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mv1simp · 5 months ago

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The Take ♥️

Trainer! Max Verstappen x Midsize!Reader

I wanna put you in seven positions for seventy minutes, you'll get it babe (take you down, I really wanna take you down)

Everyone knows Max Verstappen hates having to workout out constantly. If it wasn't for his physically demanding career as a F1 driver, his choice of a workout would involve a weekly padel game with his mates and FIFA on his PS5. His trainer tries something different and gets Max to be the instructor for once - to you, a sweet and naive girl whose jerk boyfriend told her to lose weight. Max couldn't resist using a hands on method to help you get your confidence back.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, dark max girlies rejoice we’re back in action, naive! Chubby! reader, dubcon, explicit cheating but reader’s boyfriend is an absolute jerk hehe, size kink, WC 2.7k

Rupert, Redbull's physical trainer that had been delegated to none other than the legendary champion driver Max Verstappen, was at his wit’s end with his client. With his 4 world championships, Max was very familiar with the intense workout routine an F1 driver needed to maintain. It was just, well, he was just sick of the same repetitive timetable over and over again. And his physical trainer could see the results reflecting in Max’s pre season testing, seeing how Max’s numbers were admittedly very good, they were not as high as they’d been in the past.

Everything Rupert had tried to brainstorm to inspire Max had fallen short. From different workout locations (Monaco is only so big, after all), to the most unique exercise techniques he had googled (Brazilian cold water immersive Pilates did not resonate with Max) - everything had come up short. At his wit’s end, Rupert decided to throw a last ditch resort at Max - training you.

You’re a pretty, pure hearted twenty something marketing executive in Monaco, with a narcissistic boyfriend who thinks he’s a top shot with the new money he’s raking in from making a new app. Such a top shot that he feels entitled to hire a personal trainer for his sweet girlfriend, demanding you look like a perfect Insta model. That’s what every man in Monaco wants! he says patronisingly to you, gaslighting you into attending the training. That’s why he reached out to Rupert, a very famous trainer - who consequently dumps you onto Max, stating that he needed a two week holiday from the Dutchman and he could take over his new client. You’ll survive, it’s the off season, he says to Max with a deadpan expression as he waves goodbye.

Max is pissed, of course. What the fuck was Rupert thinking, making a four time world champion F1 driver, multimillionaire, and just general degenerate gamer train some random goldigger chick? He’s rolling his eyes as he walks into his usual gym, where Rupert had told you to turn up. He’s ready to tell you to fuck off, all Mad Max and all, because no way was he wasting his time-

And then he lays eyes on you, and his heartbeat stutters. In front of him, oblivious to the predatory stares of men around her, is the cutest little thing he’s ever seen. You’re dressed in a matching workout set, tugging at the edge of your tight shorts a little self consciously, looking around with innocent wide doe eyes. Fucking hell, Rupert had most certainly not mentioned his new client had the body of a pornstar, all luscious tits and ass and chubby cheeks, and a face that looked like an angel. Max couldn’t wait to sink his big, bad teeth into the sweet looking lamb who stumbled right into his toned arms.

Smirking devilishly, he introduces himself as your new trainer. You gasp, eyes widening cutely, feeling butterflies swirl in your tummy at the tall, handsome and muscular blonde in front of you. Shall we get started? he murmurs, a gorgeous smile on his face and pretty blue eyes intently locked on you. I have to say, I’m surprised you signed up for such an intensive course, he says in an incredibly attractive, deep Dutch accent. You look like you’re in…great shape, if you don’t mind me saying, he adds, observant gaze flicking down to take in your curves. You flush, not minding the attention at all from such a hot trainer!

That’s so sweet of you to say! You say, blushing cutely and looking down, completely missing how Max’s heated gaze glances down your tight crop top, his taller height perfect to get an eyeful of your tempting cleavage. You tell him that actually, it wasn’t your idea, but your boyfriends’s…he thinks I’m too fat, you say with a pout.

What, Max says with a scowl that he quickly smooths when you peer up anxiously at the sudden spike in his mood. Honey was definitely a better way to win over something as sweet and innocent looking as you than poison. Well, ignore whatever your boyfriend wants. You’re here only for your own fitness and confidence, okay?

You beam up at him, nodding enthusiastically. God, Max couldn’t wait to have you for himself. Your boyfriend sounded like an absolute pathetic loser, telling someone as perfect and beautiful as you to change her body. Doesn’t matter, because it made it all the easier for Max to win you over. And he’d make sure to have his fun while doing it.

He’d started all your regular sessions with him with a good pre workout stretch, of course. Taking you into a side room to shield you from the hungry eyes of the other male gym goers, because only Max deserved to see your pretty body bent over for him. It didn’t stop others from walking past the glass door multiple times to ogle you, much to Max’s annoyance. But you remained clueless, twisting yourself in whatever position Max ordered you too like a good student.

And Max was such a nice instructor. He showered you with praise over the tiniest thing, making you blush up a storm, enjoying his reassuring and comforting voice. He was so different to your mean boyfriend! Max’s large hands settled on your soft body, helping position you perfectly, as he huskily whispered in your ear for you to bend forward, all the way like that, good girl. Can you touch your toes for me?

And when you can’t quite get there, he places a strong hand across your lower back to give you that extra push. His hand sometimes drifts lower, to your plump ass, giving it a reassuring squeeze as he instructs you. You gasp, and when he pretends to be none the wiser and ask you what’s wrong, schatje? in such a gentle tone, calling you darling in Dutch, you shyly stammer that you’re kinda sensitive down there…your boyfriend had said he wasn’t going to touch you until you lost weight!

Max’s brain temporarily short circuits at this information. Your idiotic boyfriend wasn’t fucking you every chance that he got? And judging by the way you’re shyly looking away and rubbing your thighs together, it had been a very long time since you’d been properly handled by anyone. Max would bet his multi story yacht that even when you had been sleeping with your boyfriend, he wasn’t making you cum. Leaving you so sexually frustrated that Max just feeling up your lush ass was getting you all hot and bothered. How cute, the Dutchman thinks, unable to hide the devious grin on his face at the new information.

He guided you back into position, his strong hips digging into yours from the back. The full wall mirror in front of you given Max a delicious view of your tits practically spilling out of your top as you lean forward. Good thing your ass is so fat he can easily hide his impressive semi erection behind it, he thinks cheekily. He can’t resist leaning forward and grinding himself against you, just for a second, leaving you gasping and looking behind you with a confused expression - only to find Max innocently looking at you. Something wrong, schatje? he says so sweetly that you feel embarrassed for even wondering what he was doing behind you.

He’ll have to do something about all the hungry states from the other gym goers though - he can’t have them even thinking about something which belongs to him. He glares at anyone who dares look at you through the glass doors, but he needs a more permanent solution.

So for the next session he invites you to his house, where he has a mini gym on his penthouse balcony. You’re unsure at first, but after Max tells you it’s just so hard for him to focus on your sessions at the gym, with the way everyone is always asking him for an autograph or a selfie…you say yes immediately, because you’d never want to make it harder for him when he’d been such a caring trainer! Soon enough he has you all to himself in his outdoor gym, wearing another one of your cute workout sets. Except he wanted to see more of your pretty body, so the next day he hands you a PR package - asking if you wanted to try on the gift from one of his sponsors. You beam at his thoughtful gesture, quickly getting changed into the slutty outfit he’s hand selected.

Max smirks wickedly as he helps stretch you out again, this time with your thighs bent up almost to your flushed face. The blue booty shorts are so tiny they’re practically underwear, slipping into your tanned asscheeks and giving you a cameltoe, much to your embarrassment. You squirm as Max’s keen gaze goes right to your pussy brushing up against his abs - separated only by a thin layer of spandex. Because of course, Max worked out shirtless at home - it’s far too warm! Getting better but still not flexible enough, sweetheart Max says with a disapproving tone that has you scrambling for his approval. Here, let me help you.

He pushes down on your thighs with his huge hands. Your tits almost spill out of the tiny cropped singlet he has you in when he buries his face into them. M-Max! you stammer, asking what he was doing, was it really needed, but he just reassures you that it absolutely was. After all, you didn’t want to pull a muscle and stop being able to exercise for two weeks, right? His deep voice is muffled against your plush tits as he pressed in deeper, making you squirm some more when his lips brush against your hard nipples.

He helps you cool down afterwards too, like the dedicated coach he is. You’re so grateful for all the deep muscle relaxation techniques he knows, moaning blissfully as you lay sprawled underneath him as he massages your sore body. He started with your legs and arms, and then your tense abs, and then one strong palm squeezing your lush tits and the other cupping your pussy through your sports set. You were always embarrassingly wet after your workouts, with all the close proximity to Max, and prayed he didn’t notice how soaked your shorts had become as he rubbed his palm encouragingly against your cunny. You couldn’t stop the contended moans as you arched into his skilled hands, finding the tension draining from your muscles completely.

Soon you’re over at Max’s everyday, working out longer and longer. To your delight, Max asks if you’d mind helping him with his workout! You’re so eager to return the favour after he’s been so considerate, taking time out of his busy schedule just to train you. All you had to do was sit on his back as he did push ups-

You insist that there was no way he could do that, you were way too heavy, what if he hurt himself? All it takes is one cocky smirk from him to convince you, and you climb onto his back, gasping in amazement as his muscular back flexes when he easily starts during push ups. You’re completely distracted by how attractive he looks, so much more broader and stronger than your own boyfriend who couldn’t even lift you up! You feel a bit guilty thinking that but don’t get time to think about it - because next you’re helping Max with his hip thrusts. You squeal as his impressive legs thrust you into the air with a bounce, making your sensitive pussy land on his rock hard cock each time. You stabilise yourself with hands on his abs, running over the taut, sweaty muscle, so enamoured with the sight that you don’t notice Max’s blue gaze fixed on your jiggling tits with each bounce. Mmmh-Ah! H-how many more do you have to do, Max? you say breathlessly, feeling yourself start to get more and more turned on with each thrust of his hips. You felt so dirty, practically dripping through your booty shorts onto his lower abs, feeling all horny while he was just trying to work out!

Just a few more, he says vaguely, grasping onto your thick asscheeks to steady you as he continues meanly grinding his angry, hard cock into your soft cunny. You end up cumming through your shorts, desperately biting down on your lips to keep silent but failing to suppress your slutty moans. You were so cute and naive that you had no clue Max was just dry jumping you to orgasm. Training your perfect body to respond to his, just how he wanted it.

He left you in your post orgasmic bliss on his outdoor couch to cool down as he ventured inside. He’d been planning on jerking off his raging erection in the shower, not wanting to scare you off with his impressive load. But when he caught sight of the protein powder on his kitchen counter top, he couldn’t resist. All it took was a couple pumps and the image of you riding him with your bouncing tits for him to cum, filling a good half of the glass he tops off with a protein smoothie. When he hands you his homemade drink, you thank him with wide doe eyes. You’re such a thoughtful trainer, Max! you say sincerely, eagerly drinking his gift. Mmmh, it tastes amazing, what ingredients did you use? He winks and tells you it’s a top secret world class athlete recipe.

Max is completely addicted to feeding you his thick load and has you equally addicted, asking shyly if he’d make you another one of his smoothies after each session. He figured he has you enamoured enough with him to take things to the next level when you start asking for seconds. The thing is, schatje, since I eat so much protein and supplements, my sperm is super high in nutrients…but it’s not safe for you to take so much protein directly as a girl! So that’s why I had to put it in your drink, okay? You nod with wide eyes, your jaw dropped open in shock as Max unties his shorts to show you his huge swollen cock that’s been feeding you for days. You dazedly ask if maybe you should be getting “fed” from your boyfriend instead, you weren’t sure if he’d be mad if he found out-

Max cuts off your worries immediately, promising you that only his cum would be able to provide you with what you needed. In fact, you shouldn't be going anywhere near your boyfriend's weak release. You nod quickly, wanting to show Max what a good student you were, completely willing to obey him. And when he asks if you'd help him out in making your smoothie today, since his hand was kinda tired after so many days, you eagerly say yes! Soon you're snuggled up by his side, letting him guide both your hands up and down his cock. You're in awe of how big and hot his shaft looks, you'd never seen one that size. You swallow back drool in your mouth, already craving your daily treat, and when Max slyly suggests that you could just drink directly from the source? you're on him in seconds. Dutifully sucking and jerking him off, making him hiss and grab your hair as he thrusts in deep and cums with a deep moan. He makes you stick out your tongue afterwards to make sure you didn't waste even a drop.

Good girl. Let's do your cool down massage in the shower today, hmm? It's so fucking hot out. Max's praise fills you with heady warmth and you giddily agree, letting him guide you into his luxurious shower to cool down, stripping out of your skimpy workout set.

Too bad you ended up doing a lot more cardio than cooling down behind the steamed glass. Max grins devilishly as you both watch his cock go in and out of your creamy pussy together, every thrust making you scream his name and hold onto him desperately. After all, fucking up against the bathroom wall was a much more effective workout, right?

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insidekatmind · 7 months ago

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Videogames- Jobe Bellingham

Wearning: +18, slight smut, teasing

You are sitting comfortably on the sofa of Bellingham’s house, legs crossed and a light blanket covering your knees. The gaze fixed on the figure of Jobe, who is in the center of the living room, the tense posture and the glued look at the TV screen. He’s playing FIFA with almost maniacal intensity, hands holding the controller tightly, fingers moving quickly on the keys.

"No way! Come on!" he slams, throwing his head backwards and then tilting it forward in frustration. He passes his hand through his curly hair, pulling it slightly, breathing heavily. His opponent has just scored, taking the lead.

Smile between yourself, putting your chin on your hand and watching carefully. There is something magnetic about the way he moves, his restless gestures. The muscles in his arms strain every time he moves, and that severe line of eyebrows gives you a slight shiver down your back. "How beautiful you are when you get angry," you think, but you just keep silent so as not to distract him.

"Come on, this is pure scripting!" he exclaims, leaning forward with wide eyes. "Look, they make me pass the ball as if it were of butter! But what is it?!" He turns for a moment towards you, as if he was seeking understanding. "You see it? You see it, don’t you?" he asks, pointing to the screen.

Hold a laugh and raise your hands in surrender. "I see it, I see it, love. But maybe it’s just you who is playing badly?" Provoke him with a mischievous smile.

"Ah, so you’re also a coach now, huh?" he replies in an ironic tone, throwing yourself a look of defiance. Her dark eyes sparkle with competitiveness. "Come here, take the controller and let’s see how good you are".

"No, no, thank you. I’m fine watching you here," you say amused, holding yourself in the blanket. "You’re much more interesting to watch when you get nervous like that".

You get a laugh and he throws you a threatening look, but the smile that is drawn on his lips betrays him.

"Ah, you like to see me suffer, huh?" he says with a half smile, returning to focus on the game. His eyes tighten and his jaw contracts. The vein on his temple is slightly visible, and you bite your lower lip without even noticing. You find him incredibly charming like that, with that look of a boy who doesn’t accept defeat.

"It’s not suffering, it’s passion", replicates with theatrical tone, spreading the arms as if you were describing a work of art. "And passion is very good on you, Jobe."

"Stop..." mumbles, but his ears are slightly red. He doesn’t need to look at you to know that you’re smiling with that smug air. "If I keep losing it’s your fault," he adds in an accusatory tone.

"My fault?" you raise your eyebrows with fake indignation. "I’m sitting here quietly enjoying the show." Make a theatrical gesture towards him. "You’re the one who lets my beauty distract you".

"Ah, so you are also modest, as well as a coach, actress and professional observer," he replies with sarcasm. "This house is too small for your ego, you know?"

"And for yours, mister "It’s never my fault?"" you reply quickly, crossing your arms with an air of defiance.

He glances at you, the corners of his lips slightly lift. "Okay, that was good..." he admits, chuckling. "But seriously, I swear the game hates me today."

"Or maybe you just have to accept that you’re not always the best?" you challenge him, tilting your head to one side with a sweet but provocative smile.

He turns slowly towards you, controller down, dark eyes staring at you with an intensity that makes your heart beat faster. "My girl, watch your language," she says with a dangerous calm, but the shadow of a smile plays on her lips.

"Oh, what a fear..." you reply, looking at him with an air of defiance. "What are you doing, you’re punishing me?" He presses, raising an eyebrow.

Jobe squints, and for a moment, with the controller still in his hand. He approaches slowly, like a predator who has just spotted his prey. You remain still, but your breath becomes slower, deeper. The tension between you is palpable, like a tense rope ready to break.

"I could do it, you know?" he says in a low and deep voice, his face a few inches from yours. "And you wouldn’t even have the courage to stop me."

You stare at him, the smile that does not leave you. "Then do it..." whispers, openly challenging.

For a moment, time stands still. His eyes go from your eyes to your lips, and you feel the heart beating wildly in your chest.

Jobe remains still for a moment, his breath calm but his body tense, as if he was deciding whether to follow that challenge, that tension that has accumulated between you. The eyes that stare at you no longer seem to be looking for an answer, but a reason to come closer. Then, without warning, he comes even closer, so that you can feel the warmth of his skin against yours, his breath touching your face.

With a slow but steady movement, his hand finds your face, gently stroking it, while his gaze slides to your lips. Feel the heartbeat accelerate, tension become palpable, charged with desire and challenge. The atmosphere in the room seems to change, every external sound fades into a background noise that disappears, leaving only you two, immersed in that moment.

"I can’t stand it anymore," Jobe whispers, his voice warm and deep. With a determined movement, he lowers his head, and without further words, joins his lips to yours in an intense, stolen and urgent kiss. His lips move against yours with a sweetness that mixes with growing passion, as if every second that passes without kissing you has been too long.

Feel the beat of his heart accelerate as his hands move over your shoulders, holding you closer. Your body adapts to its own, and you find yourself responding with the same intensity, the desire growing more and more. His fingers caress your skin, and the heat you feel completely envelops you, negating any rational thought.

The kiss becomes deeper, more ardent, as if the world around you no longer exists. Every movement is natural, as if all you wanted was to be together in that moment, without thinking of anything else. When they finally come off, both of them slightly gasping, Jobe smiles with that smile that makes your heart beat fast.

"See?" he says with a mischievous smile. "I told you I would punish you."

You laugh, your breath still irregular, while your gaze becomes sweeter. "I think you’ve won, Jobe."

He hears those words, with a mischievous smile playing on his lips, grabs the PlayStation controller with one hand, but the movement is so fast and decisive that the device slips out of his hand and falls to the ground with a sharp noise. His attention is completely taken by you, and as soon as the controller is down, he comes back to you with determination.

"I don’t need this anymore," he mutters, pointing to the forgotten controller. Before you can say anything, he gently takes you in his arms with force, lifting you from the ground in a strong gesture, but with a sweetness that makes you smile.

You’re speechless for a moment, but the feeling of being in his arms is so familiar, so sure, that you find yourself cuddled in his embrace. Jobe easily takes you to the couch, never taking his eyes off you, and he makes you sit gently on him, making you feel the warmth of his body that envelops you.

You find yourself with your legs slightly spread apart, right above him, while his hands go up your back, stopping to hold you tighter. The air you breathe is filled with desire, and his eyes, which stare at you intensely, are full of passion and a hint of challenge.

Without saying a word, Jobe approaches again, and his lips find yours in an even more intense, urgent kiss. His hands move quickly to caress your hips, his body responding to your movement, while you lean against him, feeling every breath.

Every thought that he has seems to vanish, the game, the frustration, everything is forgotten while you too let yourself go completely to his embrace, to his kisses that never stop amaze you. His tongue explores yours with a sweetness that mixes with passion, and you find yourself responding, giving in completely to the moment.

The outside world no longer exists. In that small corner of the room, you and Jobe are completely immersed in each other, forgetting everything. The sound of the now interrupted game seems far away, while every breath, touch and kiss become more intense, more necessary.

The game no longer matters. Now, there is only Jobe and you, in your perfect little world, where everything is suspended in an instant that you do not want to finish.

Jobe, with his breath still irregular, let your lips for a moment, but his eyes do not come away from yours. Her gaze is full of desire, and a slight grimace of pleasure draws on her face as she slowly slips with her lips down your jaw. Feel its warm breath against your skin as it approaches your neck, and a shiver runs down your back.

His hands still hold you, one leaning against your back and the other gently caressing your side, while with his lips he slowly explores your neck, making you feel a warmth that envelops you. Each of his kisses is soft and slow, but full of passion, and you find yourself closing your eyes, completely abandoning yourself to the moment.

Feel the beat of his heart accelerate under your hands as it makes its way down your neck, his lips stopping just below your ear, gently touching it. The touch makes you tremble, and you can’t hold back a small sigh of pleasure.

"You’re incredible," Jobe mumbles against your skin, his voice low and veiled by desire. Her hands slide lower, stopping on your side, while her kiss continues, alternating slower and more decisive movements, as if she wants to explore every corner.

You let go completely, the head tilting to one side to offer more space, and the breath becoming deeper and deeper. The feeling of its skin against yours, its presence so strong, makes you forget everything around you. There is nothing else, nothing that can distract you now.

Jobe, still with that smile that betrays an uncontrollable desire to continue, he just moves away to look you in the eye. "I want you, you know?" Says with a tone so full of passion that makes your heart beat madly.

You stop for a moment, your breath a little tight, but the smile that escapes you is all you need. " I know," you whisper, your voice full of desire, "and I want you too."

Jobe, hearing those words, smiles with a smile that exudes satisfaction and desire. Her eyes get darker, more intense, and before you can add anything else, she catches you again with a kiss that is anything but soft. His lips open on yours with a force that makes you tremble, and immediately his hands move to grab you more firmly, holding you to himself.

His kiss is enveloping, deep, as if he wanted to take over every part of you. Feel the passion that grows between you, and without even thinking about it, your hands move towards his neck, gripping him as you let yourself go completely to its intensity. Your heart beats hard in your chest, and every sensation seems amplified, each touch more charged, each breath more intense.

Jobe does not stop, continuing to kiss you with the same urgency, while his body comes even closer to yours, making you feel every line, every muscle. His hand gently slides on your back, bringing you closer and closer to him, as if he wants to merge with you.

The atmosphere between you is so charged, so tense with desire, that the rest of the world seems to fade away. Every movement is like an unspoken promise, every kiss an exploration of what you both want. His breath is quick and deep, while his lips are only detached for a moment, to whisper in a hoarse voice: "Don’t stop telling me these things."

The smile he responds to is a mixture of sweetness and impatience. Then, without saying anything, he starts kissing you again, more deeply, more intensely, letting every feeling overwhelm you, making you lose control and everything.

While you were letting her kiss lull you started to squirt on his cock and he moaned in the kiss as she dropped her hands on your butt making you move more.

You kept moving on him feeling his hard dick dressed becoming more and more as you kept rubbing yourself and he started raising his hips rubbing himself as well as you kept kissing.

"So beautiful" Jobe whispered near your lips and you could only groan referring and kept moving more while he occasionally slapped your ass making you more needy.

"Jobe please" you prayed close to his lips while you could hear his little smile. "come baby girl I know you want to cum" Jobe whispered in a husky voice as he helped you rub more and more.

Hearing his husky voice that excites you even more you came making a wet stain on the pants of his suit and he smiled.

You kissed him again as you kept moving and wanting more, and he bit your lip making you moan. "strip for me love" he said and you immediately listened.

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muntitled · 1 year ago

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Attention!!!

'- Summary: the one where Jake fakes being sick all for your attention

'- Warnings: Established Relationship, Language, Lying, Manipulation, Slightly toxic themes, Perv!Jake, Coercion, Smut (+18) mdni, Locker room talk, Oral sex, Dub/Con, Cockwarming, Spit, Bodily Fluids, Squirting, Oragasm Denial, Dom/Sub Themes, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Edging, Unprotected Sex

'- A/N: very unethical, very bad, pervy Jake. You have been warned.

Jake had been far more physically affectionate than usual since he caught the flu. That should've been your first sign.

The first signs of his sickness began with you lying supine on the couch, absolutely immersed in the fantastical world of your current read while Jake spoke idly to himself, gaming away on the television with your legs propped on his lap. You were so immersed in your novel, you might've actually missed the first cough he let out.

Then the second.

And then finally the third that had your brows furrowing with concern as you lowered your book.

"Babe?"

"Hm?" Jake asked distractedly, he had just broken in his copy of FIFA 23, a gift from you that had him nearly fainting on the spot. He was addicted to you.

While he toggled with the controller, he missed the slightly worried look etching across your face but when he did finally catch it, he did a double take- glancing at your slowly frowning lips before dragging his eyes back to the TV screen.

"Why so blue, babe?" Jake still spoke distractedly, with his head turned sideways, his eyes remained glued to the screen. He coughs once more, causing you to discard your book to the side completely. The couch undulates underneath you both as you sit up, pulling your legs off Jake's lap. The whole time while you moved, he kept his gaze on you in his periphery, heart beating rapidly when you pushed against his side and placed your hand on his temple.

"Baby, are you getting sick?"

Jake couldn't form any words at all because your chest was pressed against his bicep and he nearly dropped his controller at the discovery that you weren't wearing anything under your oversized shirt.

Seeing you so concerned about him, it stirred something sinister in the pits of your stomach, something that craved to be nurtured by you.

"You're so pretty, you know that?" He looks away from the TV screen momentarily to stare at the curve of your breasts protruding from your flimsy shirt. Jake immediately decides that is enough to pause the game indefinitely, as he drops the controller, pulling you into his lap. Your frown deepens like the unmistakable pool of worry growing in the bottom of your stomach. You let Jake cuddle into your chest as you continued to feel warmth around his ears, his jaw, his neck.

"I think you're coming down with something,"

"You're right," he says, pulling back to pull his shirt over his head, "It's lethal. Experts say the only cure is to have my very attractive girlfriend riding me till I-"

"Jaeyun, I'm being serious."

He had begrudgingly taken the medicine thereafter but still his advances were strong …

"- it was the best head I ever got in my fucking life dude, I'm telling you" Jake says to Jongseong over the phone. As he reminisces, he treads from the kitchen to the living room, cradling a steaming bowl of Butternut soup you had whipped up for him to combat his "cold."

"You're diabolical-" says Jay, through the receiver.

"I made her cum too," Jake scoffs, "I'm not a complete monster."

He honestly didn't think it was a crime. Sure, he might've already recovered from his sickness 2 days ago but he'd give up one thousand sick-free days if it meant you'd dote on him as you've been doing the past week.

Jake lowers himself onto the couch thinking about how utterly domesticated you've looked, prancing about the kitchen in a little housewifely dress to cook up his soups to make him feel better. The only downside is that your soup worked a little too well, and here he was, with a raging hard-on thinking about how much you loved on him.

"She's going to kill you, you do know that?" Jongseong's snicker is as clear as day, and Jake rolls his eyes.

"She's not going to do shit. She likes me like this as much as I do-".

"You’re sick-" Jongseong groans.

"Precisely," Jake laughs, and in his cocky display he nearly doesn't notice you standing in his periphery. Once he does, he's ready to end Jongseong's call in a heartbeat.

"I'll call you back," he mumbles over the line, mouth parted slightly as he stares at you over the rim of his bowl of Butternut soup. You're distractedly searching for something with nothing wrapped around your body other than a linen white towel. Jake immediately discards the bowl on the coffee table, spreading his legs wide as he makes grabby hands at you.

"Not now, Babe," The way you speak to him, so positively filled to the brim with warmth and love, that has him melting into the couch.

"I need you," he says, fingers flexing as he urges you to throw yourself into his arms. "I need you real bad,"

"What you need is more cough medicine," you're slowly sauntering towards him, despite your words (it was so difficult to say no to him), and the second you're even a small centimetre within the radius that surrounds him, he sits up and grabs you, caging you in his arms, never to let go. You yelp as you are pulled onto his lap- a sound that bleeds into a gasp when you're forced to feel the erection bulging his grey sweatpants.

"I need to run to the pharmacy, Jake,”

Your boyfriend is utterly insatiable as he guides his lips to the back of your ear, licking and kissing at the skin all while drinking up your cute little gasps. Your back is pressed against his front with your ass pushing against his bulge, it's an absolute wonder that he stops himself from bucking up into you.

“Need you so bad, baby-” he mumbles, kissing up the side of your face with his eyes fluttered shut, “Need you to make me feel better-’ you're breathing heavily, ready to push yourself off of him until he mutters, “You want me to feel better, right.”

Your voice is soft and affirming as you predictably mumble, “Yes, Jake, of course-”

“Then let me in, baby-” he sinks his fingers into the softness of your belly, and dips to plant even more kisses down the side of your neck. Jake marvels at how malleable you are in his hands. Like perfectly sculpted clay.

It is only when he finally reaches around to tug at your towel that you are snapped from your daydreams. “Jake- I need to get you stronger meds, you've been sick for way too long-”

“Fuck- I'm so hard for you baby,”

“Jake…” he interlocks his hand around your wrists, guiding your palm back to the space between your ass and his bulge. “Feel how much I need you,” Jake mumbled in that petulant way that had you complying with his crude sexual advances all week. -And you couldn't even lie to yourself at this very moment, your core was steadily soaking your underwear. You loved how needy he was. How much he needed to be inside you. And you've indulged him, this entire week, after he'd drank his medicine, Jake would always somehow end up inside of you, fucking you relentlessly as if there was no sickness at all.

“J-Just need to be inside you, yeah?’ he's already lifting you with one arm circled around your waist. It's enough for him to pull his sweatpants down, his hard, heavy cock far too eager for you to sink down on it.

“Jake- babe-”

“Here, lick this-'' Jake immediately stuffs two fingers in your mouth and you're immediately silenced. It's how he manhandles you, how utterly in control he is despite being sick, that has you humming and moaning around his fingers. The second he pulls them out, he's reaching under the towel to rub your puffy clit.

“You're so wet, I think you want this too, Princess.”

Jake mumbles into the side of your head, spouting all his dirty vitriol in your ear like he knows you enjoy, all while slowly lowering you onto his monstrous cock.

“Oh my God, you're such a slut-'' he mumbles drunkenly as the head of his cock stretches you open. It fills you in a way that's not only satisfactory, but so deliciously addictive until soon, you're moaning phonography moans, as you push your ass back down onto him, fucking yourself on his leaking cock. “Just like that, fuck-” Jake's head is in the clouds, whike his mouth is hung open, utterly delirious with lust. You bring your knees onto the couch and Jake sits back, making way for you to sit in reverse cowgirl, enough to pull even more of him into you.

“M-Make me cum first,” you mumble, immediately resulting in Jake reaching around to rub furious circles around your clit.

“Fuck, I'm so close, Jakey-”

“God, babe, please cum for me-” he chants so many ‘babe’s’ so many ‘pretty pleases’ until you're squirting around him, with your cunt convulsing around his cock.

“Oh my fucking God, don't stop-” but that's exactly what you do once your high is over. You stop.

“W-What the fuck!?” Jake asks, bucking up into you, after your hips stop moving on top of him at all. He clamps his hand on your sides, urging you to move but you do nothing of the sort.

“Did it feel good, lying to me?” He doesn't register your words, far too hellbent of reaching for his orgasm that lays just beyond a metal threshold.

“Wh-What-”

“I heard you talking to Jongseong.” You seethe, craning neck back to glare daggers in his half-lidded, distressed eyes. “You lied about being sick.”

Jake throws his head back, whining before trying to fuck uo into tou again, “Baby, just sit back down, I'm so close-”

“How long, Jake,” He's trying to be serious, he's trying to sound apologetic, but the sternness in your voice has him reaching the edge.

“P-Past week, fuck!” Jake is in both heaven and hell as a small bit of precum dribbles from his cock still inside you. It twitches and throbs and Jake's fingers sink deeper into your skin. “Okay I couldn't resist you, you were so good!” he finally admits, “And your soup was so good. And the sex too! Everything was so good. What can I do to make it up to you?”

Your next words send a tidal wave of disappointment scorching his stomach. “I don't think you should get to cum- It seems like a bad idea to reward bad behavior with positive reinforcement.”

“Don't talk science at me, just fuck me!”

“I hate you.”

“Don't say that, babe- fuck-I'll cum,” He squeezes you tighter, keeping you firmly situated on top of him. His lips press into your back as he whines helplessly, pride be damned.

"L-Let me cum, babe, please. Im so sorry, I just love you too much. Way too much. And I love when you love me." There are invisible bloody strings pulling at your heart.

"I always love you though, Jake." And as you relent, immediately starting to move your hips again, Jake squirts his cum inside you whole his hips buck wildly into you.

“Just like that, Princess-” he mutters, gasping for air as his orgasm falls upon him. It's vicious and blinding after all that dangerous edging and he moans loudly into the open air. “So sorry-” he mumbles with his hips still bucking up inside you, “m’so sorry. I'll do anything to make it up to you…”

#enhypen #enha x reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen smut #enhypen headcanons #enhypen x black reader #jake sim smut #jake sim x reader #jake smut #jake x reader #jake sim #sim jayun #sim jaeyun x reader #sim jaeyun smut #jake sim fanfic #enha fluff

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meazalykov · 11 months ago

Text

the video

aitana bonmati x barca femeni x barca!reader

summary: on international break- a video circulates online that will cause your girlfriend, and club teammates, to be concerned

warnings: mentions of abuse, angst

on international break, you clashed with your coach over a situation.

you’ve realized that your national team coach was being overly aggressive towards some of the younger players– the 18 to 22 year old ones.

as the captain, you gave them a safe space to talk to you about it. you had the platform– as a 2020 ballon d’or winner, and 2 time champions league winner– to speak up about any situation that is bothering you.

even if that might piss off the “higher ups” of your national team.

after seeing your coach nearly scream, not yell, but scream at one of the youngsters on the team for not making a header during an international friendly.. you had enough.

you pulled your coach to the side and confronted him at halftime.

“hey, why did you scream at her over the failed set piece? its her debut?”

“don’t question me about my corrections.” he mumbled, looking away from you and waving at another staff member yards away.

“i will! you can’t scream at the players about their mistakes, it's affecting the team chemistry and they need to be nurtured into having experience– not screamed at. you can see that they’re SCARED to even come to training because of this.” you snapped.

this has happened for long enough.

little did you know, a few people in the distance were recording this interaction between your coach and you.

what shocked them was when the coach grabbed your arm, aggressively, and pulled you close to him so you’re just 3 feet from the left side of his body.

he squeezed your arm, purposely, which caused your face to squeeze as his physical assault caught you off guard.

“listen, you do NOT question me about my coaching! maybe if she scored that, she wouldn’t have been punished!” he said through clenched teeth, staring at you with darkened eyes and a vein nearly popping out of his forehead.

realizing that you wouldn’t let him do this to you, you smacked his hand off of your arm and sprinted off– completely shocked that he would do that to you.

the people who recorded the interaction sent the video to all news publications afterwards– the new york times, bbc, foxsports, tmz, 433– you name it.

at the end of the game, where you were benched after that confrontation before the start of the second half, everyone booed the coach.

everyone was confused– even you. at first, you assumed that your own country was booing you guys. that didn’t make sense– you guys won 3-2.

once you guys were in the dressing room, all of the fifa officials took your coach away to talk to him.

you had no idea that people recorded that assault that happened to you. some of your teammates noticed the red mark on your arm and the quietness of your voice– so they figured it had to do with the coach.

“y/n..” you turn around to see the young midfielder behind you with a sad smile.

the same 17 year old girl you defended after she was screamed over a missed header.

“hey! congrats on today.” you pulled her into a soft hug, rubbed her upper back before pulling away.

“thank you.” she smiled.

you couldn’t resent her for the moment between the coach and you– he is the problem not her.

when the national team got on the bus, the coach wasn’t there. the nice assistant coach (who has fallen to the main coaches abuse too) took his place.

your eyebrows knitted together as you saw a notification from your barcelona teammate and close friend– alexia.

ale

WHAT THE FUCK?

ale

are you okay?!!

y/n

i am?

y/n

what's going on!?

ale

there’s a video on the internet

alex

instagram.com/justwomensports….

when you clicked on the link, your face turned pale.

many people have recorded the moment between the coach and you from hours before.

you looked strong at first, until he grabbed your arm. the terrified look on your face was present until you smacked his arm away.

to say that the media was in an outrage– that would be an understatement.

almost every news publication has posted about it. there was no possible way that the coach wouldn’t be sacked for the amount of negative attention this has brought.

you didn’t want to imagine how aitana, your girlfriend, is reacting to the situation– as she keeps calling you over-and-over again.

y/n

tana, i’ll call you once i’m back in the hotel. i will explain.

aitana

i should kill him

aitana

are you okay mi amor?

y/n

i don’t know

y/n

i think my mind is trying to supress it, but i can’t explain how i feel

aitana

please call me asap

when you clicked off of your imessages– mapi texted you in the groupchat between ingrid, her, and you.

mapi

y/n are you active?

y/n

yes, hi!

mapi

do you want me to kill that pos?

you giggle at the message- not because you want to see him dead- but the barcelona girls have their extreme way with defending their loved ones.

ingrid

maybe you shouldn’t threaten ppl mapi

ingrid

especially not now

ingrid

y/n please tell me you’re okay

mapi

or will be okay?

y/n

i don’t know how to feel about it

y/n

it happened so fast

y/n

i think my brain isn’t trying to process it. i’m scared

ingrid

call aitana

y/n

i am once i’m back in the hotel, i’m on the bus with the team right now.

after turning your phone off and looking at your phone, your national teammates on the bus were very quiet.

as they’re scrolling on their phones– they’re understanding why the mean coach isn’t on the bus anymore.

your best friend on your national team taps your shoulder and you look over at her, seeing that she finished watching the video.

“WHAT THE FUCK?” she mumbles very quietly as she gives you a heartbroken look.

“when did this happen?” she asked.

“at halftime, remember when i had to pull him outside of the dressing room to talk to him..” you say.

your best friend frowns before pulling your head into her body for a hug.

“is this why you were benched once the game started again?” she whispers.

“i believe so.”

one thing that everyone knew– your girlfriend in spain wasn’t going to let *that* slide.

the next day-- your 2023 ballon d’or winner girlfriend scored a goal in a game against another country.. she held up two fingers on her left hand and one finger on her right, dedicating her golozo for you. since you wore the number 12 on your club and national teams.

next, an important post on instagram spoke up about abuse in the community. a post that went viral alongside your situation.

aitana was quick to repost it on her story– bringing more support for you as you struggled with that traumatic moment.

before you came back to barcelona a week later, you told the “higher-ups” of your national team that if your coach stays, you would retire from international football.

you are 24 years old, so that is an extreme ultimatum.

they couldn’t afford to lose you, one of the best players in the world.

the coach was sacked, charged for assault, and you are happy about it.

in barcelona, most of the girls came to your apartment to comfort you.

alexia, her girlfriend olga, ingrid, mapi, esmee, fridolina, patri, caroline, marta, and jana were all there to give you support.

you cried for the first time about it since the incident occurred. never in your life were you treated that way.

once the girls left your house hours later, aitana stayed. well– you guys lived together so it wasn’t an option for her to leave.

with aitana, you told more details about the things you’ve seen the coach do to the team. the way he ruined the chemistry and motivation of the girls is something you’re prepared to fix with the new coach coming onto the national team.

she cuddles you and plays with your hair as you talk. refusing to leave your side for a while.

the spanish national team had their own problems, which you know about, so aitana is able to help you as you help her through her problems too.

aitana and your club teammates vows to never let someone hurt you like that again.

authors note: this has been in my drafts for over a month.

my master list is linked here if you want to read more fics <3

#barcelona fc #barcelona femeni #woso fanfics #woso community #woso x reader #fc barcelona #aitana bonmati #alexia putellas #ingrid engen #mapi leon #wwc 2027

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throttleheart · 1 month ago

Text

⸻ ⸻ ⸻

Accidents Happen (Especially When You’re Hot)

Pairing: Lando Norris x Oscar Piastri

Genre: Smut, NSFW, 18+!!! handjobs, overstimulation, orgasm denial, they’re both menaces, slight sir kink, love my 2 freaks

Word Count: 4.8k

Summary: Lando “accidentally” spills water on Oscar after the press conference in Imola. Lando is also a menace. Oscar punishes him.

⸻

Oscar is barely sitting for ten seconds when it happens.

Lando walks in, holding a bottle of water, too energetic for someone who just climbed out of an F1 car. He flops on the couch next to Oscar, knees first like he’s never learned to sit like a normal person. And then—

“Oh shit, sorry—”

Oscar flinches as cold water splashes down the front of his suit. His legs instinctively curl up.

“Mate,” Oscar deadpans, “seriously?”

Lando’s eyes go wide with fake innocence. “That wasn’t on purpose.”

Oscar raises an eyebrow, unimpressed.

Lando grabs the nearest napkin like it’s a medical emergency. “Here—let me—”

He presses it to Oscar’s thigh. Lingers. Rubs in a circular motion. Keeps rubbing.

Oscar stares at him. “That’s not where the water landed.”

Lando blinks up at him from his knees, still dabbing like a man possessed. “I’m just being thorough.”

“Right.”

Oscar is stone-faced. But inside? He’s burning.

Because Lando’s hand is still on him. And not moving quickly. And he’s smirking a little, like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“You always this clumsy?” Oscar asks.

“You always this hot when you’re annoyed?” Lando shoots back without missing a beat.

Oscar chokes. Lando shrugs. Keeps patting.

They lock eyes.

The tension is thick. The PR girl coughs from across the room.

Lando sits back. “There. All clean.”

Oscar looks down. The bottle is still dripping. His suit is still wet.

And Lando’s handprint is very clearly outlined across his thigh.

He says nothing.

But Lando?

He grins.

And says, “You gonna punish me later, or what?”

Oscar doesn’t blink. “Keep testing me.”

Lando just winks. “That’s the idea.”

⸻

It doesn’t take long.

The clip hits Twitter within the hour. Someone — probably one of the social media interns — captured the entire thing on a behind-the-scenes camera. From Lando’s “oops,” to his very thorough rubbing, to the moment his palm prints Oscar’s thigh like he’s marking territory.

The internet does what it does best: it explodes.

@/F1NoContex

Lando Norris committing a war crime in 4K

[Video Attached]

#ThighGate #McLarenBoys #IsThatASexualAssaultOrAreTheyInLove

@/queerpitstop

Lando: accidentally spills water

Also Lando: “You gonna punish me later?”

Oscar, shaking in Catholic: “Keep testing me.”

Me: ASCENDING INTO THE GAY HEAVENS

@/oscarspastrylover

you can see the moment Oscar’s soul leaves his body. timestamp 0:36. someone help that man.

Oscar sees it trending while sitting in his hotel bed, scrolling with the world’s most exhausted look on his face. His name. Lando’s name. “THIGH.” In all caps.

He flips the phone face-down on the bed. Like that’ll help.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters.

Across the room, Lando’s in his socks and hoodie, playing FIFA like he hasn’t just caused a media meltdown. Like his hand isn’t famous now.

He smirks without looking over. “So… fans liked it?”

Oscar’s eye twitches. “They’re calling it ThighGate, Lando.”

Lando finally glances back. Grinning. “That’s so dramatic. It was just a spill.”

Oscar glares. “You rubbed my leg for fifteen seconds.”

“You didn’t stop me,” Lando singsongs.

Oscar throws a pillow at his head. Lando catches it.

“Should I be worried about the punishment part, by the way?” Lando asks, too smug for someone who should be very worried.

Oscar doesn’t answer. Just gets up slowly, cracks his knuckles, and stalks over like a man on a mission.

Lando leans back, mock-fear in his voice. “Oh no. Is this when you teach me a lesson?”

Oscar grabs the cable. Unplugs it. Tosses it aside.

Lando blinks. “That’s illegal.”

Oscar pushes him down onto the couch. Straddles his lap. Leaning in close.

“Keep testing me,” he says, low and dangerous.

Lando gulps. “I’m trying.”

Oscar doesn’t blink. Doesn’t move back. Just stays where he is — straddling Lando’s lap, eyes dark, fingers curling slightly into the fabric of Lando’s hoodie like he’s deciding if he wants to rip it or not.

Lando’s smirk falters, just a little.

“Still think it’s funny?” Oscar asks, voice a whisper between their mouths.

Lando grins, but it’s shaky now. “A little.”

Oscar hums. “You think the fans would still be laughing if they knew how hard you were the second I sat down?”

Lando exhales sharply through his nose.

Oscar cocks his head. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

His hand finds Lando’s thigh — the other one this time, just to be petty — and squeezes. Just once. Just hard enough to make Lando gasp.

“You rubbed mine like a menace. Thought I should return the favor.”

Lando’s voice cracks. “Y-you’re mad.”

Oscar finally smirks, slow and sharp. “I’m focused.”

And then he kisses him.

Hard.

It’s not gentle, not sweet — it’s punishing, exactly like Lando asked for, and somewhere in the back of his head, Oscar’s vaguely aware of how feral he’s being. But it doesn’t matter. Not when Lando moans into his mouth like he’s been waiting for this forever.

Their hands are everywhere — hoodie tugged up, fingers gripping hair, hips grinding before either of them really knows who started it. Oscar’s usually careful. Private. Quiet.

Tonight, he’s not.

Tonight, Lando made him snap — with a water bottle, a stupid smirk, and that line.

You gonna punish me later, or what?

Well. He is.

He drags his mouth to Lando’s jaw, nipping just under the hinge. “Still testing me?”

Lando’s voice is wrecked. “Every damn day.”

Oscar laughs, low and dangerous, and pushes him fully back on the couch. Lando sprawls willingly, hoodie twisted, hair a mess, mouth pink and bitten.

Oscar pauses, hovering above him. Just for a second.

Because the look in Lando’s eyes — flushed and wrecked, but somehow fond beneath all of it — short-circuits something in his chest.

“Careful,” Lando whispers, breathless. “You keep looking at me like that and I’ll think you actually like me.”

Oscar hesitates. Just a beat.

Then: “Who said I didn’t?”

Lando freezes.

But Oscar kisses him again before he can speak. Gentler this time. More certain.

Like the game’s changed.

Like it was never really a game to begin with.

⸻

Oscar thinks the chaos is behind them.

He is wrong.

The race ends — P1 for Oscar, P2 for Lando — and the podium celebration hasn’t even dried off his suit before the interviews begin. Cameras, lights, microphones. He’s half-listening to a question about tire strategy when it happens.

A journalist — one he knows lives for drama — raises her hand with a too-innocent smile.

“Oscar,” she says sweetly, “congrats on the points today. But I have to ask…”

“How’s your thigh?”

The PR girl chokes behind him.

Oscar stares. “Sorry?”

She’s grinning now. “You know — after Imola. The viral clip. #ThighGate?”

He blinks. Hard. His soul tries to leave his body via sheer willpower.

“No comment,” he says immediately. Flat. Deadpan.

Lando, stepping into frame just in time, throws an arm around his shoulders.

“Don’t worry,” he tells the cameras, grinning like the devil himself. “He punished me.”

Oscar makes a strangled noise. “Lando—”

“And I liked it,” Lando adds cheerfully.

Oscar dies on live TV.

Twitter, predictably, goes nuclear.

⸻

@/L4ndoLover69

THEY’RE FLIRTING DURING MEDIA. OSCAR’S WHOLE SOUL JUST EXITED STAGE LEFT. I CAN’T DO THIS.

@/OscarPiastriUpdates

Breaking: Lando Norris confirms he’s a masochist and Oscar Piastri is the Dom of the McLaren garage.

@/thighgatedaily

DAY 7 OF #THIGHGATE. LANDO SAID “I LIKED IT.” WE ARE NO LONGER A TEAM. WE ARE A COUPLE.

Oscar ends the night with Lando’s hoodie over his head, his face in a pillow, and his middle finger raised at the ceiling while Lando collapses beside him laughing.

“You’re the worst,” Oscar mutters.

“You’re the one who straddled me first,” Lando says cheerfully.

Oscar groans. “God, I hate you.”

“You licked my neck last night,” Lando says.

Oscar, already face-down in the pillow, lets out a noise that is not human. “I swear to God, if you don’t shut up—”

“So you’re saying I shouldn’t post the video?” Lando asks, too casually.

Oscar lifts his head. Narrowed eyes. “What video?”

Lando grins. Pulls out his phone. “This one.”

He taps, turns the screen, and suddenly Oscar’s watching himself—in grainy, dim hotel lighting—straddling Lando, breathing hard, saying Keep testing me like he’s the main character in a Netflix drama with a TV-MA rating.

Oscar lunges for the phone.

Lando scrambles off the bed with a yelp, holding it above his head like a school bully guarding a lunchbox. “Nope. My phone. My footage. My thigh.”

Oscar blinks. “Your—what?”

Lando shrugs. “It was assaulted, remember? I have the imprint to prove it.”

Oscar groans, grabbing a pillow and launching it. It bounces harmlessly off Lando’s chest.

“I’m serious,” Oscar says. “Delete it.”

Lando wiggles his eyebrows. “But it’s got angles, mate. And lighting. You can literally see the moment I lost the will to breathe.”

Oscar’s face is glowing red now. “You’re deranged.”

“You look hot,” Lando continues, rewinding through the video again. “Bit scary. Little unhinged. Very much my type.”

Oscar’s mouth opens. Then closes. “You don’t have a type.”

Lando finally lowers the phone. Meets his eyes. “I do now.”

Silence.

It sits between them like something fragile. Heavy. New.

Oscar doesn’t know what to say to that. Not really. So he says, “If that ends up in your camera roll favorites I’m calling HR.”

Lando laughs, soft and quiet. “Already starred it.”

Oscar lunges again. This time Lando lets himself get tackled.

They tumble back into the bed, tangled and laughing, and for a second — just a second — everything stills.

Lando’s hand ends up over Oscar’s ribs. Their foreheads bump. Oscar’s hair is in his eyes, and Lando’s thumb is tracing his side in thoughtless little circles.

“You’re not actually gonna post it, are you?” Oscar asks, suddenly unsure.

Lando tilts his head. “What if I just leak it anonymously? Feed the chaos. Fuel the shippers.”

Oscar rolls his eyes. “You’re obsessed with yourself.”

Lando grins. “No, just with the guy who threatens to ruin me on hotel couches.”

Oscar goes very still.

Lando seems to realize what he said a second too late.

“I mean—” he fumbles, laughing nervously. “Just—y’know. In a friendly way. Like mate-ruining. Banter-ruining. A totally casual, not-at-all emotionally complicated—”

Oscar leans in and shuts him up with a kiss.

Soft this time.

Like a full stop. Or maybe a to be continued.

Lando melts. His hand slides up to cup Oscar’s jaw. When they part, it’s barely an inch.

“I’ll delete the video,” he whispers.

Oscar shakes his head. “You won’t.”

Lando grins. “I won’t.”

They’re a tangle of limbs and breathless grins when Oscar finally pins him.

Lando’s sprawled beneath him now, hoodie rucked up around his ribs, curls a mess, looking smug even with Oscar’s hand gripping his wrist.

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” Oscar mutters.

Lando tilts his head, breath hitching when Oscar shifts his weight. “Course I am. You on top of me, threatening violence? Dream scenario.”

Oscar exhales through his nose, unimpressed.

Lando’s eyes darken. “You gonna punish me properly this time, or just keep holding me down and looking like that?”

Oscar’s hand tightens around Lando’s wrist. “Looking like what?”

“Like you’re trying very hard not to kiss me again.”

Oscar doesn’t respond. Doesn’t need to. The way his gaze flicks to Lando’s mouth says enough.

“You liked it last time,” Lando whispers. “The kiss.”

Oscar leans in, close enough for their noses to brush. “You talk too much.”

“Only when you let me,” Lando breathes.

And that’s all it takes.

Oscar kisses him hard—no preamble, no hesitation. Just heat. Tongue and teeth and hands that slide up under Lando’s hoodie, over his stomach, pressing him down into the mattress. Lando makes a sound halfway between a moan and a laugh, arms curling around Oscar’s shoulders like he’s been waiting for this.

Because he has.

Oscar’s knee slips between Lando’s thighs and Lando arches into it shamelessly, gasping against his mouth. “Fuck—okay. So you are punishing me.”

Oscar bites his lower lip gently before pulling back. “You deserve worse.”

Lando’s smile turns sharp. “Try me.”

Oscar drags his mouth down Lando’s jaw, then across his neck—slow, unhurried, infuriatingly precise. He lingers just under Lando’s ear, breathing him in, making him twitch.

“You really want to make this a game?” Oscar murmurs.

Lando groans. “I don’t care what it is. Just don’t stop.”

Oscar grinds down, deliberate now, and Lando’s head tips back with a curse.

“Not so smug now,” Oscar says against his throat.

Lando’s laugh is shaky. “Still smug. Just… out of breath.”

Oscar catches his bottom lip between his teeth and Lando’s hips jerk up instinctively.

“Jesus, Oscar—”

“Language.”

“You’re going to kill me.”

“That’s my plan.”

Oscar kisses him again—slower this time, deeper. And when they break apart, Lando’s flushed and blinking up at him, dazed.

“I’m never spilling water on you again,” he pants.

Oscar smirks, shifting back just slightly. “No, you will.”

Lando groans dramatically. “Right. For the content.”

Oscar sits back, straddling his thighs, brushing a thumb over the waistband of Lando’s joggers. “You asked to be punished.”

Lando swallows, voice hoarse. “So… what now?”

Oscar leans down again. Kisses the corner of his mouth. “Now we find out how many ways I can make you regret it.”

Lando’s breath catches.

And he smiles.

“Keep testing me.”

Lando’s still catching his breath when Oscar shifts again — just enough to grind his hips down with a purpose that wipes the cocky grin off his face.

“Fuck—” Lando’s hands jump to Oscar’s waist, fingers digging in, instinctive and urgent. “Okay. Right. Yeah. That’s definitely a punishment.”

Oscar hums, low in his throat, bending just enough to press his lips behind Lando’s ear.

“This is me being nice.”

Lando’s breath stutters.

He doesn’t speak — not with words — but the way he arches up says everything. The quiet please of his body, the tilt of his hips, the desperation trembling beneath his smirk.

Oscar’s hands slide under his hoodie again, but this time they stay higher, fingers spreading across Lando’s ribs, thumbs brushing up and down so slowly it’s maddening. Lando shivers beneath him.

“You wanna act cocky,” Oscar murmurs, dragging his mouth along Lando’s jaw, “you better be ready to back it up.”

“I can back it up,” Lando manages, voice wrecked and defiant. “You just—caught me off guard.”

Oscar chuckles darkly. “You had a whole week of fan edits to prepare.”

Lando groans. “God, don’t bring up the edits—”

Oscar kisses him, rough and claiming, swallowing whatever complaint was about to follow.

Then he pulls back again — just enough.

“You want me to stop?”

Lando blinks, startled. “What? No—”

Oscar leans in again, brushing their lips, barely touching. “Then you follow the rules.”

Lando stares at him, chest rising and falling beneath Oscar’s hands.

“…There are rules now?”

Oscar raises a brow. “Rule one. You don’t talk unless I say so.”

Lando’s pupils blow wide. “Jesus.”

Oscar presses down again, slow and measured. “That’s a warning.”

Lando clamps his mouth shut. But the way he groans through his teeth—sharp and restrained—makes Oscar’s blood hum.

Because this isn’t about being mean. It’s about the control. The balance of power that Lando’s been testing since day one.

Oscar cups his jaw and kisses him again — slow, dizzying, full of intent.

He breaks away just to murmur, “You drive me insane, you know that?”

Lando nods, breathless. “Yeah.”

Oscar grabs his wrists and pins them above his head against the pillow.

Lando twitches beneath him. The hoodie rides up more, and Oscar lets his gaze drag down slowly — over the flushed skin, the rise and fall of Lando’s chest, the visible tremble in his thighs.

“So pretty like this,” Oscar says, voice gone velvet.

Lando makes a strangled noise. “You’re—meaner than I thought.”

Oscar smiles, slow and dangerous.

“I’m just getting started.”

Lando’s wrists are still pinned when Oscar shifts his weight, dragging his hips down deliberately, brushing over exactly where Lando wants him most — but giving nothing in return.

Lando bites back a groan, hips stuttering up for friction that never quite lands.

“Still feel like being a menace?” Oscar murmurs, voice so calm it makes Lando’s head spin.

“I—might,” Lando rasps, even as his voice shakes.

Oscar’s eyes flicker darker. “Wrong answer.”

His fingers slide under the hem of Lando’s hoodie, trailing up his stomach again, light and maddening. Lando gasps, muscles twitching under the touch.

And then Oscar’s hand is suddenly at his jaw — tilting his face up, forcing eye contact.

“You’re going to stay still for me,” Oscar says, firm now. “Understand?”

Lando blinks, pupils blown wide. “Y-yeah.”

Oscar leans in, brushes his lips over Lando’s cheek, then down to the corner of his mouth. “No. Try again.”

Lando swallows. “Yes. I understand.”

Oscar smiles — but it’s that dangerous smile again.

“Good.”

He lets go of Lando’s wrists, and for a second, Lando thinks that’s mercy. But then Oscar’s mouth is on his neck, tongue dragging along the pulse point, and his hands are everywhere — teasing, firm, always just shy of giving Lando what he needs.

Lando whines — actually whines — when Oscar brushes his thumb over his waistband again, pressure featherlight.

“You’re shaking,” Oscar murmurs, lips brushing skin.

“I’m fine,” Lando pants, teeth clenched. “You’re just—”

Oscar cuts him off by grinding down once — hard — and Lando’s head drops back, a full-bodied moan escaping before he can stop it.

“…You were saying?” Oscar whispers.

Lando’s fingers curl into the sheets. “You’re evil.”

Oscar chuckles, low and wrecking. “And you love it.”

He leans down again, voice silk. “You going to ask nicely?”

Lando’s jaw clenches.

Oscar waits. Breath warm against his cheek. Body hovering just close enough to tempt, to torture.

Lando finally cracks. “Please.”

Oscar hums. “Please what?”

“Touch me,” Lando says, breathless. “Properly.”

Oscar’s smile softens just slightly. “See? Was that so hard?”

He rewards him with another grind — slower this time, drawn out, pressure perfect. Lando keens, hands grabbing at Oscar’s hips, like he might float away if he doesn’t anchor himself to something.

“You like being teased, don’t you?” Oscar asks softly.

Lando nods frantically. “Yeah—yeah, but please, I—”

Oscar kisses him, swallowing the rest of it, hips moving again, deliberate and controlled. He keeps him right on the edge, right there, holding him in that delicious, unbearable space where everything burns.

Lando’s voice is wrecked now. “If you stop I might actually die.”

Oscar breaks the kiss with a soft laugh. “Not yet.”

And just when Lando thinks he might finally get what he needs—

Oscar stops.

Lando actually whimpers, glaring up at him like he’s been betrayed on a biblical level. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

Oscar kisses the corner of his mouth. “Punishment, remember?”

Lando groans. “This is cruel and unusual.”

Oscar straddles him fully, breath still warm against Lando’s lips, chest flush to chest. “Then stop giving me reasons to do it again.”

Lando’s voice is hoarse. “You’re assuming I don’t like giving you reasons.”

Oscar just grins.

And slides off him slowly, leaving Lando ruined, sweaty, hard, and aching.

“Sleep tight,” Oscar says, pulling the hoodie back down over Lando’s flushed stomach.

Lando blinks up at the ceiling. “I hate you.”

“You’ll feel different in the morning.”

“Because I’ll kill you in your sleep.”

Oscar smirks from the bathroom door. “Then I guess I better sleep with one eye open. Or both.”

Lando doesn’t get a second to recover.

Oscar turns off the bathroom light but doesn’t disappear — instead, he prowls back toward the bed with a look that makes Lando tense in all the wrong and right ways. A glint in his eye, calculated, smug, dangerous.

“You didn’t think I was done, did you?”

Lando flinches, legs already twitching. “Oscar—”

“Ah, ah.” Oscar presses one finger to Lando’s lips, then trails it down his chin, down his throat, down to where Lando’s still straining for relief. “You said please. Once. For my hand.”

Lando’s breath hitches.

“But I didn’t say anything about letting you come.”

And then he’s back between Lando’s thighs, all slow, sinful pressure and deliberate rhythm. His fingers ghost over sensitive skin, teasing the tip with unbearable softness, no grip, no mercy. Lando arches up, muscles taut, a full-body tremble coursing through him.

“Oscar—fuck—I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” Oscar murmurs. “You’ll take everything I give you. And nothing more.”

Another pass. Another cruel grind that pushes Lando so close his eyes roll back. He’s panting now, incoherent sounds bubbling out between bitten-off moans.

“Please,” Lando gasps, “please, let me—”

“No.”

The word hits like a whip. Cold and clean. Oscar’s hand disappears again, and Lando sobs out a noise that’s half frustration, half devastation.

“I said no,” Oscar repeats, voice velvet. “You don’t come until I say so. You understand me?”

Lando’s hands fist the sheets, thighs trembling. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir.”

Oscar lets that settle in the air for a beat. Then leans down and kisses Lando’s temple, so gentle it feels like mockery.

“Good boy.”

He strokes again, not even pretending to be kind now. It’s quick, relentless, just enough to bring Lando right back to the edge before pulling away completely. Again. And again.

And again.

Lando’s mind goes white around the edges. Every nerve in his body is lit up. His hips are off the bed, chasing every ghost of contact. He’s a mess — wrecked, babbling, tears pricking the corners of his eyes.

“Pleasepleaseplease—”

Oscar hushes him, palm flat on his chest. “You’re doing so well,” he says, cruelly sweet. “You’ll take it for me, yeah?”

Lando nods, wild and desperate.

Oscar leans close, breath brushing his ear. “You wanted to be a brat. This is what you get.”

And then—he does it again. Pushes Lando right to the edge with that maddening rhythm, then pulls away a breath too soon.

Lando chokes on a sob. “Oscar, please—I can’t take anymore—”

“Oh, but you can,” Oscar whispers. “That’s the thing.”

He strokes him once, tight and slow, lips brushing Lando’s neck. “You’ll be good for me. You’ll let it burn. Because I said so.”

Lando’s whole body is vibrating now. Not a thought left behind. Just him and Oscar and the cruel game he can’t stop playing. The worst part? He likes it. He wants more.

He gasps, ragged, wrecked: “Please, let me come—”

Oscar stills, his hand squeezing just enough to hold him there, right on the edge — teetering.

Then releases entirely.

“No,” he says one final time. “Not right now.”

Lando lets out a sob — no shame left, no pretense — and slumps against the pillows, trembling, overstimulated and denied, utterly undone.

Every muscle tight, every breath a gasp, every nerve in his body frayed to the edge of combustion. His chest rises in short bursts. His eyes are glassy, red at the corners, like he might actually cry if Oscar stops.

Oscar studies him — this beautiful mess sprawled out, needy and flushed and so far gone. His voice drops to something low, molten.

“You look wrecked,” he murmurs, brushing a thumb along Lando’s jaw. “All that just to be told no.”

Lando whimpers, head tipped back, throat bare.

Oscar leans in, nips gently at his neck. “But you’ve been good. Took everything I gave you. Didn’t come without permission.”

His lips brush Lando’s ear. “You want it now, don’t you?”

Lando shudders violently. “Yes,” he pants, voice cracked and hoarse. “Please. I—fuck, I need—”

Oscar cuts him off with a kiss, firm and greedy. His hand wraps around Lando again — not teasing this time, not cruel.

Just tight. Just right.

And Lando bucks.

The first stroke nearly ends him. His whole body jumps, thighs jerking, eyes blown wide as a moan breaks out of his throat like it’s been held captive for hours.

Oscar doesn’t stop.

He finds a rhythm — smooth and unrelenting, wrist flicking just the way Lando needs, like he knows Lando’s body better than Lando does. He keeps his mouth pressed to Lando’s jaw, breath hot and praising between strokes.

“That’s it,” he whispers. “Take it. You’ve earned it.”

Lando’s hands are fisting the sheets now, legs shaking with every pass. He’s gasping, panting, falling apart right beneath Oscar’s touch.

“Oscar—please—oh my god—don’t stop—don’t stop—”

“I won’t,” Oscar breathes. “You’re going to come for me. Right now. Just like this.”

And Lando breaks.

He comes with a sound that’s nearly a sob — loud, raw, shattered — hips arching helplessly off the bed, body wracked with wave after wave of release. It’s overwhelming, white-hot, long and pulsing, pulled out of him like it’s been dragged from the depths.

Oscar doesn’t stop immediately. Keeps stroking him through it, watching him unravel, watching his limbs shake and his lips fall open in stunned silence.

And then — just as Lando starts to whimper from overstimulation — he eases off, hand slowing, then stopping entirely. Gentle now. Reverent.

He leans down, kissing Lando’s forehead, then his cheek. “There you go,” he whispers. “You’re okay.”

Lando’s not sure he can form words. His body feels like static. His lungs have forgotten how to breathe right.

Oscar pulls the blanket up, wiping Lando down with a tenderness that makes Lando’s throat close. Then he curls in beside him, wrapping arms around the overstimulated wreck of a man he just ruined.

Lando barely manages a hoarse, breathless: “Holy shit.”

Oscar smirks against his shoulder. “Better?”

Lando groans. “You’re evil.”

“You say that like it’s not why you’re in love with me.”

Lando snorts — exhausted, trembling, utterly finished — and shoves weakly at Oscar’s arm. “Shut up.”

Oscar kisses his neck again. “You’re welcome.”

Lando’s chest still stutters with the aftershocks, skin hot and flushed and damp. His curls stick to his forehead, lips parted, eyes unfocused — ruined in the most beautiful way.

Oscar watches him, heart pounding like it has no intention of slowing. He’s already come undone once tonight — Lando — but something about the way Lando blinks up at him, still trembling, still hungry, nearly breaks his composure.

“You good?” Oscar murmurs, brushing sweat-slick curls from Lando’s temple.

Lando’s lips curl into something slow. Something dangerous. “Mm-hmm.”

Oscar doesn’t trust that look.

Then Lando shifts under him — still boneless but determined — and palms at Oscar’s thigh with that same desperate reverence Oscar had used on him. “Now it’s your turn,” he whispers, voice still hoarse, still rasping from the wreckage.

Oscar opens his mouth to protest — “You need to rest,” or “You’re not even recovered”—but Lando’s already mouthing at the underside of his jaw, fingers dipping low.

And Oscar’s resolve evaporates.

“You’re ridiculous,” Oscar breathes, voice catching when Lando grinds up, lazy and slow. “You can barely—”

“I can do this,” Lando pants. “Let me.”

Oscar swears under his breath as Lando pushes his hoodie up, his palms dragging under the hem of Oscar’s shirt — all heat and soft fingers and sleepy need. There’s no finesse to it. Just honest desperation.

It wrecks him.

“You like bossing me around,” Lando murmurs, voice rough, thumb brushing over the waistband of Oscar’s sweats. “Let me return the favor.”

Oscar doesn’t answer. Can’t. Not when Lando’s already working him free, fingers curling around him — warm, slick, shaky but certain. Lando leans in, lips just under Oscar’s ear. “Come for me.”

That should be laughable — Lando’s the one in tatters, barely coherent — but somehow, that raspy command sends a spike of heat down Oscar’s spine.

“You don’t—fuck—” Oscar tries, but Lando’s hand strokes again, firmer now, dragging wet heat over sensitive skin, and Oscar’s hips jerk.

Lando keeps going. Keeps whispering, half-incoherent: “You drove me insane,” he pants. “All night. You did this. I want it—I wanna see you fall apart too.”

Oscar groans, mouth open, every muscle strung tight. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Come for me,” Lando says again, messy and urgent, peppering open-mouthed kisses down Oscar’s throat. “Wanna feel you lose it.”

Oscar’s head drops, forehead against Lando’s. The angle is messy, awkward, perfect.

And then Lando’s thumb circles the tip, just once, and that’s all it takes.

Oscar shatters.

His release hits hard — hips stuttering, breath catching, a low moan punching out of his chest as he comes into Lando’s hand, hot and pulsing and helpless. His whole body tightens, then collapses over Lando’s, heavy and wrecked and gasping.

They lie there, tangled and sweaty, both trembling and stupidly in love with each other’s ruin.

Lando’s still smiling — lazy, blissed-out. “Told you I could.”

Oscar huffs a laugh, lips brushing Lando’s collarbone. “You’re a menace.”

“Takes one to know one.”

They lie there like that — skin sticking, hearts thudding, breaths syncing.

Oscar pulls back just enough to press a kiss to Lando’s jaw. “You’re going to be so sore tomorrow.”

“Worth it.”

Oscar hums, nosing along his cheek. “I’ll run you a bath. Maybe.”

Lando grins. “You better. Or I’m telling everyone you cried.”

Oscar snorts. “Try it. I’ll leak the voice note of you begging.”

Lando gasps. “You wouldn’t.”

Oscar just smiles, smug and deadly. “Sleep tight, menace.”

Lando groans, hiding his face in Oscar’s chest. “I hate you.”

“You wish you did.”

⸻ ⸻ ⸻

138 notes · View notes

emjayewrites · 6 months ago

Text

the boys trip • jules kounde one shot

SYNOPSIS: Jules gets roped into another one of AK's matchmaking schemes during what was supposed to be a boys' trip to Lapland. Despite his friend's historically terrible taste in setting him up, this time might be different when he meets Y/N. What happens in Lapland should stay in Lapland, but some things may be worth bringing back home. INSPIRED BY: this & this moodboard by my faves!

PAIRINGS: Jules Koundé x fem!black!reader (Y/N)

WARNINGS: cursing, drinking, smut — 18+ only

WORD COUNT: over 10K, so please show some love!!

TAGLIST: @irishmanwhore, @sucredreamer, @judesvirtual, @saturnville, @peyiswriting, @greedyjudge2, @alika-4466, @julescpu, @lettersofgold, @hopefulromantic1, @a-moment-captured, @serpenttines-library, @f1-football-fiend, @purplelewlew, @enretrogue, @yeea-nah @127hydrangeas, @sunfairyy, @pinkcatcus, @muglermami, @bbgkoo, @sinflowersugar @cranberryjulce, @lev-1-1, @deonn-jaelle, @mufasathatniggatho

The private terminal at Paris Charles de Gaulle was quiet except for AK's pacing and animated phone conversation. Jules slouched further in his leather seat, watching his friend – all confident swagger even at 7 AM, his caesar fade fresh and goatee perfectly lined – sweet-talk his girl in English.

"Baby, just—no, I know security's a pain but— Yes, love, I know…"

Wilhelm caught Jules' eye, his light brown fro slightly squished from the beanie he'd just removed, and they shared a knowing look while Stef and Nas bickered over their usual FIFA argument. Typical morning – Nas pushing his shaggy brown hair out of his eyes while insisting PSG was clear, Stef's curly fade catching the morning light as he defended Arsenal with his whole chest.

"Elles arrivent dans dix minutes," (They'll be here in ten minutes) AK announced after hanging up, running a hand over his fade. "La sécurité était supplémentaire, apparemment." (Security was being extra, apparently)

"Depuis quand parlez-vous London roadman?" Nas teased. (Since when do you speak London roadman)

"Depuis qu’il a commencé à simper," Stef added, dodging AK's half-hearted swing. (Since he started simping)

Jules stayed quiet, scrolling through Instagram without really seeing it. This season had been kicking his ass, Barcelona's form worse than he'd seen it, and all he'd wanted was a few days with his boys to decompress. No game analysis, no press, no expectations. Just vibes.

When AK had first floated the idea of bringing Van along, Jules had been firmly against it. He got it – long distance was rough, with her in London and AK running his luxury concierge business in Paris. The few times Jules had met her, she'd seemed cool enough, but this trip was supposed to be about escaping everything, including relationship drama, but AK had been persistent.

"Look, I barely see her these days. This trip is the only time that works with our schedules, and..." He'd paused, that look in his eye that always meant trouble. "She's bringing a friend. Might be good for you, get your mind off this season."

The last time AK played matchmaker still haunted him – that disaster in Mykonos last summer with the Instagram model who spent more time staging photos than having actual conversations. Or the "entrepreneur" before that who turned out to just be selling detox teas on social media. His friend meant well, but…he was garbage at picking girls for him.

It wasn't that Jules was picky – okay, maybe he was. But he had standards. He appreciated a natural beauty, curves that didn't come from a surgeon's table in Turkey. Like what was wrong with stretch marks and cellulite? More importantly, he wanted substance. Someone building something real, not just chasing clout or a footballer's lifestyle. His last few hookups had been a wash-rinse-repeat cycle of the same type: beautiful but boring, more interested in being seen with him than seeing him.

"You're too bougie," AK always said. "Too picky."

"I know what I like," was Jules' standard response.

And what he wanted wasn't another Instagram baddie with a BBL and empty conversations. He wanted—

"Oh shit, they're here."

Jules looked up, ready to be annoyed, and...

Oh. Oh.

Van glided in first in her brown faux fur coat and babushka hat, but her friend made Jules sit up straighter. She moved differently – this quiet grace about her as she followed behind. Her hair was pulled back in a low bun, baby hairs laid so precisely it looked like art, and when she smiled at AK's introduction, the small gap between her front teeth and deep dimples hit something in Jules' chest.

Her style was effortless – the turtleneck was clearly expensive but not flashy, paired with brown ski leggings, boots, puffer, and gold jewelry. Everything about her seemed intentional but not trying too hard, from her perfect posture to the way her pants hugged her ass just right without being obvious about it.

"Alright," AK said, his whole face lighting up as Van kissed his cheek. "Let me introduce everyone properly. This goddess right here is my girl Vanessa—"

"Van," she corrected with a playful eye roll, her West London accent wrapping around the word.

"Van," AK amended, "and this is her best friend Y/N. Ladies, meet the guys – that's Wilhelm with the fro, Stef and Nas are the ones looking stressed about whatever FIFA argument they're having, and this quiet one right here is Jules."

"Hey!! We about to turn up in Lapland!" Van announced while Y/N just offered a small wave, those long lashes framing eyes that seemed to take everything in quietly.

Jules found himself standing, fixing his Jacquemus sweater without thinking about it. Not that he cared what she thought.

"Ladies and gentlemen," a flight attendant appeared, perfectly poised in her uniform. "We're ready for boarding."

"Let the ladies through first," AK said.

Van practically bounced up the stairs to the plane. "Oh my days, this is proper bougie!" Her voice carried back down. "Y/N, look at this!"

And then Jules heard it – Y/N's voice, soft and melodic with a lilting British accent that was somehow a bit posh and warm. "It's beautiful," she said simply, and something about the understated appreciation in her tone made his chest tight.

But watching her settle into a seat near the window, pulling out a book (who brings a book on a trip to Lapland?), Jules had to admit – maybe, just maybe, AK wasn't completely fucking up their vacation.

Even if he'd never tell him that.

"You good?" Wilhelm asked quietly in French, catching Jules staring.

"Juste fatigué," Jules replied, but they both knew it was cap.

"Liar," Wilhelm teased under his breath.

"Ta gueule," (Shut up) Jules muttered, but he couldn't help noticing how different Y/N was from Van, who was already talking about the clubs they had to hit. There was something understated about her, the way she moved, the slight smile when she caught him looking.

Fuck.

This was not how this trip was supposed to go. He was supposed to be decompressing, forgetting about his shit season, not noticing how a stranger's collarbones peeked out from her turtleneck or how she smelled like something expensive but subtle as she passed him in the aisle to use the bathroom.

"T'es dans la merde," (You're in trouble) Wilhelm muttered, and Jules couldn't even argue.

Three hours into their seven-hour flight to Rovaniemi, Jules found himself doing that thing he swore he wouldn't do – stealing glances at Y/N from his single seat across the aisle. He'd settled into that classic position – slouched with legs spread, one hand propped on his chin, thumb absently stroking his goatee – trying to look casual while very much not being casual at all.

Van's shriek of laughter cut through the cabin as AK whispered something in her ear in their back twin seats, followed by sounds Jules really didn't need to hear. But Y/N seemed unbothered, completely absorbed in her book – an actual paper book, not just scrolling on her phone like most girls he knew. He caught the title: "The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo." That book that was all over TikTok, the one his sister wouldn't shut up about. And was that... a kitten bookmark?

Check box one, he thought. She reads actual books.

The flight attendant moved through the cabin, setting up champagne and an elaborate spread of charcuterie and pastries. Y/N got up gracefully, fixing herself a small plate with careful consideration, and returned to her seat. A small smile played on her lips as she read, and Jules found himself wondering what part of the story caused that reaction.

Stop being a creep, he chided himself. But he couldn't help noticing how her turtleneck hugged her curves, how her crossed legs seemed to go on forever. This could get messy – she was his best friend's girl's best friend after all. But then again, Van brought her for a reason...

Stop being a pussy and just talk to her.

Jules did another scan of the cabin. Nas and Stef were knocked out cold, their light snores creating a gentle backdrop. Wilhelm was lost in his Switch game, probably destroying someone online in Mario Kart. And AK and Van were... yeah, definitely preoccupied.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Jules smoothly stood and slid into the empty seat beside Y/N. She looked up from her book, those long lashes framing curious eyes.

"What's up?" He aimed for cool but heard the slight nervousness in his voice.

"Just getting to the good part," she replied, her soft British accent making even those simple words sound melodic.

"Evelyn Hugo, huh?" He nodded toward the book. "Heard that one's good."

"You've read it?"

"Nah, but my sister's obsessed. Wouldn't stop talking about it in the family group chat."

Y/N's smile deepened, those dimples making an appearance. "It's worth the hype. I'm usually pretty varied with my reading though."

"Yeah? What else you into?"

"Bit of everything really. Some mysteries, biographies..." She paused, a mischievous glint in her eye. "The occasional spicy book."

Jules' eyebrows shot up. "Spicy like...?"

"You ever heard of 'Ice Planet Barbarians'?"

He had – another TikTok famous book, one that had people in the comments wilding about blue aliens and their unrealistically large sex organs.

She's a little freak, huh? "That's, uh..." He cleared his throat. "That's quite a range you got there."

Her laugh was soft but genuine. "Life's too short to stick to one genre, don't you think?"

Something about the way she said it, like she applied that philosophy to more than just books, made Jules lean in slightly. "What else you got on your reading list?"

As Y/N started describing a mix of upcoming reads, Jules found himself actually interested – not just pretending to be interested like he usually did when girls talked. The way her eyes lit up when she discussed her favorites, how she spoke with her hands when explaining particularly complex plots.

"So you're telling me you haven't read any Sally Rooney?" Y/N asked, turning slightly in her seat to face him better.

"Is that the Normal People author?"

"Mm, that's the one." She adjusted her bookmark – definitely a kitten, orange and white – before setting the book aside. "The show was good but the books hit different."

Jules shifted too, his long legs taking up more space than strictly necessary. "I'm more of a music person myself."

"Let me guess..." Y/N studied him for a moment, and something about her direct gaze made him want to fidget. "You've got that look about you. Definitely into fashion, probably listen to Steve Lacy? Kendrick Lamar?"

"Damn, am I that obvious?"

Her smile came with those crater-deep dimples again. "Your sweater's Jacquemus and your shoes are those limited Lewis Hamilton x Dior sneakers. You're either into fashion or you've got a really good stylist."

Now it was Jules' turn to be impressed. Most girls he met only knew the obvious brands, the ones you could easily flex on Instagram. "You know your stuff."

"I work in fashion editorial," she said with a small shrug. "Kind of have to."

Another box checked.

"Editorial?" He leaned forward slightly. "Which magazine?"

"I'm at British Vogue." She tucked a stray baby hair back, the movement drawing his attention to her elegant fingers, no overtly long fake nails in sight. "Junior editor assistant, nothing major yet."

"Nothing major, she says," Jules teased. "Just casually working at one of the biggest fashion magazines in the world."

"What about you? Besides the obvious football career, what gets you excited?"

They fell into an easy conversation about music (they shared a love for Frank Ocean), art (she'd just been to the new Basquiat exhibit he'd been meaning to see), and travel. Y/N had actual opinions, thoughtful ones, not just agreeing with whatever he said like he was used to.

"The vintage shopping there is insane," he said, talking about his time in Japan. "Like this one spot in Harajuku, they had original Raf Simons pieces I'd never seen before. And the food..."

"I've always wanted to go," Y/N said, her eyes lighting up. "The fashion archives alone must be incredible. Plus, I heard they have these cafes where—"

"Where you can drink coffee and play with cats?" Jules finished. "Yeah, they're everywhere. Way better than those fake Instagram spots everyone posts about."

"See, that's what I want to experience. The real culture, not just tourist traps." She tucked another stray baby hair back. "What was your favorite part?"

"This tiny ramen spot in a back alley. No pictures allowed, no social media. Just incredible food and this old man who's been making the same recipe for like forty years."

"That sounds perfect."

"You'd love it," Jules said without thinking. Then, realizing how presumptuous that sounded, added, "I mean..."

But Y/N just smiled. "Maybe I would."

Something about her genuine interest, the way she didn't immediately pull out her phone to check Instagram locations, made Jules sit back and really look at her. "You're dope, you know that?"

The slight flush on her cheeks made something in his chest tighten. "Because I want to eat ramen in back alleys?"

"Because you actually care about the experience. Most people I meet just want the picture for the gram, which is cool but still...I thought you'd be like that."

"Because I'm Van's friend?" She raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in her voice.

"Because AK has terrible taste in setting me up."

The words slipped out before he could stop them, and Y/N's eyebrow arched delicately. "Oh? Is that what this is?"

Fuck. Me.

"I didn't mean—" Jules started, but her soft laugh cut him off.

"Relax. Van already told me about AK's matchmaking attempts." She glanced toward the back where AK and Van were finally sleeping. "The Mykonos story was particularly entertaining."

Jules groaned. "She told you about that?"

"Mm. Something about an Instagram model and a very expensive photoshoot gone wrong?"

"In my defense, I didn't know she'd brought a whole production crew."

Y/N's laugh was worth the embarrassment of reliving that memory. "Well, I can assure you I don't have a glam squad hidden in my carry-on."

"No? Not even a ring light for emergency selfies?"

"The only emergency items I packed are snacks and more books."

Jules felt himself smiling – a real smile, not his usual media-ready one. The kind that actually reached his eyes.

Something shifted in the air between them, the casual conversation taking on a different weight. Y/N held his gaze for a moment before looking away, but Jules caught the slight upturn of her lips.

"We should probably try to sleep," she said finally. "Long day still ahead."

"Right. Yeah." But he didn't move.

"Jules?"

"Mm?"

"That means you have to go back to your seat."

"Oh. Right." He stood, perhaps a bit reluctantly. "Thanks for... you know."

"For not being an Instagram model with a production crew?"

His laugh was soft. "Something like that."

As he settled back into his own seat, Jules couldn't help stealing one more glance. Y/N had already reopened her book, but he swore he saw her smile widen slightly.

Definitely in trouble.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we're beginning our descent into Rovaniemi Airport."

Jules blinked awake from his nap, the seven-hour flight having passed quicker than expected. Maybe because of that conversation... He pushed the thought away, stretching in his seat as the plane started its descent through snow-heavy clouds.

The landing was smooth, and Jules watched as Y/N stood to thank both flight attendants by name – Marie and Sophie – even asking about Sophie's baby she'd mentioned during meal service. She did the same with the pilots, genuine appreciation in her voice.

Another box checked.

The whole "be nice to service staff" thing wasn't exactly groundbreaking, but there was something about the way she did it – not performing kindness for an audience, just being genuinely thoughtful – that hit different.

Lapland's winter air slapped different too, the kind of cold that made him grateful for his cashmere beanie as they descended the plane stairs. He wasn't trying to be creepy, walking behind Y/N, but when her foot caught that patch of ice and she started to slip... his hands found her waist automatically.

"You good?"

She steadied herself, this little embarrassed laugh escaping. "Yeah, just... can I get a rewind button? Because that was embarrassing as fuck."

Something about the way she said it, like she was annoyed at herself but trying to play it cool, made him chuckle. "Consider it deleted from the record."

Their luggage situation was borderline ridiculous – his three suitcases for a week's worth of fits, her matching his energy with her own collection of bags.

"Someone came prepared," he couldn't help teasing, watching her oversee the arrangement of her bags on the cart.

Her smile was playful, dimples making another appearance. "Don't judge me. A girl needs options for the Instagram dump."

"Nah, that's actually valid. Fit pics are essential."

"Oh yeah?" She raised an eyebrow. "You bring your whole camera crew or something?"

"Just my Nikon and a drone."

She nudged his shoulder, the contact brief but enough to make him hyper-aware of her presence. "But not a whole production crew?"

Ah, she got jokes... "Listen," he said, trying to keep his face serious. "You can't disrespect the Northern Lights with iPhone quality. That's just wrong."

"Mhmmmm." The way she nodded, all exaggerated understanding, shouldn't have been as cute as it was. "Very professional of you."

"Y/N!" Van's voice cut through whatever was building between them. "Stop flirting and come on, we need to get through customs!"

The customs line crawled by, but Jules found himself not minding, especially when Y/N would catch his eye and they'd share silent amusement at Van's increasing dramatics about the wait.

Their driver was posted up at arrivals with a sign for AK's company – "1 Pourcent Concierge" in sleek lettering because AK never missed a branding opportunity. The private coach was exactly what you'd expect from someone whose whole business was luxury experiences, complete with a mini bar that Van spotted immediately.

"Time to get this party started!" She was already reaching for bottles.

Wilhelm checked his phone, looking tired. "It's 2 in the afternoon."

"We're on vacation!" Van started lining up shots like they were at Tape London instead of just landing in the Arctic Circle. "Stop being a party pooper!"

Jules watched Y/N slip to the back of the bus, pulling out that same book from earlier. He must have been staring because Wilhelm's voice cut into his thoughts.

"Je ne sais pas pourquoi tu fais semblant de ne pas vouloir la rejoindre," Wilhelm said low enough that only Jules could hear. (I don't know why you're pretending you don't want to go join her)

Stef, never one to miss an opportunity to clown him, snorted. "Tu sais que Jules est timide." (You know Jules is shy.)

Jules flipped him off, but Stef just grinned wider.

"I'm chilling," Jules said, but even he could hear how unconvincing it sounded.

"Bullshit," Wilhelm and Stef chorused.

"I don't want to do too much," Jules tried to explain. "Nous venons de parler dans l’avion. Si j’y retourne maintenant..." (We just talked on the plane. If I go back there now)

"Quoi, elle pensera que tu es intéressé?" Stef's eye roll was Olympic-level. "Assez sûr que le navire a navigué, mon frère." (What, she'll think you're interested…Pretty sure that ship has sailed)

"Merde, si tu ne veux pas lui parler..." Nas dramatically ran his fingers through his hair, preening. "I will."

Before Jules could say anything, Nas was heading toward the back of the bus. At that exact moment, Van cranked up some Drake song and started twerking.

Jules pulled out his noise-canceling AirPods with what might have been the biggest eye roll of his life. He tried to focus on Frank Ocean instead of the way Y/N's laugh carried from the back of the bus – probably at something Nas said, which shouldn't have annoyed him but did.

He must have dozed off because the next thing he knew, they were pulling up to their home for the week. The cabin was crazy in the best way – all floor-to-ceiling windows and modern wooden architecture that somehow managed to look both cozy and expensive as hell. The deck wrapped around the whole structure, perfect for Northern Lights viewing, not that he was already thinking about how that could play out.

"Ladies first," he said as they entered, immediately regretting it when Van's excited shriek pierced his eardrums.

"Come on, Y/N!" Van grabbed her friend's hand. "Let's check out the rooms before these boys mess them up!"

Y/N shot Jules an apologetic look as she was dragged upstairs, and he had to fight back a smile. Van's "Oh my god, this one has a FIREPLACE!" echoed down the stairs, followed by Y/N's softer laugh that was already becoming way too familiar.

"T'es foutu," Wilhelm said, clapping Jules on the shoulder as he passed. (You're screwed.)

_______________________________________________

The den of their cabin was peak luxury winter vibes – all exposed wooden beams showing off the snowy landscape, but Jules was barely registering any of it. They'd been killing time until dinner, everyone doing their own thing. Wilhelm was in his gaming zone, Nas and Stef were arguing about upcoming Premier League matches, and AK was texting someone about work because he never really stopped working.

And Y/N? She was upstairs napping, which shouldn't have annoyed him but kind of did. Not that he needed her around, but her presence would've been better than Van's constant complaints about her nails not being done right or whatever else she was going on about before she got ready for dinner.

Jules had nothing against Van. She made AK happy, even if sometimes he wondered how his boy dealt with… all that. But not his woman, not his problem.

The sound of heels on wooden stairs made everyone look up. Van strutted – literally strutted – down in what had to be the tiniest leather dress Jules had ever seen.

"Babe, it's negative twenty-three degrees," AK said, though his eyes said he wasn't exactly mad about the outfit.

Van gave him a look. "I know, that's why I got the fur coat."

"What fur coat—" Jules began, but the words died in his throat because that's when Y/N appeared.

Holy fuck.

She'd let her hair down from that bun, now styled in a middle part with curls. Her own outfit was giving winter goddess – some maroon designer dress he couldn't even focus on because his brain was short-circuiting, and yeah, she was carrying two fur coats.

"Thank god!" Stef broke the moment. "I'm starving!"

The bus ride to the igloo restaurant should've been awkward, but Jules found himself sliding into the seat next to Y/N before he could overthink it.

"Good nap?" he asked, aiming for casual.

"Mm, needed it." Her smile was soft, sleep-warm. "These time zones are killing me."

"Wait till tomorrow when we go snowmobiling. Wilhelm's already talking about racing."

"Oh yeah?" She turned slightly toward him. "You any good on a snowmobile?"

"Better than Nas. Man crashed three times last time we went."

"I heard that," Nas called from behind them. "And it was twice, respect the facts."

The igloo was something else – set in the middle of a forest clearing, stars scattered above them like diamonds. No Northern Lights yet, but the sky was doing its own kind of magic.

Their chef appeared – this older Finnish man with kind eyes – and started describing the courses. "Tonight we're working with what nature provides. Our first course is foraged mushrooms with…"

"For the main," he continued later, "we have local reindeer—"

"Not Rudolph!" Van's gasp was theatrical.

Jules caught Y/N biting back a smile as the chef patiently offered, "We also have freshly caught Arctic char—"

Van opened her mouth again but AK's "Babe, chill" shut it for her.

The waiters moved around them with practiced grace, pouring wine that Y/N examined with actual knowledge – doing that little swirl thing, checking the color against the candlelight.

Jules found himself watching her, his bottom lip caught between his teeth, until she caught him staring.

"I see you, wine connoisseur," he said, enjoying the slight flush on her cheeks.

"You know your wines?"

"Got a few favorites. This Bordeaux that'll change your life, and this Spanish one in my cellar that you should try out." He let the invitation hang there.

Y/N almost choked on her sip. "Are we flirting?"

Jules just shrugged, taking a deliberate sip of his own wine, but he couldn't quite hide his smile.

"So tomorrow," Wilhelm was saying, "we got the snowmobiles booked for eleven—"

"After breakfast at our villa," Stef added.

"Then ice fishing in the evening," Nas continued. "Unless you guys are scared of the cold."

"Please," Van scoffed. "I'm from London, we invented cold."

"That's… not how weather works, babes," Y/N said quietly, just for Jules to hear, and his laugh came out before he could stop it.

The first course arrived – something beautiful with mushrooms and herbs that looked like art. Jules watched Y/N take her first bite, the way her eyes closed slightly in appreciation.

The wine was taking its effect – or maybe it was just her. Jules found himself getting bolder with each course, his hand occasionally brushing Y/N's shoulder when he leaned in to talk, letting his touches linger a bit longer than strictly necessary. The igloo's candlelight did something magical to her skin, and he kept catching himself staring.

"You're staring again," she murmured during the fourth course, some elaborate fish dish he wasn't even tasting anymore.

"Can't help it." The wine made him honest. "You're nice to look at."

Her laugh was soft, private. "The wine's making you brave."

Van's loud giggle cut through their moment – she was properly drunk now, hanging off AK's arm and talking about something he didn’t care for. Y/N caught Jules' eye and they shared a silent laugh.

Their driver met them outside the igloo after they finished their meal, warning them about an incoming snowstorm. "Nothing serious, but better to be inside tonight."

Once they got back to the villa, Van took this as her cue, practically dragging AK upstairs the moment they got inside. "Help me with this dress, baby!"

"Sauna?" Wilhelm suggested to the guys.

Stef and Nas were already heading that way, but Jules' attention was caught by Y/N slipping off her heels, heading toward the stairs.

"Not tonight," he said, not even trying to be subtle anymore.

"Get it, bro," Wilhelm teased.

Jules shot him a look but was already following Y/N up the stairs.

She sensed him behind her, turning with this little smile. "You stalking me?"

"Psssh, what? No." He laughed nervously, suddenly aware he might be coming on too strong. Wine drunk Jules was always a menace. He needed to chill.

But then she hit him with this smile that was pure trouble. "Wanna hang in the jacuzzi?"

Fuck yes.

"Bet."

He practically ran to his room, yanking off his sweater and digging through his suitcase for his trunks. A quick shower, his robe, those Ugg slippers he'd never admit to loving, and he was back downstairs starting up the jacuzzi.

Wine. Need wine.

He grabbed a fresh bottle and glasses, setting them up on the ledge just as Y/N appeared at the doorway. And – oh.

Her robe slipped off to reveal this black bikini that was definitely designed to kill men on sight. The way she eased into the hot water, sighing at the temperature, had his hormones going insane.

"This is perfect," she said, tilting her head back.

Jules slipped in across from her, trying to keep his eyes respectful even though that bikini was making it difficult. The wine made it easy to talk, to laugh, to gradually move closer until their legs were almost touching under the water.

"You're different," he found himself saying.

"Different how?"

"Just… real. Not trying to be anything else."

Her eyes met his in the dim light. "Maybe you're just used to people playing games."

"Maybe." He was definitely closer now, close enough to see water droplets on her eyelashes. "Or maybe you're just special."

The moment stretched between them, heavy with possibility. Then Y/N's hand found his under the water, and that was all the invitation he needed.

The first kiss was soft, testing. But then her fingers slid into his dreads, and he was gone. Her lips soft but demanding against his, and he pulled her closer as the kiss deepened.

They broke apart for air, but he couldn't stop, pressing kisses along her jaw, down her neck. Her quiet gasp when he found a sensitive spot had him tightening his grip on her waist.

"Jules," she breathed, and his name had never sounded better.

He captured her lips again, slower this time but no less intense. Everything else faded – the sound of the jacuzzi, even the wine forgotten on the ledge. There was just this, just her, just the way she fit perfectly against him.

When they finally pulled apart, staying close enough to share breath, Y/N laughed softly. "Definitely better than the sauna, huh?"

Jules grinned, stealing another quick kiss. "Definitely worth it."

"High praise."

"You have no idea."

Who would've thought the quiet girl who reads would be the one leaving everyone in her snow dust?

Jules watched Y/N zip ahead on her snowmobile, her all-white ski fit with that polka dot puffer making her look like some winter fashion editorial come to life. But it was the way she handled the machine – confident, fearless – that had him thinking about last night. About how those same hands that gripped the handlebars had been in his dreads, about how that mouth, which was now hidden behind the black helmet, had felt against his…

"Keep up!" she called back, and yeah, he was definitely in deep trouble.

They stopped at this clearing that looked like something out of a Christmas card – untouched snow stretching for miles, mountains in the background. While AK set up the drone for aerial shots, Van immediately started on what she claimed would be "the baddest snowman in Lapland."

Jules found himself drifting toward Y/N like she had her own gravitational pull. She was adjusting her helmet, cheeks flushed from the cold and the speed.

"Didn't expect you to be such a speed demon," he said, reaching out to fix a strand of hair that had escaped her helmet.

"There's a lot you don't know about me yet." That smile again, the one that made his stomach flip.

"Yet?" He stepped closer. "That mean I get to find out more?"

"Maybe." She looked up at him through those lashes. "If you play your cards right."

The others were occupied – Van directing AK on proper snowman architecture, Nas trying to get Wilhelm to race him again, Stef actually getting decent drone footage – when Jules decided to shoot his shot.

"Skip ice fishing with me?"

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "And do what instead?"

"Thought we could chill at the villa instead? Unless you're really excited about sitting on ice for hours…"

"Trying to get me alone?"

His laugh was low. "Is it working?"

Later, the group visited the small village of Levi, and Van pulled Y/N into some boutique, leaving Jules to deal with his boys' inevitable commentary. They found a coffee shop, and Jules knew from AK's face this conversation was coming.

"So," AK said, that smug look taking over his features. "Nous allons en parler?"

"Parler de quoi?" (Talk about what?)

"À propos de la façon dont je suis le meilleur ailier de tous les temps? À propos de la façon dont mes compétences en matière de jumelage sont d’élite?" (About how I'm the best wingman ever? About how my matchmaking skills are elite?)

Stef rolled his eyes. "L’élite? Après cette catastrophe de Mykonos?" (Elite? After that Mykonos disaster?)

"Ou cette fille à Ibiza," Wilhelm added.

"Ou l’entrepreneur en thé détox," Nas chimed in.

"Vos compétences de jumelage sont généralement nulles," Jules corrected, though he couldn't help smiling. "C’est clairement une consade." (Your matchmaking skills are usually trash. This is clearly a fluke)

"Et qu'en est-il quand tu l'as embrassée dans le jacuzzi?" (And what about when you kissed her in the jacuzzi?)

Jules nearly choked in his coffee. "Comment as-tu fait—" (You guys saw that?)

"S’il-vous-plaît," Wilhelm cut in. "Toute la cabine a des fenêtres, génie." (The whole cabin has windows, genius)

"Et Van t’a vu en route pour piller le réfrigérateur," AK added. (And Van saw you on her way to raid the fridge)

"Et Nas espionnait depuis le sauna," Stef said. (And Nas spying from the sauna)

"Surveillance!" Nas corrected. "Je menait à la surveillance." (I was surveilling)

"Vous êtes trop les gars," Jules muttered, but he was fighting a smile.(You guys are too much)

"Admettez-le," AK pressed. "J’ai bien fait cette fois-ci." (Admit it, I did well this time)

"Je n’admets rien." (Im not admitting anything)

"Ton visage admet tout," Wilhelm said. "Tu brilles comme un adolescent avec son premier béguin." (Your face admits everything. You shining like a teenager with their first crush)

Before Jules could defend himself, the girls returned loaded with bags, and damn if Y/N didn't look good with snowflakes in her hair.

_______________________________________________

Their guide showed up for the ice fishing expedition, and Van's parting shot to Y/N was pure Van: "Have fun getting your back blown out!"

"She's something else," Jules muttered as the others left.

"That's one way to put it." Y/N was already heading toward the kitchen. "So, what's the plan?"

The plan turned into Jules showing off his cooking skills – nothing fancy, just some pasta aglio e olio and garlic bread, but the way Y/N watched him cook made him feel like a master chef.

"Where'd you learn to cook?" she asked, perched on the counter while he worked.

"My mum. Said no son of hers was going to survive on takeaway." He handed her a taste of the sauce. "Good?"

Her eyes closed slightly as she tasted it. "Mm, perfect."

They ended up in the den, fire crackling, talking about everything and nothing. About that club Van was insisting they hit for New Year's ("It's Lapland, how lit can it be?"), about Y/N's job at Vogue ("The Devil Wears Prada lied, it's actually worse"), about Jules' family in France and Benin.

"You're really not that bad," Y/N said suddenly.

"Where’s this coming from?"

"From what I expected. From what Van said."

"Van talks about me?"

Y/N's laugh was soft. "She tried to warn me you were shy. Said you'd probably just brood in corners looking pretty."

"And?" He shifted closer.

"And…" Her eyes dropped to his lips. "You're definitely pretty."

This kiss was different from last night – slower, more deliberate. Like they had all the time in the world to explore this thing between them. His hand found that spot on her neck that made her sigh, and her fingers was back in his dreads.

Yeah, maybe AK's matchmaking skills weren't completely trash after all.

Jules couldn't stop kissing Y/N if he tried, each kiss deeper than the last, more urgent. His hand found its way into her hair, curls falling loose from her updo.

Everything had shifted, like the whole universe was conspiring to make this moment happen. Y/N pulled back just enough to whisper against his lips, "Do you want to come up?"

"Yeah." He tried to play it cool, but his mind was going absolutely crazy. HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT. Here he was, Jules Koundé, known for being calm and composed in front of 90,000 people at Camp Nou, completely losing it over six words from this girl.

Following Y/N upstairs felt like torture in the best way. She moved with this effortless grace that had him mesmerized, throwing these looks over her shoulder that was sin – half shy, half something else that made his stomach flip.

When her door finally clicked shut behind them, the air felt electric with possibility. Jules stood still, his dark eyes tracing the curve of Y/N's silhouette as she leaned back against the door. She reached up to pull the last pin from her updo, letting her curls tumble free. Jules swore he forgot how to breathe.

"You look nervous," Y/N said softly, her voice light, teasing, as she stepped closer, her bare feet barely making a sound against the floor.

"Do I?" Jules asked, his voice rougher than he intended. He cleared his throat, but the way her hands brushed against his chest when she closed the space between them made it impossible to care.

"A little," she said, tipping her head back to meet his gaze. Her fingers curled into the fabric of his sweater, pulling him closer. "I like it, though. Makes me feel powerful."

Jules huffed out a laugh, his hands finding her waist and pulling her flush against him. "You're enjoying this way too much."

"Maybe." She tilted her head, her lips brushing against his.

That was all it took for him to close the distance, his mouth slanting over hers in a kiss that was anything but gentle. Y/N sighed into it, her arms winding around his neck as his hands explored the curve of her back, her hips, the warmth of her skin beneath the material of her clothing.

He backed her toward the bed, his fingers trailing down to the hem of her thermal top, pushing it up to reveal the soft skin of her stomach. When the back of her knees hit the mattress, Y/N pulled him down with her, their laughter mingling with their heavy breathing.

"You're in such a hurry," she teased when they broke apart for air.

"Can you blame me?" Jules smirked, his hands sliding over her hips, fingers hooking into the band of her leggings.

She opened her mouth to respond, but he silenced her with another kiss, deep and deliberate, his tongue brushing against hers. His hands worked her leggings down, the fabric clinging stubbornly until he finally peeled them away, leaving her in just a simple pair of black underwear and the thermal top pushed up to her ribs.

"You’re stunning," Jules murmured, his voice low, almost reverent, as his gaze roamed over her.

Y/N smiled, reaching for him. "Your turn."

Jules obliged, pulling off his sweater in one swift motion, the muscles in his chest and arms catching the light in a way that made her breath catch. He leaned back down, his lips finding the sensitive spot just below her ear, earning a soft gasp as her hands roamed his back.

The thermal bunched higher as his kisses trailed down her neck and across her collarbone, his fingers skimming along the edge of her panties. Y/N arched into him, her nails grazing his skin lightly, drawing a low groan from deep in his chest.

When she reached for the button of his pants, Jules caught her wrist, his eyes dark and hooded. "Slow down," he murmured, his voice a husky whisper. "We’ve got all night."

Y/N grinned up at him, her cheeks flushed, her breathing unsteady. "Then you’d better make it worth it."

Jules took his time, his hands tracing over Y/N's curves with a slowness that had her squirming beneath him. His fingers slid her panties down her legs, his dark eyes drinking in every inch of her as more of her was revealed.

Her arousal glistened between her thighs and Jules felt his stomach tighten at the sight.

"Damn," he muttered under his breath. He pulled back just enough to sit up, his dreads falling forward, framing his face as he looked at her.

His gaze took in the soft rise and fall of her chest, her thermal pushed up to just beneath her breasts. "This has to go," he said, his voice teasing as his fingers tugged at the hem of the fabric. She lifted her arms, letting him pull it over her head, and then he reached behind her to unclasp her bra. The garment fell away, baring her to him entirely.

Jules let out a slow breath. Her breasts were full, her nipples pebbled, and he couldn't resist leaning down to press a kiss to the swell of one, his lips brushing her skin softly before moving lower.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his lips dragging a path across her stomach. His eyes dipped back down, lingering between her thighs. "And this—" He ran a finger along the slickness there, grinning when she shivered. "So pretty. I need to have a taste."

Y/N flushed, her breath hitching as she propped herself up on her elbows to meet his gaze. "I’ve never met a guy who actually liked giving head," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper, though there was a teasing lilt in it.

Jules raised an eyebrow, his grin widening into something almost wicked. "You've been messing around with the wrong niggas, cherie," he said, shaking his head as if it were an absolute tragedy. He settled himself between her thighs, his hands gently coaxing them wider. "Don't worry. We're gonna change that."

His words sent a shiver through her, her anticipation building as his lips ghosted over the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. "Jules," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly.

"Relax," he said, glancing up at her, his eyes filled with heat and something softer beneath it. "I've got you."

Not to brag because, honestly, it wasn't his style, but this was his thing. Eating pussy was state-of-the-art to him, an art form he'd mastered, a skill that had left more than a few women crashing out over it. He took pride in it, sure, but it wasn't just about being good at it. He enjoyed it. The taste, the sounds, the way a woman’s body responded when he knew exactly what to do — it was intoxicating.

And Y/N? She was a masterpiece. The way her body trembled, her soft gasps, and the way she shifted her hips as if seeking him out — she was an active participant, not someone who held back. It made every second feel electric, like a performance where they were both in perfect sync.

Another box checked. She was fucking perfect.

That thought hovered in his mind for a beat too long, a flash of something deeper creeping in, and he shoved it away. This wasn’t about feelings. Not right now. Right now, he had a job to do. So he got to work.

He pressed an open-mouthed kiss just above her center, letting his breath ghost over her. His tongue followed, a slow swipe that had her hips jerking upward. "Relax, cherie," he murmured, his voice low, smooth, and tinged with amusement.

She whimpered softly, her thighs quivering against his hands as he pushed them farther apart. His tongue explored her folds with purpose, slow and teasing at first, mapping every inch of her like he had all the time in the world, but when her moans grew louder, more urgent, he picked up the pace, alternating between long, languid strokes and focused flicks of his tongue against her clit.

"Jules," she gasped, her hands diving into his dreads, holding on for dear life as he worked her over.

He hummed against her, the vibration sending a jolt through her body. Her hips bucked, and he grinned, tightening his grip on her thighs to hold her still. "You're so fucking responsive," he said, his voice muffled as he dove back in.

She moaned again, her body writhing against him, and Jules felt a rush of pride — and hunger. He wasn’t stopping until she was completely undone, every thought wiped clean except for him and what he was doing to her.

Her breathing hitched, turning into desperate little gasps, her thighs trembling around his head. "That’s it," he murmured, his lips brushing against her. "Let go for me."

And when she did — her back arching, a cry spilling from her lips, her body shaking with the force of it — Jules couldn’t help but smile. He’d always enjoyed this part, watching the aftermath, the way a woman's body melted into the mattress, chest heaving and cheeks flushed.

"See?" he said, his voice warm and teasing as he kissed his way back up her body. "Told you we were gonna change that." Jules brushed a kiss against Y/N’s lips, still tasting her arousal on his tongue, before pulling back. His voice was soft but charged as he asked, "Got a condom?"

Y/N nodded, her breath still uneven. "In my tote bag. Corner of the room."

He gave her another quick kiss, playful and lingering, before sliding off the bed. She watched him stride over to the tote, his movements unhurried, almost teasing, as if he knew exactly what kind of show he was putting on.

When he crouched down and opened the bag, his smirk widened. "What do we have here?" he mused, holding up a sleek vibrator with a raised brow.

"Oh, my God," Y/N groaned, covering her face with her hands. "Put that back, Jules."

He chuckled, the sound low and rich, and dropped the vibrator back into the bag. "No judgment. Just saying we might have to use this some other time."

She peeked out from between her fingers. "You’re ridiculous."

"Mm, you like it," he shot back, pulling out the pack of Trojans. He glanced over his shoulder, his smirk turning downright sinful. "Found what I was looking for."

He walked back toward her, the condom packet in one hand and her gaze traveled down, taking in the way he casually shucked off his pants, then his boxer briefs, until he stood completely bare in front of her, his arousal standing proud and unashamed.

Y/N's eyes widened slightly and she had that usual smile on her face.

He tore open the packet with his teeth, his eyes never leaving hers as he sheathed himself. The deliberate way he rolled the condom on, his movements smooth and precise, sent a fresh wave of heat through her.

Jules caught the way her thighs shifted on the bed, the way her teeth caught her bottom lip, and his grin softened into something deeper, more intimate. "You good, cherie?" he asked, his voice warm and genuine as he climbed back onto the bed.

Y/N nodded, her fingers reaching out to touch him, to pull him closer. "I’m good," she murmured.

Y/N was bringing out something else entirely in him. Something raw. Something freaky. And honestly? It was only right. If she was going to let her inner freak shine, Jules had no problem meeting her there. He had a feeling, though—there was something about the way she smiled, all soft and sweet, but with that glint in her eyes that promised trouble.

He stayed between her legs, his gaze dragging over her like she was a masterpiece he couldn’t stop studying, like he wasn’t in any rush. Jules had patience, especially when the reward was something like this.

"You’re bad, you know that?" he said, his voice low and teasing as his hands slid up her thighs.

Y/N smirked, her eyes half-lidded. "And you’re just figuring this out?"

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. "Nah, I’ve been clocking it. Just didn’t realize how bad."

His hands gripped her thighs a little firmer, pulling her closer so he could line himself up. The slick heat of her against him was enough to make his head tip back for a second, eyes closing as he gathered himself. When he looked at her again, she was watching him with that little smile, her legs shifting to hook around his waist.

Yeah, she’s definitely a freak.

He liked that. A lot.

"Say the word, cherie," Jules murmured, his voice softer now, the teasing edge melting into something deeper.

Y/N didn’t hesitate, her hands sliding up his arms, her nails grazing his skin. "Do it."

That was all he needed. Slowly, he pushed into her, taking his time, letting her feel every inch. The way her body tensed, then melted beneath him, had his heart pounding in his chest.

"Shit, Y/N," he muttered, pausing once he was fully inside her, giving her a moment to adjust. "You’re... God, you’re perfect."

She exhaled shakily, her hands gripping his shoulders as she shifted beneath him. "You can move," she said, her voice breathy but certain.

Jules smiled, something almost wicked flashing in his eyes as he pulled back, then thrust forward again, setting a slow, deliberate rhythm.

It wasn’t long before her moans filled the room, soft and then louder, her hands roaming over his back, her nails digging into his skin in a way that had him groaning. "Damn," he said, his tone full of admiration. "You like that, huh?"

She nodded, biting her lip to stifle another moan, but Jules wasn’t having that. "Don’t hold back," he said, his voice firm but still warm. "I want to hear you."

He picked up the pace, his hips snapping against hers in a way that had the bed creaking under them. Y/N met him thrust for thrust, her body arching, her legs pulling him closer, deeper.

"Jules," she gasped, her voice trembling but filled with so much need it sent a shiver down his spine.

"Yeah, cherie?" he said, leaning down to kiss her, his lips brushing against hers as he spoke.

"You’re gonna ruin me," she whispered, her voice full of awe and teasing all at once.

Jules chuckled, his forehead pressing against hers as his thrusts grew deeper, more intense. "Good," he said, his voice dropping to a growl. "Let me show you how it’s supposed to be."

And oh, he did.

The intimacy of missionary was something he didn’t take lightly—he liked being able to look her in the eyes, to see the way her lips parted and her head tilted back as he rocked into her.

Her breath hitched with each thrust, her nails raking lightly down his back, leaving faint trails that hurt in the best way. Jules dropped his head, kissing along her jaw, her neck, then catching her lips in a kiss so heated it felt like it could burn the room down.

But as much as he loved this—her chest pressed against his, her thighs gripping his sides—his thoughts kept drifting. He couldn’t ignore the temptation of something he’d been eyeing for far too long.

Since they’d left Paris, Jules had been trying not to be a complete dog about it, but damn. Y/N’s ass was something else. Every time she walked ahead of him, he found his gaze following the sway of her hips, the way those leggings hugged her perfectly.

And now? Thank God.

"Turn over for me," Jules murmured.

Y/N blinked up at him, dazed but smiling, and she nodded, biting her lip as she shifted beneath him. Jules helped her, his hands guiding her onto her stomach, then pulling her hips up until she was on all fours.

And there it was.

His breath caught for a moment, his hands gripping her waist as he took in the view. "Damn, cherie," he whispered, his voice thick with appreciation. "This fucking ass."

She laughed, glancing back over her shoulder, her cheeks flushed. "You like it?"

"Yeah," Jules said, smirking as his hands slid over her hips, his thumbs pressing into the dimples of her lower back. "And now I get to see it properly."

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to the small of her back, then one to each cheek, his goatee grazing her skin, making her shiver. He took his time, his hands roaming, gripping, appreciating every inch of her.

When he finally lined himself up and thrust back into her, the angle hit different—for both of them. Y/N gasped, her fingers gripping the sheets, her back arching as he set a steady rhythm, his hands on her hips keeping her steady.

"Fuck," Jules muttered, his voice rough, his movements deliberate but powerful. He watched the way her body moved with him, the way her ass bounced with each thrust. It was hypnotizing.

"You good?" Y/N asked, her voice breathless, teasing.

Jules chuckled, leaning forward just enough to press a kiss to her shoulder, his chest brushing against her back. "Better than good," he said, his voice low in her ear. "You feel like heaven, cherie."

Her laugh turned into a moan as he adjusted his angle, hitting deeper, harder. Jules was relentless but attentive, listening to every sound she made, every shift in her body, making sure she felt as much pleasure as he did.

And as much as Jules was enjoying the view—and he really was—it was the sounds she made, the way she responded to him, that had him losing his mind. Every moan, every gasp, every whispered "Jules" was fuel, driving him to keep going, to give her more.

"Perfect," he groaned, his voice almost reverent as he tightened his grip on her hips, thrusting harder. "You’re fucking perfect."

"Ooh fuck, Jules....yes."

He could feel himself getting closer and closer to that precipice with each thrust. She felt so good, better than he could imagine, and when her moans began to turn into screams...yeah...he prayed that no one heard them.

They finally came, her orgasming first and then him immediately after. Both of them still catching their breath, hearts beating a little faster than normal. Jules looked down at Y/N as his sweaty body slumped over hers.

"You're something else, Y/N," Jules said, his voice low but filled with admiration as he moved away to dispose of the condom.

She chuckled softly, rolling onto her side and facing him. "I could say the same about you."

The moment felt calm, peaceful almost, and for once, there was no rush. Jules stroked her hair gently as he lay next to her, the space between them filled with a comfortable silence.

Y/N reached up, brushing her lips softly against his, lingering for a moment before pulling back. "So... what happens now?" she asked, her eyes playful but still searching for some sort of direction.

"I guess we just chill then maybe another round," he replied, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Jules woke up to sunlight streaming through Y/N's bedroom windows, the snow outside making everything look bright white and clean. Inside though? Inside was all warmth – her room somehow perfectly heated (unlike his ice box down the hall), and Y/N's bare skin pressed against his under her ridiculously soft sheets.

He couldn't help smirking a little, remembering last night. Everything had gone exactly as he'd hoped when he followed her upstairs, that confidence he usually saved for the pitch coming in clutch.

Now here he was, watching her sleep and feeling pretty good about himself. She looked different like this – all soft edges and messy curls, evidence of their night together in her slightly smudged makeup and the marks he'd left on her neck.

"Stop staring," she mumbled, eyes still closed.

"Not staring." He was definitely staring. "Just thinking."

"About?"

"About how you stole all the covers in the middle of the night."

She cracked one eye open. "Lies and slander. I'm a perfect sleeping companion."

"You literally kicked me."

"You were hogging the bed!"

"It's a king size bed!"

Her laugh was still morning-rough, and something about it made his stomach do that flip thing again. She stretched, the movement doing interesting things to the sheet's positioning, and – he was staring again.

"Like what you see?"

"You fishing for compliments this early?"

"Maybe." She propped herself up on one elbow, looking at him with those eyes that got him into this situation in the first place. "Is it working?"

Instead of answering, he pulled her down for a kiss. She tasted so good and when she made that little sound in the back of her throat...

A loud bang on the door made them jump apart.

"Y/N!" Van's voice carried through the wood. "Stop riding Jules and come get breakfast! We got husky sledding in an hour!"

Y/N groaned, burying her face in Jules' chest. "I'm going to murder her."

"I'll help hide the body."

"My hero."

They lay there for another moment, his hand playing with her hair, neither wanting to break the bubble they'd created. Outside, he could hear the others moving around – Van's loud laugh, AK telling someone to hurry up, the clatter of plates downstairs.

"We should probably..."

"Yeah."

But neither moved.

"Or we could just stay here," Y/N suggested, her fingers tracing patterns on his chest that were very distracting.

"Tempting." He caught her hand before it could wander lower. "But if we don't show up, Van will absolutely break down that door."

"Ugh, fine." She sat up, the sheet falling away, and – oh.

"You're making it really hard to be responsible right now."

Her smile was pure trouble. "I can see just how hard it is."

"You're terrible."

"You like it."

And yeah, maybe he did. Maybe he liked a lot of things about this girl who read actual books and drove snowmobiles like a pro and kissed like she meant it. Maybe he was in trouble in the best possible way.

But first: breakfast. And then huskies. And then... well, they had time to figure out the rest.

Jules pulled on his clothes from last night, unable to keep the satisfied smile off his face as Y/N disappeared into her en suite. The sound of her shower starting up had him thinking dangerous thoughts, but nah – they needed to actually make it to breakfast.

His own room felt weirdly cold and unfamiliar after the warmth of Y/N's bed. Quick shower, fresh clothes, trying and failing not to think about last night while he got ready. By the time he made it downstairs, Y/N was already at the breakfast table looking way too good in her red puffer, black ski pants hugging curves he now knew intimately. Those Moon Boots shouldn't have been cute but somehow were.

Their villa's chef had outdone himself – full spread of everything from eggs benedict to fresh pastries, fruit platters that looked like art. Y/N was already nursing a coffee, and the way she smiled at him over the rim of her cup had him remembering exactly how she'd smiled last night when—

"Earth to Jules," Stef called out, snapping him back to reality. "You want the last croissant or can I have it?"

Y/N slid the pastry toward Jules with a wink that definitely meant trouble. "Better fuel up. Long day ahead."

Van’s eyebrows raised in pique interest as she drank her mimosa.

The bus ride to the husky farm should've been chill, but Van immediately dragged Y/N to sit with her, that look in her eye that meant interrogation was coming. Jules caught Y/N's slightly panicked look and had to laugh – she was about to get the full Van experience.

"So," he heard Van start as he settled in his own seat. "Don't leave out any details..."

The husky farm was everything the brochures promised – dozens of excited dogs practically bouncing in their harnesses, their breath visible in the cold morning air. But Jules was only half listening to Erik, their guide, explain the basics of sledding. He kept getting distracted by Y/N's animated conversation with Van a few feet away.

"—and then he did WHAT?" Van's voice carried, way too loud.

Y/N's eyes met his across the snow, this little smile playing at her lips that had him remembering exactly what he'd done.

"Focus, lover boy," Wilhelm muttered, elbowing him. "Unless you want to crash into a tree."

Erik paired them up – two per sled – and obviously Jules ended up with Y/N. Obviously Van made some comment about "riding" that had AK trying not to laugh while pretending to scold her.

"You good?" Jules asked as Y/N settled into the front of their sled, his hands on her hips maybe lingering longer than necessary as he helped her in.

"Better than good." She looked back at him with that smile that was becoming dangerous for his mental health. "Though a bit sore."

Before he could respond to that loaded comment, the dogs took off, their excited barking filling the crisp air as they raced through the snow.

The dogs pulled them through this winter wonderland that didn't seem real – all pristine snow and frosted trees, sunlight making everything sparkle. But Jules was more focused on how Y/N kept leaning back against him, the way she fit perfectly between his arms as he held the reins.

"This is incredible!" she called back, turning her head just enough that he could see her profile, cheeks flushed from the cold and excitement.

"The dogs or my steering skills?"

"Both." She settled more firmly against him. "Though I think I could drive better."

"Oh yeah?"

"Mhmm. Wanna switch?"

They pulled to a stop at a clearing where Erik had planned a break. Y/N hopped out with that same grace she did everything, immediately going to thank their dogs by name because of course she'd memorized them already.

"Sven likes you," Erik noted as one of the huskies practically melted under Y/N's attention.

"The feeling's mutual," she cooed, scratching behind the dog's ears while Jules watched, something warm spreading in his chest that had nothing to do with his heavy coat.

"You're staring again," Van said, appearing beside him with two cups of hot chocolate from Erik's thermos.

"Mind your business."

"Impossible. This is literally the most entertainment I've had since that Mykonos disaster."

"Which you promised to never bring up again."

Van's laugh was loud enough to make the dogs look over. "Sweetie, that story is getting told at your wedding."

"Whose wedding?" Y/N asked, joining them with snow in her hair.

"No one's," Jules said quickly, but Van was already cackling.

"Just planning ahead," she said with a wink before dramatically calling out, "BABE! Come take pictures of me with the dogs for the gram!"

AK dutifully pulled out his camera while Y/N gave Jules a questioning look.

"Do I want to know?"

"Definitely not." He handed her the other hot chocolate. "Ready to show me these superior driving skills you were bragging about?"

And watching her handle the sled with the same confidence she'd shown on the snowmobile (the same confidence she'd shown last night), Jules thought about how sometimes the best things in life came from letting go of control.

The next few days were a mess of heated kisses, late-night jacuzzi sessions that definitely weren't just about enjoying the water, and fucking each other’s brains out. Y/N kept "accidentally" ending up in Jules' room instead of her own, and he definitely wasn't complaining. Even Van's knowing looks at breakfast couldn't dim the way Y/N's sleepy morning smile hit different when she was wearing his clothes.

Santa's Village had Van acting like a whole child, dragging them from attraction to attraction, but Jules couldn't even be annoyed because Y/N kept catching his eye and biting back laughs.

The go-karting was pure chaos – Y/N proving yet again she was secretly an adrenaline junkie, drifting through the snow like she'd been doing it her whole life. "Your girl's crazy," Stef had said, watching her lap Nas for the third time.

Your girl. Jules liked the sound of that more than he probably should.

Sledding turned into an all-out war, teams forming naturally until it was couples versus singles. "That's not fair," Nas had complained. "You two got that honeymoon phase energy!" But watching Y/N trash talk Wilhelm in her posh accent while absolutely destroying everyone on the slopes? Top tier entertainment.

Then New Year's Eve hit, and Van finally got her wish about that club. It was actually decent – something about drinking champagne in an ice bar while the Northern Lights danced overhead felt surreal. But Jules was more focused on how Y/N felt pressed against him as they danced, how she tasted like champagne and promises when they kissed at midnight.

They'd barely left his room the next day, making up for lost time until Van literally broke in with a spare key because "I NEED MY BEST FRIEND!"

Now here they were, back in Paris, the magic of Lapland already feeling like a dream. They landed in Paris just after sunset, the January air was soothing after Lapland's intense cold. The private terminal was quiet except for Van's dramatic goodbyes – she was basically hanging off Y/N like they hadn't just spent a whole week together.

"I'm gonna miss you so much!" Van wailed while AK tried not to laugh.

"Girl, I'll literally see you next weekend," Y/N said, but hugged her back just as tight.

The guys were more lowkey with their goodbyes – Nas and Stef dapping Y/N up with a "you're cool people" and "don't be a stranger," while Wilhelm gave her a quick hug and whispered something that made her laugh and Jules narrow his eyes suspiciously.

"You sure you don't want to stay at AK’s?" Van tried again, finally releasing Y/N. "We can get brunch tomorrow before heading back to London..."

"I've got that editorial meeting first thing," Y/N sighed, adjusting her carry-on. "Need to prep tonight."

That's when Jules stepped in, unable to let the week end just like that. "Stay at mine."

"I really should get back..."

"I’ll even go with you on the train to London tomorrow morning."

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "Why should I even stay?"

The look he gave her said everything he couldn't in public. Her quiet "fine" was trying to sound put out but didn't quite hit the mark.

In his car, one of his hands was on the wheel while the other found her thigh. The city lights caught the snow that had started falling – nothing like Lapland's heavy drifts, just light dustings that made everything look softer.

"Your playlist is actually decent," Y/N said, scrolling through his Spotify. "Though I'm judging the amount of Drake."

"Leave Drake alone."

"Make me."

His laugh was low. "Later."

They fell into comfortable silence as Steve Lacy came on, and Jules tried to sort through the thoughts that had been building all week. This wasn't supposed to happen – he barely had time to breathe between matches and training, let alone time for a relationship. But here he was, already thinking about when he could see her next.

"So," he finally said, aiming for casual. "This thing..."

"This thing?" Her smile was teasing.

"You know what I mean."

"Do I?"

"You're not going to make this easy, huh?"

Her laugh was soft. "When have I ever made anything easy for you?"

True. From that first moment in the private terminal to right now, she'd challenged him at every turn. Maybe that's why this felt different.

"I want to see where this goes," he said finally. "Like, properly."

"Properly?" She was definitely enjoying watching him squirm. "What exactly does that mean?"

"It means I want to figure out our schedules. See when you can come to Barcelona. When I can come to London." He glanced at her. "If you want."

The smile she gave him made his chest tight. "I want."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." She squeezed his hand. "Let's see what happens."

Later, watching her sleep in his bed like she belonged there, Jules thought about how AK finally redeemed himself with suggesting his girl and her bestie join them on their boys trip.

Speaking of AK, Jules' phone buzzed with a text:

"So... best wingman ever or BEST wingman ever?"

For once, Jules didn't argue. He typed out a reply:

"You redeemed yourself…but barely."

Then he placed his phone back onto his bedside table and smiled at a peacefully sleeping Y/N.

Yeah, maybe AK did get it right this time.

#emjayewrites #jules kounde #jules kounde fanfic #jules koundé fanfiction #fcbarcelona fanfic #football x reader #footballer x reader #footballer x black reader #jules kounde x black reader

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gunnerfc · 1 year ago

Text

Dress | Alessia Russo x Reader (18+) [Thursday]

-> England and Arsenal reader

Summary: Your best friend and housemate looks a little too good in the new dress she bought | slightly inspired by ‘Dress’ - Taylor Swift

Warnings: bottom alessia, top reader, strap use (alessia receiving), oral (alessia receiving), fingering (r receiving), masturbation (R; fingering) in a shared space

WC: 4k

AN: this might be one of if not number 1 of the fics I've written 🧎| this is the dress I was referencing Alessia wearing

Night After Night masterlist

You cheered softly to yourself when you scored your eighth goal against Katie in a game of FIFA. You loved playing against her because you knew you could walk away with an easy win. you laughed to yourself picturing your teammate swearing and complaining to Caitlin, who would have a lot to say to you during training for making her deal with an angry Katie McCabe.

Just as Katie restarted the game, Alessia came tumbling through the front door, hands full with bags from her day out shopping. You threw a glance her way and chuckled when she lightly tripped over her own feet.

"You good, Lessi," you teased but kept your eyes locked on the TV screen in front of you.

Alessia's face lit up, blush coating her cheeks as she sat all her bags down to remove her shoes. "Perfectly fine, thank you very much," she huffed as she tossed her shoes to the small pile by the front door.

You and Alessia had been friends for a long time and when you both were signed to Arsenal, you decided to move in together to make things easy. You loved living with her but being around her 24/7 did nothing to stop your ever-growing feelings for her. But you kept your feelings to yourself, not wanting to complicate your living situation.

Your game with Katie came to an end and the defender promptly left the lobby, too pissed at the score line to continue playing. You chuckled once more as you sat your controller on the couch, your full attention turned to Alessia who was now trying to pick up all her bags to carry to her room.

"Did you leave anything for other people to buy," you joked as you stood up to help her, a smile on your face when you noticed her blush.

"Hush," she mumbled as you picked up most of the bags for her. You were too busy keeping your own feelings hidden to notice Alessia doing the same.

The forward had a crush on you the moment you two met at the youth levels for England. You two have been inseparable since then, closer than ever and madly in love with the other, even if you were both hiding it.

But Alessia was tired of keeping her feelings to herself, she's wanted to tell you how she felt every day since she came to terms with it. She just wasn't sure what the best way to go about it was because she was worried about you potentially not feeling the same. However, after whining about her feelings and gushing about you to Ella, the two of them came up with a plan.

She was going to make you make the first move if you did feel the same and an upcoming event proved to be her best chance. She had spent all day shopping with Lotte and Emily to find the perfect dress that she thought would drive you crazy. After hours of searching, she finally found the perfect dress that she'd hoped you'd take off her.

You sat the bags on the end of her bed before turning to head back to the living room. "Wait, can I get your help on which dress to wear for this event, I know you aren't going but I could use the extra opinion," the blonde grinned and you knew you'd never be able to say no to her.

"You're sure you want my opinion," you joked with a raised eyebrow, dressing up and going to all those fancy events were out of your comfort zone.

"Of course, I trust your opinion more than others," she replied, her grin just a bright.

You nodded with a smile before telling her you'd wait in the living room for her to show you her options. Alessia cheered cutely before she started pulling various outfits from the shopping bags.

You sat on the couch, browsing through social media while you waited. You'd just clicked through Katie's Snapchat story where she posted about losing to you with various angry emojis when Alessia's bedroom door opened. You looked up from your phone and your eyes scanned the dress your best friend was wearing.

It was a black dress but wasn't one you thought complimented her fully. "It's nice but I don't think it's my favorite," you hummed, your eyes straying toward her long legs before meeting her eyes.

"It's not my favorite either but I thought I'd still show you," she blushed before heading back into her room to change into the next dress.

You weren't sure how you were given a free pass to basically check out your best friend but you weren't going to say no to the idea. So you waited, letting Alessia take all the time she wanted before she came back out in a blue dress.

This one was better than the last but still missing something. You tilted your head to the side as your eyes took in the piece of clothing before giving her your thoughts. "I like this one more than the black one, but it still feels like it's missing something," you offered, your eyes meeting hers with a smile on your face.

Alessia nodded and smiled but didn't say anything as she turned around. Your eyes shamelessly dropped to check her out again before you were staring at her closed bedroom door. Alessia was glad you didn't like any of the ones she was showing you so far, she was only showing them to make it seem like she had options.

But as she slipped on the red dress she bought earlier, she knew this would be the winner. Alessia took a small breath before opening her door and stepping out, her eyes landing on you to watch your reaction closely.

You looked up from your phone, your jaw dropping slightly but you were quick to school your expression. Your eyes slowly scanned her body, lingering as they eyed parts of her exposed chest and her legs. You swallowed harshly as you sat up straighter, many thoughts forming in your head but none were something you could say to your best friend.

"Um... I- I like this one the most," you settled on something safe, though your eyes had yet to meet hers again.

Alessia smirked softly but her face was almost as red as her dress, she'd slowly put her secret plan in motion and now she had to sit back and let you make the first move. "Good, this was my favorite too," she beamed, turning to head back into her room and she felt your eyes burning holes into her backside as you watched her leave.

The event was in four days and the blonde planned to let you sit with all you were feeling until you saw her in the dress again, hoping it would be what would jumpstart your relationship. Though with training in between, the days leading up to the event seemed to drag on for ages.

You groaned as you opened your front door to be met with multiple people who were a part of Alessia’s team helping her get ready. It had slipped your mind that today was the day of the event Alessia would be attending and a small burst of excitement filled your chest as you remembered the dress she decided on. Though in reality, the dress hadn’t left your mind since she first walked out of her bedroom to show you.

“Y/N! Is that you,” Alessia’s voice echoed from her bedroom as she heard the front door open amidst the chaotic scenes around her.

“Who else would it be,” you joked as you peeked your head around her doorframe, eyes landing on the blonde sitting on the edge of her bed in a white robe while her makeup artist covered her eyelashes in mascara.

Alessia rolled her eyes when the woman left her alone to grab a light shade of lipstick. Alessia’s eyes met yours as she let her makeup artist apply the lipstick. You sent her a small smile before returning to your room to shower, having gone for a light gym workout with Kyra.

By the time you were done and changed, Alessia had changed into her dress and was getting assistance with her heels in the living room. Your breath hitched when you exited your room, your eyes slowly committing the sight of her to memory. “You look beautiful, Less,” you gushed quietly as you bit your lip softly.

Alessia’s cheeks burned as her head dropped slightly out of shyness. “Thank you, y/n/n,” she muttered before her team informed her it was time to go.

Alessia was rushed out the door before either of you could say anything else and you were left in the quiet of your home, a warm feeling growing between your legs. You knew you had a few hours to yourself before Alessia would be back so you opted to relax in the living room.

You did your best to distract yourself for as long as you could but the need growing between your legs was overpowering. If you were going to get yourself off you were going to be quick about it since Alessia could be back at any moment. You swallowed lightly before propping one of your legs on the coffee table in front of you and spreading the other. You sighed as your hands pulled at your clothing, groping your chest as your hips rolled slightly.

Your mind was full of Alessia, what it would be like to have your way with her, and how she’d sound begging for you to fuck her. Your breathing picked up as you slid your hands down your body toward the waistband of the sweatpants you were wearing. You pushed your shirt up your torso some, gripping it as your other hand dipped under the elastic of your pants and underwear.

Your body jerked at the feeling of your cold hands on your skin as you ran a finger through your wet folds. You moaned the sensation, Alessia’s name falling from your lips without realizing it. You pushed a finger into your wet cunt, thrusting slowly as your eyes fell shut and your chest heaved.

You added a second finger and sped up your movements, pumping your fingers inside you as your hips grind in time with your fingers. You moved the hand that was holding your shirt up to grope one of your breasts under your shirt, moaning as you pulled at the hardened nipple. You chanted Alessia’s name as your back arched off the couch, your thighs clamping your hand between them.

You came with a loud moan of Alessia’s name and kept your fingers pumping inside you to help calm yourself down. After a moment, the sensation became too much and you pulled your soaked fingers out of your pants. You swallowed harshly as you stared up at the ceiling, your chest moving rapidly.

You stood up after catching your breath to wash your hands in the kitchen and as you headed to your room, the front door opened. Alessia sighed as she closed the door behind her, leaning against it as she shoved her heels off and dropped her small purse. Your eyes widened slightly, hoping she hadn’t been right outside the whole time.

“Remind me to never do that again,” she groaned as she moved to the couch, dropping into the spot you had previously occupied. You blinked a few times before joining her, you couldn’t just say nothing and head to your room just yet.

You offered her a small laugh in response as you sat next to her, leaving enough space between the two of you. The dress she was wearing was driving you crazy and you didn’t know how much longer you could last.

“What did you get up to while I was gone,” the blonde questioned, turning her head to face you.

“Oh, um...not much. Just watched some TV, y’know,” you shrugged, though Alessia knew you well enough to know that you were lying but she didn’t press you.

She mumbled a small ‘nice’ before you were both sitting in silence, both of your thoughts filled with similar things. You bit your lip as your eyes trailed up her legs to the hem of her dress that rested on her thigh. Oh, how you’d love to be between her thighs right now.

Your breathing picked up as you thought about how she would taste and held back a moan as you pictured going down on her. “Y/n, are you all right,” Alessia asked softly as she slid next to you, a hand landing on your thigh.

You nodded but refused to meet her eye and Alessia wasn't having that. She raised her hand to turn you to face her, your eyes filled with arousal as you stared at her lips. “Alessia,” you whispered and the blonde’s thighs flexed hearing you say her full name.

“Yeah,” her voice was just as quiet as yours as she ran her thumb along your cheek. You leaned in slowly, giving her enough time to pull away if she wanted.

When she didn’t move away, you connected your lips in a hesitant kiss, waiting for her to move first. You both sighed heavily into the kiss as your lips moved against each other, your hand falling to grip her thigh. Alessia moaned softly into the kiss at the feeling of your hand on her and you took the opportunity to move your tongue into her mouth.

You slide your hand further up her thigh, pushing the bottom of her dress to her hips before your hand hits the fabric of her panties. Alessia pulled out of the kiss to moan louder, her forehead resting against yours as her eyes fell shut.

“I wanna taste you, Lessi,” you mumbled, your voice laced with arousal as you rubbed your fingers over her covered cunt. You could feel how wet she was through the piece of clothing and it was driving you crazy.

“Please,” she croaked out and it was all you needed to drop to your knees in front of her. You bunched her dress around her hips as you placed light kisses along the inside of her thighs, small whines falling from her lips as she waited for you.

You pulled her panties down her legs, tossing them somewhere behind you as her legs spread for you. You gulped softly as you stared at her dripping cunt before making yourself comfortable between her thighs.

You hooked your arms around her thighs, moving her legs to rest on your shoulders as you leaned in, placing a tentative kiss on her clit. Alessia threw her head back against the couch, one of her hands tangling in your hair as your kisses became more confident. Your kisses turned to suck as you took the sensitive bud into your mouth, sucking harshly as you moaned against her.

Alessia’s hips bucked up as you moved your tongue to run through her wet folds, a loud moan of your name falling from her lips. Her thighs clamped around your head, keeping you as close as possible to her as you tasted her. Your eyes flutter shut as you work your move against her, pulling whines from the blonde above you.

“I’m gonna cum,” she cried, her breathing heavy as her hips jerked against your face. You sped up your tongue, fucking her with the muscle as you held her body tightly.

Alessia came on your face with a loud groan, tears pricking her eyes in pleasure as you kept moving. Her legs went limp against your shoulders and she tugged slightly on your hair to get your attention. You pulled away from her, earning a whine when the cold air hit her cunt.

You sat on your knees as you took her in, your eyes falling to her partially exposed chest. You weren’t close to being satisfied and you stood on wobbly legs, offering her a hand. Alessia took your hand, letting you help her up and guide her to your bedroom. Her mind racing from this new experience.

You closed your bedroom door softly behind you and moved the two of you to the edge of your bed. You took your time stripping Alessia’s dress off her, letting it pool by her ankles before she stepped out of it. Your hands rested softly on her waist as your eyes scanned her completely bare body.

Alessia’s breath hitched when you kissed her collarbone before trailing kisses to her breasts. She pushed her chest forward as your lips wrapped around one of her nipples, sucking on the bud as one of your hands slipped down to grab her ass. You pulled away from her completely after a moment, a string of spit connecting your lips to her nipple as you did so.

You took a step back to strip, tossing your clothes to the floor to be picked up later. Alessia shamelessly let her eyes ogle your body. You turned to move toward your nightstand, pulling a girthy strap on from the drawer before turning to face the blonde. Alessia’s eyes dropped to the toy in your hand and felt her cunt grow even wetter.

“We can stop if you want,” you offered, not wanting to overstep any boundary.

Alessia shook her quickly, “I don't want to stop,” she croaked out. You nodded with a small smirk as you harnessed the toy around your waist. Alessia felt lightheaded at the sight of you with the strap on between your legs.

You motioned to the bed with your head, letting her get into whatever position she wanted to be fucked in. You bit back a small groan when she crawled onto your bed and stayed on her hands and knees. You moved around the bed to return to the edge before kneeling on the mattress behind her. You ran your hands over her ass, smacking her skin softly as you kneaded the skin.

Alessia whined at the feeling, her head dropping as she stared at the cover of your bed. You slid your hands up to caress her hips, rubbing your thumbs over her back. Alessia waited with bated breath as you moved one hand to the toy between your legs, lifting the tip to her cunt. You pushed the strap into her, your hand returning to her hip as you bottomed out. Alessia gasped at the full feeling, her hips pushing back against you once she was comfortable.

Alessia’s skin felt hot against yours and you took a small intake of air before pulling out some. You snapped your hips against her, your skin slapping against hers as you thrust. Alessia’s arms buckled slightly at your thrusts but her hips pushed back against you with each one. You sped up your movements when loud whines fell from your best friend’s lips, your name never sounding better.

“Fuck,” you huffed as your thrusts became rougher, your head falling back as you closed your eyes. Your eyes were back on Alessia when she moved to rest on her forearms, her hands gripping your cover as continuous whines filled your room. The loud sound of your skin hitting hers and the sound of you fucking her mixed with her moans made your head spin.

“Fuck, Less. You’re taking me so well,” you grunted as squeezed her hips, most likely leaving light bruises in your wake.

Alessia moaned at the praises, her hips faltering as she was close to another orgasm. You kept your pace steady, your hips snapping against her body roughly. “I’m so close! Please-” Her words were taken from her when you hit that particular spot within her, a loud whine taking their place.

You focused on your movements, determined to have her experience one of her best orgasms ever. “Cum for me, Alessia,” you grunted as you railed into her.

With a loud whine, Alessia fell into the mattress she came on your strap. You kept your hips going as you helped her through her orgasm, broken cries from the blonde edged you on to keep going. You fucked into her with the same momentum as before, a third orgasm hitting her as she whimpered.

You pulled out of her slowly, the blonde breathing heavily as you tossed the toy to the floor. You ran your hands up the back of her thighs, up her ass, and over her back in a comforting manner, the blonde’s skin sweaty under your touch.

“You good, Less,” you mumbled into her ear as you leaned over her, placing small kisses along her back. You moved slightly when she rolled over, her fucked out expression became your favorite sight in that moment.

Alessia licked her lips as she nodded, her brain too foggy to form a sentence. You smirked as you lay on your side next to her, one of your hands tracing random shapes along her body. Alessia turned her head to face you, her eyes locking with yours as she leaned up to kiss you. She could faintly taste herself on your lips from earlier as she pushed you onto your back.

You stared at the blonde in shock, you hadn’t expected her to have enough energy to reciprocate, not that you minded. Alessia straddled your thigh and you moaned quietly as you felt her wetness on your skin. She traced a finger down your body and leaned down to kiss you. You moaned into the kiss when she ran her finger through your wet folds, your hips bucking up to meet her finger.

She dipped her finger inside you slowly before pulling it out quickly. You gasped lightly, her finger felt ten times better than yours had felt earlier. Your eyes screwed shut when she pushed two fingers deep inside you, pumping them slowly to edge you closer to your second orgasm that night. You held the cover beneath you tightly as your back arched off the mattress, hips rolling in time with her thrusts.

“L-less,” you stuttered, your head thrown back against your pillows as she fucked you closer to the edge. “P-please,” you begged.

Alessia sped up her fingers as her other hand to rub your sensitive clit. Your body jerked at the feeling, a loud moan falling from your lips as you let go, cumming all over her fingers. Alessia slowed her fingers some before pulling them out of you completely.

Your eyes fell open at the loss of contact and they fell on Alessia as she brought her fingers to her mouth, sucking them into her mouth to taste you. She moaned at the taste, her eyes closing as she licked her fingers clean. You gulped at the sight, desire building once more.

“Fuck, that’s so hot,” you grunted as you sat up, your arms wrapping around her waist to pull her flush against you. You both moaned slightly when your sensitive nipples bumped each other.

Alessia wrapped her arms around your neck, her fingers playing with the baby hairs on the back of your neck. You stared up at her, a look of love clouding your eyes as you smiled at her. Alessia giggled quietly as she gave you a quick kiss but you pulled her into a deeper kiss before she got too far.

“I'm in love with you, Alessia,” you whispered against her lips, a sense of nervousness filled your body despite everything that just happened.

“I’m in love with you too, y/n,” she blushed, a smile on her face as she spoke. You beamed up at her before kissing her once more, though this kiss was softer than the last.

Alessia pulled back with a small yawn, her tiring week mixed with the sex had exhausted her. You cooed with a small smile when you saw her bow her head bashfully. You moved the two of you under the covers, placing a small kiss to her hairline as she curled into you.

“Goodnight, Less,” you whispered against her head as you pulled her close to you. The blonde mumbled a quiet ‘goodnight’ before sleep took over.

You were glad your feelings were out in the open now and the two of you could talk about it more in the morning. But for now, you were content to cuddle Alessia as you both slept, a smile on your face as fell asleep.

#woso x reader #awfc x reader #engwnt x reader #lionesses x reader #alessia russo x reader #alessia russo

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4ranghaes · 9 months ago

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search results for… 보넥도!

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-> ! - requested