#jamal musiala drabbles

[s6lars]

dress.

a harmless prank leaves jamal acting unexpectedly and you're determind to find out why — even if it forces you to get dangerously close. (wc: 7.5k)

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. jm42 x reader, ft. mathys tel

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄. smut — mdni! with a good chunk of plot, jealous brother’s bsf jamal.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. cursing, drinking, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), fingering + more

𝐀/𝐍. requested here, thank you for waiting patiently anon !! this is also my first time writing in months, i'm so terribly sorry that i'm rusty and it might not be my greatest work. but i hope you enjoy ! (also this is not proofread lol)

“Fuck!” you groan, examining the plastic bag in your hands.

“What? What’s wrong?” You chew on on your bottom lip, setting the bag on your thighs where you kneeled on the floor. You pick up your phone, flipping the camera so your friend could see on Facetime.

“They sent me the wrong one.”

Nothing destresses you quite as much as online shopping, and with your finals finished a few days ago, you’d gone crazy on the internet — fitting as much as your cart would allow it. The stack of boxes in your room began to pile as the orders came in one by one, and once they all did, you treated yourself to your own version of Christmas.

“Which one did you get originally?” your friend, Andrea, asks. You’ve been giving her an unboxing of everything you’d bought for yourself, opening packages on your bedroom floor with your speaker blasting Drake in the back.

“I ordered this in green, they gave it to me in black.” 

“Oh. Well, at least it’s the same dress right?” Andrea takes a bite out of the donut she’s eating. “I still think it looks nice.” “Yeah, me too. But I already have, like, 3 other black dresses,” you sigh.

“I think you should still try it on.” “You think?” “Yeah, why not? It’s just in a different color anyway.” Andrea’s right. You’re not really in the mood to go through the hassle of online returns and back-and-forth conversations with the seller. 

You leave your phone on your bedroom floor to get changed off-camera, standing in front of your mirror. The dress feels promising as you pull it out of the bag — it’s strapless, jet black in color with a few cutouts on the side joined by metal rings, exposing your sides. It feels smooth as you slide it on, the stretchy material hugging your curves and the hem stopping on your mid thighs.

“So…” You pick up your phone, showing the dress off to Andrea. “How does it look?”

Andrea gasps in awe, making you giggle at her reaction. “Oh my god, I think I’m liking this one the most so far,” she raves, and you look to the pile of the other dresses you’d bought on your floor.

You adjust the dress, smoothing it out, pulling the hem lower. The dress is gorgeous, hugging you in all the right places. You check yourself out in the mirror, feeling more confident the longer you have it on.

“This is so nice, actually. Who even cares about the color anymore, I’m obsessed,” you gush.

“Mhm. And you can wear it with that purse you bought, and with the gold jewelry as well,” Andrea suggests, and you hum in agreement. As she’s talking, you reach for your water bottle on your nightstand, disappointed when you realize it’s empty. “Hey, I’m gonna fill up my water, give me a sec,” you state, muting yourself and tossing your phone on your bed.

You waltz in the kitchen, bringing your speaker with you, taking advantage of the fact that you’re home alone. You incoherently hum along to SZA, waiting for your bottle to be filled — and a loud noise erupts from behind where you stood.

“BOO!” 

You shriek, body jolting forward, causing some of the water to spill on your dress and your speaker to almost fall loose from your grip.

“What the fu— Oh my god, J.” You’re met with familiar brown eyes as you turned around, seeing Jamal with his hands flat on the kitchen island where he’d slammed them. He giggles at your annoyance. 

To most, Jamal is Bayern’s starboy, a young player dazzling in the world of football. To you, he’s your brother’s best friend, and someone who shows up unannounced to your house a lot. Your older brother Noah works in the industry as an agent, and the two of them met many years ago as teenagers. Now, they’re close as ever — so close, that Noah trusts him enough to give him a spare keycard to your shared apartment.

You met Jamal not long after they hit it off, and you can safely say you’ve also become friends with him now.

Just friends. That’s all you’ll ever be.

Like Noah has stressed multiple times before.

You grab a towel, dabbing the wet spot on your dress. “What do you want, J?”

“Is Noah home?” “No. He went to the gym,” you respond, groaning, making sure your dissatisfaction is heard loud and clear. Once you do, you turn off the obnoxiously loud speaker that prevented you from hearing his entrance. 

“Without me?”

“Yeah, he needed the time alone, clearly,” you snap back, circling around the kitchen island to face him. As you do, Jamal’s eyes trail down your body, your dress now revealed, his face twisting in a mix of confusion and awe. 

“Bit early for a night out, no?” He says, clearly referencing to your dress. He’d be right, it’s only the early evening.

You look down at your dress before meeting his eyes again, seeing him shift uncomfortably. “Who said this was for a night out?”

He cocks his head to the side. “It’s not?”

The devil on your shoulder is telling you to get back at him for almost ruining your dress and breaking your speaker. If he can show up unannounced, why can’t you lie and pull a few strings? “No… it’s for a date.”

You lie straight through your teeth, making up a story as you go. Jamal’s jaw falls slack, like he’s about to say something, but then it closes before he does.

“A… date?” He heard you the first time. He just wants to know if you’re being serious.

And you keep pretending that you are. “Yeah, a date. Why’s that so shocking?” You fold your arms, leaning against the kitchen island.

Jamal pauses. “With who?” While you’re biting the inside of your cheek to prevent yourself from laughing, he’s having none of it. His eyebrows are furrowed, his jaw tense as he questions you.

“With this guy from uni. He’s just so sweet,” you sigh dreamily for dramatic effect, dragging the gimmick as long as you could. “We’ve been talking for a while and now he wants to get serious.” “Serious?” 

“...Yeah. I really think we could be a thing.” Your face falters at Jamal’s deadpan response. You’re only joking with him, but even if you weren’t, why is the mention of a date getting him like this?

You succesfully pulled his strings— but you don’t know if you should be happy or not. Jamal looks at you, almost in offense, and you can practically see the steam coming off of his ears. You’ve known him for a while, and yet this is the first you’ve seen of him like this.

“Tell Noah I’m not hanging out today.” Jamal storms out the kitchen, your mouth falling agape at his reaction. You trail behind him, worried that you took it too far.

“What? No, Jamal wait—” He doesn’t spare a single glance as he marches out the door, slamming it in your face, sending the hinges rattling. You’re frozen in your spot, unable to move or even process what just happened for a few moments before you’re dragging yourself back to your room, still slightly shaken.

You grab your phone and unmute yourself, still seeing Andrea on the line.

“Hey.” 

“Hey, what took you so long?” She notices the startled look in your eyes, sitting up in her bed.

“Sorry. Jamal … came over earlier. It was weird,” you say, slumping against your headboard.

“Weird? Isn’t he your friend? Or a friend of your brother?”

“Yeah, but… well, I—” you exhale, taking the time to string your words properly. “I was joking around, but then he got really upset and stormed out,” you explain.

“What the hell?” “I know. I’ve never seen him that pissed off. Not because of me at least.”

“That’s so weird. All over a joke?” “Yeah.” “What a prick,” Andrea sneers.

“No, don’t say that.” You’re not sure why, but you don’t really want to tell Andrea that the joke in question involved you lying about going on a date. “Hey, I gotta go. Bye.” 

You abruptly end the call carelessly tossing your phone aside. Now that you’re alone, you stare at the ceiling, finally having the time to process the interaction. The mood has shifted now. An inkling creeps into your thoughts as to why Jamal got so defensive, but you shrug it off, terrified of its consequences, terrified it would manifest.

“It’s probably nothing,” you mumble to yourself. But is it? You’re tossing and turning in bed because something is telling you that it’s not just nothing, and you have to find out for yourself.

You have to talk to Jamal.

“You’re up early.”

Stopping in your tracks, you turn around to see Noah splayed on the living room couch, working on his laptop.

You take a sip from your mug, setting it down on the coffee table before replying. “And you’re home for once.”

Noah gets exceptionally busy during the transfer window. You’ve been getting used to spending weeks home alone, or only catching him in the early mornings or coming in late at night, but almost never when the sun was out. Part of you thinks it’s not just work that’s been holding up, though.

“You know how busy I get in January,” Noah says. He squints as he watches you sit adjacent to him, putting on your socks and shoes. “And where are you headed?”

You pause. “Just going on a walk.”

Noah doesn’t need to know that the walk in question is en route to Jamal’s house.

Last night, you went to bed uneasy, hoping you could sleep it off. You woke up this morning and nothing had changed, and that’s when you decided you had to talk to Jamal immediately or you’d explode by midday. Noah being home wasn’t part of your plans.

He’s always been a little protective, as all older brothers are to their sisters. You vividly recall when you first met Jamal at one of his infamous house parties— alone in the kitchen, getting drinks for your friends when he strolled in, starting a conversation. It was an instant connection, with you finding yourself taking your sweet time just to keep talking to him.

Of course, Noah barged in at one point, throwing his arm around you and escorting you out of the kitchen himself, not before interrogating you on your conversation with Jamal.

Although he’s loosened up since, you know Noah would start getting skeptical if you told him you were headed to Jamal’s place first thing in the morning. But what Noah doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

“Right, bye.” Just as you stand up to leave, Noah interrupts.

“Wait! Can you get some sandwiches from the café when you come back? Thanks!” 

“As long as you pay me back!” you chime, already halfway out the door.

The walk to Jamal’s place is a rare but not unfamiliar one. You live not too far away, and there have been countless times where you had to pick Noah up after a night out, so you knew the way well. You could’ve taken your car, but you decided you need the extra time for yourself, deciding on a walk.

You’re not really sure what you’re getting out of this. Your mind fluctuates between feeling like this is the right thing to do and the urge to turn back and buy those sandwiches Noah was talking about earlier.

But you never do, and now you’re standing in front of his doorway.

Unlike with your house, Jamal’s never given you a spare set of keys so you can waltz into his at any given moment. You take a deep breath before ringing the doorbell, your heart beating out of your chest as you do.

Silence. You ring the doorbell a few more times, hearing the soft pattering of footsteps behind the door. 

You fix your hair and adjust your clothes, awaiting Jamal’s arrival. 

Instead, you’re met with the sight of a woman when the door swings open.

A half-naked woman.

She looks slightly older than you, dressed in only a sports bra and sweats, her hair tussled like she just woke up. You’re both looking at each other up and down, confused. This is the first you two have seen of each other.

“Can I help you?” She’s the first to break the silence. You reluctantly meet her gaze. There’s a weird territorial atmosphere lingering between you two, like the person standing before you shouldn’t be here.

“Uh, I’m looking for Jamal,” you say, your voice coming out a lot shakier than you anticipated. A pit continues to grow in your stomach. You probably should have turned back home when you had the chance.

“Oh, he’s in the shower.”

Your heart drops. You’re not an idiot, and you’re no child— you can put two and two together. Neither is Jamal, and you know he probably hooks up with someone whenever he gets the chance. But why does that bother you so much? And why are you only feeling this way now?

You’re lost in your thoughts, and the woman waves a hand in front of your face, trying to pull you back to reality.. “Did you need anything? He’ll probably take a while.”

You shake your head, already getting ready to take off. “Just tell him I was joking yesterday.”

“Huh?” Turning around on your heels, you leave the woman hanging, walking away from the door. Whatever you were expecting to happen when you got to Jamal’s place, it surely isn’t this.

You glare straight ahead, not caring for whoever you bumped into. All you knew was just in that moment, you had to get as far away as possible from Jamal’s house. And so you did, marching as far as your legs would take you, until beads of sweat ran down your temples and your breathing turned heavy.

Maybe Noah was right in trying to put some distance between you two.

Meanwhile, Jamal dries himself off with a towel as he leaves his bathroom. He walks into the kitchen to grab some breakfast, passing by his front door, seeing the girl he picked up last night standing by.

She hears his footsteps as he comes down the stairs, turning to face him. “Morning, baby,” she coos, putting on the best lovey-dovey voice she could muster.

Jamal winces at the remark. “I’ll get you a taxi after you shower,” he replies, walking right past her and into the kitchen. The girl rolls her eyes, groaning silently. She doesn’t know why she keeps trying to get closer to him when all they’re doing this for is sex.

“Some girl came over while you were in the shower, by the way,” she brazenly states, hoping to get his attention for once. 

“Who?” “Like I know. She just came by and asked if you were here, and then told me to tell you that she was just joking yesterday?”

It works. Jamal stops dead in his tracks. “And what did she look like?” The girl starts describing how you looked from the short appearance you made earlier. The more she speaks, she sees the gears turning in Jamal’s head as he puts two and two together, ultimately realizing that you had gone all the way to his house just to talk to him.

He looks at the girl before him. She came all the way to his house, probably to apologize, just to be met with one of his random hookups who he barely even spoke to outside his bedroom.

Jamal’s eyes widen in realization at how horribly he’d fucked up, abandoning his breakfast and rushing back up the stairs.

“Where are you going? Who is she?” The girl asks, waving her hand to get his attention, though all her calls are ignored as he shoves his way into his room to go looking for his phone, unplugging it from where it was charging on his nightstand.

His fingers rapidly dart across the screen as he types out a message, a desperate attempt at reaching you before it was too late.

[07:42] jamal: did you come over earlier? [07:43] jamal: i promise it’s not what it looks like [07:43] jamal: we can talk if you want to [07:43] jamal: just the two of us

Your phone buzzes four seperate times as you stand in line at the café down the street from your apartment building. Sometime during your walk, Noah had transferred some money into your account for both breakfast and you figured you needed the distraction.

It didn’t last long as you pulled your phone from your pocket, seeing the notifications from Jamal poured in. You shut your eyes, collecting your emotions before you shoved it back in, fixing your hair in frustration.

Out of sight, out of mind. Jamal got his chance when you were at his doorstep, willing, and he you weren’t about to give him a second. The fact that he thinks you would sets something off in you.

He watches as his texts stay on delivered. Deep down, he knows you read them through your lockscreen, and now you were choosing to deliberately ignore him. He stares at the screen in defeat, before another text comes in.

[08:01] noah: you’re coming over tomorrow night yeah?

The party. Noah had invited him and some other players to hang out before the season started, a tradition that’s persisted in the friend group for years. It’s hosted at his place this time around, a golden oppportunity.

Jamal has to talk to you.

For the first time in his life, Jamal regrets going to a party.

He’s used to having a blast, used to being the man in any room he walks into, instantly greeted by faces both familiar and unfamiliar, desperate to show him around— desperate to be seen with him.

Now, he throws his head back agains the wall of Noah’s living room, drink in hand, asking himself why he even left the house today.

Jamal arrived extra early to his friend’s place, hoping to catch you in a moment alone before it got busy. To his dismay, Noah informed him that you’d been out since the morning. Then he had to help him clean. A total nightmare.

He’s not so sure if you knew he was coming today, or just so happened to not be at home. Whatever the reasoning, he’d rather not have turned up altogether had you not been here.

While he’s drinking away his sorrows, you’re pushing him out of your mind as you spent the day with your friends. Shopping, going to the spa, more shopping, bar hopping— it was a perfect day.

Your smile quickly faded when you came home and was greeted with a crowd of men in your living room.

“Hey! You’re home,” Noah greets, pulling you into a hug. He gives you a look of guilt as he sees your eyes squint in confusion, knowing he didn’t tell you he was inviting people over.

“I know, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. But I figured you’d be out the whole day!” he reasons. 

“You’re so fucking annoying, I hope you know that,” you sneer, and Noah can’t fight back. You scan the crowd, seeing a few familiar faces. If it wasn’t for them, you would have cussed him out right then and there.

He knows you’re tired from going out all day, he knows you just want to rest. “Okay, listen, this isn’t anything crazy, we’re just gonna drink and talk, no loud music or inviting more people. It’s just my friends.”

Friends. You scan the crowd once more. If Noah ever mentions anything about friends, one person is almost always involved.

Jamal. You lock eyes with him, he’s been staring at you from across the room since you walked in the door. There’s a mix of anger, frustration and yearning brewing in your chest. You want to shove him down a flight of stairs. You also want to run into his arms. It’s complicated.

Noah shoves a can of beer in your hands, and you finally look away from Jamal. “Here, take this. Loosen up,” he says before leaving. You sip away your unwanted emotions and wince like it stings going down. 

Knowing Jamal is here and with the intention of talking to you sparks an idea in your brain, washing a boost of confidence over your body. He can’t look away from you and you know it, and you had to take this chance in sending him a message.

Your message comes in the form of a youngster sitting on the living room couch.

“Mathys!” You approach him, arms wide to pull him in for a hug that seems a little too friendly in Jamal’s eyes. He grips his glass harder.

“Hey! When did you come in?” he asks, and you sit next to him, grazing your thigh against his. You take a big swig from the can, needing the extra tenacity.

“Not too long ago.” You start talking to Mathys about your day, striking up a normal conversation. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch glimpses of Jamal glancing at you from time to time. It’s not enough. You want him to feel the way you did when you showed up on his doorstep the other day.

Mathys was happily recounting his encounter with some rapper he’d crossed paths with when you put your hand on his leg, rubbing his thigh up and down. You leaned in to his ear, covering your mouth to avoid Jamal from reading your lips. He jumps slightly at the motion, you’re never this close to him.

“Can I tell you something?” He nods, scared but intrigued.

“I’m trying to piss Jamal off. Will you help me?” Similarly to Jamal, you and Mathys have always been close friends. He’s younger than you, so you’ve always viewed him like a little brother more than anything, but that’s not to say you don’t appreciate his company. You knew he would definitely be down to help you tonight.

Mathys pulls away, searching deep in your eyes for certainty. He discovers you’re serious.

A smirk plays on his face as he nods slowly to himself. He’s not stupid, he quickly pieces things together. If he’s being honest, he’s always known something was going on between you and Jamal anyway. “Alright, alright. Deal.” “Deal, yeah? If anything I do gets too far, just tell me,” you assure.

“Oh, don’t worry, it’ll be worth it in the end. Do what you must,” he says, winking.

It didn’t take long for the ball to start rolling. It starts off innocent — you laugh just a little too loud at one of his jokes, planting your palm on his chest as you do, playing with your hair. The small gesture has Jamal shifting uncomfortably where he stood.

It wasn’t enough.

You pull out your phone, asking Mathys if he wants a picture. He extends one arm behind you on the couch, leaning into you. Wrapping his shoulders with your free arm, you pushed your heads together, scooting closer to him, to the point where your legs were folded over his thighs. Jamal knows what you’re doing now, and it’s driving him to insanity. Yet, he stands there, unmoving.

It wasn’t enough.

The final straw came from Mathys. You tipped your drink as far back as you could, trying to get the last few sips from the can. A few stray drops landed on the corner of your mouth instead, dribbling down your chin as you raised your hand below it to make it stop. 

He reaches over to catch the beer with his thumb, cupping your face, gently swiping your lips.

Jamal storms out of the living room.

Mathys takes his hand off of you immediately afterwards, and you two share a laugh, feeling achieved. “Well, he’s really pissed now,” he remarks.

“Good.”

He glances at you in curiousity at your deadpan, sly response. He had fun doing this whole tidbit with you, but he doesn’t even know why you’re doing it in the first place. “What’d he even do to you for you to do this?”

“Long story,” you say it in a way that lets him know you’re not going to go into further detail. You stand up from the couch, bag in hand. “I’ll be in my room. Thanks Mathys, that was fun.” He winks at you, clicking his tongue in response.

You made the walk to you room with your head held high in victory. The message you were delivering was definitely heard by Jamal, loud and clear. He’s not the only one that gets to mess around with whoever he wants. 

You kick your heels off, throwing your bag on the floor and plopping down on the bed, scrolling on your phone. Tossing and turning, you ended up curled with your back facing the door, and that’s when it barges open.

“Hey.” You turn around, it’s Noah. You go back to scrolling on your phone.

“What do you want?” “I’m not gonna be at home tonight, yeah? Most of the guys already left anyway. Just wanted to let you know,” he says, rambling. “It’s just, work stuff…” You roll your eyes. Noah’s always been bad at keeping secrets, especially when it involves girls.

“Yes Noah, I’ll be fine alone while you go spend the night with that girl you met in Berlin. We all know you like her.” You don’t even have to look at Noah to know his mouth had fallen slack, the words being ripped from his throat.

“Man. That bad, huh?” Noah chuckles. “Alright, I’m leaving. Bye,” he says, shutting the door behind him.

A few minutes pass as you lied there unmoving. still scrolling through your feed when the door opens a second time. You hear the hinge creak open and the click of the knob as the person enters your room without saying a word.

You sit up straight, looking behind you. “Mathys? Is that y—” It’s Jamal. Daggers shoot from his eyes, watching you roll your eyes and go back to using your phone.

“What do you want, Jamal?” you groan. The fact that you’re not calling him by his usual nickname, not bothering to even spare a glance has his face contorting.

“Since when have you and Mathys been that close?” His voice is deep, interrogative, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t tense up at his tone, chills arising through your body.

You build up the courage to face him properly, sitting on the edge of your bed. “Why should I tell you about the people I’m hanging out with?”

“Hanging out?” he spits in disbelief, vitriol laced in his words.

“Yeah! Hanging out, Jamal, what’s so wrong about that? Huh?” you exclaim. You can’t believe the sheer hypocrisy in his words. “You’re one to judge, at least I was only talking to Mathys anyway.” “He had his hand around your neck and he was just gawking at your body the whole time, don’t act stupid!” he snaps back, raising his hands and dropping them to his sides.

You jump onto your feet. “At least I don’t go around fucking other girls as soon as one of them stops giving me attention!” Jamal’s eyes widen, offended. You both know what you were referring to.

“You told me you were going on a date with someone! You said he was the one — how the fuck was I supposed to know you were joking?!” He takes a few steps closer.

You struggle to find the right response, your mouth periodically opening and closing. He’s got a point. You hate that he does. “You didn’t even give me the chance to explain myself! You just stormed out of the house!”

“Yeah, of course! After hearing you say that, of course I did!” “Why?!” you ask, watching his eyes go wide, his mouth shut, unable (or maybe not wanting) to respond. “Tell me why.” Now it’s you who takes a step closer, and Jamal’s at arms length, causing you to look up at him as you speak.

He says nothing back. 

You scoff, shaking your head in disbelief.

“That’s what I thought,” you mumble. You move past him, lightly bumping your shoulders together as you do to convey your anger. You need to get a drink from the kitchen, and hopefully by the time you come back, Jamal will be gone.

Just as your fingers graze the doorknob, a strong grip gets a hold of your arm. It all happened so fast. One second you were facing the door, the next — your back hit the wall, and Jamal’s lips were on yours.

The kiss was hungry, one of Jamal’s hands on the back of your head, tilting it to kiss you deeper, the other on your waist. Your arms naturally wrapped around his neck, scratching the back of his head, pulling him closer.

One of Jamal’s knees slipped between your legs, rubbing against your crotch. A breathy moan escaped your lips, allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth, meeting yours. It was a messy, desperate kiss — a clash of teeth and tongue, Jamal making up with his lips what he can’t with his voice.

Jamal runs his hands up and down your dress. Your dress — it’s the same one you wore a few days ago, when you first got into the argument. It’s driving him crazy and you know it, it’s evident in the way he trails his mouth lower to your neck and down to your exposed cleavage.

“Jl,” you whine, teetering on a plea. He presses his forehead against yours, watching your eyes trained on him, your lipstick smeared and loose strands flying from your hair. He don’t think he’s ever seen anything more beautiful.

“This dress looks so good on you.” It’s all he can say before he’s kissing you again, a lot softer this time around.

“Mhm. Wore it just for you,” you breathe in between kisses. “Now take it off, please.” Your voice, your words, they rush straight to his cock. 

“Jump,” he instructs, and you do. Jamal walks over to your bed, plopping you on the soft pillows, his lips moulding against yours the whole time. He presses kisses lower on your neck, sucking, biting, being sure to leave a trail of purple marks for to blossom tomorrow morning.

Jamal takes the cut of your dress in his hands, pulling the fabric down, groaning at the sight of you without a bra. He wastes no time in swirling his tongue around your sensitive bud, causing you to throw your head back, wrapping your legs around his waist. He sucks and pulls with his teeth, moulding the other with his hands before switching, grinding down on your clothed core.

Once he’s satisified, he takes one last look at your tits — now glossy with his spit and marked purple, before climbing lower down your body. He bunches the material of your dress up your waist, exposing your panties to him.

Jamal takes hold of your legs, pressing a kiss to your crotch, smirking when your back arches, whining at the contact. 

“Fuck, don’t tease, please.” Your hand pushes his head closer to where you’re dripping, where you want him the most.

Jamal chuckles at your desperation, hooking his fingers in the waistband of your panties, pulling them down and tossing them carelessly aside. He spreads your lips, cursing under his breath when he sees the string of wetness that’s accumulated.

“You’re soaked,” he says, planting delicate kisses to the inside of your thighs, intently watching how you jolt at each one.

“Jamal, please.” He loves it when you beg. 

“Shh, I know, baby.” And he finally licks one long strip up your pussy, relishing in the way a moan is punched from your lips. You’re lucky your brother is out for the night, because he’s certain it can be heard through the walls.

He plants a few more kisses before spreading your lips, delving his tongue in your hole. Your thighs clamp shut around his head, but his strength pries them open. He alternates between fucking you with his tongue and sucking your clit, swirling figure-eights on it.

You’re a writhing mess, your throat dry from moaning and calling his name over and over. Jamal never wants to stop hearing the pretty noises you make.

He continues to push his tongue in your cunt, using his thumb to circle your clit, doubling the pleasure. He explores your walls, finding the spongy spot that punches a particularly loud moan from your throat.

“Fuck! Don’t—ah—don’t stop,” you beg, and Jamal is happy to oblige. He moans into your pussy, the vibrations rushing through your body. He feels you get wetter by the second, your juices coating his mouth and running down the sheets.

Your breathing is short and erratic, your fingers tugging at his hair as your orgasm washes over you, cumming all over Jamal’s mouth. He licks the slick running down your inner thighs, pressing some final few kisses to your clit before hovering over you, meeting your eyes.

The sight of Jamal above you is nothing short of glorious — his chin glossy from your juices, his eyes blown out and his lips plump and swollen. He can say the same for you below him, once snappy and sarcastic now panting and ruined.

You cup his cheek, adorlingly gazing into his eyes before tasting yourself on his tongue. He takes your wrists, one by one, pinning them above your head with one hand.

“Need to make sure you can take me, baby,” he coos. “Is that okay?” You nod rapidly. You’d say yes to anything if he asked.

Jamal chuckles, his free hand trailing lower down your body and finding your clit. You’re still sensitive from your last orgasm, bucking up into his hand when he does.

“J—oh.” He slips a finger into your cunt, watching the way your eyes roll to the back of your head and your jaw falls agape as you do. He pumps slowly at first, feeling your pinned hands try to escape his grip, but he pushes them down harder.

After a few moments, he slips another one in, filling you with two digits. “Shit,” you whine, closing your eyes shut.

“You can take it, yeah?” he asks. 

“Mhm, I can take more, a lot more.” Jamal feels his cock throb in his pants, desperate to be freed. He picks up the pace, and you squirm beneath him, taking your bottom lip in your teeth.

Jamal pushes deeper, curling his fingers inside your walls. Every time he fucks into you, his palm rubs against your clit, only adding to the pleasure. Once he finds your sweet spot, he relentlessly goes faster, chasing your second orgasm.

“Oh my god, fuck,” you blabber, unable to focus on anything else than the feeling of Jamal’s fingers.

“Hey, look at me,” he instructs, and eyes shoot open on instinct, seeing his brown eyes bore into yours.

“Want to see how you look when you cum.” 

You struggle in keeping your eyes open but do so to the best of your ability, your chest heaving up and down as your moans get more sporadic. Jamal is lost in your eyes, his wrist starting to tire from his movements. After one rough push of his hands, shockwaves rippling through your body as your second orgasm washes over you.

Slick runs down your thighs, onto the bedsheets and on Jamal’s wrist. He pulls out, causing you to whimper at the loss of contact before he licks them clean, tasting every last drop. Jamal sits up on his heels and you follow suit, kneeling in front of him. You grab the hem of his shirt, quickly pushing it up and over his head, exposing his torso. You’re entranced by his physique, trailing your nails down his chest and abs. His hand cups your cheek, pulling you into a kiss.

“Fuck me, J,” you plead in between kisses, and how could he say no?

“Get on all fours.” You flip over, arching your back, hanging your ass in the air for him. You hear the clink of his belt as he pulls down his trousers, watching from over your shoulder.

“I told you to take my dress off,” you remind him, lightening the mood a bit. You have to stifle back a moan as he spreads your ass, pulling you flush against the shape of his bulge, lowly moaning when he does. 

Jamal pauses for a moment. “Nah.” He pulls his boxers down, taking his cock in his hands, hard and throbbing, jerking himself off before aligning the tip with your pussy.

“Wanna fuck you in it.” 

He slides his cock up and down your slit before pushing into you in one long stroke. A long moan is drawn from your throat as your head drops, feeling him slowly stretch you out, stopping until his pelvis was flush with your ass. 

It takes a few moments for you to adjust to his size, hearing Jamal whisper soft praises as he grips your hips, rolling his slowly to help. Once you do, he pulls back out, only living the tip in your cunt, before slamming back in and finding a rhythm.

“Shit,” you spit through a mix of moans and curses, feeling him push into you over, and over, and over. After a particulary rough snap of his hips, your elbows give out under you, causing you to bury your face in the sheets, arching your back harder.

“God, you’re so fucking perfect.” You hear Jamal breathe from behind you. His eyes are trained on where you’re taking him raw, seeing the glossy sheen coat his shaft, glowing underneath your bedroom lights.

His hands are rough where he gropes, alternating between bunching your dress up higher, spreading your ass and gripping your hips, slamming you against him harder. 

Jamal pulls you up to his chest, one hand loosely hanging around your neck. You can barely process the change of position until you feel his bare chest flush against your back.

His lips curl into a smirk, watching your mouth slightly open, the filthiest of sounds pouring out into his ears, spit welling in its corners. Your eyes struggle to stay open, your head lulling on his shoulder.

“Don’t—ah—don’t stop, please,” you blabber, drunk on his hips snapping up into you. 

Jamal plants a featherlight kiss on your temple. “Never.” He plants another. “So good, so good for me.”

He moulds his lips against yours, a messy clash of teeth and tongue. You struggle to kiss back, only whining into his mouth.

The knot in your stomach grows tighter by the second, your moans getting increasingly higher pitched by the second, your face contorting in pleasure. You’re close, Jamal knows it too.

“I’m close, fuck.” You reach out to him behind you, trying to lock him in place so he doesn’t stop. Not like he was planning on it, anyway.

Jamal twitches inside you, and you know he’s close too. His thrusts get sloppier, more sporadic, chasing your high before his own.  “Cum for me, go on,” he coos, lips ghosting over your earlobe. 

He reaches around your torso, his fingers finding your clit, circling figure-eights. It’s all it takes for your orgasm to wash over you in waves, sending your thighs shaking. Jamal doesn’t stop, he fucks you through it all, pressing kisses on your neck and shoulder, fingers still trained between your thighs. Jamal pulls out, causing you to hiss at the sudden sensation of being empty. You’re spent, chest heaving and sticky with sweat, but you still find the energy to turn around, facing him. He’s jerking himself off in his hands, his cock red and throbbing, begging for a release.

You look up at him with mischievous eyes, his own watching your every move. You pull your dress up and over your head, leaving yourself bare in front of him, sitting on your heels.

Jamal kneels high above you, groaning when he watches you push your tits together, inviting him closer. His head tips back when you stick your tongue out, kitten licking the tip of his cock, tasting the precum dripping from its head.

Strings of white liquid are painted across your chest as Jamal cums, shuddering. You feel some hit your chin, darting your tongue to get a taste, never breaking eye contact.

He cups your chin, pressing his lips onto yours, leaving chaste kisses. You both stay like that for a while, lazily making out, smiling against each other’s lips.

Jamal plants one final kiss before pulling away. “Stay here, I’ll get you cleaned up.” He walks in your bathroom, leaving with a towel and a water bottle he’d found somewhere not long after. 

You let him gently swipe the towel against your chest, his hand on your shoulder, his thumb rubbing back and forth against your skin. While you two sat in silence, it wasn’t an awkward one, far from it. It was comforting. It felt familiar, this domesticity. It felt natural.

You don’t say anything when he pulls you to lay on his chest. You don’t say anything when he pulls the blanket over you two, turning off the lights. You just focus on his heartbeat.

A throbbing headache has been your alarm these past few mornings, and today is no different.

The sunlight spills through the cracks in your curtains, bleeding through your shut eyelids. You slowly ease into consciousness, sitting up and rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand.

The first thing that hits you is the cold. A shiver runs through your body, instinctively pulling the blanket closer to you.

The second thing that hits you is your lack of clothes. You blink away the drowsiness, examining yourself, completely bare. Peculiar, but not unfamiliar.

The third thing that hits you is the weight on the opposite side of your bed when you yank the comforter. Your eyes widen at the sight of an undressed Jamal, blanket only covering so much, stirring awake next to you. His toned abs in full display, glowing golden in the sunlight.

It doesn’t take long for your brain to floor your memories of recollections from last night. You wince, face scrunching in disbelief as the images flashed in your head one by one.  What were you thinking?

You bend down to grab the first article of clothing you could find — Jamal’s shirt. Not ideal but it’ll do. You put it on to cover yourself, standing up with the plan of getting as far away from him as possible.

A strong grip on your arm stops your plans. 

Jamal calls your name, voice gruff and thick with the early morning. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy the sound.

“Where are you headed?” he asks, adoringly.

No. This is wrong. You can’t think of him that way, someone who’s supposed to be irrevocably off-limits — so you get right to the point.

“Jamal.” His eyebrows furrow at the sound of you calling his full name. You’re never in a good mood when you do. “This, this cant… we can’t…” You watch him look up at you like he was expecting this from a mile away. 

With one pull, he tugs you back in bed, causing you to sit on his lap, albeit not fully. You don’t want to run away from him, deep down you know you don’t, and he knows that too. 

“Why? You scared of Noah?” 

You’re not sure how to respond.

“This isn’t even, I mean, we’re not even…” you struggle to string the right words together.

Jamal cups your cheek and you melt into his touch. Your words say one thing but your body suggests another. 

“I like you, I really do. I know I didn’t get the chance to say it last night,” he assures. You feel your cheeks heat at the sudden confession. “I don’t want to see you with someone else. I don’t want to act like I’m perfectly fine when you bring up some other guy.” You look deep into his eyes with a look that says, me too. After last night you knew you and Jamal would never be the same, for better or for worse. You pick the former.

“And especially not Mathys, Jesus.” You chuckle, finally lightening up. “Out of all the people you wanted to use to make me jealous, you chose him. Blegh.”

The giggles leaving your chest are unabashed the second time around. “Well, it worked, didn’t it?”

“Yeah, and it sucked.” Jamal’s palm lets go of your face, dropping down to take your hand in his. He resumes to his original point. “I want this, okay? I want to wake up next to you every morning. I want to see you in my shirt every day,” he says while fumbling with the hem of his shirt hanging off your frame. 

“I want you.” 

You wrap an arm around his shoulder, pulling him in closer, this time properly sitting on his lap. “Never took you for such a romantic, J.” 

He stifles in a laugh, pressing his forehead against yours before closing the gap. You’re finally his.

[disastrouscarrots]

[wusiala drabble] Anchorage

[NSFW]

word count: 533

tags: [thought son in a parking lot] [bottom!jamal] [top!flo]

synopsis: His world-view has narrowed down and he can only imagine the dip of Flo's shoulders under the training shirt he put on after a quick shower.

alt summary: stronk arm stretched out and nice muscles on display. bambi brain go haywire.

special shoutout to @phemestial for amazing situational dialogue prowess <3

.start

.°•`.*-☆-⚓-☆-⚓-☆

Jamal first notices when he is in the passenger seat of Florian's car. His rear view cam broke down. Flo is manually reversing the car out of parking lot when he does the classic backing manuever - one arm on steering wheel, one arm on Jamal's seat over his head.

He is positioning himself to look out the back of the car and in doing so leaning towards Jamal. By a lot.

Jamal can't help but turn his head slightly towards Flo (he's just a boy) - the sharp cut of his jawline, the scruff he's too proud to shave off, the strong lines of his neck, the turn of his body, outlines of his muscles, legs pulled apart lazily but manning the brakes with precision.

He can smell the undertone of Flo's cologne. Layered now by the synthetic scent of rubber, grass from the training pitch and a hint of shower gel.

He tilts his head more to where Flo has his arm around his seat and oh god, there are veins, on an arm, attached to a shoulder that looks like it'd be all hard muscle under his palms.

(it is, he knows)

The shoulders that serve as anchor he holds onto when his body is pliant on the soft hotel beds. When Flo's brows are furrowed and green eyes focused under a layer of mist. Jamal wants to reach out and smoothen out the crease between Flo's eyebrows when Flo hits that particular spot that makes Jamal wanna drag his calves along the duvet, curl his toes, tip his head backwards or dive further into the pillow, sensitive neck skin exposed either way. His plans halter. He grips Flo's shoulders tighter, fingers trailing along his triceps with each spasm.

Or when Flo has positioned himself against the headboard of the bed in Jamal's stuttgart apartment. Him on Flo's lap, soft like velvet in his grip.

It's crazy. Florian's shoulders very often serve as the support that keeps him grounded during their endeavors, when his body is being worshipped like that - but only today he is brought to sudden acknowledgement. His world-view has narrowed down and he can only imagine the dip of Flo's shoulders under the training shirt he put on after a quick shower.

It's a miracle Jamal doesn't let out some obscene sound then and there. That would be so embarrassing. His mouth is agape though, pink lips slightly apart.

Maybe Flo will see what a mess he is when he is done reversing out of their parking spot, maybe Jamal will regain his composure, stop the blush spreading all over his body, put his training bag over his lap and suffer silently in the passenger seat with his thoughts and himself.

He sucks in a quite breath when Flo turns to shift the gear.

They're pulling out of the parking lot but Jamal can still feel the ghost of Flo's arm around his headrest.

"Seat belt on" Flo chirps, looking onto the driveway ahead.

Jamal nods. Fiddles for his seat belt. Does florian even notice a SPECK of his inner turmoil? Probably not, it's better that way.

His throat feels dry.

He is so whipped and eternally doomed.

⚓-☆-⚓-☆-⚓-☆.°•`.*

end.

tldr; have you ever noticed flo has some unfairly wide muscly shoulders? yea those are for jamal to hold onto when they're fucking

[i4bellingham]

“You have very beautiful lashes...”

Jamal looks down at you who was laid on his chest, a fond smile creeping on his lips before he moves to stow his phone away.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.” To prove your point, you move further upwards, placing your face nearly close to his and though this gave you a vantage point to observe his beautiful eyes even further, this also gave Jamal the opportunity to appreciate and rever your beauty up close.

He reaches a finger to poke your cheek, chuckling when you made a playful move of biting his fingers off.

“I literally have to get eyelash extensions for my lashes to look good but yours are all natural.” You pout, tenderly caressing the skin of his under eyes. “I’m jealous-”

“But you're beautiful.”

“And so are you.”

Your boyfriend huffs, jokingly rolling his eyes at your immediate response.

“You’re beautiful both inside and out.”

You counter his remarks almost immediately. “But so are you. You're very beautiful but you're also very kind and respectful and incredibly caring and loving not only to me but even to your friends and family-”

Jamal catches your lips with his for a soft kiss completely cutting you off as he gently holds your jaw on his palm, nibbling against your lower lip before trailing his kisses down to your jaw and neck.

He smiles against your skin when he felt you sighing out a breath, relocating one of his hands to grab your waist. He lets his palm linger above your shirt as he coaxes your mouth to open up, sliding his tongue to mingle with yours when you did, he slowly slips his hand inside your shirt and rubbing it up and down your spine. The motion was still present even when the both of you had to break the kiss from the lack of air, foreheads touching as you both heaved in deep breaths of air.

“Bloody hell babe just let me compliment you, yeah?”

You chuckle, nodding your head wordlessly before you're pecking his lips for the last time, laying next to him right after.

“You always do that though, sometimes even going extra mile to get your thoughts across.” You tell him, turning your body to face him. You watch as the golden light from the bedside lamp kiss his features, making him appear more angelic underneath the artificial light. He has always been so beautiful, pity that not everyone can see that.

Jamal kisses your forehead before he's wrapping an arm around your torso, pulling you close to him.

“And I will do it... every morning, every evening, everyday... until you get tired of me and my tackiness.”

“I don’t think that's possible.”

He furrows his brows. “What? You think I can't do it?”

“I don’t think me getting tired of you is possible.” You shake your head, stifling your laugh when Jamal's eyes widen by a fraction, mouth hanging open before he too shakes his head, an amused smile on his lips.

“Well I do seriously hope that you don’t.” He rubs your back, leaning his head against yours as he whispers his next words. “I still wanna marry you someday, mein Schatz.”

a/n: here's a short drabble for musiala to kick off my future posts for him !! 🤩

[cher-rei]

Heyy girlll, loved your last Musiala drabble. Could you maybe write another one where reader gets really jealous and Jamal eventually notice and just teases her ?

the boy is mine– jamal musiala [ J.M ]

the boy is mine, I can't wait to try him [the boy is mine– ariana grande]

pairing: jamal musiala x fem!reader

summary: the new intern seemed a little touchy and you felt the need to put her in her place.

genre(s): take a guess... (fluff!)

[w.c: 1.4k] masterlist

notes: *giggles*

jamal was having one of his best practices yet as you watched from your spot in the stands. you wore a proud smile as he deftly maneuvered the ball past the defenders and scored, looking to you with a puppy-like smile to see if you noticed.

when you called to say that your lecture ended early and that you'd be joining him for practice today, he was ecstatic. he loved the opportunity to show off whenever he could and you were more than happy to cheer him on in whatever he did.

you always said that watching jamal play was a privilege and that it was an experience like no other, and were filled with pride knowing that you got to experience it first hand. however, your pride was mixed with annoyance today as you noticed hannah, one of the new physio interns, being a bit too enthusiastic every time he did something impressive.

you noticed how she would stand a bit closer to him than everyone else, giving him pats on the back, high fives, and once, even a playful shove. your annoyance grew with each interaction and you tried to brush it off, but it was hard when hannah was hovering over jamal like a bee around honey.

perhaps she was the main reason you showed up to practice... for the past two weeks jamal had mentioned her a few times, saying that she was so helpful and always offered to help when he needed. to you it was obvious what her objective was, but your boyfriend was oblivious. so instead of calling it out, you decided to see her in action.

with your jaw clenched you sat back in your seat, your attention on the girl who was well aware of your presence and who you were. she even had the gull to smile at you, but there was nothing genuine about it or her competitive glare.

eventually, jamal jogged up to you, his face glowing in excitement. "baby! did you see that last goal?"

the annoyance still evident in your demeanor, you forced a smile with your arms crossed. "yeah, you're doing amazing, sweetheart."

jamal wasn't an idiot, he noticed your tense posture and uninterested look immediately. he leant over on the barricade to get closer to you, a look of worry on his face. "is everything okay? wh--"

he was abruptly cut off by the call of his name. an annoyed groan left his lips at his coach calling him over but he made sure to reassure you that he'd be back. you couldn't suppress the smile tugging at your lips and nodded, watching as he hurried over to his coach, once again leaving you alone.

it wasn't long before that empty presence was filled by none other than hannah herself. she leisurely made her way over to the barricade near you but didn't say anything, instead her attention was on jamal. you couldn't help but look at the back of her head in confusion, wondering what she was trying to do.

eventually, she turned to look at you, her smile in place but her eyes evaluating every inch of you. "hi, I'm hannah. you must be jamal's friend."

it took every single nerve and muscle in your body to stop you from jumping over the barricade and gauging her eyes out. she knew what she was doing, and at some point that annoyance died down and was replaced with shock. you wondered where the hell she got the audacity from to be so blatantly idiotic.

you poked your tongue into the corner of your cheek and nodded. "girlfriend. I'm his girlfriend."

with that, she didn't say anything and just laughed. what the hell was she laughing for??the two of you held your gazes, but all you could think of was how she thought this was a competition. you couldn't blame her for her little crush on jamal, it was understandable. but it was the fact that she thought that she had even a slight chance.

bless him for not having any idea that she was hitting on him. it genuinely made you feel better, knowing that he couldn't care less but this girl was stubborn by the look in her eyes. but she didn't know who you were— not in the slightest and you were more than open to watch her shoot her shot.

you wanted to see how far she could get, but you knew that jamal only had eyes for you. he was yours. and you planned on having it that way for the rest of your lives.

when jamal came back, you didn't even spare him a glance and instead watched how hannah's eyes lit up as he got closer. she straighted her posture and fixed her hair, causing your lips to part in shock.

jamal glanced between the two of you with a sweet smile. "I see the two of you have met." his attention turned to you immediately, your look of utter shock causing him to worry but he couldn't even address it because hannah decided that she had the right to speak.

you remained silent and watched the exchange between the two of them carefully, mentally urging her to test her limits.

"you know if you ever need someone to help you cool down after practice, I'm available. I could use the extra practice anyway."

oh, so she wasn't embarrassed at all? her lack of shame had your mind running in circles and you wanted to laugh so badly. all you did was lightly scoff, a smirk on your lips. "he's got me for that."

hannah looked to you with a challenging gaze which you happily returned, the smile not leaving your lips. this was pure entertainment right here.

"yeah but seeing as I'm an actual physio, I know more when it comes to that," hannah said with the fakes laugh you'd ever heard. you wanted to wipe that smug smile off her face and bury her six feet under.

from the corner of your eye you noticed jamal's more than confused look but brushed him off. "and seeing that I'm his actual girlfriend, I know just how to help him relax."

jamal quickly interjected when he sensed the tension, knowing just how far you were willing to take this. "thanks hannah, but I think my girlfriend has it covered."

hannah shrugged, her eyes lingering on jamal. "well, the offer still stands." she smiled and sent you one final look. "it was lovely meeting you."

there was a boastful smile on your face as you waved her off, the annoyance slowly dripping away the further away she got. just how you liked it.

when she was gone, jamal looked to you, trying to stifle his laugh. "is that why you were upset earlier, hm?"

you shrugged, eyes darting over to hannah who was gathering equipment nearby. "just wondering how often your intern friend gets all handsy during practice."

with a teasing smile jamal rested his head on his arms, eyeing you up and down. he loved how overprotective you were over him, it made him feel special. "hannah, is just really enthusiastic about her job."

"enthusiastic, huh?" you mimicked, voice dripping in sarcasm.

jamal decided to play along for the fun of it. "yeah, she's like a cheerleader, always there to boost morale. she even asked if I needed a personal watter bottle carrier."

your jaw ticked. "did she now?"

"yep. and she said that I have the 'perfect shoulders for pats'. very specific compliment, don't you think?"

you rolled your eyes, trying to contain your jealousy and got up from your seat to stand against the barrier to be closer to your boyfriend. "she does realise that you're my boyfriend right?" you pointed towards yourself and jamal smiled. "you're mine. nobody else's."

a scoff left your lips. "the audacity."

jamal couldn't contain his laughter anymore and reached over to pull you closer to him, his hand resting on your cheek as he looked into your eyes with a softened gaze. "you're adorable when you're jealous, you know that?"

instinctively, you melted at his touch. "just wait until I'm burying her body then."

with that, he laughed again and kissed your cheek. "I only care about your shoulder pats, baby."

your annoyance melted away once again and you looked up at him with a pout. "really?"

he grinned and nodded. "absolutely. you're the only cheerleader I want. nobody else."

with that, you got up on your tippy toes and gave him a short but meaningful kiss on the lips, squishing his cheeks when you pulled away. "yes, because you're mine. are you mine?"

jamal couldn't hide the blush on his cheeks and simply nodded, an excited chuckle leaving his lips and you could swear that he was jumping in place. "nobody else's. just yours, love."

[moo-siala]

BURNING UP — JAMAL MUSIALA

PAIRING: jamal musiala x fem! reader

SUMMARY: jamal is sick and whiny

CONTENT: pure fluff, whiny jamal

NOTE: this small drabble is a repost from my old f1 blog. let me know if you’d like to see some f1 imagines too!

y/n had just finished showering when she heard groaning and whining coming from their shared bedroom—clearly, it was jamal. after quickly putting on her clothes, she opened the door to find jamal curled up into a ball under the blankets.

she knew something was up, he didn’t go near his play station at all and didn’t eat much today.

"baby, what's wrong?" she asked, walking over to him.

"i don't feel good. i think i’m dying," jamal whined.

she placed your hand on his forehead. "you’re not dying," she giggled. "but you're burning up. give me a minute, i’ll be right back." she left the room as jamal let out another groan.

she went back to the bathroom and grabbed a clean washcloth, dampening it with cold water, just as her mom used to do whenever she had a fever. returning to jamal’s side of the bed, she sat down and gently placed the damp cloth on his forehead, making him flinch.

"why did you do that? it’s cold!” he whined.

"you have a fever, and this will help," you giggled.

"what if it doesn't?" he asked.

"it should, but if it doesn't, i’ll give you some medicine," she smiled, kissing his cheek and laying down next to him, opening her arms.

jamal smiled softly and made himself comfortable, snuggling his head against his girlfriend’s chest and wrapping his right arm around her torso, making her roll her eyes and let out a soft laugh.

“what? i’m sick and i need to be comfy," he murmured, snuggling closer as her hands found their way to his hair.

"i know, just make sure the cloth stays on your forehead," she said, softly stroking his curls.

“thank you for taking care of me, libeling. you really are the best," he said, looking at her with puppy eyes, making her heart melt.

"i will always take care of my whiny boyfriend, you know that," she teased him, pressing a kiss to his temple.

"i’m not whiny."

"are you sure?"

[gavirae]

X marks the spot ; wusiala post break up drabble

Synopsis awkward conversations in a quiet hotel room

“My mom really misses you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. She’s always asking about you and talking about how I train too much now I don’t spend my days with you now. Didn’t realise she kept up with us so much”

“I think she just misses having someone sensible around her thick skulled son”

“Maybe,” Flo says, but there’s something in his voice that hints his focus is shifting away from the current discussion. The words come out too easily, like he’s trying to sound light-hearted, but a flicker of doubt is obvious. He knows it isn’t the real reason, and so does Jamal. The silence that follows feels heavier now, charged with a tension neither of them wants to acknowledge.

Jamal’s fingers still hover over his phone, but he isn’t looking at it anymore. Instead, his eyes drift to Flo, just for a moment, sharp and calculating, before quickly flicking away. It’s as if he’s waiting for something—something unsaid. Flo feels his chest tighten, but he forces himself not to react. He knows better than to give in to the pull of whatever it is that’s brewing between them.

“My mom misses you too.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. Flo’s heart skips, but he doesn’t let it show. He forces his expression to stay neutral, masking the sudden flutter of hope. “Really?” he asks, his voice almost too calm.

“No,” Jamal says, deadpans. The reply stings more than it should. But it’s the silence that follows—thick, drawn out—that cuts deeper. Neither of them move. Neither of them speaks. The hotel room they’re staying in seems to shrink, and Flo can almost feel the weight of Jamal’s gaze, even though he’s looking away now, tapping distractedly at his phone. But his posture is different—slightly stiff, like he’s holding something back.

They both laugh after realising it’s been a few seconds since they both said anything at all, but it’s hollow, forced. The sound echoes in the stillness, and Flo feels it like an ache in his bones. It used to be easy between them—effortless, even. But now, something has shifted. He can’t ignore it. He knew he’d never make it into Mrs. Musiala’s good graces she was a tough critic. But this… this feels different. Jamal’s words hang in the air like a puzzle he’s still trying to piece together.

The laughter dies too quickly, and the weight of their shared silence presses down on Flo forming a kaleidoscope of pains that will blossom into bruises that will show after he releases his forearm from the self inflicted grip it’s held under.

They both laugh, but it’s not real anymore. The sound fades, and in the space between them, Flo is suddenly acutely aware of how much he wants to ask Jamal: What about you? Do you miss me? The words are there, pressing against his chest, but he doesn’t speak them. Not yet. Instead, he just watches Jamal, waiting for the next move, the next shift in the silence. And for the first time, he wonders if Jamal feels it too.

…..

[gavirae]

WIRTZIALA Drabble •

word count: 455

Synopsis: Flo realises three important things

A/N I have too many loose thoughts in my archives and I thought it’d be fun to post them on here

One. He has wanted to kiss Jamal for far longer than he’s ever cared to admit, months of stopping and starting the creeping curiosity that made him hesitate a second too long on the other boys lips when they were together. Jamal's fingers are smoothing across Flo's face gently ghosting against his skin so softly Flo isn’t sure if they’re actually touching. All he can hear in his head is I want you, I want you, I want you. I want you to kiss my neck and under my ear and I want you to kiss tears from my face when I'm sad and I want you to rest my head on your shoulder when im exhausted and my bones ache. I want you to know exactly how I like my coffee and I want to know what things makes you feel better and when your parent's anniversary is so I can send them flowers. I want to dream of you and the way your eyes scrunch when you smile, I want to listen to your stupid songs that are are so painfully you it doesn’t matter that I don’t like them. I want to intertwine our pinkies when we walk and look around anxiously to make sure no one else is watching us. I want you to look at me like I'm threading life into you, like you could never be sick of me, like a crackling ember in a cold hearth.

I want you, Flo thinks, to love me

Two. Jamal tastes like that feeling when you come back into a room after being in the cold, the lingering taste of spearmint gum settles as their lips continue to swirl, Jamal is warm and comforting. He’s like how snow comes in that time of year when you think there are no small beauties left in the world, there is the marvel of snow and the trudge of footprints through it, there are children laughing and red-nosed kisses.

Jamal is like that. He is new and beautiful and inevitable. Flo opens his wider mouth and now he tastes spring.

Three. Florian Wirtz has never truly only seen Jamal musiala as “a friend” there’s always been something more

And, well, when Jamal begins to mouth down his neck, sucking purple bruises into Flo's skin, he is sufficiently brought back to the present.