining table. "I've just been really busy with uni and everything."

"Uni, right," her mom repeated, her voice dripping with skepticism. She set her coffee mug down with a sharp clink against the glass table. "Or maybe you're just busy running around town with that high-society crowd now? Because I turn on the news or open my phone, and all I see is your face next to a footballer."

Y/n felt her jaw tighten. "Mom, please. Can we just have a normal visit?"

"I'm just asking questions, Y/n," her mother said, leaning forward with a sharp, judgmental look. "I mean, let's be realistic for a second. Is this whole relationship thing just for the money? Because I know how much you like nice things, and a guy like Ferran Torres obviously has millions to blow. Did you seek him out for that?"

The accusation hit Y/n right in the chest, hot and sharp. Her blood began to boil instantly, her cheeks flushing dark with anger as she slammed her hands flat against the table.

"What are you even talking about?!" Y/n snapped, her voice trembling with frustration. "Are you serious right now? Ferran and I genuinely love each other! He treats me amazingly, he respects me, and I don't give a single damn about his money or his job! How could you even think that about me?"

Her mother just raised her eyebrows, completely unbothered by Y/n’s outburst. "Oh, please. Don't act so innocent. Girls your age do it all the time. I'm just telling you not to get your hopes up when he realizes you're just an ordinary student."

Her mother scoffed, crossing her arms defensively. "And honestly, Y/n, you shouldn't trust these kinds of footballers anyway. They always play with women. They lie, they cheat, and he’ll do the exact same thing to you once he gets bored."

Before Y/n could even process how cruel that was, her younger brother, Eric, shuffled into the kitchen. He grabbed a soda from the fridge, popping the tab open with a loud crack before leaning against the counter with a sarcastic smirk plastered across his face.

"Oh, come on, Mom's just saying what everyone's thinking," Eric chimed in, rolling his eyes as he took a sip. "You're definitely just using him, Y/n. Or riding his clout. Like, be real for two seconds—a famous guy like that isn't actually going to stick around with you for long."

Y/n felt a sting behind her eyes, the sheer disrespect from her own family making her chest feel tight. She clenched her hands into tight fists under the table, her knuckles turning white. She refused to give Eric the satisfaction of seeing her cry, and she knew arguing with her mother was like screaming into a brick wall.

"You know what?" Y/n said, her voice shaky but firm. "I'm done with this conversation."

She shoved her chair back, ignoring her mother calling her name behind her, and stormed straight upstairs to her old childhood bedroom. She slammed the door shut, locking it with a sharp turn of the key, and leaned her back against the wood, finally letting out a shuddering breath.

Taking a deep breath to steady her racing pulse, Y/n slid down the door until she was sitting on the floor. The quiet room felt like a small sanctuary, though her cheeks were still burning with humiliation and anger.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. Seeing that Ferran had a break between his team meetings and tactical sessions in Istanbul, she dialed his number.

He picked up on the very first ring.

"Hey, beautiful," Ferran’s warm, familiar voice filled the line. Just hearing his tone instantly cut through the cold frustration heavy in her chest. But Ferran knew her too well—he picked up on her shaky breathing right away. "Wait... hey, what's wrong? You sound upset. Did something happen?"

Y/n pulled her knees up to her chest, resting her forehead against her jeans as she let out a long breath. "I'm at my mom's house... and it's just a complete nightmare, Ferran. I shouldn't have even come."

"Talk to me, baby," Ferran said zachtjes, stepping into a quiet hallway in the team hotel to focus entirely on her. "What did they do?"

"She... she literally accused me of being with you for your money," Y/n whispered, her voice cracking slightly. "She told me I sought you out for wealth, and that I shouldn't trust you because footballers just play with women and you're going to do the same to me. And then Eric walked in and agreed, saying I'm just using you for clout and you'd never actually stick around."

On the other end of the line, Ferran’s jaw clenched tight. A wave of anger flared up in his chest toward her family, but he forced his voice to stay completely gentle and grounded for her.

"Hey... listen to me very carefully, Y/n," Ferran said, his tone thick with pure devotion. "Don't you dare listen to a single word they say, okay? I know exactly who you are. I know your heart, and I know how much you love me for me."

He paused, letting his words sink in.

"You don't have a single greedy bone in your body, sweetheart," Ferran continued softly. "And I am not playing with you. I've never been more serious about anyone in my life. You love me when I'm just Ferran in sweatpants, not the guy on TV. Screw what they think."

A weak smile finally crept onto Y/n’s face as she wiped a tear from her cheek. "I know... it just hurts coming from my own family, you know?"

"I get it, baby. I really do," Ferran murmured softly. "But you have me, alright? Always. As soon as I get back from Istanbul, I'm coming straight to pick you up. I love you, Y/n."

"I love you too, Ferran," she whispered, her heart feeling restored.

After hanging up, Y/n felt a whole lot lighter. She changed into pajamas, turned off the lights, and slid under the covers of her old bed, finally feeling at peace.

She set her phone down on the nightstand and closed her eyes.

Just as her mind began to drift, a soft, sharp ding echoed through the dark room, the screen lighting up bright against the nightstand.

Y/n reached out and picked it up, expecting a forgotten text from Ferran. But as she brought the screen to her face, her eyes narrowed at the notification sitting right at the top:

Instagram: @luciagarcia has requested to follow you.

—————-—————-—————-—————-————

Oh Ferran😩- Ferran Torres

pairing: gf!reader x bf!Ferran

summary: the tiktok sounds nice, but better coming from you

note: from the ask… i don’t remember saving these pictures so i thought just use them from this draft

your FYP had been stacked with edits of your boyfriend since his winning World Cup goal, and you’d saved every single one of them, particularly the ones with the “oh Ferran” sound. It being your newest vocal stim, you found yourself blurting it out at the randomest times in your boyfriends presence.

he hands you a glass of water? Oh Ferran😩

he passes by you? ohhh Ferraaan!

he helps you down the stairs? OH FERRRRAAAN!

every little action warranted a little praise, and it was slowly starting to tickle his nerves.

walking into the kitchen of the rented boat, Ferran’s unsurprised as he hears the sound of the month ring from your phone, a smile on your face as you watch the edit over once more before swiping

“how long do i have to keep up with that sound?” Ferran asks opening the fridge

“i dunno” you fake think “maybe 3 more months”

“that’s too long baby” he sighs setting the wine on the counter “can we give it a rest?”

“why would i do that?” you ask setting your locked phone down “it’s just so fun!”

“because it’s not your name you’re constantly hearing” Ferran says rounding the counter to your end

“as if you’d tire of hearing your own name” you scoff

“well” Ferran is now in front of you, his hand comes up to your face, running his thumb across your bottom lip “coming from your lips, not too much”

“stop it” you smack his hand away “you’re cutting into my doomscrolling”

Ferran snatches your phone, sliding it across the island

“hey!” you snap “i was busy!”

“i want you to say that sound again” Ferran comes close to your ear “around my cock”

that’s what lands you here, bikini bottoms pushed to the side, Ferran’s cock nestled inside you, his boulberous, drooly, bubble pink cock head nestles into that gummy spot inside you as you rotate between bouncing and grinding your clit deliciously into his lower stomach

“oh fuck Ferran” you moan, electrical currents of pleasure shoot ip your spine with ever bounce

“keep going” Ferran breathes out, thumbing at your pebbled nipples

“gonna cum” you choke out

“cum saying my name baby” Ferran groans “soak me and scream my name”

“shit” you squeak feeling the edge nesring

“c’mon princesa” Ferran encourages “tell them whose cock you’re creaming right now”

“Fuck! Ferran it’s yours, holy shit Ferran oh fuck!” you moan out

Ferran isn’t far behind, slamming you into his lap as your walls rhythmically squeeze his cock. You sit for a minute, regaining your breath and feeling the burn in your thighs

“at least the whole dock knows my name now” Ferran jokes

“shut up”

Ferran Torres - "Be a good girl now, princess."

Smut (18+), mdni - unprotected sex, p in v, oral (f receiving) - you're on holiday with Ferran after the world cup, morning sex after skipping dinner to have sex all night, teasing and banter, very bf!Ferran

(This chapter includes smut!)

Y/n stared down at her phone screen in the dim glow of her old bedroom. The notification sat right at the top:

Instagram: @luciagarcia has requested to follow you.

She didn't really think much of it at first. She knew who Lucía was, of course, but it didn't immediately trigger any red flags. Still, Y/n kept her Instagram account strictly private—she only accepted people she actually knew personally or was close with.

Curious, she decided to send Ferran a quick, casual text to see what he thought about it before hitting accept.

> Y/n: Hey babe! Random question, but Lucía just sent me a follow request on Insta? Should I accept it or leave it?

Miles away in his Istanbul hotel room, Ferran was sitting on the edge of his bed, reviewing match film on his tablet, when his phone buzzed. He picked it up expecting a cute goodnight message, but as soon as he read her text, total panic surged through his veins. Cold sweat instantly broke out across the back of his neck.

His heart hammered wildly against his ribs. How did Lucía even get her handle?!

Frantic, his thumbs flew across the screen as he tried to construct a quick excuse without sounding completely unhinged.

> Ferran: NO!! Do NOT accept it!

> Ferran: Don't accept any requests from her or anyone connected to her. She's super petty with the media, Y/n. She'll literally screenshot your private pictures and leak your account to the paparazzi or fan pages. Block her request right now.

Downstairs in her bed, Y/n blinked at the rapid-fire messages. She chuckled softly to herself, finding his sudden intensity almost funny.

> Y/n: Haha okay okay, calm down! I won't accept it. It really wasn't that big of a deal anyway. Going to sleep now, love you!

> Ferran: Love you more than anything. Sweet dreams, sweetheart.

Y/n tossed her phone onto the nightstand, completely unbothered, and drifted off to sleep.

Ferran, on the other hand, didn't sleep a wink. He paced up and down the carpet of his hotel room, burying his face in his hands. The guilt was suffocating him. This is getting out of hand, he thought, staring out the window at the Istanbul skyline. I can't keep hiding this from her. As soon as I get back to Barcelona, I have to tell her the truth.

The next morning, the smell of fresh coffee wafted upstairs, but Y/n had zero energy to face another round of criticisms. She trudged downstairs for breakfast, where her mother was already laying out plates with a solemn, icy expression, and Eric was slouched over his phone at the island.

The atmosphere was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Her mother made passive-aggressive comments about "living in the real world," while Eric tossed subtle jabs about her whole life being online now.

Unable to stomach the hostility for another second, Y/n set her fork down. "I'm going to step out for a bit to run some errands and get fresh air," she said calmly, not waiting for a response before grabbing her jacket and keys.

Walking through her old neighborhood felt strangely nostalgic, though a bit alienating. The autumn air was crisp, helping clear the heavy cloud hanging over her mind. She stopped by a local bakery to pick up some fresh pastries for herself, enjoying the simple solitude.

"Y/n?!"

She turned around near the entrance of the grocery store to see three girls waving enthusiastically at her. It took her a split second to recognize them—they were former high school classmates she hadn't seen since graduation.

"OMG, it is you!" one of the girls, Sophie, squealed, coming over to give her a quick hug. "We were just talking about you the other day!"

"Hi! Wow, long time no see!" Y/n smiled, pleasantly surprised.

"Long time no see?! Girl, we see you everywhere on TikTok now!" the second girl laughed. "We saw the pictures of you and Ferran Torres in Barcelona! Is he as handsome in person as he is on TV?"

"He's even better," Y/n admitted, a genuine, fond blush coloring her cheeks.

They stood outside for nearly twenty minutes, catching up on life after high school. Hearing them talk about her life with genuine excitement—rather than the bitter jealousy coming from her own family—was a massive breath of fresh air. It reminded her that what she had with Ferran was real, beautiful, and nothing to feel ashamed of.

After surviving the rest of the weekend with minimal interaction with her mom, Y/n finally took the train back home to Barcelona. The relief of stepping back into her shared apartment was unmatched.

A few days flew by in a blur of dental hygiene lectures and clinical shifts.

By Thursday afternoon, Y/n was working her shift at the dental clinic where she completed her practical hours. The clinic was quiet, the hum of equipment in the hallway keeping a steady rhythm as she organized sanitized instruments on a tray inside an empty treatment room.

Suddenly, a soft, polite knock sounded against the doorframe.

Without looking up from her tray, Y/n adjusted her mask and gloves. "Come in! I'll be just a second..."

"Excuse me, miss... do you have an opening for a very needy patient?"

Y/n’s head snapped up instantly.

Standing in the doorway was Ferran. He was leaning against the frame, dressed in a sleek black hoodie, holding a massive, stunning bouquet of her absolute favorite flowers in one arm and a small, elegantly wrapped luxury gift box in his other hand.

Y/n gasped, her eyes going wide behind her protective goggles. "Ferran?!"

"Surprise, beautiful," he grinned, his dark eyes melting with pure warmth.

"OMG! I thought you were coming back tomorrow!" Y/n squealed, quickly stripping off her latex gloves and setting them on the counter. She flew across the room and threw her arms tightly around his neck.

Ferran caught her effortlessly, wrapping his free arm around her waist and lifting her slightly off her feet. He buried his face into the crook of her neck, inhaling her sweet, familiar scent. "I took an earlier flight. I couldn't wait another day to see you."

Y/n pulled back just enough to look at him, her smile beaming from ear to ear. Remembering where they were, she glanced nervously toward the open door, trying to act professional. She leaned up on her tiptoes and pressed a soft, lingering kiss onto his lips, keeping it gentle yet filled with all the love she'd stored up over the week.

"You are crazy," she whispered happily, taking the gorgeous bouquet from his hand and smelling the fresh petals. "They're beautiful, Ferran... you remembered my favorite ones."

"Of course I did," he murmured softly, his eyes dropping down to her feet. A playful, teasing smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "Ah, I see you're wearing the professional footwear."

Y/n looked down at her feet and burst out laughing. She was wearing a pair of comfortable Crocs—the exact ones he had bought for her a few months ago.

She playfully lifted one foot, shaking it back and forth to show them off. "Yeah, of course! Even if these walked terribly, I would wear them every single day because you bought them for me."

Ferran let out a deep, warm laugh, his chest vibrating as he reached out to pull her back in by her waist. "You're too cute."

Y/n’s eyes then drifted to the small wrapped box in his hand. She raised her eyebrows playfully, her voice filled with sweet excitement. "Ooh... what's that? Did you bring me Turkish sweets from Istanbul?"

Ferran looked down at the box, a subtle, secretive smile playing on his lips. "No, not candy... but trust me, it's pretty sweet. I'll give it to you right after your shift ends."

Y/n giggled, winding her arms back around his waist and leaning into his chest for another big hug. Ferran wrapped his arms tightly around her, resting his chin on top of her head. He tilted her face up gently, leaning down to press another sweet, passionate kiss against her lips.

Just as the kiss started deepening, the door swung open.

"Hey Y/n, do you know where the extra suction tips—"

Y/n practically jumped a foot into the air, instantly pulling away from Ferran and straightening her scrubs with a bright red face. Ferran cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck with an amused smirk as the clinic receptionist stood frozen in the doorway.

"Oh! Sorry to interrupt!" the receptionist giggled, trying hard not to stare at the famous footballer standing in the middle of their tiny prep room. "I'll... I'll come back later!"

The door clicked shut, leaving Y/n hiding her burning face behind her flower bouquet while Ferran let out a quiet, mischievous laugh.

Once her shift finally wrapped up, Y/n went into the staff room, changed out of her scrubs, and carefully packed her fresh bouquet into her bag. True to his word, Ferran was waiting for her outside in his car.

They decided to head straight to his house instead of going out. As much as they loved dates, staying in was always their favorite option. It avoided the relentless stares from strangers, the paparazzi trailing his car, and fans constantly rushing up to Ferran for photos every two minutes. Inside his home, it was just the two of them—no cameras, no noise, no pressure.

The moment the front door of his villa clicked shut, Y/n threw her bag onto the entryway table, turned around, and immediately grabbed Ferran by the collar of his hoodie. She pulled his lips down to hers, kissing him with a sudden wave of needy passion.

Ferran’s hands instantly found her waist, chuckling softly into the kiss as he deepened it for a long, breath-stealing moment.

When Y/n finally pulled back, resting her hands against his chest with a heavy, expectant gaze that made her intentions crystal clear, Ferran let out a breathless laugh, holding her gently by the hips.

"Wait, wait," Ferran murmured, a playful smirk tugging at his lips as he held up the small, elegant box he had been carrying. "Don't you want your present first?"

Y/n blinked, her cheeks flushing warm as she looked at the gift. "Oh! Right! Okay, fine," she giggled, letting go of his hoodie.

They walked over to the living room, sinking down into the plush leather couch together. Y/n took the sleek black box from his hands, her curiosity getting the better of her. She slowly lifted the lid, and her breath immediately caught in her throat.

Resting on the dark velvet interior was a stunning, delicate diamond necklace. The central diamond caught the warm living room light, sparkling brilliantly—it was breathtakingly beautiful, and the weight of the stone alone screamed pure luxury.

"Ferran..." Y/n whispered, her eyes wide as she stared at it.

"I bought it at one of the finest jewelers in Istanbul," Ferran said proudly, leaning closer to watch her face. "The moment I saw it, I knew it belonged on you."

Instead of looking thrilled, Y/n’s expression softened into concern. She gently closed the lid of the box and tried to hand it back to him.

"Ferran, no... I can't accept this," she said softly, shaking her head. "When I jokingly asked if you brought me something from Turkey, I meant like... Turkish sweets or a cute souvenir! Not a diamond necklace!"

"Why not?" Ferran frowned slightly, refusing to take the box back. "It's a gift, Y/n. You deserve nice things, and you're worth every single cent."

"It's way too expensive, Ferran, really," Y/n insisted, pushing the box firmer into his hands. "I love that you thought of me, but I can't take something like this. It feels like too much."

"I am not taking it back," Ferran declared, pushing her hand gently away with a stubborn grin. "I bought it specifically for you. What am I supposed to do with a diamond necklace, wear it to training?"

"Ferran, I'm serious!" Y/n said, a slight, lighthearted argument sparking between them as she tried to force him to take it. "It's too much!"

"And I'm serious too!" he argued back, chuckling as he took the necklace out of the box himself. "Turn around."

Y/n sighed, rolling her eyes with a helpless smile, but she turned her back to him and lifted her hair out of the way. Ferran gently draped the cold chain around her neck, carefully fastening the delicate clasp behind her nape. His thumbs brushed softly against her skin before he let go.

"Go look," he whispered into her ear.

Y/n stood up and walked over to the large decorative mirror hanging in the hallway. She lifted her hand, her fingers gently touching the heavy, sparkling diamond resting perfectly against her collarbone. It truly was ridiculously gorgeous.

"See?" Ferran murmured, stepping up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder as he met her gaze in the mirror. "It looks incredible on you."

Y/n looked at her reflection, biting her lip. "Okay... it is really pretty," she admitted softly, turning around in his arms.

"Told you," Ferran smirked, looking smug.

She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, burying her face into his shoulder. "Thank you, Ferran. Really... it's amazing," she whispered, pulling back just enough to press a long, sweet kiss onto his lips.

Ferran kissed her back deeply, his hands smoothing down her back.

"Just please... don't go buying me such expensive things all the time, okay?" she murmured against his mouth, a fond smile on her lips. "I just want you."

"Deal," Ferran smiled softly, pulling her flush against his body as the quiet warmth of his house settled around them once more.

"Thank you for the beautiful necklace, Ferran," Y/n murmured, a soft smile playing on her lips as she smoothed down the collar of his shirt.

Ferran tilted his head, his dark eyes sparkling with a playful, flirty smirk. "You know... usually when someone brings back such a special gift from overseas, they get a little present in return." He leaned down, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear as he whispered, "Are you really not going to give me a gift?"

Y/n’s cheeks burned hot, but a bold, teasing glint flickered in her eyes. "Oh, is that how it works?"

Without warning, she grabbed him firmly by the collar of his hoodie and pulled him down into a deep, breathtaking kiss. Ferran let out a quiet gasp, his hands instantly gripping her hips as she took a slow step backward, tugging him along with her down the hallway toward his bedroom.

The moment they hit the edge of the mattress, Y/n gently pushed him down. Ferran fell back onto the plush sheets with a breathless laugh, looking up at her with pure, unshielded adoration. She climbed up onto the bed after him, stranding herself over his lap as their lips met again in a hungry, passionate rhythm.

Clothes hit the floor fast. Ferran’s shirt, her bra, both their pants—everything stripped away until they’re skin to skin. He sucks one nipple into his mouth, teeth grazing, while his fingers slide between her legs. Two thick digits push into her soaked pussy, pumping deep, curling against her walls.

"So fucking wet already," he mutters against her breast, biting down just enough to make her gasp. "You missed this cock that bad?"

She nods, breathless. "More then anything."

She strokes him slow, spreading the precum down his shaft, then lines him up and sinks down in one smooth motion.

"Shit—" Ferran’s head falls back, fingers digging into her hips as her pussy swallows every inch. She’s tight, hot, gripping him like she never wants to let go. She starts riding him hard—lifting up until just the head stays inside, then dropping down to take him balls-deep. The wet slap of skin fills the room with every thrust.

"Missed this pussy so much," he groans, thrusting up to meet her. "Missed stretching you open, filling you up."

She leans forward, hands braced on his chest, riding faster. Her tits bounce with every drop, nipples brushing his skin. Ferran reaches between them, thumb finding her swollen clit, rubbing tight circles while she fucks herself on his cock.

"That’s it, baby," he pants. "Ride me like you need it. Fuck yourself on my dick."

She moans louder, grinding down, chasing the pressure building inside. His thumb works faster, and her pussy starts to flutter around him. Ferran sits up, one arm wrapping around her waist, the other still rubbing her clit as he sucks a mark onto her neck.

"Cum on my cock," he orders, voice rough.

Her orgasm hits hard—her walls clench and pulse, milking him as she cries out. Ferran groans, hips jerking up, and he spills deep inside her, hot cum flooding her pussy in thick spurts. He keeps thrusting through it, pushing his load deeper until it leaks out around his cock.

They stay locked together, breathing hard, sweat-slick skin pressed close. Ferran kisses her jaw, her lips, her shoulder—soft, lingering touches while his hands stroke her back.

"Never letting you go again," he whispers against her mouth. "I love you too fucking much."

Afterward, the room fell into a peaceful stillness. Y/n was resting her head on Ferran’s bare chest, tracing lazy circles on his skin while his arm was wrapped tightly around her shoulders, his fingers gently playing with her hair.

The heavy atmosphere of the room slowly shifted for Ferran. As he stared up at the ceiling, the quiet guilt he’d been carrying since Istanbul came rushing back. The memory of Lucía's follow request and the secrets he was keeping weighed heavily on his heart. He looked down at Y/n, who looked so completely relaxed and happy in his arms.

He took a slow, deep breath, his jaw tightening. He needed to tell her.

"Y/n?" Ferran murmured, his voice sounding slightly strained.

She hummed in response, shifting her head up to look at him, her eyes soft and cozy. "Yeah?"

"I... I need to tell you something," he whispered, his pulse starting to race as he held her gaze.

Y/n blinked, noticing the sudden serious shift in his tone. "Okay... what is it? Is everything alright?"

Ferran looked into her sweet, trusting eyes, and his courage completely crumbled. Panic flared up in his chest—he was terrified of ruining this perfect moment, terrified of seeing her look at him with hurt or disappointment after the awful weekend she’d just had with her family.

He swallowed hard, quickly pivoting his mind to find a cover-up.

"I... well, the guys on the team," Ferran stammered out, forcing a small, soft smile onto his face as he cleared his throat. "They really want to meet you. The whole squad is hosting a big team dinner this Friday, and everyone's bringing their partners. I want you to come with me as my date."

Y/n’s tense shoulders immediately relaxed, a huge, bright smile spreading across her face.

"Oh!" she giggled, leaning up to press a sweet kiss against his cheek. "You scared me for a second, Ferran! I thought something bad happened."

"No, no, nothing bad," Ferran lied softly, running his hand through her hair, though his chest still felt tight with unresolved guilt. "Just a dinner. Are you up for it?"

"Of course I am," Y/n smiled warmly, resting her chin back on his chest. "I'd love to meet them."

As Friday approached, Y/n was an absolute bundle of nerves. She had never been to a high-profile event like this before, let alone a formal gathering surrounded by world-famous football stars and their partners.

She spent hours scrolling through online boutiques, completely overwhelmed by choices. Luckily, her close friend Antonia came over to help. Antonia turned her bedroom into a full-blown runway, pulling out options, critiquing heel heights, and making sure Y/n felt like a million bucks. Antonia kept reassuring her: "You're going as Ferran’s girlfriend, you look stunning, and you're going to own that room."

Ferran also did everything he could to soothe her anxiety throughout the week. Whenever she texted him asking if a dress was "too much" or "too plain," he would instantly reply with glowing compliments, telling her she could wear a trash bag and still be the prettiest girl in Barcelona. He kept reassuring her that the team was just a group of regular guys and that everyone was genuinely excited to meet her.

When Friday evening finally arrived, Y/n stepped into the upscale restaurant hand-in-hand with Ferran. She wore an elegant gown that fitted her perfectly, with the diamond necklace Ferran had given her sparkling subtly at her throat.

The moment they walked into the private dining area, her worries began to evaporate. The players and their wives and girlfriends were incredibly welcoming and warm. There were no elitist vibes or cold stares—just lively conversations, laughter, and great food. Y/n found herself casually chatting with the other wags, sharing laughs over daily life in Barcelona, while the players teased Ferran about how smitten he looked every time he glanced her way. Y/n was having a wonderful time, feeling completely accepted and relaxed.

After dinner wrapped up, the group slowly made their way toward the restaurant's main exit, saying their goodbyes and heading toward the valet.

Just as Ferran and Y/n walked out into the dimly lit foyer near the glass doors, the heavy entrance door swung open.

Stepping inside was Lucía.

The air instantly left the room. Ferran froze on the spot, his entire posture locking up as a wave of sheer terror and panic washed over his face.

Lucía paused, her eyes locking onto Ferran and Y/n standing side-by-side. A slow, mischievous smirk curled onto her lips. "So... what a coincidence seeing you two here," she said smoothly, crossing her arms.

Ferran’s jaw clenched, his eyes dark with immediate hostility and fear. "What are you doing here, Lucía?" he snapped, his voice sharp and laced with anger.

Lucía just feigned innocence, raising her eyebrows. "What? Am I not allowed to have dinner at a restaurant anymore?" Her gaze slowly drifted over to Y/n, her expression shifting into a sickly sweet smile. "Oh, Y/n! Don't worry, sweetheart, I'm not stalking you... not like how you used to stalk Ferran."

Lucía let out a soft, airy laugh, as if making a lighthearted joke.

Y/n’s eyebrows knit together in deep confusion. She looked between Lucía and Ferran, her chest tightening slightly. "What? What are you talking about?"

Lucía tilted her head, acting surprised. "Oh? Did you not post the public statement yet?"

"What statement?!" Y/n asked, her heart starting to beat faster against her ribs.

Ferran stood there in absolute agony, cold sweat breaking out across his forehead. He practically lunged forward, trying to step between them. "Lucía, shut up! There is no statement. Don't say another word!"

Lucía just laughed, shaking her head as if Ferran was being absurd. "Oh, that's so weird, Ferran... I mean, wasn't that the whole reason you used Y/n in the first place? Isn't that why you wanted to hang out with her so badly?"

Ferran’s face went pale, his voice rising in panic. "Shut the fuck up, Lucía!"

Y/n stood frozen, her mind spinning as the blood rushed to her ears. "Wait... I don't understand this. What is she saying, Ferran?"

Ferran spun around, grabbing Y/n’s hands tightly. His hands were shaking, his eyes wide with desperate panic. "Y/n, listen to me—don't listen to a single word coming out of her mouth. Please. Come on, we're leaving right now." He tried to gently pull her toward the door.

"No, wait a second!" Y/n said, pulling her hands back, her voice shaking. "I want to know what she's talking about!"

Lucía let out a dramatic sigh, looking at Y/n with fake pity. "Ah sweetie... you are so incredibly naive."

"Lucía, I swear to God, stop!" Ferran shouted, but Lucía paid him no attention.

"Ferran completely used you, Y/n," Lucía said coldly, laying out every single word with deliberate cruelty. "He was desperate for you to post that public statement clearing his name from that whole drama. But when you didn't do it right away, he decided to force it. He intentionally became your friend, hanging around you on purpose just so you'd like him enough to finally post it."

Y/n felt like she had been hit by a freight train. She gasped for air, standing there in total shock, staring at Ferran. "What...?"

"No! Y/n, no! That's not true!" Ferran begged, his voice cracking with desperation, reaching out for her again. "That's not how it was, I promise you!"

"Yeah, yeah, keep lying, Ferran," Lucía sneered, looking back at Y/n. "Everything was fake, Y/n. He never actually wanted to be your friend. Those Crocs he bought you? He did that on purpose too. Every single day he ran into you or followed you around was just for that damn post! Do you really think a guy like him actually wanted to hang out with you?"

Y/n’s stomach churned violently. Her vision began to blur as tears filled her eyes, but Lucía wasn't done.

"He told me everything, by the way," Lucía added with a cruel smirk. "He told me all about your family situation. All about your toxic mother. He literally just felt sorry for you—he pitied you, Y/n. That's the only reason he stayed."

In that exact split second, Y/n felt her heart completely stop beating.

The air vanished from her lungs. The world around her went completely silent, the vibrant restaurant, the quiet streets of Barcelona, and the man standing in front of her all fading into a terrifying, hollow blur. She stared at Ferran—the man she loved, the man who held her while she cried about her family—feeling a cold, suffocating numbness wash over her entire body.

Tears welled up in her eyes, hot and heavy, blurring the frantic, terrified expression on Ferran's face.

She took a slow step back, away from his outstretched hands, her voice trembling so violently it was barely a whisper.

"Is that true, Ferran?"

Ferran froze. The panic in his eyes turned into pure horror as he looked at her. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. The silence stretched between them, heavy and damning.

"Is that true?!" Y/n screamed, her voice cracking as tears finally overflowed and spilled down her cheeks.

"Y/n, please—listen to me!" Ferran pleaded, his hands shaking as he tried to reach for her again. "At first... at first, it was! Just at first, I swear!"

A gasping sob escaped Y/n’s lips, her worst nightmare coming to life right in front of her.

"In the beginning, I just wanted you to clear my name, okay?!" Ferran stammered frantically, his voice thick with raw desperation. "I was stupid and desperate, but Y/n, I swear to God, everything changed! The moment I actually got to know you, I fell for you! That's why I broke up with Lucía! It stopped being about any post, it was only ever about you! I genuinely fell in love with you—"

Before he could finish his sentence, before he could take another breath to defend himself, Y/n snapped.

With a burst of heartbroken fury, she swung her hand and struck him right across the face.

A sharp, echoing CRACK reverberated through the empty foyer. Ferran’s head snapped to the side, the force of the slap leaving a deep, burning red mark across his cheek.

Silence fell over the room once more, heavy and suffocating.

Ferran slowly turned his head back to look at her, his dark eyes wide with shock, tears glistening in his own eyes as he held his breath.

Y/n stood there, her entire body shaking uncontrollably, her chest heaving as she glared at him through a wall of bitter tears. The love and warmth that usually filled her eyes when she looked at him were completely wiped away, replaced by pure betrayal.

"I never want to see you again," Y/n spat out, her voice dangerously quiet, cold, and final.

Without waiting another second, without giving him the chance to utter another word, she turned on her heel and sprinted through the glass doors, disappearing out into the cold Barcelona night.

—————-—————-—————-—————-————

One shot : Night owl

Pairing : Ferran Torres x Black reader

Summary : When you tell Ferran you’ll be home by 2 and it’s 8 a.m.

Warnings (+18) : angst, jealousy, smut and fluff.

A/N: Hi girlies, took more time than planned but I'm doing my best. The smut felt better in my head still I hope you guys enjoy. @kyoshithewriter inspired me with one of her reblogs and you guys know I love angst so I started to write that one.

What was supposed to be a regular girl night out at the restaurant ended up in an impromptu party night. After the restaurant, a few drinks in a bar, then another one. Alcohol, good vibes, good music. The perfect cocktail to wake up the sleepy party girls inside. Next stop, a famous club in Barcelona.

By 3 a.m. they are dancing to reggaeton songs in a completely different club. Grinding, twisting their hips like it's their profession. One of the girls meets a former friend, and by 6 a.m. they are heading to his house for the after-party. Time freezes when you have fun. When she comes to her senses, it’s 8:30 a.m. 

Suddenly, it hits her. Ferran. The consequences her wild night could have on not only him but also his image. Although they managed to keep a level of privacy, going completely under the radar seemed impossible when your boyfriend is playing for one of the biggest clubs in the world.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ#SUNDAYMORNiNG────ferrántorres .

Lingerie Surprise | Ferran Torres

Word Count: 380

Warnings: mentions of a blowjob, unprotected sex

A/N: Went looking for a goal and found his hattrick against Newcastle, so I went with that. Enjoy xx

- - -

The moment Ferran scored his first goal against Newcastle, you knew you had to do something special to celebrate; when the match ended and he’d ended up with a hattrick, you knew you’d be bringing out the new lingerie you’d ordered recently to congratulate him. It was City Blue and lacy, the colour looking good on you and making you feel sexy. You slipped it on, giving yourself a once-over in the mirror before putting his jersey on to greet him at the door.

Your stomach dipped in anticipation when you heard him enter, setting his bags in foyer. “Congratulations on your hattrick, mi amor,” you murmured, looping your arms around his neck and dragging him down for a welcome-home kiss.

First Time | Ferran Torres

Word Count: 901

Warnings: Unprotected Sex...that’s about it xx

- - -

“I should get going…” You trailed off, getting up from the sofa at Ferran’s place. The two of you had had a quiet date night in, and you were starting to feel the sexual tension when you were cuddling under the blanket and watching the movie. You’d barely been able to focus on what was happening on-screen, your mind racing as you thought about the possibility of sleeping with him. So far, all the two of you have done is make out, but it’s only a few dates into whatever-this-is, and you think you’re ready to go for it.

Ferran stops the credits, turning to face you. “Are you sure?”

You bite down on your bottom lip, unsure. “I...I don’t know. If I stay, we’ll end up fucking and, um, it’s been a while for me,” you confess, blushing as you look away.

carlos sainz x fem!reader x ferran torres

summary: one thing leads to another when you're out with your friends in barcelona.

content: smut 18+, mmf threesome, unprotected p in v, oral (male receiving), rough sex, fingering.

note: idk if i like this, but it's getting posted anyway. ferran has cast a spell on me bruh.

Fine Line - Ferran Torres

A/N: Hiii, you guys remember me? Some time ago, I mentioned that I had been enchanted by him, and it resulted in this imagine. I wrote it a while ago, but hadn’t had time to post it. I hope you enjoy it. P.S.: I don’t like this title, but I used it because I was listening to Harry’s song while editing, and in a way, it describes them a little.

Sofia was what most people would call a workaholic. She gave herself entirely to her career, and everything in her life revolved around it. Her promotion didn’t come as a surprise — after all, she had worked hard for it.

But becoming a mother, however, had never been part of her plans. Especially not as the result of a one-night stand, and, to make things even more complicated, with a football player who happened to be five years younger.

“You’re quiet,” the player said, approaching her with a wary look. He held a small ball in his hand and tossed it, expecting the dog to chase it. But the animal was comfortably lying at Sofia’s feet.

“Traitor,” he murmured, crouching down to pet the dog. A small, proud smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“What happened?” Ferran asked, settling beside her on the couch. His gaze was intent, and it made her bite the inside of her cheek, fidgeting as she tried to calm the flutter in her stomach.

These feelings had been surfacing for weeks now. Yes, she was attracted to him — after all, that attraction had led to the tiny life growing inside her — but since she’d dropped the bomb about the pregnancy, they had agreed their relationship would exist solely to raise the child together. So when emotions started creeping in, she didn’t know how to handle them. Maybe it was the hormones, or maybe it was just the way he gave her attention without judgment, but she could feel something swelling in her chest.

“Baby?” he said, snapping his fingers in front of her face. The nickname still sent shivers down her spine.

“It’s nothing. I’m behind on some projects, and my boss is pressuring me,” she shrugged, adjusting herself on the couch.

“I’ve told you before, you deserve more. You should leave that place,” he leaned closer, looping his arm around her waist, pulling her in until his head rested on her belly. He placed a soft kiss there, making Sofia’s heart do somersaults.

“Ah, easy for you to say. And what am I supposed to live on?” she asked, her voice serious. Her throat tightened at his closeness — his touch was constant, almost instinctual. He gave her an offended look, those large brown eyes filled with mock indignation.

“You have me, love.”

Her eyes widened, and she forced a laugh.

“The baby has you,” she corrected, causing Ferran to make a face as if truly wounded.

“You know it’s not like that,” he replied, resting his head on her belly as he stroked it gently.

“We’ve already talked about this…” Sofia said firmly, frustrated with the turn of the conversation.

“You’ve talked about it,” he countered, leaning back against the couch. She rolled her eyes.

“Excited for your date tonight?” she asked, changing the subject. He stared at her with narrowed eyes and stood up, clearly irritated. He ran a hand through his hair, as if wanting to say something, then just huffed before looking at her again.

“Do you really want me to go?”

“It’s rude to stand her up. It was already planned…” Sofia nodded toward her belly. Ferran rolled his eyes and grunted.

“You’re impossible,” he said, crossing his arms. Sofia scrunched her nose, letting out a small laugh as she rose to her feet.

“I’m leaving. I’ll have dinner with my mom and then head back to my apartment. That way, you’ve got the whole house to yourself,” she said, giving him a teasing wink. Ferran grimaced.

“Bye, baby,” she bent down to hug the dog, who whimpered. “Bye, daddy,” she added, hugging Ferran awkwardly as she passed him.

The dog kept whining as they watched Sofia leave. As soon as the door clicked shut, he barked at Ferran as if complaining.

“Yeah… I know, buddy,” Ferran said, rubbing the dog’s ears, understanding the little creature’s frustration.

****************************************************

Pedri could see the gears turning in his friend’s head. Ferran was unusually quiet, not showing his usual habit of trying to annoy him.

“Everything okay? Did something happen with the baby?” Pedri asked, concerned. Ferran looked at him.

“No, everything’s fine,” he said, scratching his head. Pedri waited. He knew there was more to it. “Can I ask you something?”

Pedri nodded.

“Was Isa a pain in the ass when you were confirming your relationship?” Ferran asked.

Pedri smiled, proud. He always felt accomplished when people asked for relationship advice, especially since his own relationship with Isa had become serious.

“A pain? How polite of you, tiburón” Pedri teased, earning an exaggerated eye-roll. “What’s going on?”

“Sofia… she’s annoyingly stubborn. Not really, you know? But… she keeps pushing me toward other girls, saying I need to find a girlfriend, but it has to be approved by her because she won’t leave the baby with just anyone. One day she’s super attentive, spoiled, and affectionate, and the next she pulls away completely, only talking about the baby.”

“But that’s what you agreed on, right?” Pedri reminded him, based on what his friend had already shared. Both of them turned their attention to Gavi, who was approaching and sitting on the grass beside them.

“That’s what she decided. I didn’t really have a say,” Ferran said, standing up, irritated. He stopped suddenly and looked at Gavi, serious. “By the way, this is your fault. Yours and your little girlfriend’s,” he accused, pointing at Gavi, who raised his hands in surrender.

“We’re not going around making babies,” Gavi replied, jokingly, earning a slap from Pedri.

“I told you she was terrible,” Pedri commented, shrugging.

“My God, too much information,” muttered a member of the coaching staff nearby, picking up some equipment. The three of them laughed.

“Don’t talk about her like that. She’ll take care of Axel for you to get rid of Isa’s bad mood,” Gavi said, annoyed.

“My God… guys,” the man raised his arms, his face red.

“Poor baby… will end up with her.”

“Doesn’t Axel like her?” Ferran asked, looking at Pedri.

“He’s talking about me,” Gavi rolled his eyes, and Pedri ruffled his hair. Ferran laughed.

“Guys, this is serious. It’s about me,” Ferran said, impatient.

“Dude, the situation with Isa was different. Her uncertainties were… different. She had no doubts about me… because it’s me, right?” Pedri joked.

“I can’t wait to tell her about this conversation,” Gavi hummed.

“But her whole situation was complicated, because of the ex-husband. And the trauma with his family…” Pedri continued. “You and Sofia are going to be parents by accident. That’s a big deal.”

“Wow, you didn’t help me at all,” Ferran said seriously, making Gavi burst out laughing.

“But why are you so tense about this?” Gavi asked.

Ferran huffed.

“She’s pushing me toward other girls,” he said loudly, as if his frustration was obvious.

“Calm down, man. Maybe you just need to say how you feel. Sometimes you just need to talk, that’s it,” Gavi suggested.

“Weren’t you the one who ignored the Madrid girl for weeks, even when she was trying to talk?” Ferran shot back, and Gavi made a face, laughing. “You guys don’t get it. You and Isa are… you and Isa,” Ferran pointed at Pedri. “And your girl… she’s got heart eyes for you 24/7,” he pointed at Gavi. “I just… I don’t even know what I want,” he confessed, looking downcast.

“Maybe that’s why she pushes you toward others. If it was an accident, maybe she thinks you don’t want this,” the staff member said, clearly having overheard everything.

“You were listening?” Ferran asked, hand on his chest.

“Unfortunately. Now you three, go train. I really don’t need to know more about your personal lives,” he muttered, nudging them toward the field.

***************************************************

Ferran and Sofia waited anxiously in the examination room. Sofia was far enough along to find out the baby’s gender. And then, everything would become real.

He could see that the nervousness wasn’t only his. He felt the sweat on her hands as they gripped his like her life depended on it. But she said nothing, and he desperately wanted to know what was going through her mind.

“And you wanted to wait until the birth,” Ferran teased, mocking her original idea. Sofia rolled her eyes.

The doctor entered, asked routine questions, and Sofia answered promptly. She laughed when she felt the cold gel applied to her belly as the equipment slid across her skin.

“My God, it’s huge compared to the last scan,” Ferran commented, mouth agape as he watched the little being moving inside her.

He looked at Sofia and saw her eyes brimming with tears. It made his heart ache. He leaned down and kissed the top of her head. She smiled at the gesture, gripping his hand even tighter.

“Are you ready to find out, parents?” the doctor asked.

“Yes, please!” Sofia replied, her voice high with excitement, making the doctor laugh.

“We’ve got a little line here… another one here… congratulations! You’re going to have a baby girl.”

Sofia gasped. Ferran felt certain the world had stopped. His heart was pounding so fast he was surprised he was still standing.

“My God…” he murmured. “We’re going to have a baby girl, baby.”

She smiled proudly, and the smile hit him like a punch to the chest. God, she had the most beautiful smile in the world.

The doctor finished the exam and gave them some instructions. They left the office hand in hand, completely silent — as if they still couldn’t believe it.

Ferran guided her to his car, and the drive home was filled with a comfortable quiet.

“My God, I didn’t even notice we got here. I must be in shock, I didn’t even notice the way. You could have dropped me at my apartment,” Ferran said, making a face.

“Stay here tonight, please. I want to be close to our daughter in this moment,” he said, looking expectantly at her.

She hesitated for a few moments, then nodded in agreement. Instinctively, Ferran smiled, thrilled, and got out of the car to open the door for her.

When Ferran opened the door, their dogs came running toward them. Ferran positioned himself in front of Sofia to soften the impact of the dogs’ excitement, and she bent down to give them attention.

“You’re going to have a little sister very soon,” she said in a higher, baby-talk voice, as if already speaking to her daughter. The dogs rubbed against and licked her, and Ferran could swear his heart skipped a beat at the sight.

Since he had brought Sofia to meet his home, the dogs had formed a certain bond with her. Normally, they were cautious around strangers — but not with her. Definitely not with her. It was funny because whenever she got up and moved somewhere, they were right behind her.

“Did you hear me?” Ferran hadn’t even noticed she had stood up and was now looking at him worriedly.

“No… what?” he asked, focusing on her.

“I’m hungry. Me and your daughter…” she pouted, and Ferran suppressed the urge to kiss her. He took her hand, stroked her belly, and led her to the kitchen, both being followed by the dogs.

And there, in that scene — him cooking for his women, accompanied by their dogs — it was a moment he could definitely get used to… and wanted to.

****************************************************

Sofia definitely regretted going to that event, silently grateful that the lighting was dim, so her discomfort wouldn’t be so obvious.

She was on the verge of tears. She didn’t want to be there. Her heels were uncomfortable, her feet swollen. The tight dress, hugging her belly, made her feel like she might burst at any moment, even though the footballer had told her countless times how beautiful she looked. She didn’t feel that way. At 22 weeks pregnant, she felt much bigger, her belly having tripled in size.

Ferran said she was overreacting, that it was just the belly that had grown, but it didn’t help. In her mind, it was her entire body. Especially when she was surrounded by beautiful women — tall, slim models. Even though Barcelona was a family-oriented club, events like this were always filled with such girls to decorate the room.

Normally, Sofia was confident. But not that night. Not when everyone’s eyes were on her. All that attention felt suffocating.

She looked around, searching for Ferran. She wanted to ask to leave, but he was nowhere in sight.

“Are you sure you don’t want some? It’s divine!” Isa, Pedri’s girlfriend, said beside her, putting a bite of dessert in her own mouth.

Honestly, deep down, Sofia did want some, but she felt like she would explode if she ate anything, so she just shook her head. Isa narrowed her eyes at her.

“I haven’t seen you eat anything since you arrived,” Isa said in a maternal tone.

“I’m a bit nauseous today,” she lied.

Isa studied her carefully, but Sofia was grateful when the woman didn’t press further.

A few minutes later, Ferran returned to her side, and she let out a relieved sigh. He sat down, instinctively resting his hand on her belly, and it calmed some of the agony she was feeling.

“You okay?” he asked, leaning close to her ear.

She nodded, looking at him. The player’s large brown eyes watched her intently, and the intensity sent shivers down her spine. She was ready to ask to go home. All she wanted was to take off those heels and that dress, slip into one of his shirts, and lie down. But his gaze drifting toward something behind her made her change her mind.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, kissing her cheek. Then he stood and walked away.

Sofia decided to wait a few minutes before turning to see where he was going. When she did, she regretted it — he was greeting his ex-girlfriend, a friendly smile on his face and a familiarity between them. She swallowed the lump in her throat and held back the tears. It did nothing to help the insecurity she was already feeling.

She didn’t even know why she was reacting like this. She and Ferran had agreed to just be friends. She was only the mother of his baby; there was no relationship. Yet she couldn’t shake the tight feeling in her stomach. She was young, beautiful, slim… God, Sofia just wanted to leave. She looked around: Pedri and Isa were engrossed in a private conversation, ignoring her — and she was grateful for it. It was the perfect opportunity. She stood and grabbed her purse.

“Where are you going?” Isa asked, noticing her movement.

“To the bathroom. Pregnant bladder,” Sofia lied, receiving only an understanding smile in response.

She turned and headed toward the bathroom but changed course, making her way to the back of the hall, where there was an exit — the same one they had used to come in earlier, since she didn’t want to be photographed.

Once outside, Sofia took a deep breath, exhaling both the air she’d been holding and the tears. She was thankful not to bump into anyone; she couldn’t explain why she was crying. She didn’t even fully understand her own discomfort — pregnancy hormones were wreaking havoc on her.

Inside the taxi, she cried uncontrollably. The driver glanced at her in the rearview mirror, concerned — he even asked if he should call someone, which made her cry even more. He must have been relieved when the ride ended, dropping her off at her building. Yes, she was being cowardly. She had slipped out quietly and decided she wanted her apartment, not the player’s house where she had been staying for months, even though he had said he wanted her nearby because she spent too much time away. Remembering that conversation made her cry harder. Her head and throat ached.

As soon as she entered the apartment, she kicked off the tormenting heels and practically tore the dress off, struggling to unzip the back. She sighed. She just wanted the night to end. Before she could step into the shower, her phone rang. She went to the counter to pick it up: Ferran’s name lit up the screen. She exhaled deeply and answered.

“Where are you?” he asked firmly, though she could hear the worry in his voice. “Isa said you went to the bathroom, but I looked for you and couldn’t find you.”

“Um… Irene had a problem, and I went to help her. I’ll be spending the night with her,” she lied. She was surprised at how naturally it came out. The line went silent for a few moments.

“Baby… you’re spending the night out. I’m leaving early tomorrow,” he said, a hint of hurt in his tone.

“Well, she needed me. And we spent the day together. It’s not like you’re helpless,” she said, more sharply.

“Wow… what are you talking about?” She could hear the confusion in his voice.

“I’m tired, Ferran. Anything else?”

“What happened?” he asked, confused. She huffed.

“Nothing. I need to go, Irene is calling me,” Sofia said curtly.

“Okay… good night. Take care,” he said simply.

She didn’t respond, just hung up, tears streaming down her face again. Before stepping into the shower, she opened a chat with her best friend:

“For all purposes, you had an emergency and I’m at your place. I’ll explain tomorrow.”

Sofia exhaled, then closed the phone and stepped into the shower, eager to finally end the night.

************************************************

It had been two weeks since Sofia had last seen the player. The busy, hectic Barcelona schedule came at just the right time, giving her space to sort out her feelings, which were all over the place.

Their contact had been limited to messages, and she made sure the only topic was the baby. He had asked a few times what was wrong, and she always gave the same excuse: she needed to get ahead on work before her leave. Part of it was true, but in reality, she was running away — running from the conflicting feelings that were surfacing all over her body. The pregnancy hormones seemed to sharpen those feelings even more. And just when she thought she was getting better, she found herself crying, because the internet had started spreading rumors about Ferran being back with his ex-girlfriend. People speculated about their reunion and how she would feel about it. It was tormenting.

To be honest, she found herself asking the same question: how would she fit into that story? She couldn’t let it affect her so much. After all, they had talked and decided that their relationship would be strictly about co-parenting the child. God, she had even encouraged him to go on dates at the start of everything.

But as more time passed with him, she felt the feelings growing. All the attention and care he gave her warmed her heart.

“I think the dogs are missing you. They’ve been a bit sad lately,” Ferran’s sister said, breaking the silence in the car. Sofia had invited her and the player’s mother to come along to the ultrasound, and they had accepted enthusiastically.

“Yeah, dear, when are you coming back home?” Sofia made a face at the comment from Ferran’s mother.

“I’m just finishing up things at work. I don’t want to leave anything pending,” she replied simply. Ferran’s mother took her eyes off the road for a few seconds to look at her. Sofia waited, expecting the woman to say something, but she didn’t — she just returned her attention to the road to the clinic.

Both women were excited. At the first scan they had attended, the baby had been just a tiny thing; now it was fully formed. Ferran’s mother squeezed her hand, visibly emotional, and Sofia smiled at her.

“Mom, have you felt any discomfort these past few days? Contractions, bleeding?” the doctor asked after a few minutes of silence, and Sofia immediately went on high alert.

“Um, no… I haven’t felt any of that. Why? Is everything okay?” she asked, feeling her throat tighten.

“Have you experienced any stress recently?” the doctor continued, and Sofia felt her heart race.

“She’s been overwhelmed with work lately,” Ferran’s mother answered for her. Sofia felt for the woman. She couldn’t exactly say that her stress over the past few days had nothing to do with work, but rather with her son.

“Alright. Mom, I’m seeing a small placental detachment. It’s very minor, but we still need to be cautious, as this could indicate a premature labor. Not feeling pain or bleeding is a very good sign,” the doctor explained, and Sofia felt like vomiting.

“I’m going to prescribe some medication, and in addition, I need you to have complete rest. If work is causing you stress, I’ll provide a medical certificate so you don’t have to work. We have to do everything possible to prevent a premature labor.”

Sofia nodded automatically. She was too shocked to respond. Her chest felt tight, and she wanted to cry. She listened as the player’s mother and sister asked the doctor questions, but she couldn’t speak — she was too scared.

She hadn’t realized that they had brought her to the player’s house, not her apartment where they had picked her up earlier. She only realized because she could hear the dogs barking. Ferran’s sister opened the door to hold the dogs back in case they were too excited, but as if they sensed something was wrong, they calmly approached Sofia. She bent down to pet them, then moved to the sofa, followed by the dogs.

“Wow, my brother really trains them well,” Ferran’s sister said, teasing.

“It’s the mom,” Ferran’s mother replied.

“I’ll get my bag, then we can go,” Arantxa said, stepping aside and leaving Sofia alone with Ferran’s mother, who watched her closely.

She didn’t know if the older woman was judging her silently or was simply curious about the relationship. After all, at the end of the day, Sofia was an older woman who had become pregnant by her son. She knew how that was viewed outside, but if the woman had any thoughts, she didn’t voice them. Sofia assumed, in part, it was because Ferran hadn’t left room for comments.

The two women said goodbye with hugs and kisses on her belly. And then Sofia found herself alone in the house — not entirely, as Ferran’s dogs didn’t give her space, which comforted her.

Sofia was anxious — partly because the doctor’s words hadn’t yet fully sunk in, and partly because she was eager to see the player. The weeks apart had been painful. She was used to his presence in her life, the touches, the care. But she needed space to process and understand the feelings that had overtaken her.

She huffed, checking the time on her phone. It was close to the hour when the player usually returned from training. She took off her shoes, grabbed her phone, and went to the house entrance, sitting on the steps — the dogs her faithful companions.

It didn’t take long for the player’s car to stop in front of the house. Sofia stood, waiting for him to approach. There was a certain relief on his face as he looked at her, but it was also evident that he had cried — his sister and mother had probably already told him the news.

He said nothing, just held her. And in that moment, in the player’s arms, she allowed herself to switch off the autopilot and cry. Because even if she wouldn’t admit it to herself, she knew that now everything would be okay. That he would make everything okay.

***************************************************

Ferran watched the woman huff for the umpteenth time. He tore his eyes away from the game he was playing; she was standing there, glancing between him and the TV.

“Do you want to play?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

She squinted and then sat in the chair opposite Ferran.

“I’ll pretend you didn’t ask me that,” she replied, huffing again.

Ferran stifled a laugh. He could tell something was bothering her.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he asked, dropping the controller onto the sofa and walking over to the chair where she had sat, his arms bracing the back on either side, trapping her. She swallowed hard, her eyes scanning the player’s face.

“I’m bored,” she pouted.

Ferran chuckled. Given the circumstances of the placental detachment, the woman was practically living with him. His life had completely changed, and he found himself looking forward to coming home. She was a striking presence — whether it was her confidence moving around the place, the way she welcomed his family, or something as simple as waiting for him after training or a trip at the door with the dogs by her side. In many ways, he could say she was the most beautiful sight anyone could see — and it was only meant for him.

He had also discovered that this confident woman was extremely softie. She was always nearby, seeking contact, even if she wouldn’t admit it.

“Don’t laugh! You can go out, see people, travel, work… and I have to stay here,” she said, annoyed. “I know it’s for the greater good, but it’s still annoying,” she repeated the pout.

“Calm down, love. A few more days and we’ll see how the detachment has progressed,” Ferran tried to comfort her. “Besides, the doctor said rest doesn’t mean staying in bed all the time. So you can go out, just don’t overexert yourself.”

He remembered the conversation he had with the doctor, asking her to explain everything so he could help in the best way possible. The problem was, the woman had a strong personality and decided she wouldn’t set foot outside the house.

“Shall we go out for dinner?” Ferran offered, immediately receiving a grimace in response.

Ferran had offered her several options, but she rejected them all because they involved being in public. Since the event they had attended together, she had been different. They had decided not to talk about it — well, she had decided — so for him, only questions remained about what had happened. The mere mention of being in public was as if he had committed a grave offense.

“Stop trying to fatten me up,” she said, standing up, irritated.

Ferran looked her over. Gaining weight was definitely not happening. Yes, the belly was bigger, and friends kept asking if she was carrying twins, but all the weight was concentrated in her belly and breasts — which was pure temptation for him.

“Baby… come on. The doctor said it’s fine,” he swallowed the lump in his throat, trying to distract his mind.

Sofia thought for a few minutes, then tilted her head to the side.

“I don’t want to go out for dinner, but you can take me to that market, to get some banana ice cream,” she winked and pouted, and Ferran couldn’t deny her anything.

Sofia was already on her second tub of ice cream, devouring it as if it were the most delicious thing in the world, while walking through the market aisles. The owners — to her surprise, it was incredibly cozy — didn’t mind, saying they couldn’t refuse a pregnant woman.

They took the opportunity to grab a few things they were missing at home. Sofia was distracted, looking at some items in the baby aisle, while Ferran went to pick something up, and she didn’t even notice someone watching her.

“Sofi?” the familiar voice made her spin around, eyes wide.

“Matt?” she said, her voice squeaky. “What a surprise,” she added, smiling warmly as she hugged the man.

“Wow, you’re even more beautiful, Sofi,” he complimented, with a charming smile.

She chuckled, and before she could respond, firm steps appeared in the aisle.

“Baby?” Ferran approached with a suspicious look. He hadn’t been far when he heard her voice and laughter, so he came quickly to check. As soon as he arrived, his blood boiled seeing the mother of his child being hugged by a stranger. He approached with his confident player stance, eyes scanning the man.

“Hey…” she looked at him with narrowed eyes.

Sofia adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder, her smile firm, but there was a stiffness in her jaw that Ferran knew well — the kind she showed when she wanted to appear unshakable.

“Ferran, this is Matt, we work together. Matt, this is Ferran,” she said. Ferran looked as if he expected her to say more, but nothing came. Then he extended his hand.

“The father of her baby,” he said, in a proud, territorial tone.

Matt finally looked down at the woman’s belly, which made Ferran roll his eyes. It was huge — hadn’t he noticed? he thought.

“Oh, so it’s true… Congratulations, Sofi,” he scratched his head, a bit uncomfortable, and Ferran smiled proudly. “But what a surprise… I didn’t expect it. After all, you always said you didn’t want this, that your career was too important.” The guy looked visibly hurt, and Ferran restrained the urge to punch him right there, annoyed that someone else knew a side of Sofia.

“Oh, you know how it is, right?” Ferran said, confident, before Sofia could say anything. His arm circled her waist, pulling her closer.

“My God…” Sofia muttered, humorless. “It was good to see you, Matt,” she said, hugging him once more, to Ferran’s dismay.

“Baby,” she said the word ironically as she passed in front of Ferran, practically pulling him along. Ferran glanced at the man once more, then followed her.

“I can’t believe… that was your type?” Ferran said, outraged, as he scanned their groceries at the checkout.

She rolled her eyes, which only made him more irritated.

“He was practically devouring you with his eyes,” Ferran complained.

“And then you had to mark your territory,” she replied, annoyed.

“Not that it takes much effort, with our daughter growing in there,” he answered simply, earning a deadly glare from Sofia. He just shrugged, as if he hadn’t said anything wrong.

She had no right to be mad — she was the one hugging strangers in the aisles, with his daughter in the middle. He paid for the groceries, and they walked in silence to the car, each with their own irritation.

“SOfI,” Ferran mocked, opening the car door for her, and she rolled her eyes.

“My God…” she muttered, massaging her temples. “I might have had the energy to argue, but your attitude reminds me of our age difference, so I’ll just ignore it,” she said, feigning calm, and Ferran opened his mouth, offended.

“Well, baby, you didn’t complain about our age difference when we were making the little one,” Ferran said confidently, raising a hand to her belly, and Sofia’s eyes widened, her mouth opening in shock.

Ferran raised his arms in surrender, a self-satisfied smile on his face.

Sofia rolled her eyes — too indignant to speak, but honestly, her stomach was fluttering with thousands of butterflies stirred by the player’s reaction. She bit the inside of her cheek to suppress a smile.

*************************************************

Unfortunately, Sofia didn’t have the same confidence Ferran had had a few weeks ago at the market to just step into the conversation and say, “Hey, nice to meet you, I’m the mother of his daughter.” Her insecurities, disguised as hormones, wouldn’t allow it. Yet, even with all those insecurities, what little confidence she had left allowed her to feel a bit of irritation.

She was there for him, pregnant, and after the scare with the whole placental detachment situation… And, to be honest, soccer wasn’t really her thing. Sure, she appreciated the excitement and the emotion, but it wasn’t her world. Still, she had accepted the player’s insistence that she come to the game because it mattered to him, because it was his life. She had even cried when he scored and celebrated by pointing to the box where she sat, her hand resting on her belly like a ball.

But now, in a way, she felt disrespected. No — not disrespected, but foolish. After all, there was only one reason the player’s ex was there. Considering who she was, she wouldn’t be there if there wasn’t something. She wouldn’t, if all the rumors going around were just rumors.

Sofia huffed, irritated, and returned to the box, where she had promised to wait for the player so they could leave together. She considered leaving alone, but she had no car and would probably have to wait a while for a ride.

A few minutes later, the player passed through the door, a boyish smile on his face, and she almost forgot her irritation.

“Finally,” Sofia said, standing up, watching the smile fade from his face, her heart tightening for a few seconds. She sighed, tired and frustrated. “I’m tired,” she said simply. Ferran just shook his head and turned, waiting for her to follow.

The atmosphere in the car was thick enough to cut with a knife. Sofia nervously fiddled with her fingers, feeling the player’s gaze on her.

“Can you drop me off at my apartment?” Sofia asked.

“Did I do something? Did something happen?” Ferran asked, his voice visibly hurt.

“No. I just want to spend the night there,” Sofia replied, plainly.

Ferran didn’t insist, and Sofia felt relief. If he had pressed, all the questions about the confusion in her feelings would have come to the surface. When he stopped in front of the building, Sofia practically ran out, tears streaming down her face and a deep longing for him to follow, so they could finally confront and clarify those tangled emotions.

***************************************************

Ferran was sitting on Sofia’s apartment sofa. His leg bounced incessantly. He was still in his training clothes, having come straight from the training center to her apartment.

He ran his hands over his face once more. Irritation consumed him. She was ignoring him, spending the night out, leaving him with the dogs — spoiled by her — and all of this just to spend the afternoon with that guy.

He huffed and opened her Instagram to see the photo she’d posted in her stories. She was holding a bouquet of flowers, a huge smile on her face, surrounded by her colleagues. It was clearly a farewell picture, since she was about to go on maternity leave. Fine, he could handle that. What he couldn’t accept was the damn colleague, the so-called Matt, with his arm around her belly — as if that moment belonged to him.

Ferran saw red. Who did he think he was?

Pedri and the others at training said he was overreacting, that it was just a gesture between coworkers. But they hadn’t seen the way that idiot looked at her at the market.

He huffed again, impatient. It was already getting dark, and Sofia still hadn’t returned. He thought about calling her again, but the apartment door opened.

“Finally,” he said, impatient, walking toward her.

Sofia looked at him, surprised and confused. Ferran cupped her face in his hands, then moved to her neck, his hands resting on her belly — as if it were a customary gesture.

“Why are you here?” she asked, still confused.

“I came to get you. So we can go home,” he said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

She raised an eyebrow and sat down on the sofa.

“I think I want to stay here,” she shrugged.

“Why?” he asked, confused, sitting next to her. “It’s so small here, the dogs won’t fit.”

Sofia looked at him, suspicious.

“Why would the dogs come here?”

Ferran stared at her as if she’d asked whether the sky was blue.

“If you’re here, I have to stay here too. You’re in the final stretch, baby. I’m not leaving you alone.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out.

“And what will your girlfriend think about this?” she asked after a few moments of silence. Ferran frowned. “Your ex…”

“Sira?” Ferran made a face. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

“That’s not what the internet says,” Sofia said, getting up and walking down the hall toward the bedroom. Ferran promptly followed.

“The internet doesn’t know anything,” he said, irritated by the direction the conversation was taking.

He flopped onto the bed, watching her. She removed her boots and then her pants. When she went to take off her shirt, she paused and looked at him with a furrowed brow.

“Stop staring at me!” she scolded.

Ferran laughed.

“Baby, it’s not like I haven’t seen it before.”

She rolled her eyes and went to the bathroom. Ferran followed her leaned against the doorway, watching her body. His eyes landed on her belly, and his anger resurfaced.

“You should delete that photo from your profile.”

Sofia looked at him, confused. Her face turned red as she realized he was still staring. Ferran smiled at her reaction.

“W-why?” she asked nervously, turning on the shower.

“Because that guy was holding your belly as if he were responsible for it.”

He let out his frustration. It had really annoyed him. He had even shown the photo to the coach, who agreed it was weird.

Sofia let out a little laugh.

“Matt? It wasn’t a big deal.”

“Matt,” Ferran repeated, disgusted.

“You’re obsessed with him, huh?”

“He’s a creep.”

He ran his hands over his face and decided to leave her alone in the shower, for his own sanity. His body still reacted just from seeing her naked.

A few minutes later, Sofia emerged from the bathroom, towel wrapped around her head and wearing a robe. Even so, she was undeniably beautiful.

“And you don’t have any photos of me on your profile. People will think he’s the father, the way he was holding your belly,” Ferran commented, more affected than he wanted to admit.

Sofia rolled her eyes.

“You don’t need to mark your territory. Everyone will know she’s yours,” she said, shrugging as she brushed her hair.

“It’s not about marking territory. I just want them to know I’m the father of your children.”

She froze mid-brush and turned to him, eyes half-lidded.

“Children?”

“Yes, children. She needs siblings. I know you’re an only child, but my sister and I are very close. I want our daughter to have that too.”

Sofia said nothing. She simply nodded and continued brushing her hair.

Ferran shifted uncomfortably. His body still reacted to the images from earlier. He decided he needed a cold shower — to rid himself of both the irritation… and the arousal. Meanwhile, Sofia tried to control where her mind and heart wandered after the player’s words.

***************************************************

I hope you guys like this, and let me know if you want a part 2

— Ꮖnsecurities And Physiotherɑpy

— minors dni !

༢ Genre - smut , angst

༢ Paring - Ferran Torres x Reader

༢ Summary - after hurting himself a few day before an important match, Ferran finds comfort in his physiotherapist.

༢ Warnings - +18 ! , non-etablished relationship , nipple sucking , boobs play , dry humping , teasing , p-in-v , soft!needy!ferran .

༢ Words count - 2,6k

Semifinal Celebration | Ferran Torres

Word Count: 472

Warnings: rough shower sex

A/N: I know this is a little late, but I hope you enjoy anyway xx

- - -

The moment he was back in your hotel room, Ferran’s mouth was on yours. All the pent-up energy from winning the match and advancing to the semifinals had him needy. The kisses turned heated, but Ferran pulled away, groaning, “Mi amor, I’d love to continue this, but...I have to shower.”

“So?” You asked, running your hands down his chest and dropping a kiss to his lips. “I can just join you.”

Ferran’s eyes widened at your suggestion and he smirked, muttering a string of filthy Spanish that had your pussy clenching around nothing. “What are you waiting for?” He asked, giving your ass a slap to move you along. “Let’s go.”

OH FERRAN !!

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𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 nsfw content below cut. smut with very, very little plot, rough sex, drunk sex (consensual obv), oral sex (f & m receiving), unprotected sex + creampie, praise, exhibitionism (if you squint), overstimulation

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 2.7k

ᝰ 𝒆𝒗'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 | we're taking a break from our normal programming for a ferran fic because i couldn't get him out of my head since that goal on sunday. finally, argentina has lost, peace in the soccer world is restored. this is my first smut i've written in probably over a year so please be kind... LOL.

in other news, colston fic will def NOT be posted this week and i'm so sorry for lying to you... but i hope this makes it up????

The hallway is too bright.

That's the first thing you notice when the elevator doors slide open - the horrible, fluorescent quiet of a hotel at 4am, every light still on like it doesn't know the world just ended and began again. Ferran notices too, squinting against it, and you have to clap a hand over your mouth to stop from laughing at the face he makes.

"Shh," you whisper, which sets him off, shoulders shaking with the effort of keeping it in.

He's drunk. You're drunk. The whole night had been like that - champagne that tasted like winning, music that rattled through your chest, Ferran's arm around your waist every time you tried to wander more than two feet away from him. Possessive in that certain way he gets, his thumb drawing slow circles against your hip through the fabric of your dress while he talked to his teammates, like he wasn't even thinking about it. Like you were just his, and that was that.

You'd pretended not to notice. He'd pretended he wasn't doing it.