BusyWawes
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[Spreen has joined the server]
El servidor estaba vacío
Coldified llevaba mucho tiempo esperándolo
Bookmarked by BusyWawes
08 Oct 2026
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"Marcos is coming over, sweetheart." Ferran murmurs against his lips, almost taking advantage of the vulnerable state he just put Pedri in. "So, you can be in our room the whole afternoon, or, you can be a good boy and at least say hello to my friend."
The words make him feel guilty.
Maybe— Maybe he is judging Marcos too hard, maybe Marcos is just affectionate, maybe the way he looks at him is the way he looks at everyone. Maybe Pedri is just being paranoid, dramatic as Ferri would put it.
"Okay." Is all he can whisper.
Series
- Part 1 of angel's football fics
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He felt like he should hate Pedri. At least, Jude was fucking him like he hated him.
Series
- Part 2 of judas x pedro
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"Pedri." He said, voice carrying just enough. "Come on, feed me, it’s my birthday. You have to indulge me."
He loaded a fork with a neat bite of sponge and frosting and held it out across the small space between them. A couple of the nearer players made immediate noise— whistles, laughter, someone saying "Come on, Pedri, feed the birthday boy!"
Pedri’s face went hot from the collar up, his ears burned, he stared at the fork like it might bite him.
"I— you can feed yourself." He tried, voice already smaller than usual.
Unai’s smile only widened. He didn’t retract the fork. "But I don’t want to, I want you to do it. Birthday rules."
Pedri’s hand trembled just enough to be visible when he finally reached out and took the fork. He leaned forward, and carefully offered the bite. Unai’s mouth closed around it slowly, his lips brushed the fork. His eyes never left Pedri’s. He chewed with deliberate patience, swallowed, and then—still watching—took the fork back from Pedri’s unresisting fingers.
"Your turn." He said, softer now.
Series
- Part 6 of angel's football fics
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“Are you going to dance or just stand there?” Pedri asked.
“What’d you say?”
“I asked if you were going to—” His voice slipped away under the thumping bass.
Anthony’s hand landed on Pedri’s hip.
“Just come here,” He huffed. Anthony stopped short of pulling Pedri flush against him.