#jules kounde

[emjayewrites]

Sakura Dreams 🌸🗼🇯🇵 • Jules Koundé (5/6)

SYNOPSIS: It was supposed to be a guys’ trip to Japan after a disappointing ending to the Euros, however, fate had another thing in mind.

PAIRINGS: Jules Koundé x fem!blackOC (Ayo Pratt) (faceclaim @/joie.ade)

WARNINGS: cursing, poor google translations, football b.s & drama, flirty!jules, eventual smut. MINORS DNI!!!

TAGLIST: @hopefulromantic1 @lettersofgold @sinflowersugar @mauvecherie-writes @queenshikongo3 @perfecttrashface @alika-4466 @peyiswriting @leilaxaliel @serpenttines-library @certifiedlesbianbaddie @niahxo @julescpu @jack0357 @chaoticcoffeequeen @greedyjudge2 @yeea-nah @saturnville @taytropicana @trentswrld @cranberryjulce @vile-harlot @2serenity0 @elyseesarchive @peaceiswonderful

A/N: Jules was in Japan, so of course I had to make a short series about it. Also, if you’re a Jules girl, please let me know and I’ll tag you in more chapters. This one is fairly short because the final chapter will be long af.

Jules woke to the familiar warmth of Ayo beside him, sunlight streaming through his hotel window in Osaka. Their group arrived late last night, exhausted from the journey but content. As usual, Jules wasted no time in having yet another sleepover with Ayo, and they spent most of last night fucking each other's brains out. His fingers traced lazy patterns on her bare shoulder, memorizing the feel of her skin.

As if sensing his touch, Ayo stirred. "Mmm, what time is it?"

"Early enough," Jules murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Want to get breakfast?"

She nodded sleepily, and they began their morning routine - a dance they'd perfected over the past days. Jules watched as Ayo got ready, struck by how natural this felt, how easily they'd fallen into sync with each other.

"I know this cute café near Dotonbori," Jules suggested, pulling on a white linen shirt. "They have amazing croissants."

Ayo emerged from the bathroom, looking fresh and radiant. "Croissants, huh? Very on brand for you."

Jules laughed, catching her around the waist and pulling her close. "What can I say? Some stereotypes exist for a reason."

They made their way through Osaka's already bustling streets, their hands naturally finding each other. The café was tucked away in a quiet corner, its windows steamed up from fresh-baked pastries.

Over coffee and croissants, Jules decided it was time to address what had been on his mind. "I want to talk about what happens after," he said carefully, watching her reaction.

Ayo paused, her coffee cup halfway to her lips. "After?"

"When you go to London. When I go back to Barcelona." Jules leaned forward, his eyes intent on hers. "I know we haven't known each other long, but this... us... it feels different."

Ayo set down her cup, her expression thoughtful. "Different how?"

"Like something worth holding onto," Jules replied softly. "London and Barcelona aren't that far apart. And with our schedules - your modeling, my football - we could make it work."

A small smile played at the corners of Ayo's mouth. "Are you saying you want to date me properly, Jules Koundé?"

"I'm saying I want to try," he admitted. "Unless you were planning to forget about me once we leave Japan?"

"As if I could," Ayo murmured, reaching across the table to take his hand.

They spent the rest of the morning walking around the neighborhood, their conversation flowing easily between serious topics and playful banter. Jules found himself constantly drawn to her - the way she laughed, how her eyes lit up when she discovered something new, the gentle squeeze of her hand in his.

"You know," Ayo said, "I wasn't expecting this either."

"What's that?"

"Finding someone like you. Feeling like this." She turned to face him. "It's kind of scary, actually."

Jules pulled her closer, understanding exactly what she meant. "Good scary or bad scary?"

"Good scary," she assured him.

They made their way to Kuromon Ichiba Market for lunch, sampling various street foods and local delicacies. Jules couldn't help but notice how comfortable they'd become with each other - the casual touches, the shared looks, the way they naturally gravitated toward one another in crowds.

"Our friends may think we're crazy," Ayo mentioned between bites of takoyaki.

"For what?"

"For thinking we could make this work after the trip."

Jules considered this. "Maybe we are. But I'd rather be crazy than wonder 'what if.'"

Their phones buzzed simultaneously - their friends wondering where they'd disappeared to. Reality intruded on their private moment, reminding them that their time wasn't entirely their own.

"We should probably head back," Ayo sighed. "Symone's been wanting to check out this karaoke place."

Jules nodded, but pulled her in for a kiss before they left. It was soft and sweet, full of promise. "Just remember," he murmured against her lips, "whatever happens after this trip, you're mine."

Ayo smiled, her fingers tracing the new bracelet on her wrist. "And you're mine."

They rejoined their friends at a karaoke bar in Namba, where the night dissolved into laughter and terrible singing. Jules watched Ayo perform a duet with Symone, her joy infectious, and felt his heart swell. He caught Wilhelm's knowing look and shrugged. His friend was right - he was in deep.

Tomorrow would bring new adventures, and more memories to cherish. In a few days, their paths would go their separate ways - him to Okinawa with the guys, her back to New York to prepare for her move to London. But for now, they had this moment.

Ayo lounged on Symone's bed in their Osaka hotel suite, half-listening to her friends' chatter as she reminisced about her time with Jules thus far.

"Ayo!" Nikki's voice cut through her daydream. "Girl, you are sprung."

"Seriously," Gigi laughed, flopping down beside her. "One taste of that French dick and you're speaking in oui oui's."

Ayo rolled her eyes, but couldn't hide her smile. "Y'all are ridiculous."

"Are we wrong though?" Symone raised an eyebrow. "You've been glowing ever since Kyoto. And don't think we haven't noticed you sneaking off to his room every night."

"You better start learning French," Nikki teased. "Can't have your man whispering sweet nothings and you not understanding."

Ayo threw a pillow at her. "He's not my man…"

"Yet," all three girls chorused.

"But seriously," Symone said, her tone softening. "Are you going to try to make it work?"

Ayo touched her bracelet again, remembering Jules' words from their date. "Maybe. We talked about it yesterday actually. He wants to try."

"And you?"

"I think… I think I do too."

The girls squealed, piling onto the bed in a group hug. "Our little Ayo, falling in love with a whole footballer!" Gigi exclaimed.

"Speaking of which," Nikki checked her phone, "we need to start getting ready. The sumo event starts in two hours."

They scattered to their rooms to prepare. Ayo chose a purple dress that hugged her curves, pairing it with strappy heels. Her hair was styled in a low bun, and she kept her makeup minimal but striking.

When they met the guys in the lobby, Ayo couldn't help but notice how handsome Jules looked in his fitted black pants and matching shirt. His dreads were pulled back neatly, and his cologne hit her as he leaned in to kiss her cheek.

"Tu es magnifique," he murmured in her ear.

The sumo arena was packed, the atmosphere electric with anticipation. Jules kept his arm around Ayo as they found their seats, his thumb absently stroking her shoulder.

"Have you ever seen sumo before?" he asked.

Ayo shook her head. "Never. You?"

"Once, years ago. It's quite something."

As the matches began, Ayo found herself captivated by the ritual and ceremony of it all. Each bout was preceded by elaborate traditions, the wrestlers throwing salt and performing ceremonial moves.

"It's beautiful in its own way," she whispered to Jules.

He nodded, pulling her closer. "Like a dance."

The power and skill of the wrestlers was impressive, their matches sometimes lasting mere seconds despite the lengthy build-up. Ayo found herself getting caught up in the excitement, cheering along with the crowd.

After the event, they headed to a high-end restaurant for dinner. The conversation flowed easily, everyone sharing their impressions of the sumo and their plans for the remaining days in Osaka.

"You two seem closer now," AK commented, nodding at Jules and Ayo.

Jules just smiled, his hand finding Ayo's under the table. The gesture was small but intimate, making her heart skip.

As their food arrived - a stunning array of sashimi, wagyu beef, and other delicacies - Ayo felt a warmth spread through her chest. Looking around the table at their friends, at Jules beside her, she realized how much she was going to miss this when it was over.

The night wound down with drinks at a rooftop bar overlooking the city. The Osaka skyline twinkled before them, a perfect backdrop to their laughter and conversation.

Jules pulled Ayo aside at one point, leading her to a quiet corner. "Dance with me?" he asked softly.

There was no proper dance floor, just a small space near their table, but Ayo didn't care. She melted into his arms as they swayed to the gentle music, her head resting on his shoulder.

"I could get used to this," she murmured.

Jules' arms tightened around her. "Good. Because I'm not planning on letting you go anytime soon."

Their friends watched from the table, exchanging knowing looks.

Later that night, as they walked back to the hotel hand in hand, Ayo felt a sense of certainty settles over her. Back in her hotel suite, Ayo sat at the vanity removing her makeup while Symone lounged on the bed.

"You know," Symone mused, scrolling through the photos from the night, "I've never seen you like this with anyone. Not even Jamaal."

Ayo paused, cotton pad pressed to her face. "It's different with Jules. He doesn't try to control me or my career. He actually gets excited about it."

"Plus, he fine as hell," Symone added with a grin.

Ayo laughed, throwing her used cotton pad at her friend. "That too."

Her phone buzzed - a text from Jules: "Already missing you. Breakfast tomorrow?"

"Look at you, blushing over a text," Symone teased, catching Ayo's soft smile.

"Girl, shut up," Ayo replied, but her heart fluttered as she typed back a quick "Yes please x"

As she got ready for bed, Ayo's mind wandered to their conversation at the café. The idea of trying to maintain something with Jules after Japan had seemed impossible at first. But now, with each passing day, it felt more and more within reach.

"What you thinking about?" Symone asked, noting her friend's contemplative expression.

"Just... everything. How crazy this all is. Two weeks ago, I was focused solely on my move to London. Now..."

"Now you're planning weekend trips to Barcelona?" Symone waggled her eyebrows.

"You're impossible."

"But am I wrong?"

Ayo smiled softly. "No, you're not wrong."

Her phone buzzed again - another text from Jules with a photo attached. It was from earlier at the sumo event, capturing a moment when she was laughing at something he'd said. She looked happy, radiant even.

"Mon bébé," his message read. "Sweet dreams x"

Maybe my friends were right, Ayo thought as she climbed into bed. Maybe she did need to learn some French. Because this thing with Jules? It definitely wasn't ending when they left Japan.

And for once, that thought didn't scare her at all.

The sun had barely risen, casting a soft, early glow over the room, and the whole place was still. Jules shifted on the bed, blinking sleepily as Ayo moved downwards, her skin illuminated by the soft morning light sneaking through the curtains.

Not wanting to wake anyone else, he’d texted her to slip over early, just before sunrise, when no one else would notice. And now she was here, in his room on the cusp of giving what he'd known to be the best morning head of his life.

Ayo moved closer, hands warm as they slid up his thighs, pulling the sheets down slowly. Jules’ pulse quickened, and he watched her with a mixture of anticipation and restraint, knowing they had to keep quiet. She lowered her head, her mouth brushing against him, sending a shiver down his spine. He clenched his jaw, stifling the urge to let out a groan as her tongue flicked over the tip of his cock, teasing and slow.

Her eyes flicked up to his, her mouth curved in a soft, mischievous smile. She was savoring every second, and he could barely keep his breathing steady, every nerve on edge. The pleasure built, his body responding to her with every touch, every flick of her tongue, every warm, gentle pull. He leaned his head back, biting his lip, fighting the sounds that clawed at his throat.

"Ayo...," he whispered, a hint of desperation in his tone. She only hummed in response, which made him throb even more, the vibrations adding another layer of intensity he hadn't expected. He knew he had to stay quiet, that his friends were only a few doors down, but the way she moved, her mouth soft and eager, her hands firm against his thighs—it was driving him mad. His hips jerked involuntarily, and he gripped the sheets, breathing through clenched teeth to stop himself from making a sound.

Ayo didn’t break eye contact, letting her movements speak for her as she adjusted her rhythm, her lips and tongue working him with skillful confidence. She hummed again, sending vibrations straight through him, and he couldn’t stop a low groan from escaping his lips.

"Mon Dieu…putain," he muttered, squeezing his eyes shut, his hands now gripping the sheets so tightly his knuckles turned white. The sound of his quiet, raspy breaths filled the room, mixing with her soft sucking sounds. "You're... too good at this." A hint of a smile breaking through despite his struggle for control. She only chuckled softly in response, and the sound sent another shiver down his spine.

He reached down, fingers threading through her hair, both guiding and grounding himself, needing something to hold onto. The thickness of her hair, the warmth of her, everything felt too good, too intense. Ayo responded, adjusting her movements just enough to match his silent cues, and he felt himself growing even closer to the edge.

"Ayo…fuck I'm going to come, ma belle," he said, his voice strained, filled with the unspoken plea to both continue and give him just a moment to breathe. She pulled back slightly, giving him a teasing look, and he felt a mix of relief and longing. Just when he thought he could regain control, she moved again, leaving him breathless all over.

Finally, as he felt himself nearing his limit, he gently pulled her up to him, meeting her gaze with an expression that was both gratitude and need. He drew her into his arms, capturing her mouth with his, letting himself get lost in the kiss, savoring the taste of himself on her lips. Ayo smiled, clearly satisfied with the effect she had on him.

"Couldn’t keep quiet, could you?" she teased softly.

He chuckled, catching his breath. "When you’re that good, what do you expect?" He flipped her over with ease, settling in the apex of her thighs as she lay beneath him. There was no space between their naked bodies and Jules pulled away briefly to grab a condom from his bedside drawer. He ripped the foil packet open before sheathing himself. "I need to fuck you, bébé."

With that, he guided himself inside her, and he had to bury his face in her shoulder, breathing in her scent, grounding himself as she started to move. He started off slowly at first, then faster, his hips rolling with practiced ease, her legs bracketing his waist. The rhythm was perfect—just the right mix of urgency and control—and he felt himself melting above her, the intensity overwhelming.

He whispered her name again, a quiet rasp of a sound, as his movements picked up. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, her breath hot against his ear, and he knew neither of them would last much longer. With one last thrust, he finally let go, his body shuddering, his fingers pressing into her waist as he tried his best to muffle his own sounds against her skin.

"Fuck...fuck...fuck," he grunted as he spilled into the condom, breathless and slick with sweat. After some moments to regulate his breathing, he planted a tender kiss on her cheek then rolled off of her, a hand running through his locs. "Goddamn woman. You're trying to kill me."

"I could say the same 'bout you," Ayo giggled, cuddling closer to his side.

Jules shook his head, letting out a scoff, and pulled her flush against him. "Yeah, yeah. Just go easy on me next time, alright? I want to make it to my twenty-sixth birthday at least." He glanced at the clock next to him and cursed softly. "Merde, it's almost nine."

"Everyone will be up soon," Ayo murmured against his chest.

Jules ran a hand down her back, conflicted. They needed to eat, but he also didn't want to let her go just yet. "About breakfast..." he started.

"Skip it?" Ayo suggested, already reading his mind.

"You know me too well already." He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Meet up with everyone later instead?"

"Sounds like a plan."

They dozed off for two hours before they finally got up. After parting ways to shower and change, they met their friends at the famous Osaka Castle Park, where they spent the afternoon exploring the grounds and taking photos.

"Look who finally decided to join us," AK teased as Jules and Ayo approached hand in hand.

Wilhelm shot them a knowing look. "Long morning?"

Jules ignored their jabs, focusing instead on how beautiful Ayo looked in her casual sundress, her hair pulled back in two puffs. She caught him staring and winked, making his heart skip.

Later, they made their way to Shinsaibashi, Osaka's premier shopping district. Jules watched Ayo browse through racks of vintage clothing, admiring how she could make even simple shopping look graceful.

After dinner at a local ramen shop, they wandered through Amerika-mura, Osaka's youth culture district, taking in the street art and fashion. Jules kept Ayo close, occasionally stealing kisses when their friends weren't looking.

"You're addictive," he murmured in her ear during one such moment.

Ayo smiled up at him. "Pot, meet kettle."

"I've been thinking," he said, his hand resting on her lower back.

"Dangerous," she teased.

He laughed softly. "I want you to come to Barcelona. After you're settled in London. Come see me play."

Ayo's eyes widened slightly. "Really?"

"Really. I want to show you my world."

"Okay."

Jules smiled at her answer, dipping his head to kiss her once more.

The night continued with more food, more drinks, and more laughter. Jules couldn't help but marvel at how much had changed in just two weeks. He'd come to Japan looking for a distraction, a way to shake off the disappointment of the Euros. Instead, he'd found something - someone - that made everything else fade into the background.

accordingtoayo • posted on her story 5 hours ago

accordingtoayo - Osaka, Japan

liked by jkeey4, symonenotbiles, pas_complique, and others

accordingtoayo: arigatō japan. you've shown me so much beauty, taught me patience, and encouraged me to take all that life has to offer. these last two weeks have been nothing but magical...

view all 350 comments…

jkeey4: you're the best travel partner. you're gonna be amazing in london. can't wait to see you again

nikkigal: this is so beautiful...loved spending this time with you.

symonenotbiles: my bestie!! can't wait to see you take over london!

gigithegreatest: i love you ayo!!!

pas_complique: it was nice meeting you and the girls in japan! when's our next trip???

The Osaka airport buzzed with early morning activity as the girls prepared to check their bags. Ayo felt a mix of sadness and excitement churning in her stomach - sad to leave Japan and Jules, but excited for what lay ahead.

Jules kept his arm around her waist as they waited in the check-in line, his thumb tracing small circles on her hip. Their friends gave them space, pretending to be absorbed in their phones while stealing obvious glances.

"I'll be in New York before you know it," Jules murmured in her ear. "Two weeks until I’ll see your gorgeous face and spend time with you before my training in Annapolis."

Ayo nodded, leaning into him. "Seems like forever though."

After checking their bags, the group lingered at the security checkpoint. Hugs were exchanged all around, promises to keep in touch, and phone numbers swapped.

Finally, it was just Jules and Ayo.

"Text me when you land?" he asked, pulling her close.

"Of course." She breathed in his scent one last time. "Have fun in Okinawa."

His kiss was gentle but thorough, making her toes curl. "Au revoir, ma belle."

The next two weeks passed in a blur of texting and FaceTime calls. Jules sent daily photos from Okinawa - him on the beach, exploring temples, trying local food. Ayo spent her days packing up her Lower East Side apartment and navigating the bureaucratic maze of the visa process at the British Embassy.

Jules: *photo of sunset* Missing you Ayo: Missing you more. How's the beach? Jules: Would be better with you here Jules: 12 days until NYC

Each day, his countdown continued: 11 days until NYC 10 days 9 days…

Ayo found herself checking flights to Barcelona while sorting through her closet. The distance seemed both overwhelming and manageable. A two-hour flight from London. They could make it work.

Jules: How's stuff with the visa? Is it figured out? Ayo: Yes! Just got my UK work visa! Jules: Look at you, being international Jules: 5 days until NYC

The day of Jules' arrival, Ayo surveyed her nearly empty apartment. Most of her stuff was already in storage or shipped to London, but she'd kept enough to make it homey. She'd spent the morning at the salon getting flexi rod curls that she knew wouldn't survive the night.

Jules: Through customs. 45 minutes x

Ayo turned on her oven, shaking her head at herself. "Look at me, cooking for a man," she muttered, but couldn't stop smiling. The simple pasta recipe she'd found on TikTok seemed foolproof enough.

As she pulled the roasted tomatoes, garlic, and basil from the oven, her doorbell rang. Frowning, she checked her phone - no way Jules made it through NYC traffic that fast.

Opening the door, she froze. "Jamaal?"

Her ex stood there, looking too comfortable for someone who wasn't invited. "Hey, baby."

"What are you doing here?" Ayo glanced down the hallway nervously.

"You blocked me. Had to come see you." He leaned against the doorframe. "Can't believe you went off to Japan without telling a nigga. What's up with that?"

"Jamaal, why the hell are you here?" she repeated, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Came by to talk to you. Thought we could work things out. Y'know how you get sometimes."

Ayo scoffed. "Are you smoking crack? We're never getting back together."

"Come on, baby, don't be like that. What we had—"

"Ma belle, who's this?"

Ayo's face lit up at Jules' voice. He stood in the hallway, looking fresh despite his long flight, a bouquet of flowers in one hand.

"Baby, I missed you!" She moved toward him instinctively.

"Missed you too." Jules kissed her softly before turning to Jamaal. "You didn't answer my question."

Jamaal drew himself up. "I'm her ex. We're working things out—"

Jules raised his eyebrows, amusement playing across his features. "Are you?" He looked at Ayo. "Is that what's happening?"

"He was just leaving," Ayo said firmly.

"Ayo, baby—" Jamaal started.

"She said you're leaving," Jules interrupted, his voice still pleasant but with an edge of steel. "So leave."

Jamaal cocked his head to the side, giving Jules a thorough once-over. "Aren't you that nigga that was in her comments?" His eyes scanned over to Ayo. "You let some random ass guy hit while you were in Japan?"

"Didn't she say you were leaving?" Jules bit in again, yet this time his voice was clearer and deeper, and he stepped towards Jamaal with his shoulders taut. The two men held each other's gazes in an intense impasse for several beats, sizing one another up.

But eventually, Jamaal stepped back. He looked between them, realization dawning. "Whatever," he muttered, turning to go. "This ain't over."

"It's been over," Ayo called after him before pulling Jules into her apartment.

As soon as the door closed, Jules had her pressed against it, his kiss hungry and possessive. "Missed you so much," he murmured against her lips, kicking his suitcase to the side and dropping the bouquet onto the floor.

"Missed you more."

Jules lifted her into his arms, and she instantly wrapped her legs around him. "Was that nigga trying to take my baby away from me? Didn't I tell you that you're mine?" Ayo nodded quickly, moaning into their kiss before it dissolved into a yelp as he slapped her ass. "Use your words."

"I'm all yours, baby. All yours."

"Good girl," he grinned wolfishly, carrying her toward the bedroom. "Now I'm going fuck you senseless."

Ayo melted into him, all thoughts of dinner forgotten. They had one week before she left for London, before he returned to Barcelona. But right now, at this moment, they were just Jules and Ayo, finding their way back to each other.

And maybe, she thought as he plopped her onto her bed, that was enough for now. Everything else - distance, careers, complications - could wait until tomorrow.

For tonight, it was all about them.

TO BE CONTINUED....

[doinggreat]

JULES KOUNDÉ The Bridge : S01-E04 | Ft Ousmane Dembélé, Jules Koundé & Thomas Ngijol

[trentione]

— 🧸

[laylaynaynay130]

It’s something about this pic that I love

[mauvecherie-writes]

FREAKTOBER 02 | jules koundé.

Rating: 18+ NSFW mature.

🎀 FREAKTOBER MASTERLIST 🎀

Jules was a man of routine.

Every morning, he woke up, went for a run, came back to his home gym and did his daily session before truly beginning his day.

However, when you were around - all of that was thrown out of the window. You typically spent your morning lounging waiting for him to come home after his meetings.

This time around, you were sleeping on your back. Completely nude with your hair perfectly secured in a pink, silk bonnet. He had made love to you the previous night but waking up to your voluptuous body in his arms had made him hard.

Jules laid kisses on your shoulder as his hand caressed your curves. He rose to his knees beside you and took in your form. He marvelled at the crease between your thighs glistening with your arousal mixed with the remnants of the night before. Dark red at your centre, inviting him, calling to him. His dick twitched as he knelt at the bottom of your feet and his hands pushed your legs apart, your legs parting, opening to reveal your womanhood in all its glory.

Jules inhaled.

Oh, your aroma was as heady and intoxicating as ever. Your valley glistened and shone as it looked to welcome him, making his mouth water for a taste.

You stirred awake at his touch. Once your eyes opened and you peered down at him in between your legs. You smiled as you greeted him.

“It’s barely 7 in the morning and you’re already craving for a taste.” You giggled.

“I’m always craving you, mon amour.” Jules whispered into your skin as he widened your pussy with his fingers, easing your labia apart and touching your opening gently with his tongue. You gasped, twitching as your desire overcame your ability to maintain composure through your daze sleep. His tongue ramped up your arousal, the pressure in the pit of your stomach was building up already.

It had been too long since you last saw him and your body was begging for him.

Jules ran the tip of his tongue along your slit before dipping it into your entrance and then pulling it back out to press at your mound of pleasure. As he sucked on your bud, your head tipped back and your mouth fell open in a silent scream of absolute pleasure.

Your fingers scrunched into the softness of the blankets beneath you and your body tensed. Jules slithered his tongue up, down and repeat. This time, the smooth side of his tongue lapped at your clit before he brought the tip of his tongue dipping past your entrance, tasting your nectar and honey. So sweet, so salty, as if you were the best caramel in existence.

“Oh my god! Baby!” You whined as you pushed your hips into his face. Jules growled against your cunt as he held your cheeks apart as he devoured you.

Jules continued paying attention on your nub and sucked it within his mouth as two fingers probed your opening and pushed beyond that into the heat of your cunt. It did not take long for him to feel for your G-spot his fingers encountered the bumps and ripples of your walls.

“Baby, please let me cum. Please, baby.” Your mouth opened as your moans rang out. You fucked his fingers and rubbed your clit on his tongue until the waves of pleasure washed through you.

“Oh my gaaa—.” You cried as you erupted all over his mouth, chin and fingers. Jules hummed as he held onto you as your body shook. You stayed in that position for a moment before Jules laid beside you.

You rolled to face him and threw a leg over his waist to straddle him. You leaned down, placing the softest kiss on his lips as you grasped his dick into your warm palm. Jules groaned into your mouth as you rubbed his tip against your opening.

“Asseyez-vous dessus.” [sit on it] Jules whispered against your lips which caused you to smirk. “Don’t play with me right now, sweetheart.”

You didn’t waste any more time. You guided him into you and then sank down. You took him inch by inch until he completely disappeared within your core. Both of your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he nudged at all of your spots. You pressed your hands into your chest to stabilise yourself.

“I’ll never get used to that.” Jules breathlessly said which caused you to smile.

“I’m one of a kind, baby.” You winked at him.

You rocked back a little, the shaft of his dick appearing between the folds of your sex and then you rolled forward until his dick was hidden once more.

The base of his dick pressing against the depths of your cunt, the trickle of your pleasure holding his thrall. You moved again, rocking back, then rolling forward, faster and faster until your walls were squeezing him as you moved.

Nothing compared to you. After being together for so long - the joys of being inside of you did not compare to anyone in his past. You were the one for him. Rejuvenating his lust for you over and over again with roll of your hips.

“I’m not going to last mon amour. Fuck, you feel so good around me.” Jules moaned as his fingers dug into the sides of your hips as you rutted against him.

You could feel the pressure mounting within you as you rocked faster and faster. You fell into his chest as you slammed down onto him as he thrusted up into you. With his feet planted on the bed, he held you as you worked towards your release. Your fingers grasped the bottom of his jaw and pulled him for a kiss.

“Cum in this pussy baby. It’s yours.” You mumbled into his jawline before placing a kiss against it. Jules wrapped his arms around your waist as you clamped down on him.

One

Two

Three

He erupted inside of you which caused you clamp down even harder as you reached climax, together with him. All of her limbs collapsed and Jules held her until her body stopped trembling.

“Good morning.” He whispered as he placed kisses along her cheek which caused you to giggle as sleep began to wash over you once more.

“Good morning.”

If you’re in orange, I cannot tag you 🩷

reading list: @queenshikongo3 @hopefulromantic1 @melodicheauxxlovesfood @saintslewis @cocobutterqwueen @blowmymbackout @mochachocolatteyaya @weetjy @greedyjudge2 @melaninpov @pickingupmymercedes @lewisroscoelove @kindan3rdy951 @elyseesarchive @sl33p-deprived-princess @soiguessimtheshit @acidlv @takeoffz-tookoff9876 @kriegertops @ermlolol @theogbadbitch @trinitoldyouso @ethereal555 @xoxoxoxo9988000 @crispyengineersalad @lovelyluna-s-blog @astrorainbow @marybabysworld @jazziejax @silia1raf @cippy @unabashedbelieverbanana @justkhloe2000 @laylaynaynay130 @khalaaylah @ojijhij @plan666 @crissrou @amyhennessyhouse @bebesobrielo @pandababy23 @cookiecutterzers56 @cameroncrazie13 @shescatrinaxo @efefrf @lovedlover @laulaleinchen @ceeverse @gangstressesss @wvvkndvibez @minibosslele @st4rgirliesstuff @gwenda-fav

[messfcbi]

jules gets it

[ikram1909]

Need them to scoot over I want to play too 😭😭

[cinnaleaf]

「 Loc’d In | One Shot 」

summary: you have rules for your clients — strict ones, no exceptions. but when jules calls for yet another late night retwist, you let him in...again. | MDNI 18+

warnings: smut, mentions of wine, french phrases loosely translated to english wc: ~4.6k song inspo: Call on Me x Janet Jackson & Nelly | Butterflies x Isaiah Falls & Joyce Wrice 🔒🗝️: *insert bratz doll with messy hair meme* 🤸🏾‍♂️

You were finishing up with your last client of the day just as your phone rang. It was late, you were exhausted, and truthfully – all you wanted to do was lay on the couch, have a glass of wine, and rest your feet after doing a set of starter locs, retwists, and braids all day. When you looked at your phone, you saw Jules’ name flash across the screen which made your lips curve upward into a smile. He was your favorite client, not just because of his good looks – but also because of his sensible fashion choice and great taste in music. You two were always a little flirty during his appointments, but it never went further than occasional second glances, spontaneous lip syncing battles, playful back and forth banter, and maybe a lingering hand on your waist after a goodbye hug every once in a while.

Somehow, this man managed to bypass your booking system every single time he wanted his hair done. You were meticulous with it: online scheduling only, deposits upfront, a minimum of 24 hours notice, a five minute grace period, no housecalls, and NO flirting. Him calling you up like this became an increasingly common occurrence, so you already knew what he wanted when you finally answered the phone. No one could ever make you break your rules as often as he did – especially the last rule.

“Jules...” you greeted, continuing to speak into the phone without giving him a chance to say anything back. “You know I don’t do last minute bookings. Check the website.”

An amused laugh filtered through the phone. “Ouais..I know. But that’s not what you said last time.” he replied with a silky, yet playful tone that almost made you want to unravel immediately. “You did it before, non? Counting on your generosity for my shoot tomorrow.”

“No. You’re counting on my patience that’s running thin with you…” you countered, leaning into the playful back and forth as you shifted around on your tired feet. “Tu me fatigues Jules” (you’re wearing me out).

“Not even one last favor for me?” he shot back in a smooth French accent that was softening you up just like it always did when you spoke to him over the phone. “This is the last time. I promise.”

“Uh huh..because that’s what you said last time you called for a retwist. And that one time before that when you went on holiday and wanted braids.” you reminded him, smirking to yourself. “If we’re breaking my rules again then you owe me.”

“Add extra to my tab then” he replied with an audible smile through the phone. “Maybe some wine could make up for the timing? What kind do you like?”

You leaned back, entertaining his offer a bit more. “Hmm.. a glass of Côtes du Rhône would do it,” you suggested, already thinking about how it would taste on your tongue.

“Ahh Côtes du Rhône” he echoed in a velvety smooth voice, making you wonder just how much trouble you were going to get into tonight. “I’ll bring a good bottle for my favorite loctician.”

You shook your head, giggling into the phone. “You must really want my magic touch.”

“I do” he responded, shifting into a more seductive undertone. “You know you want to see me too or you would’ve let the phone ring.”

“Vasy. T’es trop sûr de toi” (c’mon. you’re too sure of yourself), you retorted, trying to sound like you weren’t bothered, but you couldn’t lie to yourself – you didn’t mind seeing him..even if it was late. “Don’t take too long. You’re already pushing it.”

“I’ll make it worth your while” Jules replied, his voice like honey dripping over the words low and deliberate as if he was implying something else. He drew out each syllable, like he wanted you to feel it.

“Mhm... on verra bien (we’ll see), you murmured in a playful lilt. “Ten. Don’t be late Jules.”

Jules let out a knowing chuckle. “Jamais (never). On my way now.”

The moment you hung up the phone you headed straight for the bathroom to freshen up. For whatever reason, you were prepping like you had an incoming dick appointment and not a retwist with a regular client. After your shower, you set everything out needed for his retwist, taking a quick glance to make sure you didn’t forget anything. Clips were lined in a neat row, you had a rat tail comb for parting, and a jar of loc and twist gel next to a bottle of mousse. Just as you were setting down a spray bottle of rosewater to keep his locs hydrated, the doorbell rang. 

Your heart skipped a beat when you opened the door and saw Jules standing on the other side. He stood outside with one hand tucked into his pocket, the other holding onto the bottle of wine he promised you. His eyes swept over you, taking in the curves of your body before he reached your eyes and smiled at you.

“For you,” he stated warmly. When you accepted the wine, you felt the cool glass contrast with the warmth from your hand as Jules leaned in, wrapping his arm around you in a brief but firm hug.

“Ça va, ma belle? (How are you, beautiful?)” he spoke in a low tone, not taking his eyes off of you. He placed a soft kiss to your cheek and thought of lips so close to yours nearly made you shift your lips toward his, but you resisted..for now.

“Ça va (I’m good)” you replied, tilting your head enough to meet his gaze. “You’re lucky I’m even letting you in. You’re five and a half minutes late.” You pulled out your phone to show him the timer you set when your clients didn’t show up on time. Yeah.. maybe it was a little much, but people loved playing with your time..and your coin.

Jules glanced at the timer on your phone and shook his head. “Ahh désolé (sorry)” he responded, acting like he was apologetic but in reality he was testing you. “Had to make sure I got the right wine though…”

You crossed your arms and rolled your eyes, trying not to smile even though you really wanted to. “Mhm, yeah..whatever. Come in before I change my mind.” You motioned for him to follow you and you set the wine bottle on the table as you led him toward your set up. He took a seat in the chair and you poured two glasses of wine, handing him one.

“So...did you already wash your hair?” you started, raising an eyebrow as you clinked your wine glass against his. “I could’ve done that too since you already have me working..”

“Bien sûr (of course),” he smiled, taking a sip of wine. “Sounds like I missed out though. Next time I’ll let you handle it start to finish.”

You laughed as you set down your glass and picked up the comb to section his hair. “For making me work after hours you should throw in a massage. My feet ache” you bantered, not really expecting anything of it as your hands worked through his hair.

He tilted his head back and your subconscious instinctively moved your hands to cup his chin as he looked at you. “Yeah? We can take it to the couch.”

You didn’t have to think twice about it and took him up on the offer, grabbing your glass and leading him to the couch. He sat in front of you on the floor and you sunk into the cushions behind him with your bare legs on the sides of his shoulders. Once he settled, you scooted closer and felt the heat of him pressed between your thighs. You really weren’t one to even think about pulling something like this with your clients, but his face and voice had you damn near ready to agree to anything he said. 

For now you were blaming it on the wine, even though you had barely started drinking it.

You misted his locs with the spray bottle and the floral scent enveloped with the argan and hibiscus scent from the gel as you carefully parted his hair with the comb. You applied gel to each section, smoothing it over with a slow touch. Your fingers worked themselves into a familiar rhythm as you twisted the roots of each loc and secured them with a clip.

The melodic beats of Call on Me by Janet Jackson and Nelly hummed throughout the room. Jules nodded along to the music, dipping his head slightly with each twist. His shoulders brushed against your knee and the tips of his locs grazed against your thigh. You could feel the heat radiating off his body and every subtle movement he made was sparking straight to your core. You attempted to ignore it and moved your hands methodically as you worked the gel into his roots and twisted each section, trying to focus on the rhythm of your fingers against his scalp.

“Boyfriend coming to see you after this?” Jules asked slyly, acting casual as if he was just curious.

You paused for a second before getting right back into the rhythm. “Um..no.” you replied with a small smile. “I’m single...” His question threw you all the way off and you were hoping he didn’t catch on. Your relationship status wasn’t any of his business but you found yourself answering honestly anyway. With any other client, it would’ve been straight lies just so you could shut it down…but you didn’t want to shut it down with him.

“Ah bon? (really?)” he replied in a satisfied voice. “I thought somebody would be keeping you busy.”

You laughed, taking a short break to take another sip of wine. “No. You’re the one keeping me busy with all these late night appointments.” 

Jules smirked and gave you a smug look. “I’m not letting anybody else in my hair like this” he said in a warm and smooth voice, knowing exactly what his voice was doing to you because you kept fidgeting. “People keep asking who hooks me up but non...I’m keeping you to myself.”

You playfully tapped him with the comb and laughed, shaking your head. “Oh..so you’re blocking my blessings and denying me good business? That’s selfish Jules.” you joked, but you were also serious because who did he think he was? Definitely not your man.

He kissed his teeth and drifted his hand to your ankle to trace over the cool golden links of your anklet. “No. What’s selfish…” he started, leaning his head back to meet your eyes. “is you sitting here like you don’t know I want more than a retwist ma belle.”

You felt your heart quicken in pace as he held your gaze and grazed his fingers up your calf. Your breath caught in your throat, trying to fight the warm sensations coursing through you. You cupped his face, tilting his head back in place so that you could continue your task.

“Bouge pas (be still)”, you muttered in a quiet voice. You ignored his previous statement, feeling conflicted between breaking another rule of yours or throwing it back on this man. Your hands were shaking slightly as you reached the last loc. Jules hand stayed on your leg, dragging back and forth against your soft skin.

“Y/N…” he called out. Your name rolled off his tongue, easily wrapping you in a state of lewd thoughts. His thumb pressed into the curve behind your knee, making you tingle with want.

“Fuck…” you breathed out. All you wanted to do was press your legs together to relieve the pressure building in your core, but he was right there locking you in place. You took a deep breath and leaned into his ear. “Let me finish first,” you whispered, barely keeping a steady voice. You retwisted the last of his locs and applied mousse, moving your fingers over his head quickly and shakily. 

You reached for the blow dryer, trying to finish quickly so that you could get to the night’s next set of activities. Before you could even turn the switch on, you felt the heat of Jules’ lips pressing into the soft inside of your knee, making your breath hitch.

“Mm..J-jules..” you tried to warn, to have some sort of authority in your own home, but it sounded more like you were pleading. The vibration from the dryer in your hand didn’t do much to mask the feeling of his mouth trailing higher toward your thigh. He couldn’t give a damn about you trying to set his retwist properly.

“Quoi? (what?)” he spoke against your skin, making you feel the faint heat of his breath against the sensitive skin of your thigh. “You said I’m keeping you busy all night. La nuit n’est pas finie.. (the night isn’t over.)”

You could barely hold on to the dryer and your fingers almost slipped from it when he left an open kiss along your thigh.

“Julesss..” you echoed again, softly this time as you dragged out his name.

He smiled against your skin and wrapped his hand around the back of your thigh. “You don’t want me to stop, n’est ce pas? (do you?)” He was taunting you, daring you to drop the charade and show him how bad you wanted him to fuck you senseless. Your heart hammered against your chest and you switched the dryer off, letting it fall to be forgotten on the couch. His hair was dry enough…you were not.

“Non, je... je veux pas que t’arrêtes (no, i don’t want you to stop),” you whispered quickly before you had time to take your words back. With one swift movement, Jules lifted your leg over his shoulder by gripping the curve of your thigh and he turned toward you. You tried to pull the last of the clips out of his hair while he trailed kisses from your legs to your neck. He smirked at you as you removed the last clip and he leaned into your ear. “How much do I owe you?” he said, handing his phone for you to input the amount.

“Ugh..” you groaned and snatched the phone from his hand, annoyed that he was prolonging you from what you really wanted. You were struggling to type in the amount due to him testing your focus by kissing the curve of your neck.

“Mmm..Jules, I can’t concentrate” you moaned softly, arching into his body. His hand slid up your inner thigh, settling dangerously close to where you wanted him to touch you. He had you almost ready to beg for it with the way he was stretching things out. You sucked in a breath when his thumb brushed over your clothed folds. You gripped the phone tighter, still not finished with entering in the amount. It was only three digits but the way he was touching you made it hard for your fingers to focus on three simple taps. Your free hand brushed up against his hardened length stretching against his joggers, making you forget about the late fee you should’ve charged him for. 

“You’re still working ma belle” he pointed out, as if he wasn’t the one distracting you from ending this appointment in the first place.

You rolled your eyes, managing to finish tapping in the amount and handed him the phone. Jules lips ghosted over your jawline, his thumb hovered over the send button but then he glanced down at his phone, adding an extra zero to the amount you entered in before finally pressing send. The minute he dropped his phone on the couch you pulled him closer to you, biting your lip as you looked him in the eye. “Tu me rends toute chose…” (implies 'you’re turning me on')

Jules pupils were blown wide with cravings for you. “C’est ça que tu veux? (you want this?)” he taunted again, trailing kisses down to your collarbone. You really wanted to tell him to get on with it and take you already, but you needed to have some type of decorum so he wouldn’t know how needy you were for him. Instead, you nodded. His hand found his way back up and he pressed into your shorts again, hovering right above your clit. He teased you with slow and gentle pressure, making a soft shaky moan slip from your mouth. You tilted your hips up instinctively and leaned into his touch and he smirked, loving every gasp and shiver coming from you. Jules breath fanned against your skin and he whispered, “Tu sais que j’aime te faire languir…” (you know i love making you wait)

It was then that you remembered you forgot to charge him a late fee, but unbeknownst to you, he had already taken care of that well beyond your little fee. Either way, your mind quickly moved on from that the minute he started pulling at your top, lifting it over your head. You tugged at the waistband on your shorts, trying to pull them off, but Jules grabbed your wrist to stop you. “Non.. attends moi (no..wait for me)” he spoke in a low, sensual command. 

“Tu aimes ça, hein? (you like this, huh?)” he continued, dripping his words like he was pouring sex directly into your ear.

“Jules stop fucking playing with me” you hissed, finally over it. 

His hand moved to your boobs, rubbing the pad of his thumb and index fingers against your nipples.

“Ah, putain (fuck)” you hissed again, arching more into his touch. He put his mouth on your sensitive nipple, sucking with just enough pressure before lightly nipping you with his teeth. You gasped, rolling your eyes back from the sensation. Your fingers ran over his freshly done retwist and you could smell a faint hint of argan oil and rosewater filling your nostrils as he drove you further out of your mind. His lips moved to your other breast, sucking, nibbling, and blowing cool air against your skin. You were squirming now, desperate, but not ready to beg..or so you thought.

“I’m gonna kick you out my house if you don’t hurry up” you threatened, but it was a very weak threat. You didn’t even believe it yourself.

“No you won’t” he said confidently, slipping his fingers down to your shorts to remove them. He toyed with the edge of your panties and your hips jerked involuntarily. Your body was betraying your attempt at acting like he didn’t have you hot and bothered. “Look at you. You’re already begging without your words.”

“Fuck you.” you sang out breathlessly. It sounded more like an invitation than whatever insult you were trying to portray.

“Pas encore bébé (not yet baby)” he replied, grazing his fingers over your soaked panties.

“Jules.” you spoke his name with a warning. 

He tilted his head up, acting nonchalant. “Oui? Tu veux quelque chose? Tell me.” (yes? you want something?)

You sucked in a breath trying to battle with your pride and horniness. He was playing with you, and he was too good with it. You didn’t want him to give him the satisfaction of begging, but your body wasn’t on the same page with you right now. You tilted your hips up to chase the pressure of his hand and his smile widened.

“Ah voilà (there is is).” Jules slipped his hands under your panties, finally touching where you were soaked and aching for him. Your head fell back when he grazed over your clit and you moaned when he began swirling circles on your sensitive nub.

“Please Jules” you whined, suddenly breaking your resolve. The word slipped from your mouth before you could stop it. Jules dipped two of his fingers inside of you, slowly so that you could feel every inch of his touch. Your lips parted and a moan ripped out of you. He curled his fingers inside of you and dragged his thumb against your clit, making your thighs shake. Your hands made their way to the waistband of his joggers, tugging at them to pull them down far enough to reveal an outline of his dick pressing against his boxers.

He smirked at you and picked up the rhythm of his fingers inside you. “You’re soaking wet. This what I do to you?”

There was no point in trying to deny it. “Jules just fuck–” Your words got lost within you when he slid his fingers out and brought them to your lips. His eyes seared into you and he tapped his fingers against your bottom lip, waiting.

“Open. Taste yourself” he commanded. You hesitated, but then you looked at him through your lashes and wrapped your lips around his fingers, letting your tongue slide across his fingers as you sucked. He licked his lips, tilting his head as he watched you. You felt his dick twitch against your thigh and you knew he was probably imagining it was his dick you were sucking on.

“Good girl” he whispered, adding a kiss to your jaw. After removing his clothing, he reached in his wallet to pull out a condom. He had a cocky grin on his face as he tore the foil open with his mouth and slid the rubber over himself. You bit your lip while he stroked his dick a few times, priming himself for you like he wanted you to watch. Jules was hard as a rock, standing thick and ready for you, making your mouth water at the sight.

Just as you were about to say something, Jules gripped the back of your thighs to push your knees toward your chest. The stretch left you open and you could feel the cool air contrasting with the wetness from your pussy. You barely had time to brace yourself before he sunk into you, starting to fill you with his thickness. Your strangled gasps were music to his ears as he filled you up slowly, making you feel his tip, down to his balls pressed up against you.

“Oooh wait” you whimpered, clutching your fingers on his shoulders while your body adjusted to the way he stretched you out from the slow drag of his first thrust. “Oh my god…” you whispered when Jules started moving again.

“Take it bébé.” Jules groaned from how tight you felt. His strokes were long and deep. “You’re doing so good.”

You dug your nails into his skin as he picked up the pace and your whimpers turned into gasps. “Faster” you managed to get out in between a moan. Jules grinned and obliged, snapping his hips against yours harder and faster. He pressed down on your lower abdomen with his hand. It was so intentional your eyes rolled back from the pressure.

“You feel that? I’m all the way in.”

Your golden anklet dangled noisily near his ear and he groaned again, tilting his hips up enough to hit your spot with precision. You couldn’t answer him because you were too busy moaning from the way he was hitting your g spot. The only thing outside of your moans that could be heard was his groans, and the wet squelch of each thrust mixing with the R&B playing softly in the background. His fingers found your clit again and he circled it with just the right amount of pressure, making you moan out his name.

“Jules... oh my god..right there Jules” you cried out.

“Mmm say my name like that again” he said, grazing your neck as his pace grew faster. You were on the verge of breaking into pieces. The feeling was so overwhelming but you were trying to hold on to savour the moment.

“Don’t hold back,” Jules demanded. When you didn’t immediately obey him and come undone, he pulled out of you, making you whimper from the loss of him inside you. “Turn around” he commanded, already guiding you with his hands. He smacked your ass and the sting made you wince and moan at the same time. He moved his hand to grip your chin and pull you up so that your back was pressed against his chest. “Show me what I do to you Y/N.”

He slid back into you in one smooth stroke. His locs brushed up against your cheek as he continued with each deep stroke, pushing you closer to your orgasm. Eventually his hand made its way back to your clit, but this time you couldn’t hold back when he started circling it deliberately.

“C’est ça, bébé (that’s it baby). Let it go” he coaxed in a rough and sexy voice. Your walls clenched around him as you moaned. You gripped the arm he had wrapped around you because it was the only thing you had to hold on to. Your orgasm came in waves as you pulsed repeatedly around his dick. You were trembling, soaked, and the sensation from the remnants of your orgasm dripped down your thighs.

Jules wasn’t done with you, no.. not yet.

He pushed you forward back onto the couch and gripped your hips as he kept up with his momentum. His breath was getting ragged and you were a mess of moans and gasps, barely able to form any words because he was fucking you so well.

“Jules, Jules, Jules..” was all you could manage. Hearing you moan his name over and over again like that made his thrusts erratic, he was losing control as he got closer to the edge. With one last deep stroke, he let out a guttural groan and spilled his cum into the condom. You felt him twitch inside you as his hips slowed and drew out his release until he collapsed against your back.

His lips pressed a soft kiss on your shoulder, still breathing unevenly. “You good?” he asked before placing more kisses over your back.

“Mhm” with a small nod and a giggle was all you could muster in your blissed out state. Jules pulled back, sliding out of you with care so that he could throw away the condom. When he came back, he sat next to you on the couch and pulled you onto his lap like he wasn’t ready to part from the skin on skin contact yet.

“You still mad about me being late?” he asked, smirking while tracing the skin on your thigh.

You rolled your eyes and rested your head against his chest. “Shut up Jules.”

He laughed and kissed the top of your head, squeezing your hip. “You know you would’ve missed me if I didn’t pull up.”

You kissed your teeth and sat up enough to give him a glare. “No. I miss my peace” you shot back, but you were still curled up in this man’s lap after sex, actions not matching your words. You weren’t fooling anybody.. not even yourself. 

“Trop tard ma belle. T’es déjà loc’d in avec moi." (too late beautiful, we’re loc’d in now)

You laughed louder than you intended to and pushed your hands against his chest in a playful way. “Stop. That’s so damn corny.”

“And yet..here you are sitting on me and laughing at it” he bragged, widening his grin. He kissed your lips and you could feel the roughness of his facial hair starting to fire you up all over again.

You shook your head, leaning into him again while tracing the veins of his arm with your hand. Your thoughts drifted and you realized you broke every rule except the one about house calls. At least you still had your dignity with that one. That line hadn’t been crossed yet.

As if sensing your thoughts, Jules’ hands wandered up your waist and tipped your chin to turn your face toward him again. “Come to my place and spend the night? Let me take care of you.”

You sighed, but before you could come up with a smart reply, he leaned in with his locs and lips brushing over your ear. “Remember....”

“La nuit n’est pas finie.”

song inspo:

[emjayewrites]

in between the lines • jules kounde (3/4)

SYNOPSIS: At Zuri’s engagement party, Senait meets her best friend’s fiancé, Aurélien, and his friend, Jules. A spontaneous hookup with Jules sparks undeniable chemistry, but when Senait ghosts him afterward, she finds herself wrestling with her insecurities as the casual fling begins shifting into something deeper.

PAIRINGS: Jules Koundé x Senait Kiros (@/subanbrn)

WARNINGS: football b.s., cursing, smut, drama, mentions of cheating/past relationships, dominant!jules, instant attraction/fast development. MINORS DNI (18+)

TAGLIST: @trenterprise @f1-football-fiend @lettersofgold @hopefulromantic1 @deonn-jaelle @perfecttrashface @queenshikongo3 @2serenity0 @saturnville @sinflowersugar @hotfudgeslug @muglermami @serpenttines-library @sucredreamer @julescpu @greyishbach @shelovesfootie @certifiedlesbianbaddie @trinitoldyouso @greedyjudge2 @peyiswriting @127hydrangeas @rosiesdior @whoevenisthiz

A/N: This is the last 'book' of the "football baes universe". Please let me know if you want to be added/removed from the taglist. Also, I don't know much about Eritrean culture besides Google...so this might be a tad wrong. Gif by @hopefulromantic1

Senait's mother had outdone herself with the spread – injera perfectly laid out, zigni and shiro steaming in their bowls, the rich scent of berbere and traditional Eritrean coffee filling the air. But the real feast, apparently, was Senait's love life.

"Dr. Tekle's son just finished his residency," her mother said, carefully casual as she spooned more zigni onto Senait's plate. "He's moving back to New York next month."

"Mama..."

"He's very handsome. Good Eritrean family."

Her father nodded in agreement, the gesture familiar from years of backing up her mother's matchmaking attempts. "His parents are from Asmara, like us."

Her phone buzzed on the table. Jules' name lit up the screen, accompanied by a photo of Maurice. She flipped the phone over, but not before her mother caught the smile she couldn't quite suppress.

"Who is that making you smile like that?"

"No one."

"Lies." Her mother's eyes sparkled as she began preparing for the coffee ceremony, the familiar ritual a backdrop to her interrogation. "Tell me about this no one."

Senait pushed food around her plate. How could she explain Jules? The professional footballer who had a pet rooster, who drank chamomile tea and watched Batman, who somehow managed to be both dominant and gentle in a way that terrified her.

"He's just... someone I met through Zuri."

"Zuri?" Her mother perked up. "The one married to the footballer?"

"Engaged," Senait corrected automatically. "And yes."

Her phone buzzed again. Another message from Jules: Maurice misses you. Judging my dinner choices don't hit like yours.

"You're smiling again," her mother observed.

"I'm not—" Senait's protest was cut short by her work phone ringing. Her boss's name flashed on the screen.

"On a Sunday?" her father frowned.

"Sorry, I have to take this." Senait escaped to the hallway, already feeling the familiar knot of anxiety tightening in her chest.

Twenty minutes later, she returned to find her parents having a silent conversation with their eyes – one perfected after twenty-six years of marriage.

"Senait," her mother said softly. "You don't look happy."

"I'm fine."

"You look tired. Stressed." Her mother reached across the table, taking her hand. "This job..."

"Pays the bills," Senait finished firmly. But even she could hear how hollow the words sounded.

Her personal phone buzzed again. Jules had sent a video this time – Maurice strutting around his enclosure while classical music played in the background.

His music taste shifted a bit. He prefers Bach over Beethoven now, Jules texted. I blame you.

Despite herself, Senait felt the tension in her shoulders ease slightly. This was Jules' way – gentle persistence, humor mixed with genuine care. Never pushing too hard, but never quite letting go either.

"There's that smile again," her mother said. "Tell me about him."

So Senait did. Not everything – not about the heated nights or the way he could command her with just his voice. But about Maurice, about his tea ritual, about how he noticed when she was stressed and never made her feel weak for it.

"He sounds... different," her mother said carefully. "From Tymir."

The name still caused a twinge, but a duller one now. "He is."

"Then why do you look scared?"

Senait stared at her half-eaten dinner. "Because what if he's not? What if I'm just... seeing what I want to see again?"

Her father cleared his throat. "Or what if you're letting fear of the past rob you of something good?"

Before Senait could respond, her work phone buzzed again. Three emails marked urgent, all requiring immediate attention.

"I have to—"

"Go," her mother sighed. "But Senait? Sometimes the biggest risk is not taking one at all."

Back in her apartment later that night, Senait found herself surrounded by work files but thinking about Jules. About his offer to help her with the calligraphy business. About how he'd noticed her true passion for it even before she'd really admitted it to herself.

Her Etsy notifications pinged – another order for custom wedding invitations. She'd been getting more lately, word of mouth spreading about her work. But it wasn't enough to live on, not in New York.

But it could be, a small voice whispered. With the right support, the right planning...

Her phone lit up with another text from Jules: Stop working. It's midnight there.

S: How do you know I'm working? J: Because I know you.

Four simple words that shouldn't have made her heart race. But they did, because they were true. Jules did know her – had taken the time to learn her, to see past her walls.

And she'd been pushing him away.

I'm scared, she typed, then deleted it. I miss you, she typed, then deleted that too.

Finally: Maurice has terrible taste in music. Bach over Beethoven? Don't blame me for this switch-up.

Jules' response was immediate: He gets it from his godfather.

S: Aurélien?

J: Oui. Terrible taste, that one.

Senait found herself smiling, even as her work phone buzzed with another "urgent" email. The contrast was stark – the anxiety that immediately rose with work notifications versus the warmth that Jules' messages brought.

Her mother's words echoed in her mind: "Sometimes the biggest risk is not taking one at all."

Opening her laptop, Senait pulled up her calligraphy portfolio. Really looked at it – the wedding invitations, the custom journals, the manifestation cards that had started as a hobby but gained a following.

Then she opened her work email, filled with demands and deadlines and soul-crushing projects.

"Let me help you start up," Jules had said.

Her phone buzzed again: You're thinking too loud, chérie.

How can you possibly know that?

Because I know you, he repeated. And I know you're probably sitting there surrounded by work, thinking about all the reasons why you can't change anything.

Senait stared at his message, feeling exposed. Stop being right all the time.

Stop being scared all the time.

The words hit her like a physical blow. Because he was right – she was scared. Scared of change, scared of dependence, scared of letting someone see her fully and decide she wasn't worth the effort.

Like Tymir had.

But Jules wasn't Tymir. Jules noticed things, cared about details, supported without suffocating. Jules had a ridiculous rooster that liked classical music and a tea ritual that would make British grandmothers proud.

Jules was... Jules.

I'm not ready, she typed finally.

J: For what? S: To quit my job. To take risks. To... J: To let someone in?

She swallowed hard. Yes.

There was a long pause before his response: Good thing I'm patient then.

And that was Jules in a nutshell – understanding her fears without letting them become walls, supporting without pushing, being solid without being suffocating.

I do miss Maurice, she admitted finally.

J: Just Maurice? S: And his terrible taste in music. J: And?

Senait took a deep breath. And his annoyingly persistent owner.

J: See? Was that so hard? S: Shut up. J: Make me.

Heat pooled in her belly at his words, remembering exactly how she'd shut him up before. In his kitchen, in his shower, against his—

Her work phone buzzed again, breaking the moment. But this time, instead of immediate anxiety, Senait felt something else: resolve.

Maybe she wasn't ready to quit her job. Maybe she wasn't ready to let Jules help her build something new. Maybe she wasn't ready for a lot of things.

But she was ready to stop pushing away something good just because she was scared it might turn bad.

I have next weekend free, she typed before she could talk herself out of it.

Booking your flight now, came his immediate response.

And for once, Senait didn't argue. Didn't push back. Just let herself feel the anticipation, the warmth, the possibility.

Because maybe her mother was right. Maybe the biggest risk wasn't in letting someone in.

Maybe it was in keeping them out.

_______________________________________________

LaGuardia's familiar chaos felt different this time. Senait wheeled her carry-on through security, phone pressed to her ear as Zuri's excitement bubbled through the speaker.

"You're really going to do it?" Zuri asked for the third time. "Like, actually quit?"

"I'm thinking about it," Senait corrected, finding her gate. "Which is crazy enough."

"Not crazy. Overdue." Zuri's voice took on that influencer tone she used when discussing manifestation. "Your current job is literally killing your soul."

Senait couldn't argue. Working at Precision PR wasn't terrible – the mid-sized firm handled decent clients, and her junior account executive position kept her afloat in New York, even if just barely. But fifty-hour weeks managing entitled clients' social media crises while making just enough to afford her small Bushwick apartment and once-in-a-while luxuries wasn't exactly living the dream.

Big ups for my side job and savings though.

"The new intern's been helpful at least," Senait said, settling into a seat. "Pretty sure Kelly would sacrifice her firstborn for a full-time offer."

"Good. Let her handle the bullshit while you plan your exit strategy." There was a pause. "You know, I could promote your calligraphy—"

"Zuri, no."

"My platform's growing! Ever since the media found out I'm dating Aurélien—"

"I appreciate it," Senait cut in. "Really. And if you want to refer actual clients my way, amazing. But I need to do this myself."

"Fine, fine." Zuri's smile was audible. "So… two extra days with Jules, huh?"

Senait was glad her friend couldn't see her cheeks flush. "I had the PTO saved up."

"Mhmm. Nothing to do with missing him?"

"I miss Maurice."

"Girl, please. You're literally flying to Barcelona for dick."

"I'm hanging up now."

"Tell Jules I say hi! And that if he hurts you, I'll have Aurélien break his legs!"

Senait ended the call, shaking her head but smiling. Her phone immediately lit up with a text from Jules: Boarded yet?

S: Still at my gate. Flight's on time though. J: Good. Maurice is preparing a welcome concert. S: You're ridiculous. J: You like it.

And she did, that was the problem. She liked everything about him – his playfulness, his quiet strength, the way he commanded without controlling. Even his absolutely absurd relationship with that rooster.

The flight passed in a blur of work emails (mostly Kelly asking clarifying questions about projects) and half-hearted attempts at napping. By the time they landed in Barcelona, Senait's body was confused about what time it was, but her heart knew exactly where it was going.

Jules waited by baggage claim, looking effortlessly sexy in a pair of shorts, a plain white t-shirt, and Adidas Sambas. The sight of him – tall, dreads pulled back, quiet confidence radiating – made something in her chest tighten.

"Chérie," he murmured, pulling her into his arms. She melted against him, inhaling the familiar scent of his cologne.

"Hi," she managed, suddenly shy despite everything they'd shared.

His hand found the small of her back, guiding her toward the exit. "Tired?"

"A little."

"Good thing I have a very good shower."

The drive to his house was comfortable, Jules' hand resting on her thigh as he caught her up on Maurice's latest musical preferences ("He's now developed a thing for jazz") and team gossip. Senait found herself relaxing, the constant tension she carried in New York easing just from his presence.

"You're quieter than usual," he observed, pulling into his driveway.

"Just thinking."

"About?"

Senait watched him carry her bag inside, appreciating the view. "Life. Work. Changes."

Jules set her bag down, turning to study her face. "Good changes?"

"Scary ones."

He stepped closer, tucking a curl behind her ear. "Tell me."

So she did. About Kelly's eager assistance providing unexpected breathing room, about her Etsy sales increasing, about possibilities she'd never let herself consider before.

Jules listened, his hands working the tension from her shoulders as she talked. When she finished, he kissed her temple.

"Shower first," he decided. "Then we talk more."

The shower was exactly what she needed – hot water sluicing away travel grime, Jules' hands gentle as he washed her hair. For once, there was nothing sexual about it. Just care, just comfort.

"I missed this," she admitted quietly, letting him work conditioner through her curls.

"Just this?"

"Maybe other things too."

His chuckle rumbled through his chest. "We'll get to those other things. But tonight, you rest."

"Jules—"

"Not a discussion, chérie." His voice carried that tone that brooked no argument. "You're exhausted, stressed, and probably haven't eaten properly in days."

She wanted to protest, but he wasn't wrong. "Since when are you the voice of reason?"

"Since you needed one." He rinsed her hair carefully. "I have food warming. Then sleep."

"So bossy," she murmured, but there was no heat in it.

"You love it."

And maybe she did. How he took care of her without making her feel weak. How he commanded without constraining. How he just… knew what she needed.

After the shower, Jules wrapped her in what had to be the softest towel she'd ever felt. "Better?"

Senait nodded, letting him guide her to his bedroom where he'd laid out one of his t-shirts for her to sleep in.

"Food first," he insisted when she eyed the bed longingly. "Then sleep."

They ate on his balcony, the Barcelona night warm around them. Jules told her about training, about everything and nothing. His voice washed over her, soothing in its familiarity.

"I missed you," he said suddenly, seriously. "Not just the sex. Just… you. Here. Being yourself."

Something in Senait's chest cracked open at his words. At their simple honesty, their quiet certainty.

"I missed you too," she whispered, the admission feeling like surrender and victory all at once.

Jules smiled, the expression soft in a way few people ever got to see. "I know." He stood, pulling her up with him. "Come on. Bed."

As they settled under his ridiculously high-thread-count sheets, Senait found herself curling into him automatically. His arms came around her, solid and sure.

"Sleep," he murmured into her hair. "We have time."

It was at that moment she realized this wasn't just a fling anymore, wasn't just physical attraction and witty banter.

This was becoming something real. Something with potential for both great joy and devastating hurt.

But as Jules' breathing evened out beside her, as the distant sound of Barcelona nightlife mixed with the occasional comment from Maurice, Senait found she wasn't as scared now.

Because Jules was right – they had time. Time to figure this out, time to face those scary changes together, time to see where this could go.

And for the first time in a long time, Senait was ready to take that time. To see what happens when she stop running and start building instead.

Even if what she was building involved a French footballer with a musically inclined rooster.

Especially if it involved that.

_______________________________________________

Jules couldn't stop smiling, even during Flick's intense training drills. The past few days with Senait had been perfect – watching her explore his favorite spots in Barcelona, her genuine excitement over the vintage Hermès scarf she'd found at his go-to shop, the way she'd curl into him during their Netflix marathons.

And the sex... well, that was getting better too, if that was even possible. Something had shifted since her arrival this time. She was more open, more present, less guarded about showing how much she wanted him.

"¡Julio!" Lamine called, sending a cross his way. Jules controlled it perfectly, muscle memory taking over despite his wandering thoughts.

Between training sessions, he grabbed his water bottle and checked his phone. Senait had finally posted about Barcelona – a carousel of photos that made his heart do something stupid in his chest. The first was of her in that vintage shop, wrapped in various scarves, laughing at the camera. Then shots of various cafes, architecture, and finally – Jules grinned – Maurice in all his glory, mid-strut with the caption: "Met a very sophisticated gentleman."

He liked the post immediately, scrolling through the comments. The usual suspects were there – Zuri with a string of heart emojis, some of Senait's work friends, her cousin...

Then a comment made him pause: "Still looking good, Sen 🔥"

The username caught his eye: tymir__gants

Something in Jules' gut tightened. He clicked on the profile, finding himself looking at what had to be Senait's ex. Recent photos showed him with a baby, some pickup basketball shots at local courts, gym selfies.

Jules scrolled, a sick curiosity driving him deeper into the profile. Then he found it – buried at the bottom, probably forgotten to delete: Senait and Tymir together, her looking younger, softer somehow. The caption read: "My smart girl 📚❤️"

"Pedazo de mierda," Jules muttered, taking in Tymir's perfectly curated feed. The man had a whole new family, had hurt Senait in ways that still affected her, yet had the audacity to comment on her photos?

"¿Estás bien?" Pedri asked, passing by with his own water bottle. (“You good?”)

"Sí." Jules locked his phone, shoving it back in his bag. He wasn't mad at Senait – she'd probably delete the comment as soon as she saw it. But the nerve of this guy...

The rest of training was intense, but Jules' mind kept drifting back to that profile. The more he thought about it, the more things clicked into place – Senait's careful distance, her fear of getting too attached, the way she'd tense sometimes when he was too openly affectionate.

"Jules! Focus!" Flick called out as Jules misplaced a pass.

He shook his head, forcing himself back into the moment. The Sevilla match was crucial, and he needed his head in the game. But during water breaks, he found himself thinking about Senait's face when she'd mentioned seeing Tymir at Whole Foods, how small her voice had gotten.

My smart girl. The caption echoed in his head. Like she was some possession, some trophy to be claimed and discarded.

"You're thinking too loud," Lewandowski commented during their cool-down stretches. "Girl problems?"

Jules managed a small smile. "Not exactly."

But maybe it was. Because Senait was at his house right now, probably working on her laptop, wearing one of his shirts like she belonged there. And some piece of shit from her past thought he had the right to comment on her photos like he hadn't broken her trust in the worst way.

"Heard she's coming to the Sevilla match," Lewandowski added in, always up for some gossip. "First time watching you play, right?"

"Yeah." The thought warmed him despite his irritation. Senait had been adamant about not being a "football girlfriend" but had casually mentioned wanting to see him play. Progress.

After training, he showered and changed, but then Jules found himself scrolling through Tymir's profile again in his car. The guy played pickup basketball now, probably still dining out on his almost-went-pro story. His recent photos showed him at parks, at clubs, with his baby mama – living his life like he hadn't nearly destroyed someone else's.

His phone buzzed with a text from Senait: Your rooster is judging my lunch choices again.

Jules smiled despite himself. What are you eating?

S: Leftover pizza. J: No wonder he's judging.

There was a pause, then: Come home and feed me better then.

Home. She'd said it so casually, probably didn't even realize. But it made something warm unfurl in Jules' chest, temporarily displacing his anger about Tymir.

J: On my way, chérie.

As he drove, Jules thought about how different Senait was with him now – still sassy, still independent, but softer around the edges. More willing to let him take care of her, to lean into the comfort he offered.

His phone buzzed at a red light. A notification that Senait had deleted a comment on her post.

Good girl, he thought, satisfaction curling through him. She didn't need him to fight her battles. She was handling it herself, just as he'd known she would.

Still... the audacity of that man. To cheat on her repeatedly, get another woman pregnant, and then have the nerve to comment on her photos years later like he had any right to her attention.

Jules pulled into his driveway, cutting the engine. Through the car window, he could see Senait on his balcony, laptop open, Maurice strutting nearby. She had one of his hoodies on despite the Barcelona heat, her hair pulled back into a low bun.

This was what Tymir had thrown away. This brilliant, beautiful woman who could match Jules wit for wit, who challenged him even as she melted for him, who was slowly learning to trust him with her walls down.

His loss, Jules thought, heading inside and then upstairs to his room. My gain.

"Your rooster is a menace," Senait called as he approached. "He knocked over my water trying to get to my pizza crust."

"He was saving you from yourself." Jules bent to kiss her, inhaling the familiar scent of her shampoo mixed with his hoodie. "Pizza for lunch? Really?"

"I was working! And it was there."

"Clearly I need to come home for lunch more often."

She rolled her eyes but didn't protest when he pulled her up from her chair. "I have deadlines."

"You have ten minutes while I make you real food." His hands slid under the hoodie, finding warm skin. "Then maybe I'll let you get back to work."

"So bossy," she murmured, but she was already melting into him.

"You love it."

She didn't deny it, just hummed noncommittally. Progress.

As Jules went downstairs to prepare a proper lunch, he watched Senait return to her work at the counter. She belonged here, he realized.

And really, that was the best revenge on Tymir's audacity – Senait, happy and thriving, choosing her own path.

Choosing someone who saw her value, who wouldn't take her for granted.

Choosing him.

He smiled, plating their food. Let Tymir keep his Instagram comments and pickup games. Jules had the real prize – Senait, in his hoodie, on his balcony, building a strange friendship with his judgmental rooster.

And he wasn't letting go.

Sunday morning found Senait setting up her away messages with unusual determination. "Out of office until Wednesday - limited access to email," she typed, finger hovering over the send button before adding, "For urgent matters, please contact Kelly."

For once, she meant it. No sneaking peeks at work emails, no "quick responses" that turned into hours of crisis management. This was her time – to watch Jules play, to explore Barcelona, to figure out what this thing between them was becoming.

You're getting so fuckin' soft, Sen, her inner voice warned. But maybe that wasn't such a bad thing. Maybe she needed soft, needed balance, needed to stop treating her life like one endless PR emergency.

The Luís Companys Olympic Stadium loomed before her, Camp Nou's temporary replacement humming with pre-match energy. Jules had arranged everything – her ticket, instructions on where to meet after, and a security escort who spoke perfect English.

"First football match?" the escort, Maria, asked as they navigated the crowds.

"That obvious?"

Maria smiled. "You have that look. Don't worry - just follow the crowd's energy. They'll let you know when to cheer."

Her seat offered a perfect view of the pitch. Senait tried to absorb the atmosphere – the chants she couldn't quite understand, the sea of Barcelona colors, the electric anticipation in the air. This was Jules' world, she realized. So different from her Manhattan conference rooms and endless Zoom calls.

The match itself was… well, she mostly followed along. She recognized Jules instantly – his graceful movement distinct even from her elevated position. She found herself holding her breath when he had the ball, cheering with the crowd when Barcelona scored.

By the time they won 5-1, Senait's voice was hoarse from yelling. She followed Maria's lead to the designated waiting area, noticing immediately the small crowd of women already gathered there.

"Player chasers," Maria explained quietly. "Every club has them."

Senait watched the women, all perfectly made up, designer bags on display. They wore Barcelona jerseys like fashion statements, giggling and posing for social media.

This is why Jules keeps us quiet, she thought. Not because he was ashamed, but because he was protecting whatever this was between them from becoming public consumption.

When Jules emerged, freshly showered and changed, several phones raised to capture him. But he moved past the waiting fans and groupies with practiced ease, finding Senait with unerring accuracy.

"Ready?" he asked simply, hand finding its usual spot on her lower back.

They slipped out a back entrance, the night air cool on Senait's flushed cheeks. In his car, Jules finally relaxed fully.

"Hungry?" he asked, pulling into traffic. "I know a place."

The place turned out to be a hole-in-the-wall serving the best street food Senait had ever tasted. They sat at a tiny table, Jules explaining plays she'd missed while she tried not to moan over her patatas bravas.

"El Clásico's next Saturday," he mentioned casually. "In Madrid. You should come."

Senait paused mid-bite. "I leave Tuesday."

"You could extend your stay."

"Jules…"

"The project can wait."

She shook her head. "It really can't. And I've already used so much PTO—"

"When's the last time you took a real break?" His voice was gentle but firm. "Not working through vacation, not checking emails between meetings. Just… lived?"

The question hit harder than she expected. When had she last truly disconnected? Even this trip, she'd planned to work through it until something in her finally rebelled.

"I'll think about it," she offered finally.

Jules seemed to accept this, turning the conversation to lighter topics. But his question lingered in her mind as they drove back to his house, as they climbed the stairs to his bedroom, as he pressed her against his door.

"You're thinking too loud," he murmured against her neck.

"Your fault. Making me question my life choices."

His laugh rumbled through his chest. "Good. Someone should."

Then his mouth found hers, and thinking became secondary to feeling. To the way he walked them backward toward his bed, to how his hands always knew exactly where to touch.

Home, some traitorous part of her mind whispered as they fell onto his ridiculously comfortable mattress. This feels like home.

But instead of panicking at the thought, Senait just pulled him closer, let herself sink into the sensation of his weight above her, his hands in her hair, his mouth trailing fire down her throat.

Maybe she would go to Madrid. Maybe she wouldn't.

But for now, she was here. Present. Living.

And that felt like progress.

_______________________________________________

Wednesday morning hit differently when you landed at LaGuardia at 2 AM. Senait stifled another yawn, staring at her laptop screen as the words blurred together. Her body was still on Barcelona time, still remembering Jules' goodbye kiss at the airport.

Her phone buzzed: Did you get any sleep?

Define sleep, she typed back to Jules.

That's a no. Take care of yourself, chérie.

Before she could respond, Kelly appeared at her cubicle, looking nervous. "Greg wants everyone in the conference room. Like, now."

Senait suppressed a groan. Greg Schultz, VP of Account Management and certified dickhead, was the last person she wanted to deal with on three hours of sleep.

The conference room was already half full when she arrived. She caught Maya's eye, her coworker subtly rolling her eyes. They'd spent enough happy hours commiserating about Greg's various microaggressions – like the time he'd told Maya her braids weren't "professional enough" for client meetings, or how he always seemed to question Senait's strategy decisions more harshly than her white colleagues'.

"Good morning, team!" Greg's fake enthusiasm filled the room. At forty-five, he embodied every corporate cliché – from his Brooks Brothers suits to his "work hard, play harder" mentality. "Big news about the Thompson account."

Senait's heart sank. Thompson meant overtime, meant endless revisions, meant—

"All hands on deck for this one," Greg continued, confirming her fears. "We're talking late nights, weekends, whatever it takes to make this launch perfect."

There goes Madrid, Senait thought, barely registering the rest of Greg's speech about dedication and career growth.

"Everyone but Senait can go," Greg announced as the meeting wrapped up. "Need a word."

Kelly shot her a sympathetic look as she filed out with the others. Senait stayed seated, already knowing where this was going.

"Senait," Greg settled into the chair across from her. "You're one of our best. But all this time off recently? Not a good look."

"One was a medical emergency," she started, careful to not mention how seeing Tymir had triggered an anxiety spiral that left her barely functional.

Greg waved his hand dismissively. "We all have personal stuff. But you want to make senior account executive? You better learn to sleep when you're dead."

Senait blinked, processing the casual disregard for her health.

"Look," he continued, "there's potential for promotion here. Small raise, bigger projects. But you need to get your head in the game. Drop everything else. The work needs you. Understand?"

She nodded automatically, mind already spinning.

"Good. That's all."

Senait left on autopilot, pausing only to tell a shocked Kelly, "Taking lunch."

"It's 11 AM!"

But Senait was already gone, her tote bag clutched like a lifeline as she headed for the elevator.

Three years. She'd given Precision PR three years of overtime, of cancelled plans, of rarely ever taking time off, of stress headaches and anxiety attacks. And for what? To be told her health didn't matter? That she should be grateful for the possibility of a "small raise"?

Her phone pinged – new Etsy notifications. Three orders:

Custom wedding signage and place cards: $2,500 (deposit paid)

Birthday signage and place cards: $1,600 (deposit paid)

Baby shower personalized 'welcome' signage: $500

Then, like the universe was trying to tell her something, an email from Raima Barcelona: "Re: Calligraphy Instructor Position - 32€/hour, Part-Time."

Senait looked up at the lobby ceiling. "Are you fucking with me?"

But maybe this wasn't a joke. Maybe this was permission.

She had savings – she'd always been careful with money, living well below her means even in New York. Her parents had made it clear their home was always open if things got tough. Zuri would help promote her work (though Senait would need to swallow her pride to accept). And Jules…

Jules, who'd offered support without pressure. Who saw her potential even when she doubted herself. Who'd probably book her a flight back to Barcelona right now if she asked.

"Fuck this job," she declared to no one in particular, heading to her favorite deli.

One Reuben sandwich and large coffee later, Senait sat at her desk, fingers hovering over her keyboard. The resignation letter was simple, professional:

"Dear Greg,

Please accept this letter as formal notification of my immediate resignation from my position as Junior Account Executive at Precision PR.

Thank you for the opportunities for growth over the past three years.

Best regards, Senait Kiros"

Her cursor hovered over "Send." Three years of stability, of knowing exactly what each day would bring, of comfortable misery – all balanced on one click.

But as she sat there, Senait noticed something: the constant tension in her shoulders, the one that had briefly disappeared in Barcelona, was already back. Not even 24 hours in New York and her body was already bracing for impact.

She hit send.

The next thirty minutes passed in a blur – clearing her personal items (fortunately few) from her desk, backing up relevant files, heading to HR with her laptop and badge.

"But… why?" the HR rep, Susan, stammered. "Was there an incident?"

Senait thought about Greg's dismissal of her health. About three years of racial undermining. About putting her job above everything else.

"It's just time," she said simply, turning in her company property. "Time for something new." And better….healthier. Time to live my life on my terms.

As she walked out of Precision PR's glass doors for the last time, Senait felt something she hadn't expected: peace.

Her phone buzzed – Jules again: Did you eat yet?

Senait smiled, stepping into the New York sunshine.

S: Actually, yes. And I have news.

J: Tell me.

She took a deep breath, typing: I just quit my job.

The three dots appeared immediately, then: Finally. When are you coming back to Barcelona?

Senait laughed out loud, startling a passing businessman. I JUST QUIT. Like, five minutes ago.

J: Perfect timing. El Clásico is Saturday. S: Jules… J: Book the flight, chérie. Maurice misses you. S: Just Maurice? J: And his very persistent owner.

Standing there on the sidewalk, free from Greg's toxicity and corporate expectations, Senait felt lighter than she had in years. Was she scared? Absolutely. But for once, the fear felt like excitement rather than dread.

Her phone buzzed again: I'll take care of you.

Three years ago, those words would have sent her running. Now, they felt like permission to fly.

Booking the flight now, she typed. But I'm paying for it myself.

J: Whatever you say, chérie. Just come back.

To Barcelona. To Jules. To a life she was finally brave enough to choose.

See you tomorrow, she sent, already pulling up flight options.

Sometimes the biggest risk was not taking one at all. But sometimes, Senait was learning, the biggest risk paid the biggest rewards.

And she was ready to collect.

TO BE CONTINUED.....

[doinggreat]

JULES KOUNDÉ The Bridge : S01-E04 | Ft Ousmane Dembélé, Jules Koundé & Thomas Ngijol

[saturnville]

say it

pairing: jules kounde x black fem oc (she). warning: 18+ minors dni. summary: he asks her to say it, she gives an answer. author's note: inspired by @mauvecherie-writes + @emjayewrites who often mention how jules folds when his girl speaks French. tags: @mauvecherie-writes @emjayewrites @neewrites @saintslewis @boujiestpoet @vile-harlot @greedyjudge2 @cocobutterqwueen

“Say it,” he grunted in her neck. His teeth grazed her slick skin and captured it with a fierceness that made her yelp. 

She whimpered in response. Her words left her like a thief in the night. Her tongue betrayed her. There was nothing she felt she could say.  The sentiment she fought to say was stuck in her throat, lodged between a moan and a cry for release. So good. 

“Come on, chérie. Let me hear you…” His calloused hand cupped the back of her knee, pushing her leg closer to her head. The new angle pulled a delirious sound from her inner being. A deep moan and rugged groan that he deciphered with ease.  So deep. 

“Je suis…” I am. His insides stirred. She stammered over her words, continually cutting herself off. As a result, his movements slowed, and her eyes popped open. 

“Keep going. Say it.” 

Her tongue darted out to dampen her cracked lips. Once again, she said started, “Je suis…” Damn it. “Je suis à toi.” I’m yours. Oh, how he loved to hear her say it, no matter what language it came out in. He resumed his pace and smiled against the shell of her ear, singing his praises as his fingers slithered between their bodies to caress the pearl between the apex of her thighs. She squeaked out a cry. He welcomed it like a sweet melody. 

“Good girl.”

[laylaynaynay130]

10s across the board!! I need him in Tim’s more often actually 🤭

[mauvecherie-writes]

𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐨𝐟 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒, 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲

𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞.

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐬

𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 😈

𝘋𝘐𝘚𝘊𝘓𝘈𝘐𝘔𝘌𝘙 !! : 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘵 - 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘥𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵. 𝘐𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘶𝘱 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘦𝘢, 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘢𝘨𝘦. 𝘐’𝘮 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 🤭.

INTERACT OR ASK TO BE TAGGED - even if you are a permanent reader, this collection will have its own reading list.

𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓:

01: Lewis

02: Jules

03: Armando

04: Terry

05: Jacob

06: Jules

07: Terry

[p8driesta]

Pedri and Kounde ahead of the warm-up 🫂

[ikram1909]

Kounde telling the kids to go to sleep instead of playing table football 😭😭

[emjayewrites]

all mine (in between the lines epilogue) • jules kounde

SYNOPSIS: At Zuri’s engagement party, Senait meets her best friend’s fiancé, Aurélien, and his friend, Jules. A spontaneous hookup with Jules sparks undeniable chemistry, but when Senait ghosts him afterward, she finds herself wrestling with her insecurities as the casual fling begins shifting into something deeper.

PAIRINGS: Jules Koundé x Senait Kiros (@/subanbrn)

WARNINGS: football b.s., cursing, smut, drama, mentions of cheating/past relationships, dominant!jules, instant attraction/fast development. MINORS DNI (18+)

TAGLIST: @trenterprise @f1-football-fiend @lettersofgold @hopefulromantic1 @deonn-jaelle @vile-harlot @perfecttrashface @queenshikongo3 @2serenity0 @saturnville @sinflowersugar @hotfudgeslug @muglermami @serpenttines-library @sucredreamer @julescpu @greyishbach @shelovesfootie @certifiedlesbianbaddie @trinitoldyouso @greedyjudge2 @peyiswriting @127hydrangeas @rosiesdior @whoevenisthiz

A/N: This story is finito! Thanks again for all of the love/support for my football baes series! Gif by @doinggreat

one month later.....

Senait watched the French countryside blur past their van window, still jet-lagged from her NYC trip. The visit home had been productive – boxing up most of her Bushwick apartment, moving things to her parents' house. The decision to leave New York hadn't been as hard as she'd expected. Barcelona had become her new home, complete with friends, a thriving business, and Jules.

The meeting at the Spanish embassy had been encouraging. The visa process would be complex but doable – she'd need to prove financial stability (her business was helping there), show ties to the community, and complete the necessary paperwork. Spring 2025 felt like a reasonable timeline, especially with her subletter already lined up through April.

"I still can't believe you're really moving to Spain," Zuri said, squeezing her hand. The three girls had claimed the back row of the luxury van, leaving their men to occupy the middle seats.

"Neither can I," Senait admitted. "But it feels right."

"Speaking of right," Lila wiggled her eyebrows, "let's talk about how Jules calls you chérie."

"Oh my God, stop—"

"No, no," Zuri jumped in, grinning. "We need to discuss this. The way you melt every time he speaks French."

"Like you're any better with Aurélien," Senait shot back. "Miss 'oh daddy' in two languages."

"At least the French make it extra sexy," Zuri defended.

"Excuse me," Lila protested, "try teaching an Englishman to sound sexy. Though trust me, Daddy works just fine."

"Unless you want to get fucked in this van, Li," Jude turned around, smirking, "I think you should cut it out."

Lila's face flushed as red as possible, while the others erupted in laughter.

"Look who's quiet now," Senait teased.

"Leave her alone," Zuri said, though she was still laughing. "Not her fault Jude's got her trained."

"Big Daddy Bellingham," joked Senait in a low voice that was somehow still heard by the guys.

"And you better not forget it," Jude chimed in with a wink and it made the whole van erupt into another fit of guffaws.

"I hate all of you," Lila muttered, but she was smiling.

The lodge appeared through the snow – a massive wooden structure with huge windows and multiple balconies.

"Proper winter wonderland," Jules commented as they unloaded their bags.

Even knowing Jude and Lila could only stay until Christmas Eve – family obligations in Bergen calling – the mood was festive. The couples claimed their rooms, unpacked, then reconvened in the main living area where a fire already blazed.

"To friends," Aurélien raised his glass of wine. "And to being together."

"To being together," they echoed.

______________________________________________

Senait stood on the lodge‘s porch, wrapped in one of Jules' sweaters (stolen, of course), watching snowflakes dust the fairy-light draped chalets of Megève as she thought about last therapy session before the trip, which had been particularly enlightening.

"You're not running anymore," Dr. Obazi had observed. "You're moving forward. There's a difference."

The difference was currently in the kitchen with Jude, both of them playfully judging Lila's hot chocolate methodology. Jules caught Senait's eye through the window, throwing her a wink that still made her stomach flip, even after all these months.

"Senait," Zuri's voice broke through her thoughts, appearing beside her with two steaming mugs. "You're doing that thing again."

"What thing?"

"That soft smile you get when you look at Jules." Zuri handed her a mug. "You know, the one you swore you'd never have?"

Senait accepted the cocoa, breathing in the sweet aroma. "Therapy's helping," she admitted. "Making me see things differently."

"Like?"

"Like maybe being scared of something good is worse than risking getting hurt." She took a sip, the warmth spreading through her chest. "And maybe Jules is worth the risk."

Zuri's smile was knowing. "Finally figured that out, huh?"

Inside, laughter erupted from the kitchen. Jude had lifted Lila away from the stove, declaring her marshmallow-to-cocoa ratio "criminally sweet." Jules was recording the whole thing, Lila protesting in between giggles, and Aurélien continuing to instigate the entire ordeal.

"They're good people," Senait said softly. "Your friends."

"Our friends now," Zuri corrected. "That's what happens when you stop fighting the good things, Sen."

Later, on the slopes, Senait felt that truth in her bones. She and Jules moved in sync on their snowboards, their bodies finding that natural rhythm they'd always had. But now it felt different – less like running away from intimacy and more like running toward it.

"Show off," she called as Jules executed a perfect jump.

His grin was wicked. "Want me to teach you?"

"Want me to end up in the emergency room?"

"I'd catch you."

The simple certainty in his voice made her heart stutter. Because he would – had been catching her, in fact, since that first night at Zuri's engagement party. She'd just been too scared to let herself fall.

_______________________________________________

The next evening, after saying their goodbyes to Jude and Lila, Senait curled up by the lodge's fireplace and watched her friends. Zuri and Aurélien shared a blanket and whispered jokes as they played a card game. Jules sat beside her, close enough that she could feel his warmth but not so close as to pressure. Always giving her space to choose.

"I have another therapy session scheduled for when we get back," she said quietly.

"Good." His hand found hers under the blanket they shared. "Proud of you."

"Jules?"

"Mm?"

"I think… I think I'm ready. To make this official."

He turned to look at her fully, his expression serious. "You sure?"

Senait thought about Dr. Obazi's words about moving forward versus running. About how Jules had become home without her even noticing. About how being scared of happiness was worse than being scared of pain.

"Yeah," she said, squeezing his hand. "I'm sure."

His smile was slow, beautiful. "About time, chérie."

"Shut up."

"Make me."

So she did, kissing him right there in front of their friends. Zuri's whoop of celebration made her laugh against Jules' lips.

"Finally!" Aurélien called out, abandoning their card game. "Does this mean we can stop pretending like we don't know you practically live together?"

Senait felt her cheeks heat, but Jules just pulled her closer. "Means whatever she wants it to mean," he said simply.

And that was it, really. The beauty of them – how Jules let her set the pace while making sure she knew he wasn't going anywhere. How he'd waited while she worked through her fears in therapy, supported her growing business, given her space to choose him properly.

The Alpine night wrapped around them like a blanket, fairy lights twinkling against fresh snow. Senait curled into Jules' side, feeling the solid warmth of him, the steady beat of his heart, and was finally at peace with everything in her life.

This was what choosing happiness felt like. What moving forward felt like.

THE END......

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING MY FOOTBALL BAES SERIES AND HERE'S A LITTLE SOMETHING FOR SENAIT & JULES......

June 2030

Senait couldn’t help but marvel at how far life had taken her, from bustling streets of New York to the enchanting city of Barcelona. When she left New York officially in 2025 to be with Jules, she had no idea how seamlessly her life would transform alongside his. Those first three beautiful years together were filled with long, sun-kissed vacations to bucket list destinations, late-night drives along the Mediterranean coast, and spontaneous adventures as a couple. Jules had showered her with love in every corner of the world, and she’d fallen for him over and over again. Then, one balmy summer evening, he’d gotten down on one knee and proposed, making the life they’d built together official.

In those years, Senait’s career blossomed into something she was truly proud of. Her lifestyle brand had taken off, focusing on manifestation journals, productivity planners, and sleek, minimalistic calendars designed to keep life inspiring and organized. It wasn’t a multimillion-dollar empire—at least, not yet—but her profits had been steadily growing, and her work was loved by an ever-expanding community of motivated women. Venturing further into her passion for design, she had opened a small floral shop in Barcelona. Designing arrangements brought her a unique kind of peace, a creative outlet that felt like love in bloom.

Jules had been thriving, too. His football career soared to new heights: winning two Champions League with FC Barcelona and even lifting both a Euros win and World Cup with the French national team. The two of them had created a life bursting with love and dreams realized, and now they were eagerly awaiting the newest chapter—becoming parents.

Today, though, they were in Tuscany, celebrating Jude and Lila's wedding. But first, they had a mission in Florence.

"Chérie, we've been to six different shops," Jules said patiently, watching his pregnant wife peer into yet another chocolate boutique window.

"It has to be the right one," Senait insisted. "The one with the gold wrapper and the hazelnut filling. Remember? We found it that time we came for your Champions League match."

Jules wrapped an arm around her expanding waist. "That was two years ago, love."

"But it was perfect." Her voice wavered dangerously. "And the baby wants it."

"The baby, huh?"

"Don't tease me when I'm emotional."

Three more shops yielded nothing but frustration. By the time they reached the wedding venue, Senait was fighting back tears.

"Hey, Jules and Senait are here," she heard Aurélien call out.

Zuri appeared immediately, taking in Senait's flushed face and teary eyes. "What happened?"

Senait sniffled, one hand resting on her five-month bump. "I wanted a chocolate bar from that shop we loved in Florence, but they're out. And it's not available anywhere else in Italy!"

"Oh honey," Zuri pulled her into a hug, careful of her bump. "Pregnancy cravings are the worst."

"It's not just cravings," Senait hiccupped. "I wanted to share it with the baby. Tell them about our first trip to Florence, how their papa scored the winning goal that night."

Zuri bit back a laugh, exchanging a knowing look with Aurélien. Pregnancy hormones were no joke. "Hey, they've got some amazing snacks in Lila's room," she said, wrapping her arm around Senait. "Go on, I promise it'll make you feel better."

Senait nodded, allowing herself to be comforted, and made her way to Lila's room, leaving Jules and Aurélien to talk. The men shared a chuckle, with Jules shaking his head in disbelief. "Pregnancy, man. Never a dull moment."

As Senait walked down the hallways, she couldn't help but remember her own wedding. Now here she was, five months pregnant, crying over chocolate.

"There's my favorite pregnant lady!" Lila appeared in a silk robe, her hair in rollers.

Senait laughed. "You're beautiful!"

"So are you. Even with those tears. What happened?"

"I don't want to go there," Senait sighed dramatically, but she was smiling now. The baby fluttered – their newest trick. She placed a hand on her bump, still amazed by how natural this felt. How right.

"Come here, you emotional mess," Lila pulled Senait onto the sofa, where an impressive spread of snacks covered the coffee table. "I had them bring up everything – sweet, salty, spicy."

"You're an angel," Senait grabbed a chocolate-covered strawberry. Not the same as her Florence chocolate, but it would do. "This baby needed some chocolate."

"Speaking of babies," Lila said as she was helped into her gown, "have you two started thinking about names yet?"

Senait smiled, remembering Jules' late-night conversations with her bump. "Jules likes Feven for a girl. It means 'bright' in Tigrinya."

"And for a boy?"

"Théo. After his grandfather."

Lila nodded approvingly while the bridal stylist buttoned the back of the dress. "That's great. Some men have awful taste in names."

Just then, Zuri made her way into the room and smiled brightly at both of her friends. The baby moved again, more pronounced this time. Senait had noticed they were most active during these moments of laughter and joy, as if already wanting to be part of the fun.

"Sometimes I still can't believe this is my life," she admitted softly from the couch. "Barcelona, Jules, the baby... if you'd told me six years ago this is where I'd end up..."

"You'd have run screaming in the opposite direction?" Lila supplied.

"Probably."

"And now look at you," Zuri squeezed her hand. "Living your dream life with your dream man, growing your dream baby."

The tears threatened again. "Stop, I just fixed my makeup."

"Blame the hormones," Lila suggested cheerfully.

A knock at the door interrupted their laughter. Jules poked his head in, his expression softening when he saw Senait surrounded by snacks and friends.

"Better?" he asked.

Senait nodded, holding out her hand. He crossed the room to take it, pressing a kiss to her temple.

"Guess what?" he murmured against her hair. "Aurélien made some calls. That chocolate shop? They're sending a box directly to Barcelona. Should be there when we get home."

Fresh tears spilled. "I love you."

"Je t'aime aussi, mon coeur." His hand found her bump. "Both of you."

"And on that disgustingly sweet note," Lila announced, "I need to finish getting ready. I have a wedding to star in."

The bridal stylist jumped in at that moment and helped Lila with her veil.

When she was done, Senait watched as Zuri placed a gentle hand on Lila's shoulder. "You look so perfect," she whispered.

Lila smiled, her eyes glistening. "Thanks, Zu. I just can't believe this is finally happening."

Zuri smiled, her hand resting protectively over her own bump. "Believe it, girl. This is your moment."

_______________________________________________

The reception was nothing short of magical: fairy lights draped over ancient olive trees, long tables adorned with white roses and silk drapery, and soft music that danced on the breeze. Senait felt warm and content, holding little Eti, who had been passed to her while Zuri and Aurélien took on their wedding party duties.

Later, Senait swayed gently with Jules as they danced under the canopy of stars, surrounded by laughter and clinking glasses. The DJ shifted the song, and suddenly Hey There Delilah started playing. Jules grinned, his eyes bright with mischief, and the two of them began singing along jokingly with the rest of the guests, trying to outdo each other with exaggerated gestures.

After dancing until her feet hurt, Senait noticed a young man she recognized as Jude’s brother, Jobe, standing off to the side, deep in conversation with a stunning young woman somewhat familiar. She nudged Zuri, who had just returned from mingling. "Who’s that?" she asked, nodding toward the pair.

Zuri followed her gaze and let out a little laugh. "That’s Justine, you remember, Jobe’s ex from Birmingham. Lila invited her, of course."

"That's her?" Senait said, eyes alight with curiosity. "Spill the tea."

Zuri smirked. "Well, you know they broke up a few years ago, and Justine moved to the States to go to grad school and teach for a while?" Senait nodded her head vehemently and her friend continued. "So now she’s back in the UK, and Lila is playing matchmaker, hoping they rekindle things."

Senait's smile grew. "I kind of like that idea."

Before she could comment further, Jules came up behind her, his arms wrapping around her waist, his lips brushing against her ear. He whispered something filthy, making her cheeks flush furiously. Senait swatted his arm, laughing. "You have to wait. We’re not doing that here."

Jules sucked his teeth in mock disappointment, then turned to Zuri with a grin. "Sorry, I’m stealing my wife now."

Zuri rolled her eyes with a chuckle, "Go on, then. Just don’t keep her too long."

Jules didn’t hesitate, pulling Senait away from the lively crowd to a quieter corner of the reception. He pressed her gently against the wall, cupping her face and kissing her deeply, passion igniting between them once again. When they finally broke apart, Senait laughed, breathless.

"Ugh, I hate you," she said jokingly, her voice husky.

Jules brushed a lock of hair from her face, his gaze softening. "I love you too," he replied simply, and then he kissed her again, both of them lost in the moment, savoring every heartbeat and memory shared between them.

____________________________________________

four months later…

The Barcelona hospital room was filled with anticipation and the soft beeping of monitors. After twelve hours of labor, Senait was finally ready to push. Jules hadn't left her side once, letting her squeeze his hand through each contraction, whispering encouragement in French and English.

"You're doing amazing, chérie," he murmured, wiping sweat from her forehead.

Her mother, Askalu, stood on her other side, while her father, John, paced the waiting room. Sophie, Jules' mother, had been in and out, her limited English made up for by her expressive face and comforting presence.

When Feven Sidonie Koundé finally entered the world at 3:47 AM, her powerful cry filled the room. Jules' eyes welled up as the doctors placed their daughter on Senait's chest.

"Elle est parfaite," he whispered, voice thick with emotion. "Perfect like her mama."

The next few hours passed in a blur of skin-to-skin contact, first measurements, and proud grandparents meeting their granddaughter. Askalu and John couldn't stop crying as they held Feven, marveling at her tiny features.

"She looks just like you did," Askalu told Senait, gently touching Feven's full head of curly hair.

Sophie was equally emotional, her broken English mixed with rapid French as she cooed over her granddaughter. "Ma belle petite-fille," she kept saying, tears streaming down her face.

The nurse brought in Senait's first 'push present' – a large tray of sushi she'd been craving throughout her pregnancy. Her mother shook her head as Senait did an excited wiggle in the hospital bed.

"You have more presents at home," Jules said, amused by her reaction to raw fish.

"Nothing better than this," Senait declared, already reaching for a piece of salmon nigiri.

Her phone lit up with a FaceTime call from Zuri. On screen, her friend appeared with baby Zulaika in her arms, two-month-old and perfect, while little Eti peeked into frame.

"She's here!" Zuri squealed. "Show me my niece!"

Jules carefully tilted the phone so Zuri could see Feven, now sleeping peacefully in her bassinet.

"Oh my god, she's gorgeous," Zuri gushed. "Our girls are going to be best friends."

"Unless it's El Clásico time," Aurélien's voice came from off-screen. "Then they're enemies."

Jules chuckled, but the sound was cut short by Feven's hungry cry. "Speaking of enemies, time for another feeding."

"Go be a mommy and daddy," Zuri smiled. "Love you all!"

Jules carefully lifted Feven, still amazed by how tiny she was, and brought her to Senait. He helped position the baby, remembering all the steps from their parenting classes.

"Support her head like that," Senait murmured. "There we go."

Watching his wife feed their daughter, Jules felt his heart might burst. He couldn't stop staring at them – his whole world in one hospital bed.

"Can we have another?" he asked suddenly, eyes locked on Senait's.

She rolled her eyes, but her smile was fond. "Give me six months and I'll think about it."

His grin widened as he leaned in to kiss her. "Je t'aime, chérie."

"I love you too," she whispered back. "All of this. Even if your daughter already has your appetite."

Jules laughed softly, careful not to disturb Feven's feeding. Their families would be staying to help – Sophie for two whole months – but right now, in this moment, it was just them. Their little family of three.

Complete. Perfect. Everything they never knew they needed until they found each other.