#william saliba x reader

[amirawrah]

✩once in a lifetime...part two🥐💋🎨

staring : Wiliam 'wilo' Saliba x Ameerah Tamilore Adeyemi

❀ summary: After attending an Arsenal match with her friends, she never expected to leave the stadium with a lingering sense of unfinished business. William Saliba saw her walk away that night, and he didn’t stop her—something he instantly regretted. When fate brings them back together at a party, their unspoken connection is impossible to ignore. As the night unfolds, stolen glances turn into quiet confessions, and what started as hesitation becomes something undeniable. But with emotions running high and unspoken feelings in the air, the real question remains—will they finally say what was left unsaid, or will history repeat itself?

❀ amirah: we back for part 2!!!!, i hope you guys enjoy this as much as how you liked part one. as always like, repost and share, leave notes tell me things!!!!! anyways bye.

love Amirah

The sunlight streamed through your bedroom window, casting a warm glow over the sheets as you stirred awake. Your mind felt hazy, lingering somewhere between sleep and the events of last night. The party. The conversation on the balcony. Him.

You stretched, rolling onto your side, and that’s when you saw it—your phone resting on your nightstand, the screen still open to the last message you had received.

William Saliba.

You stared at his name for a moment, replaying how you got his number in the first place.

— "So, I guess this means I won't have to regret not stopping you this time?" he had said with a teasing smirk, holding out his phone.

You had rolled your eyes but took it from his hand anyway, typing in your number and sending yourself a text.

— "Now you won’t have an excuse." You had smirked back, feeling bold.

— "I wouldn’t want one."

The memory made your stomach flip, and now, looking at his name on your screen, you didn’t know what to do. Should you text him first? Wait for him to text you? Overthinking had always been your thing, and this situation was no different.

A knock on your door snapped you out of your thoughts.

“Wake up, lover girl,” Justine teased, pushing the door open and stepping inside.

“I hate you,” you mumbled, rolling onto your stomach.

Halle appeared behind her, grinning. “Hate is a strong word for someone who was giggling on the way home last night.”

“I was not giggling,” you said, sitting up.

Tolami, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed, raised a brow. “So you and Wilo, huh?”

You sighed dramatically. “You guys are making this a bigger deal than it is.”

Tolami smirked. “Oh, so you don’t like him?”

You opened your mouth, then shut it. Your silence was answer enough.

Justine plopped down onto your bed, grabbing your phone before you could react. “Did he text you yet?”

“Give me that!” you lunged, but she dodged, scrolling through your messages.

“Damn,” she said, eyes widening. “You got his number and you didn’t even text him back?”

Halle gasped. “That’s illegal. Text him right now.”

“I was going to!” you defended, reaching for your phone again.

Tolami chuckled, shaking her head. “You’re making him sweat, though. I respect it.”

"And what are you doing here mrs, aren't you meant to be like dicked down right now or" you said towards Tolami

Halle laughed at your words while Tolami playfully slapped your arm

Justine grinned, finally handing your phone back. “Okay, fine. But seriously—text him. You know you want to.”

You let out a breath, looking at the screen again. Your fingers hovered over the keyboard before finally typing out a message.

meerah♥︎: Good morning.

Three dots appeared almost instantly. Your heart jumped.

Wilo🥐: Morning. I was starting to think you changed your mind about me.

You bit your lip, smiling to yourself.

meerah♥︎: Maybe I just like keeping you on your toes.

A beat passed before his response came in.

Wilo🥐: So you like me, then?

Your stomach flipped. You stared at the message for a moment, the corners of your lips twitching.

Halle peeked over your shoulder. “Are you blushing?”

You shoved her away with a laugh. “Get out of my room!”

Justine, Halle, and Tolami all laughed as they walked out, leaving you alone with your phone in your hands and a decision to make.

You took a breath and finally replied.

meerah♥︎: I guess you’ll just have to find out.

The moment you hit send, William's reply came almost instantly.

Wilo🥐: I’ll take that as a yes.

You chuckled to yourself, shaking your head. Before you could think of a witty response, another message popped up.

Wilo🥐: Are you busy this morning? Let me take you to breakfast.

Your eyes widened slightly. That was… unexpected. You weren’t sure why, but something about him asking so casually made your stomach flip. You hesitated for a moment before replying.

meerah♥︎: I have class this morning. Art history.

A few seconds passed, and then:

Wilo🥐: Smart and talented. I should’ve known.

You felt warmth creep up your neck.

meerah♥︎: Are you trying to flatter me, Saliba?

Wilo🥐: Is it working?

You rolled your eyes, smiling at your screen. Before you could reply, another message came through.

Wilo🥐: Alright, since I’ve been rejected for breakfast, what about lunch?

You bit your lip, debating for a moment. It wasn’t like you had plans after class maybe do a little bit of work but that could wait, and the idea of spending more time with him was… intriguing.

meerah♥︎: Lunch could work.

Wilo🥐: Good. I’ll pick you up after class.

Your heart skipped a beat.

meerah♥︎: Confident, aren’t you?

Wilo🥐: I just know what I want.

You swallowed, staring at his response a little longer than necessary.

meerah♥︎: Fine. Lunch it is.

Wilo🥐: Looking forward to it.

You locked your phone, exhaling slowly. You had no idea what you were getting yourself into, but something told you this was going to be an interesting day.

You stretched as you sat up in bed, your silk bonnet still secure on your head as you blinked against the morning light filtering through your window. Your conversation with Wilo still lingered in your mind, but you shook off the thoughts, knowing you had to focus on getting ready for class first.

Swinging your legs over the edge of the bed, you reached up, slipping off your bonnet and shaking out your hair. Running your fingers through the strands, you made a mental note to style it properly after your shower.

Pushing yourself to your feet, you padded over to the bathroom, flipping on the light. You grabbed your toothbrush, squeezing a bit of minty toothpaste onto the bristles before brushing

You reached for your cleanser, massaging it gently into your skin,You followed up with toner, then your favourite moisturiser , rubbing it in . Finally, a few dabs of sunscreen to protect your skin from the morning sun, and you were done.

Now, a shower.

You turned on the water, letting it heat up as you stepped inside, allowing the warmth to soothe your muscles. The scent of your body wash—something soft and slightly floral—filled the air as you lathered up, the steam curling around you. You took your time, letting the hot water rinse away any lingering sleepiness before finally stepping out and wrapping yourself in a fluffy towel.

Back in your room, you stood in front of your closet, debating your outfit for the day. Art history class wasn’t anything too formal, but you still wanted to look put together—especially now that you had lunch plans with Wilo.

After a moment of indecision, you settled on a simple yet stylish outfit .

Returning to your vanity, you quickly styled your hair, making sure it fell just right before adding a touch of lip gloss for a natural shine. One last glance in the mirror, and you nodded to yourself. Ready.

Grabbing your bag, you slung it over your shoulder and picked up your phone, quickly checking your messages. No new texts from Wilo yet, but you had a feeling you’d be hearing from him soon.

With one final breath, you stepped out of your room, ready to take on the day. And maybe—just maybe—see where this thing with Wilo was going to lead.

ameerahsnarrative posted on her story

[ caption: time for class ]

✧

Across the city, Wilo lay sprawled out on his bed, staring at the ceiling with one arm resting behind his head. His phone sat beside him, the last message from you still open on the screen.

Lunch could work.

A small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. He wasn’t sure what it was about you, but he liked the way you kept him on his toes. You weren’t just easily impressed by him being a footballer—if anything, it seemed like you weren’t fazed at all. That made you different. And interesting.

He exhaled, finally sitting up and running a hand over his short curls. There was no training today, which meant he had the whole morning to himself before meeting you later. His teammates had already mentioned plans, but right now, he wasn’t interested.

Checking the time, he pushed himself out of bed and made his way to the bathroom, twisting the faucet and letting cold water splash over his face. As he brushed his teeth, his mind wandered back to last night—how he had first noticed you at the party, the way your dark brown eyes had met his, how your quiet nature had drawn him in. And then, there was the moment on the balcony.

Are you going to walk away again? Are you going to let me?

Wilo shook his head slightly, rinsing his mouth. He had never been the type to overthink things, but you? You had him doing exactly that.

He stepped into the shower, letting the warm water loosen his muscles as he thought about the afternoon ahead. You hadn’t agreed to breakfast, but lunch was a different story. He needed to pick a spot, somewhere nice but not too much. Something casual, something that would make you comfortable.

After drying off, he threw on a pair of grey sweatpants and a fitted white t-shirt, running his hand over his jaw as he checked his reflection. He figured he’d chill for a while before heading out.

His phone buzzed just then, and he grabbed it, expecting one of the guys. But instead, it was you.

meerah♥︎: What’s your favorite kind of food?

His brows lifted slightly. That was unexpected—but he liked it.

Wilo🥐: Why? You planning on impressing me?

Three dots appeared, then:

meerah♥︎: Just answer the question, Saliba.

He chuckled, leaning against the counter as he typed.

Wilo🥐: I like French food, obviously. But I’m open to anything. Why? You picking the spot?

A short pause.

meerah♥︎: Maybe. Maybe not.

Wilo smirked, shaking his head.

This lunch was going to be interesting.

Wilo tossed his phone onto the bed with a quiet chuckle, running a hand over his jaw. You were something else. He wasn’t used to people—especially girls—playing this little game with him, making him work for their attention. Most of the time, he didn’t have to try. But you? You were making him think.

And he liked it.

He checked the time—still a few hours before lunch. With no training today, his schedule was wide open, but he wasn’t the type to sit around all morning doing nothing. He figured he’d hit the gym for a bit before meeting you, at least to keep himself busy.

After changing into black athletic shorts and a long-sleeve compression top, he grabbed his keys and headed out.

✧

Even though the team had the day off, Wilo knew he’d find at least a few of the guys at the training ground, either getting in extra reps or just hanging out. Sure enough, as he walked into the gym, he spotted Gabriel and Martin doing some light work on the weights.

Gabriel noticed him first, smirking. “Look who decided to show up.”

Wilo nodded in greeting, stretching his arms. “Day off doesn’t mean doing nothing.”

Martin chuckled, shaking his head. “Mikel would be proud.”

Wilo only grinned, grabbing a set of dumbbells and starting his workout. He could feel Gabriel watching him, though, and it wasn’t long before the Brazilian spoke again.

“So…” Gabriel drawled, setting down his weights. “What’s this I hear about you and some girl at Noah’s party?”

Wilo sighed, knowing there was no avoiding this. “Where’d you hear that?”

Gabriel smirked. “Bro, you think we don’t notice things? You disappeared, and then later, you looked like you were in another world.”

Martin raised a brow. “So it’s true?”

Wilo exhaled through his nose, setting down his dumbbells. He wasn’t one to talk much about his personal life, but there was no point in denying it. “She’s… different you know.”

Gabriel and Martin exchanged a look.

“Oh, this is serious,” Gabriel teased. “Man said different.”

Wilo rolled his eyes, grabbing a towel. “Relax.”

Martin laughed. “Are you seeing her again?”

Wilo took a sip from his water bottle, his smirk barely noticeable. “Lunch.”

Gabriel whistled. “Man is serious serious.”

Wilo ignored them, focusing on finishing his reps. But deep down, he knew—this wasn’t just some random girl he’d met at a party.

This was something else entirely.

✧

The minute your professor dismissed the class, you exhaled, stretching your arms as you gathered your things. Art history had always been interesting to you, but after sitting through a long lecture, all you wanted to do was eat.

“You zoned out like twice,” Halle teased as she walked beside you, her bag slung over her shoulder.

You rolled your eyes playfully. “I did not.”

She gave you a knowing look. “Oh, you definitely did. Probably thinking about a certain tall Frenchman.”

You shot her a warning glance, but the heat creeping up your neck betrayed you. “I was thinking about food.”

“Uh-huh.” Halle smirked. “So, what’s the plan? You coming with me and Justine, or—”

Your phone buzzed in your hand.

Wilo🥐: I’m outside.

Your stomach did a small flip, but you kept your expression neutral as you looked at Halle. “Actually… I have lunch plans.”

Her eyes lit up. “With him?”

You nodded, avoiding her gaze as you pushed the door open and stepped outside.

“Damn, already?” She laughed. “Okay, okay. Have fun. But I want all the details later.”

You rolled your eyes with a smile. “Bye, Halle.”

She winked before walking off, leaving you to scan the parking lot. It didn’t take long to spot Wilo—leaning against his black Mercedes, dressed in a casual yet effortlessly cool outfit: dark jeans, a fitted long sleeved black tee, and a silver watch glinting on his wrist. His arms were crossed, and the moment he saw you, a small smirk played on his lips.

You took a breath and walked over.

As you reached him, he pushed off the car, opening the door for you. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you said back, sliding into the passenger seat.

He shut the door and walked around to the driver’s side, getting in. As he started the engine, he glanced at you. “Find a place?”

You nodded, pulling out your phone. “Yeah, it’s called Maison d’Été. It’s a cute little French café, not too far from here.”

Wilo raised a brow, clearly impressed. “French, huh? Thought you said you weren’t trying to impress me.”

You rolled your eyes. “I just figured you’d like it.”

He chuckled, shifting into drive. “Let’s go then.”

As he pulled out of the parking lot, you stole a glance at him—his focused expression, the way his hands gripped the steering wheel effortlessly. It felt… natural, sitting in his car, heading to lunch together.

And for the first time since last night, you wondered if maybe—just maybe—you were in just as much trouble as he was.

The low hum of the car engine filled the comfortable silence as William drove through the city streets. His hand rested casually on the steering wheel, his other arm draped over the center console. The air smelled faintly of his cologne—something warm and clean with a hint of spice.

“So… art history?” he asked, glancing at you briefly before turning his eyes back to the road. “That’s what you were in class for?”

You nodded. “Yeah. It’s an elective, but I actually really like it.”

Wilo hummed. “What’s so interesting about it?”

You turned slightly in your seat, looking at him. “Art is like… a way of seeing the world. Every painting, every sculpture—it tells a story. Even if you don’t understand it at first, there’s always something beneath the surface.”

He gave you a small side-smile. “That how you see people too?”

You raised a brow. “What do you mean?”

His fingers tapped lightly against the wheel. “Like… do you try to figure out what’s beneath the surface?”

You considered that for a moment. “I guess so. But only if the person is worth figuring out.”

William let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “And? Am I?”

You bit back a smile, pretending to think. “Mmm… jury’s still out.”

He scoffed playfully, glancing at you. “That’s cold.”

You laughed softly, looking out the window as the car slowed at a red light.

“I also paint, by the way,” you said, shifting the conversation. “That’s probably why I love art history so much. It’s like seeing all the greats before me and trying to understand what made their work timeless.”

William glanced at you with genuine interest. “Painting, huh? What do you like to paint?”

“People,” you answered, your fingers tracing invisible patterns on your thigh. “Faces, emotions, moments frozen in time. But I also love mythology—especially Greek mythology. Something about that era, the way they told stories through their art, their architecture… it’s fascinating.”

Wilo tilted his head slightly. “Greek times?”

You nodded, eyes lighting up. “Yeah, like how they built the Parthenon, sculpted statues like the Venus de Milo, or even how they depicted their gods in murals. It was all so dramatic and full of meaning.”

He smirked. “So if I let you paint me, would I look like one of those statues?”

You rolled your eyes, laughing. “I don’t know, Saliba, do you have the patience to stand still long enough?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Probably not.”

The light turned green, and he pressed down on the gas, his smirk lingering. “But I’d let you try.”

Your heart did a small flip at that, but you masked it with a playful scoff, looking out the window as the café came into view.

Maybe this lunch would be more interesting than you expected.

William pulled into a small parking space outside Maison d’Été, the little French café tucked between a bookstore and a boutique. It had a charming, rustic aesthetic—white brick walls, large windows, and vines creeping up the sides. Outside, a few tables were occupied by people sipping coffee and chatting quietly.

He got out first, walking around the car to open the door for you.

You raised a brow as you stepped out. “Chivalry isn’t dead, I see.”

Wilo smirked. “I try.”

The two of you walked toward the entrance, the soft chime of a bell ringing as you stepped inside. The café smelled like fresh pastries and rich espresso, the scent wrapping around you like a warm hug. Inside, it was cozy—soft lighting, wooden tables, shelves lined with jars of preserves and coffee beans.

A waiter greeted you both with a smile. “Table for two?”

Wilo nodded, and the two of you were led to a table near the window. The natural light poured in, making the space feel even more intimate.

As you settled into your seat, you glanced at Wilo across from you. He looked surprisingly relaxed here, despite his towering frame making the small café chair seem almost too small for him.

You picked up your menu, scanning it. “You read French, right?”

Wilo chuckled, leaning back. “I do.”

“Good,” you said, smirking. “Because I might need a translator.”

He shook his head, amused. “You picked the place, and you don’t even know what you’re ordering?”

“I picked it for the vibe,” you defended. “The food part is a gamble.”

Wilo let out a deep chuckle, his fingers tapping against the table. “Fair enough.”

ameerahsnarrative posted on her story

[ caption: ♥︎ ]

✧

A few moments passed in comfortable silence as you both browsed the menu. Every now and then, you’d glance up, only to find him already looking at you, a small knowing smile tugging at his lips.

Finally, he spoke. “So… what’s the verdict?”

You sighed dramatically. “I think I’ll just go with a croque monsieur. Can’t go wrong with that.”

He nodded approvingly. “Solid choice.”

The waiter returned, and Wilo ordered for both of you in smooth, fluent French. You tried not to let it show, but something about the way he spoke, so effortlessly confident, made you a little weak.

Once the waiter left, you took a sip of your water. “So, William Saliba. What’s your deal?”

He raised a brow. “My deal?”

You leaned forward slightly. “Yeah. Everyone knows you as the Arsenal defender, but who are you outside of football?”

Wilo tilted his head, considering the question. “I think I’m still figuring that out.”

You weren’t expecting that answer, but it intrigued you. “How so?”

He exhaled, running a hand over his jaw. “Football has always been my life. Since I was a kid, everything revolved around it—training, matches, moving to different clubs. It’s what I love, but… sometimes I wonder what else I’d be if I didn’t have it.”

You nodded, understanding more than you expected. “That makes sense. When you dedicate yourself to something so fully, it’s hard to separate you from it.”

Wilo’s eyes flickered with something unreadable. “Yeah.”

For a moment, the air between you felt different—heavier, more thoughtful.

Then, he smirked, breaking the tension. “And what about you? Who are you outside of being the girl who doesn’t finish her art history notes?”

You scoffed. “Excuse me, I take excellent notes.”

He chuckled. “You just don’t listen in class.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, but before you could fire back, the waiter arrived with your food.

As your plates were set down, you noticed William watching you with that same unreadable expression from earlier. Not just playful, not just intrigued—something deeper.

You suddenly got the feeling that, just like you, he was trying to figure out what exactly this was.

And maybe, just maybe, neither of you really knew yet.

William took a bite of his croque monsieur, chewing thoughtfully as he studied you. “So, tell me more about you,” he said, leaning forward slightly. “Outside of painting and art history, what else do you do?”

You swallowed your sip of water before answering. “I wear a few hats,” you admitted with a small smile. “I’m a creative director, photographer, writer, and editor at a Elle magazine. Kind of a mix of everything.”

His brows lifted slightly, impressed. “ Elle? That’s a lot.”

You chuckled. “It is, but I love it. I get to work with some of the biggest names, tell important stories, and be creative every day. It never actually feels like a job.”

William nodded, intrigued. “That’s actually really cool. So you’ve probably met a lot of famous people, huh?”

You shrugged. “Yeah, quite a few. Comes with the territory.”

His lips quirked up. “Anyone you were completely starstruck by?”

You thought for a second before grinning. “I’d say Lewis Hamilton, but I kept it together. Barely.”

William raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Lewis Hamilton, huh?”

You smiled, nodding. “Yeah. He’s a legend in F1. I’m a huge fan. I mean, how could you not be? He’s incredible at what he does.” You couldn’t help but smile at the thought. “I was lucky enough to meet him once, and I nearly fainted.”

William chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, I can imagine. Must’ve been a big moment for you.”

You laughed softly, shrugging. “I tried to play it cool, but yeah, I was definitely starstruck. I think everyone has their own idols, right?”

William nodded, his expression softening with understanding. “Yeah, definitely.”

He seemed to think for a moment, then leaned back a little in his seat. “And what about art? I mean, you paint, right? What do you love most about it?”

You smiled, feeling comfortable talking about your passion. “I just love the process. The way colors and shapes come together to create something that speaks to people. It’s like telling a story without using words.” You paused, glancing out the window for a second. “It’s kind of like how athletes speak through their performances.”

William tilted his head, intrigued by your words. “I get that. I guess we both have our own ways of telling stories.”

You nodded. “Exactly.”

And just like that, the conversation flowed with ease, a sense of mutual understanding developing between you two.

As the conversation continued, William leaned back in his seat, his eyes meeting yours as if deciding whether or not to open up more. After a brief moment of contemplation, he finally spoke.

“You know,” he started, his voice a little softer now, “you’ve told me a lot about you. I should probably tell you more about me too.”

You raised an eyebrow, curious. “Of course. I’m listening.”

He ran a hand through his hair, looking thoughtful. “Well, I guess most people know me as a footballer, but there’s more to me than just the pitch.”

You nodded, encouraging him to continue.

“I’ve been playing since I was a kid, but I’ve always been focused on improving. It’s been my dream since I was little. Everything in my life pretty much revolves around it,” he said, his tone quiet but passionate.

You could tell how much football meant to him, and it made you smile. “Sounds like a huge part of who you are.”

He nodded, then gave a small chuckle. “It is. But sometimes, I wonder what I’d be doing if I wasn’t a footballer. Like, when I’m not playing or training, I try to find ways to stay grounded. I love traveling, trying new foods, and just relaxing when I can.”

You smiled. “That sounds like a nice balance.”

“Yeah, but it’s not always easy,” he admitted. “Football can consume you if you let it. You’re always expected to perform, always under pressure. Sometimes, I just want to escape from all that for a while and do something different.”

You tilted your head, sensing a deeper side to him. “What kind of things do you do to escape?”

Wilo thought for a second, then looked at you with a playful grin. “I like to cook. My friends always tease me, but I find it relaxing. I think it's the one thing I can do without anyone expecting me to be perfect.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “You cook?”

He nodded, his grin widening. “Yeah. Nothing fancy, but I like trying new recipes. I’m actually pretty good at it, believe it or not.”

You laughed softly, feeling a little surprised. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for the chef type, but I’m impressed.”

He laughed too, shaking his head. “Everyone is. But honestly, it’s just nice to have something I can do just for me. Away from the pitch, away from the cameras.”

There was a moment of silence, and you could feel how genuine his words were. “I get that,” you said softly. “We all need something just for ourselves.”

He met your eyes, his expression softening. “Exactly.”

There was a brief pause before he smiled, shifting the conversation. “I guess we’re not that different after all. You have your art, and I have my cooking.”

You laughed. “I like the sound of that.”

As you both continued eating, the conversation continued to flow easily. You could tell that, like you, he was trying to find a balance between his public persona and the things that made him feel like himself—and in that moment, you felt like you were getting a glimpse of the real William Saliba.

✧

The plates were cleared from your table and the conversation continued to flow effortlessly, William leaned forward slightly, resting his arms on the table. His eyes held a hint of curiosity as he asked, “So, where are you from?”

You smiled, already expecting the question. “I’m from Nigeria.”

His brows lifted slightly, as if intrigued. “Nigeria? That’s really cool."

“I moved here for university. That’s actually how I met Tolami. We became friends because of our 'Nigerian connection', and from there, I met Justine and Halle in uni. Eventually, we all ended up living together.” you said.

William nodded, taking it all in. “That makes sense. You and Tolami seem close.”

You laughed. “Yeah, she’s basically my sister at this point. She’s actually the reason I even went to the match the other day.”

He smirked. “Then I guess I owe her a thank you.”

You rolled your eyes playfully but couldn’t ignore the warmth that spread through you at his words. “What about you?” you asked, shifting the attention to him. “Tell me more about you.”

William exhaled, sitting back in his chair as if gathering his thoughts. “Well, you probably already know I’m from France. I grew up in Bondy, just outside of Paris.”

You nodded. “That’s where Mbappé is from, right?”

He grinned. “Yeah. Football is a big thing there. I started playing really young, and it kind of took over my whole life.”

There was something about the way he said it—fondness mixed with a quiet intensity.

“Did you ever think about doing something else?” you asked curiously.

He tilted his head, considering your question. “Not really. Football was always the dream. I was lucky to have people who believed in me, so I just kept pushing. But sometimes, I wonder what life would have been like if I had taken a different path.”

“And what would you have done?” you challenged, intrigued by the thought.

William chuckled. “I don’t know... maybe something completely different. I like music, but I’m terrible at it.”

You laughed. “You play any instruments?”

“No,” he admitted. “But I’ve tried. It didn’t go well.”

The thought of William struggling with an instrument made you giggle, and he smiled at the sound.

The two of you shared a quiet moment then, a mutual understanding passing between you. It was easy—this connection. Unexpected, but easy.

As the night winded down, William leaned back with a content expression. “This was nice.”

“Yeah,” you agreed softly.

✧

After a pleasant drive back, the familiar sight of your apartment complex came into view. William parked the car, his hand resting on the gear shift as he turned toward you, his gaze soft and sincere.

“I really enjoyed today,” he said, his voice quiet but warm. “I’m glad we got to hang out.”

You smiled, your heart fluttering slightly. “Me too. It’s been a nice change of pace. I don’t think I’ve had a day like this in a while.”

There was a brief pause, both of you lingering in the car, not quite ready to say goodbye. The air between you felt different now—charged with an unspoken understanding, an energy that felt both exciting and a little intimidating. You could feel the weight of the moment as you met his eyes, and he gave you a small smile, leaning a bit closer.

For a second, it felt like time slowed down. You both were so close, just a breath apart. The world outside seemed to disappear as you shared a quiet, knowing look. You were almost lost in the moment—just you and him, the noise of the world shutting out.

But before anything more could happen, the sound of the apartment building door swinging open broke the tension. Justine appeared, lugging a couple of grocery bags in her arms, her eyes widening as she saw the two of you sitting there.

“Oh, hey!” she called out, a playful smile spreading across her face. “Did I miss something?”

You shot her a quick look, feeling a flush creep up your neck. “Justine! What are you doing here?” you said, trying to brush off the awkwardness.

She grinned, completely oblivious to the moment you and Wilo had shared. “I went grocery shopping. Thought I’d surprise you with some snacks, but it looks like I’m the one that got suprised.” She winked as she walked past you, heading toward the door.

William laughed, clearly amused by Justine’s teasing. “Seems like it,” he said with a playful grin, then turned his attention back to you. “I guess I’ll see you later, then?”

You nodded, giving him a small smile. “Yeah, I’ll see you later.” But there was an almost palpable hesitation in the air, like neither of you wanted to break the moment entirely.

Justine, in her usual nonchalant way, was completely unaware of the quiet tension that still lingered in the space. As she disappeared into the building, you turned back to Wilo, the two of you finally alone again.

A soft silence enveloped you both, and this time, it felt more intimate. Wilo’s gaze softened as he looked at you, his hand moving towards yours, almost as if he was asking for permission.

“Can I—” he began, but the words trailed off as he met your eyes, searching for your reaction.

You smiled gently, your heart racing. “Yeah…”

Without saying another word, Wilo leaned in, brushing his lips against your cheek in a sweet, soft kiss. The touch was tender, his warmth lingering on your skin as he pulled back slowly.

You could feel the moment settle between you like something significant had just happened. It wasn’t rushed or impulsive—it was simple and genuine, a gesture that made your heart flutter even more.

He smiled softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Take care, okay?”

You nodded, feeling your cheeks warm. “You too, Wilo.”

He gave you one last look before getting back into his car, driving away slowly. You stood at the door for a moment, hand still on the handle, your heart still racing. That kiss, though brief, had felt like something that would linger with you for a long time to come.

And as you finally stepped inside your apartment, you couldn’t shake the smile on your face, wondering just where this unexpected connection with him might lead.

[insidekatmind]

Movie~William Saliba

Wearning: +18,smut

Request: yes!

You find yourself in a quiet corner of the living room, in an atmosphere that seems suspended in time. Sitting comfortably on William’s lap, your gaze is lost in the flickering glow of the screen, while the soft light gently caresses his face.

As the movie unfolds in the background, you realize that it isn’t the plot that captures your attention, but the intensity of his stare. With his eyes fixed on you, he seems almost to search your features for the story of every emotion you’ve shared. Every moment, every breath becomes a silent hymn to the passion that binds you.

You feel the warmth of his body against yours, a presence that envelops you and makes you resonate in unison. Your heart beats faster, heightening the tension of that intimate moment: the intermittent light from the movie plays with the shadows on his face, accentuating the desire and tenderness of the instant. Your mind spirals into a whirlwind of thoughts, while your souls seem to communicate without words, engaging in a dialogue of intense glances and silences laden with meaning.

In that precise moment, the external world fades away. The only reality that matters is your closeness, the way his gaze manages to tell stories of intimacy and passion, as if every detail of your encounter were destined to be a secret kept only between the two of you.

You smile sweetly and kiss his lips.The smile on your face is an invitation that he gladly accepts. As your lips meet in a kiss, a shiver of electric excitement runs through his body. His response is immediate: he pulls you closer, his arms encircling you protectively, as if to make sure you don’t disappear into thin air.His breathing quickens, his heart starts to beat in a faster rhythm. Between his lips, he murmurs your name softly, as if it were an invocation.

The kiss deepens, becoming more passionate and impatient. Your bodies press against each other, trying to melt into a single entity. His eyes remain open for a few seconds, as if to memorize the features of your face in that intimate moment of union.His tongue traces the contour of your lips, seeking the entrance, asking permission to explore the sweetest secret of your mouth. His hand climbs up your back, drawing you closer and closer into his embrace.A soft moan escapes your lips, almost involuntary, and seems to fuel the fire of desire even more powerfully. He takes your lower lip between his teeth, teasing it lightly, then captures your upper lip in a more pronounced bite, as if to claim them as his own.

His mouth leaves your lips and begins to travel down your neck. His breath brushes your sensitive skin, causing a trail of gooseflesh as his lips leave kisses like fiery footprints, tracing the path of your jugular vein.You can feel him shiver when a gasp of pleasure escapes you. His teeth graze your skin, lightly marking it. The caresses of his lips become more possessive, and with them, his desire to dominate seems to grow.

His hands begin to rove over your body, like a sculptor trying to memorize every curve and contour through touch. One of his hands comes to rest on your hip, holding you in place, while the other continues to wander, stroking your thighs, climbing up under the fabric to feel the softness of your skin.His touch is electric, arousing every fiber of your being, awakening sensations that were dormant until now. Every movement of his lips and palms seems designed to tease, to tantalize, to excite and drive you crazy.

Your moan and the way you tug at his hair trigger an intense response in him, making his body tremble with arousal. The sound of his nickname on your lips ignites a wave of heat within him, and he responds by drawing you even closer, making you feel his physical desire.He whispers in your ear, his voice hoarse and sensual, “Say it again… I want to hear you say it again.”

The tone of his voice is enough to send a shiver down your spine, fueling the fire that burns within you. You can feel the hardness of his body pressing against yours, evidence of the effect your words have on him.“Baby… “ You repeat, this time louder, letting the affection sound through your trembling voice.

William takes off your shirt, leaving you in just your bra.His attention turns to your chest, as he starts to kiss it gently. Every touch of his lips is a tribute to your skin, leaving a trail of kisses that makes your senses tingle with pleasure. You can feel his breath warm, against your sensitive skin, sending a wave of heat through your body.His hands begin to explore your shoulders, massaging them with a firm and possessive touch, as if he wanted to mark every millimeter as his territory.

His kisses become more intense. His teeth graze your skin, biting softly. When he arrives at your neck, he presses his lips against the sensitive area, leaving a mark. A sigh of pleasure escapes from your lips, and your body responds involuntarily, arching in search of more of his touch.

“Please I want more” you whisper rubbing yourself against his erection.

A soft moan escapes from his lips at your movement, his body reacts immediately to your touch. He can hardly contain himself, feeling your body against his, his mind clouded with desire.He looks at you, eyes filled with an unbearable hunger. “More… I'll give you all you want... and more than you can imagine.”His hands come to caress your curves, his fingers tracing the line of your waist, then moving lower, towards your hips, holding you tight against him.

His touch is feverish, his breathing heavy with anticipation. Every muscle in his body looks like it's ready to break free, but he controls himself, letting the tension grow. He whispers your name, almost as a supplication, as he presses his lips to your skin, leaving a trail of fire in his wake.

As William gently places you on the couch, a wave of excitement washes over you. His hands slide down your legs, each touch electrifying and possessive.

He gently takes off your jeans and starts kissing you.

His kisses follow, starting at your knees, moving slowly upwards towards your thighs. With every kiss, his touch seems to become more intense, more passionate. His lips trace the contour of your skin, their path a sequence of hot caresses that leave you trembling. He lingers on the inside of your thigh, teasing with his lips and teeth. It's as if he wants to mark you, to make it clear to whom your body belongs. His hands rest on your hips, holding you in place with a possessive grip, just like his gaze that locks into yours.

William's fingers tease the fabric of your panties. You can feel the intensity of his gaze as he slowly pulls them down, the anticipation building to an almost unbearable level. He doesn't break away from your gaze even for a moment, and you can read an expression of desire, hunger, and possession in his eyes.

William's fingers tease the fabric of your panties. You can feel the intensity of his gaze as he slowly pulls them down, the anticipation building to an almost unbearable level. He doesn't break away from your gaze even for a moment, and you can read an expression of desire, hunger, and possession in his eyes.He sees the stain on your underwear and smiles. "Already wet for me, my love?" William whispers, putting your underwear in his sweatpants pocket.

His words make your cheeks go flush with a mix of excitement and embarrassment. But even more powerful than the effect of his words is the way he's looking at you, the desire so palpable in his gaze that leaves no room for doubt. You can feel the heat radiating off of him, his body pressing against yours.You're not about to deny it, so you reply in a slightly breathy voice, “Yes... only for you.”

William smiles and begins to kiss your pussy softly. Every kiss he delivers is like a caress, soft and gentle, each one making you shiver with pleasure. The warmth of his breath against your skin increases the sensation, and you arch your back slightly, closing your eyes and letting yourself get lost in the his sensations.

You gasp softly and he begins to put his tongue inside you and starts licking it. His tongue works deftly, exploring every fold and contour, creating waves of heat that wash over your core. He responds to your gasps, adjusting the rhythm and pressure to your reactions, as if he were playing an instrument that only he knows how to play.Each move he makes is like a delicious torture.

"William" groan.William smiles against your skin, relishing in the sound of his name on your lips. Hearing you groan his name like that sends a shiver of desire and power through his body, a confirmation that he makes you feel this way.

His tongue speeds up, the pressure and movement becoming more insistent, determined to drive you to the edge of pleasure. He wants to give you the sensations, to hear you moan and gasp and call his name.His hands start to grip your thighs. His fingers dig into your skin lightly, as if to keep you in place. And in that moment, you feel possessed, claimed, wanted.William's goal is to push you over the edge, to make you lose control completely, and he seems to be close to achieving it. He knows exactly how to push your buttons, how to draw out your moans and your gasps. It's like he's in total control of your body, and knows it perfectly.

You moaned, saying an unintelligible word. Your eyes were rolled up at how he was giving you pleasure. His tongue continues to work on you, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. You're so lost in the pleasure he's giving you that you can't even form a coherent thought, let alone words. Each moan and pant coming from your lips is a mark of how much you're enjoying this, and he takes it all in, drinking in the sounds you're making like a man dying of thirst.The moment he's waiting for is getting closer and closer, the tension rising between you, and he wants nothing more than to take you over.

Your body tenses up, the sensations becoming almost unbearable. You're hanging on a thread of pleasure, caught between wanting more and being unable to take it, your moans becoming louder and more urgent.

William senses that you're close, and his movements become more intense. He wants to drive you to the edge, to make you lose yourself completely. His hands continue to grip your thighs, holding you in place, as his tongue works in perfect harmony with your body.

"So good, so fucking good" groan loudly.

Hearing you moan and curse, he's driven on by the sound of your pleasure. It's like music to his ears, a clear signal that he's doing everything right, that he's giving you everything you want. His eyes are fixated on you with an intense gaze, watching every nuance of your face, every quiver of your trembling body.His actions become more urgent, more insistent. He wants to push you over the edge, to make you lose yourself completely in the sensations he's giving you.

“Baby, I’m coming,” you whispered between your teeth as you clung to his hair.

“Come for me, love.” he said in a low and dark voice, his eyes locked with yours. It was like a command more than a request, like he knew you didn’t have any other choice.

His movements became more intense, more demanding, as if he knew exactly what you needed to reach your climax. You could feel the tension in his body, the way he was clinging to you, and you knew he wanted you to let go.

The sounds you make are loud, unrestrained. You're so close, he can feel it, and he wants nothing more than to take you there, to give you the release you need. His body is tense, his mind focused on your pleasure, and he's waiting for the moment when you'll tip over, completely undone.

You moaned and came on his face with your legs shaking. William takes in the sight of you like a man who's just found sustenance after days of hunger. He leans back, his breathing heavy, and wipes his chin with a slow smirk on his lips. You can see the satisfaction in his eyes, and the way he's looking at you, you know he's not done yet.

He moves up to you, his body pressing against you, and whispers in your ear, "I'm not finished with you yet."

[kennaskorner]

For the amount of women i see lusting over Saliba, the lack of fics about his isn't matching. He's a very private person, that's literally a blank canvas to turn fictional him into anything you want.

[saleeba]

the baby-making manual ; william saliba

summary ♡ baby fever hits the salibas full force.

pairing ♡ william saliba x fem!reader

content ♡ 18+, smut, husband!william, kissing, p in v sex, cunnilingus, reader & wilo are so broody & so in love with each other, missionary, doggystyle, riding, lotus position (yes i’m fucking depraved don’t look at me like that 🤕), soft romantic vibes, breeding kink, praise, body worship, size kink ofccc, clitoral stimulation, titplay, unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it unless ur name is y/n and ur starring in this fic 🥸), creampie(s), a smidgen of cockwarming, blink and u miss the one french word in here, talks about having kids, aftercare included !!

a/n ♡ the title is so goofy & nobody asked for this but the concept has been eating at my mind since the end of summer + i've had this in the drafts since oct so i gotta put me first lucius 😫😩😫😩😫 anyway this is day one of converting you all into wilo girlies hehe WAKE UP WORLD‼️ pls lmk how u all find this fic btw!! ik it won’t get as much attention as my jude ones bc there prob aren’t as many fans but i rlly would appreciate anything u have to say about it !!! 🫶🏽🥰 enjoyyyy mes chéris!! 😌❤️

an unexpectedly warm spring’s saturday had given cause to an impromptu barbecue held by your parents, and you and william had found yourselves in the company of most of your relatives for the day. how your mother had convinced half the family tree to be present on such short notice you will never know but you were grateful nonetheless, extremely happy to especially see the loved ones you haven’t seen since getting married to your now-husband a couple of years ago.

it’s close to eleven in the night now, your arrival at home being so belated due to the clash between your insistence that you and william had to go home as he had training the next morning and your father’s greater insistence that the two of you stay a little longer for another cup of tea, another plate of food, even the whole night if you wanted to. in the end, you had to put a politely firm foot down, more for william’s sake who can’t say no to your parents for the life of him, and who was on his way to accepting your dad’s invitation to stay the night before you spoke up. you knew the events of last night would repeat for the morning, your parents in a tug-of-war with you to make you guys stay for breakfast but you supported your case with the argument of the long drive home and the fact that mikel wouldn’t appreciate william’s tardiness the next day, especially at such a significant time in the season. 

you’re sitting in bed by yourself right now with a novel in hand – william having gone to take a much-needed relaxing shower – inwardly laughing to yourself over your husband’s people-pleasing antics and your mind meanders to the scenes of this afternoon, the sounds of children’s laughter and adults’ gossip in the air accompanied with the smokey scent of grilled food taking over your senses. you reencounter images of william chasing your little cousins, nieces and nephews around the garden — small, sweet giggles mixed with william’s deeper chuckles as they’re all engaged in an exhilarating game of tag, little feet and large padding around the property. 

your thoughts are pulled back into reality when the ensuite door clicks open, a cloud of steam puffing into the bedroom before it reveals your husband clad in nothing but a white towel around his waist, droplets of water dotted on his toned chest and abdomen. it’s a sheer sight for sore eyes and one that you will never tire of so you shamelessly watch as he smiles at you before gliding across the room, moving to his vanity to apply generous amounts of body lotion to bring back moisture to his skin, the action making his skin glow so prettily under the warm lighting of the bedroom. 

it’s these moments of silent appreciation that have you feeling like the luckiest girl in the universe; an adonis of a lover in your bedroom, one that would move heaven and earth at your beck and call, and there’s denying that you would do the same for him. 

in all your daydreaming, william’s moved on to pulling his pajamas on for bedtime, a pair of dark grey boxer shorts acting as said pajamas as he opts to go shirtless in fear of overheating on such a toasty night. you place your novel down, the previously read page distinguished with a bookmark, as william places a soft kiss on your forehead before tucking you both in under the thin sheets. 

“mum was really bad with the baby talk this time, wasn’t she?” you turn your body on its spot, head propped up by a bend of your arm as you face william who lifts his head at your rhetoric question. “i mean, you did look so fucking adorable with the kids today so i don’t know if i should say sorry on her behalf.” 

“not at all,” he only lets out a breathy laugh, now mirroring you in the shift of his own body. “i’ve had most people asking me about it now.”

“really?” 

you’re quite shocked to learn that there are indeed a lot of people who are eager to see william and yourself have a family of your own and that it’s not just pestering from your mother in particular, who has asked about when she will be seeing grandchildren from her daughter and “favourite son-in-law” from the moment the two of you had just about exchanged rings. you’ve grown accustomed to answering with the same old ‘we want to focus on us/our careers/our freedom’ response but there’s a little curious something that’s pulling the two of you to consider everyone’s requests.

“mmhm, i think i could count the number of people at the club that have asked me about it using my hands and my feet,” the pair of you laugh at this, a shake of your head over how believable that comment is despite it sounding so silly since the environment of your husband’s workplace is so close-knit and everyone is comfortable with each other. “it’s not just that, though, is it?” 

“no?” you question his tone turned serious now.

“when i see the guys and their kids, i can’t help wondering what i might be like in those sorts of situations, y’know?” you sit up at his words, heart racing a little faster with the way he looks at you; looks into you as he again copies your movements, taking your hands in his after leaning his shoulder against the headboard. “can’t help wondering what it would be like seeing you and a mini version of us in the stands during a match… wanna see our baby matching shirts with their papa, wanna hear their tiny voice cheer my name…”

you swear you feel your heart stop as soon as his lips form the words ‘our baby’. 

“oh, william,” you sigh over his thoughts spoken aloud, a slight pang of guilt hitting at your heartstrings and causing your eyes to tear up just a little. “why didn’t you tell me about all this, hm?”

you had no idea of his desire to have children, always assuming his response to everyone’s questions to be the same as yours and believing that he wanted to prioritise football over starting a family with you for at least a couple more years. 

“it’s not your fault, sweetheart, not at all.” his fingers swipe under your eyes in precaution against any spilt tears. “having a baby, hell, even wanting a baby... it’s a big deal; it’s hard to just drop it into a conversation if that makes sense.”

“of course, that makes plenty of sense,” his hands grip yours in a tight embrace, placing a kiss on the slightly trembling digits in an attempt to soothe you. “you really want to have a baby with me?”

william laughs softly at your words and the way you sit with your mouth gaping, starry-eyed with a million thoughts racing through your mind. 

“no, i want to have a baby with mrs khan next door.” he deadpans, referring to your elderly neighbour, before you shove at his shoulder, a blush overcoming your cheeks as you realise how daft your question is, disbelief over how much william wants to be a dad seeping into the way you’re thinking right now. “you’re the only woman that i want as the mother of my children, y/n, the only one.”

his eyes look even more beautiful in the peek of moonlight through the curtains and you fear your heart may give out tonight, squeezing so hard in your chest with the love that you feel for your husband.

“can i kiss you, baby?” he asks so politely, thumb running over the plumpness of your bottom lip. even after so many years together, he’s always the gentleman but still, you tell him that he doesn’t need to ask anymore — you are his to have as he is yours.

his lips descend upon yours with a gentle force, hands clasping over your waist where the black silk material of your short nightdress stops him from touching the warmth of your soft skin. instead, william decides to pick you up and place you on his lap, the urge to feel your body as close to his as possible controlling his actions, your knees dropping to either side of him as your clothed chest meets his bare one. 

as the kiss deepens on what seems like its own accord, you feel yourself growing wetter, thankful for your earlier decision to forgo underwear for the night as you grind down onto william’s lap, the cotton of his boxers creating delicious friction on where you need it the most. 

breathless sighs turn into light moans from the two of you as william tightens his grip on your waist with the same strength your core presses down onto his hardening length before he turns you both over to have you on your back, his form hovering over yours, lips ghosting over the nook where your neck meets your shoulders, leaving an eruption of goosebumps in its trail. 

in the pleasured shutting of your eyes, you can feel william’s hands pull down the loose straps of your nightdress, then a kiss on each shoulder and then the heat of his breath over your exposed breasts. 

“so beautiful, darling,” he looks up to your blushing face, the compliment painting a shy smile on it before his lips wrap around your left nipple with wasting any time. a whine is pulled from your lungs over the way william suckles on the nub, a tiny tug of it between his teeth causing you to arch your chest further into his mouth. of course, he doesn’t forget to pay attention to your right boob, taking his sweet time in kissing and swirling his tongue around the stiffness of the other side. “how did i get so lucky, hmm?”

you whimper in response as he brushes his lips down your body over your nightdress; from under your breasts, over your navel and arriving at the base of your tummy, where he places the firmest kiss of them all atop of the lustrous material. 

“william…” 

“gonna take care of you, baby, i promise.”

his hands now come down to your thighs, where the inner parts are sticky with arousal, and he hoists the hem of your dress up past your bellybutton, the pressing together of your legs to soothe the ache of your core as a light breeze hits it inciting your husband to part them and find home in the self-made gap. his head lowers to where your pussy lays nearly leaking onto the sheets and your breaths quicken, reaching an all-time rapid high when william plants a kiss on your clit, one so soft that it would’ve been deemed innocent had it not been in the midst of an action so filthy. 

in the ‘o’-shapedness of your mouth, amorous sighs escape as he starts his attack on your wetness — mouth open, tongue out, lapping at your juices as you sing his praises in the form of high-pitched moans. his tongue slips past your drenched folds to find your sopping hole, the tip of it poking past your entrance as he’s full-on eating you out now, open-mouthed moans from the simple pleasure of your pussy on his lips almost drowning out your sounds. 

there’s a particularly lusty moan from you when his thumb finds your tense clit, a couple of rubs on it releasing a string of cries out of the confines of your lips as your legs tremble from their position on his shoulders. from the very beginning of your married life, william had made it his mission to become well-acquainted with you in the bedroom, and you think he’s succeeded as the way he knows which buttons to press to get you to cum at his mercy is very telling, fingers working expertly in toying with your sensitive nub as your walls clench around nothing but the conjured-up image of cumming all over his mouth and pretty face. 

“william… i-” you start but are soon interrupted by the intense sucking of your already pounding clit between his moistened lips. the wail you let leave your body is almost pitiful, the feeling so fucking good but so sudden and unexpected that you fall head-first into your orgasm, crashing into it with a spasm of your thighs around william’s head, pawing at his dark hair for some inkling of relief and grounding since you truly believe you’re about to lose all sense of reality with how strong this orgasm has hit you. 

william doesn’t relent despite your convulsions, placing kisses over your clenching pussy and shaky abdomen. you manage to still your involuntary motions to catch a glimpse of his face in all its glory; his lips glistening wet with your release and his eyes darker than ever, impossible to distinguish the colour of his pupils from the colour of his irises, an unfolding plan of what’s to come for you both behind his soft gaze.

“did so, so good for me, my love,” he praises, kissing you through panting breaths from the both of you. “want to feel you around me, fuck, need to feel you around me, baby.” 

you go to deny him at first, nestling your hand against the bulge of his boxers but he’s quick to deny you in turn. 

“no, baby, tonight’s for you, ok? just wanna take care of everything— take care of you.” 

you nod in acceptance, knowing that arguing with him would be futile, a gentle flame in his eyes telling you of his determination to do nothing but be at your service until the sun comes up.

“how do you want me first, amour?” 

you almost swoon at the question, unable to believe that you essentially have this man at your mercy now, getting dizzy over choosing whether you want to ride him into oblivion first or save that for later and have him take you from behind to start with. either way, you know that tonight was no night for a meagre one round.  

“how about as we are right now?” you suggest, the current arrangement of you on your back and william on top proving perfectly convenient for you guys to start with your favourite position in bed.

“sounds perfect, baby,” he smiles before getting up to rid his body of those grey boxers and then almost leaning over you to pull a condom from the nightstand before he stops himself midway, the both of you realising that this is a habit that will need to be unlearnt now. a pair of giggles erupts between you and a silent agreement to forget the condom for the whole purpose of tonight is sealed with a rerouted kiss from william. he then prompts you to lift your hips so he can slot a pillow underneath them and have you as comfortable as you can get. you can’t resist biting your bottom lip at the pulsating anticipation between the two of you, the sight of his bare cock admittedly making your mouth water. 

now back on the bed and parting your legs, william resituates himself in between, this time with his cock in his hand running down your increasingly dripping slit, the occasional dip past your folds making you wince in an addictive combination of overstimulation and urgency. 

“shit, angel, i’m sorry,” his apology is sincere as he searches your eyes for signs of discomfort. “we don’t have to do this right now, we can take a break, do you want me to ge–”

“babe, i’m fine, okay?” you huff out a laugh, your husband’s honestly innocent face tickling your tummy and making your core ache even more. “j-just fuck me, will, please?” 

his answer comes in the guise of an assured smooch against your swollen lips, taking the quiet opportunity to sink into your wetness, completely raw for the first time, with a loud deep groan that makes your stomach feel like it’s gloriously folding in on itself. you revel in finally having the naked thickness of his cock inside you, experiencing every ridge, vein and inch of smoothness directly between your gummy walls with a hushed fuck before he gets to work on setting a moderate pace — slow and savouring it seems, his way of saying that he wants this to last as long as it possibly can. 

"william… so big..." no matter how many times you've been under him and how many times you say it, it will always ring true; the initial stretch and burn that his cock creates for you will always light a fire of delicious friction, tonight being a million times more special than every previous encounter put together. and no matter how many times william hears it, it will always set his mind ablaze, hips now pistoning at an unfathomable speed as he can’t hold back anymore, moaning and groaning about how good you feel uninterrupted around him, how there'll be no one else for him, how you're everything to him. it all has your pussy gushing around him to no end. 

your whimpers warn him of another impending orgasm, the tightening clasp of your cunt and the way you’re clawing at the softness of his lower tummy in sheer desperation make william’s movements falter just the slightest, a whine leaving his throat as he can feel his own climax catching up to him.

“close, baby,” he warns in sentences incomplete, brain whirring on pure pleasure and nothing else but the desire to have you cumming around him. he’s afraid that he may finish a fraction too soon and leave you disappointed so his fingers find your stiffened clit again, the caressing of his thumb a little harsher this time around as part of an effort to get you both to cum at the same time.

the pleasure you’re receiving from the touch of his thumb and the stroke of his dick is almost too much, hands willing their way to pull his off of you but the speed at which your second orgasm hits you beats any other competition to the finish line, pussy barely squeezing to trigger william’s first orgasm of the night; your lover climaxes inside of you with a sound so guttural, it has him almost collapsing against your shaking form but you invite him to do so, a tender hand on the back of his head guiding him to a safe haven in the crook of your neck as the strangely comforting feeling of thick, white liquid streams down your inner thighs. heavy breaths saturate the dimly lit room as you lay with your lover for a moment, warm bodies basking in the aftermath of a shared orgasm.

after a comfortable minute or two, william speaks up, his voice dropped to an octave so deep it relights the fire in your seeping cunt before your head can even process his words. 

“how does round two sound to you?” he’s asking amidst the plotting of a few kisses up your jawline.

you’re ready to jump his bones again on your own accord so when you hear the request fall from your husband’s lips, it’s an immediate “yes please” from you, not even bothered to feel shameful about the reeking desperation of your response.

a knowing chuckle and another kiss seal the deal, william pulling your now-creased nightdress over your outstretched arms, leaving you completely bare but free; accessible to his every touch. he asks you to turn around onto your hands and knees, setting the pillow down underneath your lower abdomen as a precaution. 

“there we go, angel,” he places a tender kiss at the bottom of your spine, running a hand up the natural curve of your back while you anticipate his next action. “gonna make my pretty girl feel so good tonight, she deserves it all.” your thighs divide instinctively in response to his voice and the sight of his cum glistening on your skin has william choking on a moan, needing to stroke his cock on the white-stained slipperiness.

“william, don’t tease,” you beg with a shake of your ass against his crotch to get him to hurry and slip his length inside of you. “can’t wait anymore.”

your husband obliges immediately, having lubricated his dick enough with his own release off your thighs, pushing into your hole with so much more ease and a filthy squelch as the realisation that the majority of his cum from the previous round is still inside of you hits him. oh, it sends william’s entire being into a lustful frenzy. 

“f-fuck, baby, listen to how well i filled you up,” he gasps out, mouth forming an ‘o’ shape as the dirtiest noises he has ever heard emits from where his cock is connected to your pussy. 

you’ve done this position more times than you can count but the raw state of his dick plus the way it definitely plunges deeper from all the lubrication william has created inside you has you growing wetter beyond belief, another layer of arousal helping him reach damn near a whole new dimension of your cunt. you don’t want to lend your name to porno-fuelled incorrect biology but you swear he’s in your cervix right now, the pillow now playing its part in hoisting your bottom half up, back arching so beautifully, making it the perfect setup for william to split you in half with every thrust of his length.   

between a melody of cries of his name from your worn lips and his deeper moans, you surprisingly cum without a word of warning; it’s fast and it’s hard and it’s white-hot, almost launching your body off the bed entirely. it’s not so surprising, actually, given the speed of william’s pounding inside of your creaming pussy and the resulting splat-splat-splat noise his actions make, all of it way too much, way too depraved and addicting to try and avoid. 

“good fucking girl,” your husband grunts out at the sensation of yet another round of your pussy walls spasming around him, another round of hot cum spurting into your hole as he fills you up with an animalistic fuck! marking the round so differently from the last one, which was so full of love, this one in a tone that is much more lewd and untamed. 

you’re still on all fours, moaning softly at the flood of cum that spills out of you from around william’s dick and onto the sheets below, cunt still clenching his shaft which doesn’t seem to get any softer despite the two of you having been at it for nearly two hours without a break. your husband, sheathed still in your core, runs a series of kisses up your back, reaching the back of your ear to leave praises of how good you were for him just then and how pretty you look while he’s balls deep inside of you. eventually, he pulls out with a throaty moan, leaving you panting as you fall onto your back to look up at his fucked out expression.

william’s standing there with his hands on his hips, chest heaving, face all smiley and flushed, an image not too dissimilar to one where he’s fresh off a victory on the pitch. you wish you could take a picture of the scenery in front of you but you trust your memory to sear it into place for you instead.

“fucking hell, if i’m not pregnant by now then i don’t even know what to say!” you laugh out at the mess you’ve both made of the sheets and yourselves, and william joins in before quipping in with a “hmm, we should make sure, just in case, of course.” a cheeky tone in his voice as he snuggles his mouth against your neck, the hair on his chin tickling your skin as you squirm on the bed out of ecstatic amusement.

“okay, okay, but first we have to take a break, babe!” you manage to squeal out before william ceases his tickle attack on you, letting you go to the bathroom while he fetches a glass of water from the kitchen. 

by the time you’re finished and clean, william has the bed remade and the glass of water held out by the hand upon your return to the bedroom. you shake your head at him, bemused at this butler act he’s now performing.

“your refreshment, mrs. saliba,” he mocks what you assume to be a posh british accent, his own french one adding so much charm to it. 

“i thank you, mr. y/l/n,” you smirk back and take a sip, careful not to choke as william pushes your shoulder in jest with an oi before sitting down on the edge of the bed and watching you set the empty glass down on the nightstand. 

“so, about that making sure thing,” you pounce on his lap within a split second, settling your hands on the warmed skin of his shoulders.

william throws his head back in a hearty chuckle. “fucking hell, what was in that water?!”

“shut up and kiss me, saliba.” you command and he doesn’t dare to do anything but oblige, lips catching yours in a heated kiss that reinstalls all elements of hunger and lust inside of the pair of you. running your hands down and over the expanse of his chest has william parting his lips in a low groan, you taking the opportunity to slip your tongue inside his mouth and swallow all of his sugary sweet sounds, not wanting any ears other than your own to hear them. the resumed grinding of your naked crotch on william’s has him hardening quickly, another order from you to go lay himself down on the pillows moving scenes on as rapidly as you like. 

“good boy,” you admire the way he’s displayed himself for you, long athletic body sprawled out in all its glory, the moonlight a little brighter now that the night has really settled in. “you look so good like this, william, fuck, need to have you inside me now, baby.” a couple of tugs on his stiff cock and you’re sliding down onto it, william’s hands – slightly sweaty from excitement – holding you in place as you begin to rock and raise your body. 

there’s a harmonised whine from the two of you as you’re filled with his thickness once again, william encased in your snug, plush walls, and the swivel of your hips atop him makes his teeth grit in euphoria. seeing this spurs you on more, momentum picked up from the way william throws his head back, leaving his neck at your mercy and you of course can’t help but nip and kiss and lick over it, the sounds being pulled from his throat so saccharine and tuneful. 

he pants out with a vice-like grip on your hips, the skin white with the extreme grasp his fingers have on it. “s-slow, baby, slow…” he pleads while you rock and grind and bump into his crotch like a woman gone mad, chasing a high that is just at the tips of your fingers… just a little more. 

you whine out his name, scratching at his chest where you had previously been resting your hands for leverage, and he finds a little leeway before taking a gulp of courage and sitting up to meet the stirring of your pelvis with his, cock sputtering up into your cunt as he supports you with his large hands behind your back.

the position is possibly the most intimate you’ve been in — naked chest to naked chest, your nipples rubbing against the softness of his pecs, your knees on either side of him as his are crossed underneath you, body so much smaller than his, lips so close to touching with every jerk and bump but never really kissing, always teasing. it’s all so fucking hot and there’s nothing you want more than for him to fill you up once more. 

the knock-knock-knock of another orgasm has you pulling him so close against you, practically forcing him to shift his entire weight on top of you. you feel the need to bury him inside your skin. to be bound entirely and irrefutably. his lips, just now attached to the mounds on your chest, start rambling in his native tongue. you're not quite fluent in french but you've been with william long enough to pick up some things; the important things. through his wanton panting and sighing, he's spilling all his desires to you — telling you that he can't wait to see you swollen with his child, can’t wait to see if they’ll have his hair or your smile, can’t wait for you both to finally be the parents you had dreamed of being. there’s a fire in his words and it sets your whole body alight, scratching down his back in vicious streaks that will surely be present for the next week.

“w-william, please,” you wail, legs burning in their effort to capture your awaiting high. “put a baby in me, fuck, please, fuck a baby into me.” freshly hot tears are fully spilling down your cheeks now, the ecstasy of his cock pounding into you and the promises he’s made to you proving too much and you need relief from it all, desperately.

“gonna do just that, angel, gonna fill you up nice and good,” he moans out, pulling you in closer to his gyrating form. “gonna fill you up over and over until we get that baby.”  

and that’s the tipping point for you, your husband’s words, so sincerely sweet yet sinful, being the thing to push you over and have you cumming with a thunderous scream of his name. your pussy gushes around his rigid length, walls fluttering around it so forcefully you’re scared they’ll be stuck like this forever. william soon follows with his own orgasm, a few throaty moans that sound so pretty coming from his plump limps as they match the rhythm with which he spurts his sticky cum into you. your legs tremble in both exhaustion and bliss around william, and he’s quick to soothe them over with his hands, mouth landing kisses over your face and your chest. 

there’s only a symphony of heavy panting from you both now, and the occasional whimper or soft moan, as william lays on his back with you on top of him, large hands running up and down your back to steady your breathing, his dick still firmly in you. you're pretty sure you've forgotten what it feels like to be empty and without him.

“you okay?” he mumbles into your hair, a loving kiss left on your forehead before he tilts your chin up to look at him, your eyes weary and ready to doze off. you can only muster up an mmhmm but william is determined to end the night perfectly for you.

“hang on, baby, okay?” he requests before slowly pulling out of your heat and dashing to the bathroom where you can hear the din of him rummaging through cupboards and running the bathtub’s taps, leaving you to laze around with a pool of cum leaking out of you. the sudden crash of something metal followed by a shit! is enough to pull you out of the clasps of sleep, however.

your husband reappears swiftly, a boyishly guilty look on his face to which you raise an eyebrow. 

“everything’s fine!” he assures your silent questioning. “i want to take care of you right now, though. please?”

you flash him a tired but teasing smile in affirmation and he picks you up bridal-style, giving a quick kiss to your lips before walking you over to the bathtub and gently placing you in the comfortably warm and bubbly water where you feel your muscles instantly relax. the calmingly fragrant scent of chamomile fills your nostrils as you sigh up at your lover. 

“thank you, honey,” you speak, a slight croak to your voice from honest exhaustion. william nods at you before plotting another sweet kiss on your temple. 

“room for a little one?” he asks with a beautiful grin on his face, teeth all out in his signature style.

“always.” you scoot forwards to make room for him and he slips his much larger frame behind you, instantaneously pulling your back into his chest, hands delicately soothing over your tummy as he delivers a bunch of kisses across the plane of your shoulders. 

“sounds stupid but i already have a list of names that i wanna go over with you.” he says shyly after a moment of quiet.

you giggle and set a devoted kiss to the wedding band on his ring finger. 

“i’m all ears.” 

[williamsal8ba]

wilo as a husband headcannons

A/n: Let me know how you liked this and what fics you'd like to see for our heavily underrated pretty frenchfry. We need more wilo fics

He loves making you laugh when you're feeling down, he won't stop until he gets at least a small smile

Keeps telling you how beautiful you are in french ughh

Loves it when you kiss his ring finger

Always so attuned to your feelings and needs, you only look at him and he already knows what you need.

Admires you with that adorable smile of his when you do something ,anything really he's your biggest fan

He's always so proud of everything you accomplish and never fails to boast about it if you let him ofc

He'd rather talk about you to his friends than about him

Will drop anything if you need him

Makes sure to take you out at least once every 2 weeks ,especially after he's had many away games

Loves matching outfits no matter how corny you think it is, let him the man's in loveee

gives you the biggest kiss when he has to leave early for training and you're still asleep

loves watching your tired and confused face when you realise he kissed you

kisses you again after that

he'd rather spend time with his wife than with anyone in the world

let's you trim his hair

loves to watch you do your skincare

you've convinced him to have a skincare routine and now he loves when you apply it on him

just always has that lovey dovey smile when you're around

he always takes care of everything when you're on vacation so you literally turn of your brain when you're with him

he Lovess the height difference

strokes your hair when you can't sleep

he's just always so reassuring and he stays calm in situations you would normally panic in that you can't help but love him even more everytime

doesn't get mad at you, ever. He would never forgive himself if your tears were caused by him

unless they're happy tears yknow😉

Puts his hand on your knee when he's driving

When you're at an event and you got separated, when you're looking for him he's already looking at you with that smile of his 🫠

Brings you flowers after away games ,when you've been feeling down or just because he loves you

has extra things you might need in his car

Loves you more than life itself

[muglermami]

NEED more william saliba x reader imagines PLEASEEEE

[amirawrah]

⭐︎ a look into wilo's relationship side

✯ word count: 6,720

✯ amirah: finally another relationship side but Wilo edition, i fear that this might have topped my Ibou one, like share repost and make sure to leave notes!!!. i have been thinking about him for a long while now so this was bound to happen. enjoy!!

Morning Kisses: Wilo’s favourite way to start the day is with a soft kiss on your forehead. He’s always gentle, making sure to wake you up slowly. When you open your eyes, he’s already smiling at you like you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

⭐︎

' The first rays of sunlight would filter softly through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. You were nestled under the covers, still tangled in the soft sheets, feeling the gentle rise and fall of Wilo’s chest beside you. His steady breathing was a quiet rhythm, one that always lulled you into the most peaceful sleep.

But then, as the morning grew a little brighter, you’d feel a soft touch—one that made your heart flutter every time. Wilo’s lips, warm and tender, would press a light kiss to your forehead. He did it so gently, as though he was trying to wake you without disturbing the calm that surrounded you both.

It was always the same kiss. Always on your forehead, always soft, and always filled with so much love. He would pull back just a little, enough for you to open your eyes slowly, adjusting to the morning light. And when you did, you were met with the most beautiful sight: William, smiling at you like you were the best thing that ever happened to him.

His smile was a mix of adoration and tenderness, and it made your heart swell every time. You could feel his gaze on you, soft and full of affection, as if nothing else in the world mattered but the two of you, right there in that moment.

“Good morning, ma chérie,” Wilo’s voice was always low and smooth, like a melody you could never get tired of hearing. He loved waking you up this way, taking his time to let you come into the day at your own pace, to make sure you knew how much he cared for you from the very first moment of your morning.

You let out a sleepy sigh, stretching just a little before your hand reached up to gently touch his cheek. His stubble was still a little rough, but that didn’t matter to you. What mattered was the way he made you feel—like you were cherished, like you were the one thing in the world that mattered most to him.

“Morning,” you murmured, your voice thick with sleep.

Wilo chuckled softly, his fingers running through your hair, his touch tender and loving. “I love waking up to you,” he said, his thumb tracing the outline of your lips as his gaze never left yours. "Every morning, it’s like a new chance to remind myself how lucky I am."

You smiled back at him, feeling your heart race as it always did when he looked at you that way—like you were everything. “You make mornings so much better,” you whispered.

Wilo leaned down again, placing another soft kiss on your forehead, lingering there for just a moment longer. “I could do this forever,” he murmured, his voice warm and full of affection.'

⭐︎

His Voice Gets Even Deeper: When he's alone with you, that deep French accent gets even sultrier. When he's close, you swear it’s like he’s whispering straight into your soul. The way he says your name? damn.

⭐︎

You knew Wilo’s voice was deep. Everyone did.

That rich, baritone rumble, laced with his smooth French accent, was already enough to make heads turn whenever he spoke.

But when it was just you and him?

Alone, in the quiet of your apartment, no cameras, no teammates—just his body close, his lips by your ear, his voice meant only for you?

It was something else entirely.

You’re standing in the kitchen when you first hear it tonight.

Wilo walks in behind you, fresh out of the shower, smelling like his woodsy cologne and warm skin. His presence alone is commanding, and before you can react, his arms slip around your waist from behind.

His breath grazes your neck, and then—

"Ma belle…”

Oh. Oh.

Your fingers tighten around the counter.

It’s that voice.

Lower than usual. Richer, deeper. The French lilt thicker, like honey dripped over every syllable.

You swallow, suddenly hyperaware of his chest pressed against your back, the way his fingertips lazily skim over your hips.

"You didn’t hear me come in?” he murmurs, lips just barely brushing your ear.

Your pulse spikes. No, because you were too busy existing in peace before he decided to ruin you with his voice.

“I—” You clear your throat. “You were quiet.”

Wilo hums—a low, amused sound, vibrating against your skin.

"You’re distracted."

He’s right. And he knows it.

The corner of his mouth ghosts over your jaw, and then—

"Tell me, ma chérie…”

You physically shiver.

The way he says your name? It shouldn’t sound that good. That seductive. That intimate.

You press your lips together, refusing to let him win, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing exactly what he’s doing to you.

Wilo, however, is patient.

His hands slide up your waist, slow and deliberate, fingertips brushing under the hem of your sweater. His lips hover over the shell of your ear, breath warm, teasing.

"You like when I speak to you like this?"

Your stomach flips.

You want to tell him off, play it cool—but then he leans in even closer, his mouth right by your ear, voice dropping to a sinful whisper—

"Or is it the way I say your name?"

You lose. Completely.

Because yes, it is the way he says your name. The way it rolls off his tongue, the way it sounds deep and intimate and possessive, like it was meant only for him to say.

Wilo chuckles when he feels your body tense.

He knows.

His lips graze your neck—just enough to tease.

"I’ll take that as a yes."

⭐︎

He’s a Tease: Wilo knows exactly how to make you blush. He’ll casually slide his hand around your waist or brush your cheek, and before you know it, your heart’s racing, and you're already lost in him. His touch is always lingering just a bit longer than it should.

Whispers Before Sleep: He loves whispering sweet things in French while you’re both drifting off. Sometimes, it’s sweet things, sometimes, it’s a little more naughty—his voice making everything sound way too seductive for you to handle.

⭐︎

Nights with William always felt different.

It wasn’t just the warmth of his body, the solid weight of him beside you, or the way he always pulled you just a little closer before you fell asleep.

It was the way he whispered to you.

Low, deep, French words laced with sleep and something even softer.

And right now?

His voice was dangerous.

You’re lying in bed, tangled in the sheets, wrapped in William’s warmth.

Your head rests against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall as his arms stay locked around your waist.

You’re barely awake, exhaustion pulling at your limbs, but William?

William is still awake.

And he’s whispering.

"Tu es si belle, ma chérie…"

His voice is so deep—that slow, sleepy rumble that makes your breath hitch.

He’s not even trying to do anything.

Not really.

But the way the French drips off his tongue so smoothly, so effortlessly?

It’s too much.

You shift slightly, and his arms tighten around you.

"Toujours aussi magnifique… même comme ça." (Still so beautiful… even like this.)

Your heart stutters.

His lips brush against your temple, soft, warm, lingering.

"Tu sais que je t’aime, hein?" (You know that I love you, right?)

You swallow, nodding against his chest.

He hums—a deep, content sound, his fingers drawing lazy circles against your hip.

You should be asleep.

But his voice—his damn voice—is keeping you wide awake.

And then—

"Tu es à moi, bébé." (You are mine, baby.)

Oh.

Your breath hitches.

Because this time—his voice is different.

Softer. Slower. Lower.

It’s not just sweet.

It’s something else.

Something possessive.

Something dangerous.

Your fingers tighten against his chest. You don’t dare move.

But Wilo? He knows.

He knows exactly what he’s doing. His hand slides up your thigh, warm fingers skimming over your skin. And then, right by your ear—his voice drops to a sinful whisper.

"Dors bien, ma belle..." (Sleep well, my beautiful.)

A pause.

And then—

"Pendant que tu le peux encore." (While you still can.)

Your entire body heats up. Wilo just smirks, pressing a lazy kiss to your hair before closing his eyes.

He’s not asleep. Not yet. But he knows you won’t be able to, either.

Not after that.

Not after his voice, his touch, his words.

And that’s exactly what he wanted.

⭐︎

The Way He Looks at You: When you catch him staring at you, it’s not the kind of look that says "I’m just admiring you." Nah. It’s the kind of look that says I’m imagining every little thing we could do together right now. And when you notice, he smirks, not even trying to hide his thoughts.

Unpredictable Passion: Sometimes, Wilo likes to catch you off guard. One minute he’s being playful and sweet, and the next minute, he’s pulling you into him for a kiss so intense, it makes you forget everything around you. You never know when the switch will flip, but you know it’ll be worth it.

Quiet Nights In: Sometimes, after a long day, all Wilo wants is to snuggle up with you on the couch. He’ll put on your favourite movie, making sure to have your favourite snacks ready. It’s the kind of simple evening that feels like pure bliss.

⭐︎

The living room is dimly lit, a warm glow from the lamp in the corner. The air smells faintly of popcorn and your favorite candles, and outside, the city hums softly, muted through the windows.

Wilo is already on the couch, stretched out, his arm resting on the back of the cushions—waiting for you.

When you walk in, you pause.

There’s a blanket. There are your favorite snacks, perfectly arranged on the coffee table. And on the screen?

Your favorite movie, queued up and ready to go.

Your heart squeezes.

“You planned this?” you ask, a small smile playing on your lips.

Wilo just shrugs, eyes soft, lips curved into that lazy, knowing smirk.

"Tu as eu une longue journée, non?"

(You had a long day, didn’t you?)

You exhale, shaking your head, but you can’t stop smiling.

Because he had a long day, too. Training. Meetings. More training.

But instead of crashing into bed, he’d come home and thought about you.

You don’t even hesitate before climbing onto the couch and into his arms.

He shifts instantly, pulling you against his chest, wrapping you up in his warmth. His chin rests against the top of your head, his fingers lazily tracing circles along your back.

The movie starts, but neither of you really pay attention.

You feel his heartbeat beneath your cheek, steady and soothing. His breathing is slow, deep, like he could fall asleep at any moment.

And then—

"Ça va, mon amour?"(You okay, my love?) he murmurs, voice low and soft. You nod, sinking further into his warmth.

Wilo hums, pressing a lazy, lingering kiss to your forehead.

"Je t’aime," he whispers.

(I love you.)

You smile against his chest, fingers curling into his hoodie.

"I love you too."

And in that moment—with the movie playing, the world quiet, and William’s arms wrapped securely around you—everything feels perfect.

⭐︎

The Softest Whispered “I Love You”: Wilo’s “I love you” is soft and sincere. He’ll say it when you’re cuddling, when you’re laughing together, or even when you’re both just looking out the window, enjoying each other’s presence. Every time he says it, it feels like a warm hug for your heart.

⭐︎

It’s late. You’re both exhausted, lying in bed, your head resting on his chest.

The room is quiet, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear.

Wilo’s fingers lazily trace patterns against your back, his other hand resting over yours.

And then—

He sighs.

Deep, content, like he’s exactly where he’s meant to be.

"Je t’aime."

He says it so quietly, like it’s not even meant to be spoken—just felt. Like it’s his first thought before falling asleep. Like he’s reminding himself, not just you.

Your throat tightens. You squeeze his hand. "I love you too."

Wilo hums, pressing a soft, sleepy kiss to your forehead.

And then—

"I know."

His voice is warm, certain.

Because with him?

You’ll never have to doubt it.

⭐︎

Supporting Your Dreams: Wilo is always there to encourage you in everything you do. He listens patiently when you talk about your ambitions and dreams, and he always reassures you that you’re capable of anything. He believes in you even when you doubt yourself.

Late-Night Conversations: There’s something special about staying up late, just talking to Wilo. The world feels quieter at night, and he’ll listen to you talk about anything and everything. Whether it’s your dreams, your fears, or your favourite memories, he’s always there to listen and comfort you.

⭐︎

You’re lying in bed, the room dimly lit by the soft glow of the streetlights outside.

Wilo is beside you, one arm tucked behind his head, the other lazily draped across your waist.

Neither of you are tired. Not really.

So you talk.

You tell him about your childhood dreams, the things you wanted to be when you were younger.

You tell him about the time you embarrassed yourself in front of a celebrity, about how you still cringe thinking about it.

You tell him about your biggest fears, the ones you don’t say out loud too often.

And Wilo?

He listens.

Really listens.

Nodding, humming softly, his fingers tracing lazy shapes against your hip.

He never rushes you. Never interrupts.

Just lets you unravel.

And when you pause, when your words slow and your thoughts get heavier, he speaks—

Soft. Deep. Reassuring.

"Tu n’as pas à t’inquiéter, mon amour." (You don’t have to worry, my love.) His voice is like a warm blanket, wrapping around you, making you feel safe.

"Je suis là." (I’m here.)

You look at him, eyes meeting in the dim light.

And there’s something in the way he looks at you. Like he’d listen to you talk for a thousand years. Like nothing you say is ever too much.

You smile, shifting closer, tucking yourself against his chest. "Promise?" you murmur.

Wilo’s lips brush your forehead, soft, lingering. "Always".

And with that, the weight on your chest feels a little lighter.

Because with him, you never have to hold anything in.

With him, you’re always heard.

⭐︎

Watching Arsenal Together when he is not playing/injured : Watching Arsenal games together is one of Wilo’s favorite things. But what he loves more than the match itself is watching your reactions when the team scores. He gets this soft, proud look in his eyes, knowing that his heart belongs to someone who supports him, both on and off the field.

⭐︎

Wilo should be on the pitch.

He should be out there, in the thick of it—defending, controlling the game, doing what he loves.

But instead, he’s here.

Sitting next to you in the players’ box, a warm coat wrapped around his broad shoulders, watching Arsenal fight for three points without him.

And he hates it.

Hates the way his leg bounces with restless energy, hates the way his fingers clench into fists whenever the defense is tested.

But what he doesn’t hate?

Watching you.

Because if there’s anything keeping him sane right now, it’s you.

“Babe, chill,” you murmur, resting a hand over his.

Wilo exhales sharply, loosening his grip, letting you intertwine your fingers with his.

“I can’t help it,” he mutters. “I should be out there.”

Your heart tugs at the frustration in his voice.

You know how much this kills him. How much he hates sitting out, watching instead of playing.

But if there’s one thing you know?

He’s still Arsenal.

Still part of the team.

And you’re going to remind him of that.

So when Arsenal scores, and the entire stadium erupts, you don’t just celebrate—

You turn to him first.

Grabbing his jacket, shaking him excitedly. “Wilo! Look! They did it!”

And for the first time that night, his frustration cracks.

Because he sees you.

Eyes sparkling, fully invested, fully in love with the club he plays for.

And suddenly, all the bitterness of not being on the pitch? It’s drowned out by how much you care.

Wilo chuckles, finally letting himself enjoy the moment.

His free arm wraps around you, pulling you close, pressing a kiss to your temple. "Tu es incroyable, mon amour." (You’re incredible, my love.)

And when you turn, confused, he just shakes his head, smiling.

Because maybe he’s not playing today but as long as you’re next to him—

He still wins.

⭐︎

Cooking Together: Wilo loves cooking for you, but he loves cooking with you even more. You two will team up in the kitchen, laughing as you both try to make a perfect meal. It’s messy, fun, and filled with little moments of joy.

Tight hugs after matches: After an intense game, when he finally finds you in the crowd or in the tunnel, he doesn’t care who’s around—he grabs you in a tight hug, holding you for a long moment as if you’re the only thing that matters. Sometimes he buries his face in your neck, whispering a soft “I missed you.”

Taking random photos of you: His phone is full of random pictures of you—laughing, eating, even just reading a book. He loves capturing little moments when you’re not paying attention because, in his eyes, you’re the most beautiful when you’re just being yourself.

⭐︎

Wilo’s camera roll? It’s 90% you.

Not the posed, picture-perfect shots where you actually know he’s taking a photo. No, those aren’t his favorites.

His favorites?

The random ones.

The ones where you don’t even know he’s looking. Because to him, that’s when you’re the most beautiful.

You notice it one day, scrolling through his phone while he’s resting beside you on the couch. Your face fills the screen again and again.

Laughing mid-conversation. Frowning in concentration while reading. Holding a fork with food halfway to your mouth. Even one of you, fast asleep, curled up in his hoodie.

You blink. “Wilo… what is this?”

He barely looks up from his book, lips curving slightly. “My gallery.”

You roll your eyes. “I can see that. But why do you have—this many photos of me?”. Wilo finally glances at you, eyes warm and completely unapologetic.

"Parce que tu es magnifique." (Because you’re beautiful.)

Your breath catches. He says it so simply, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Like there’s nothing strange about having hundreds of random, blurry, silly, and candid photos of you.

Like he just wants to keep every version of you—

The ones you don’t even notice. The ones that make his heart ache with how much he loves you.

And really—

How are you supposed to argue with that?

⭐︎

Loves when you watch his games: He pretends to be all cool and focused before a match, but the second he spots you in the stands, his whole mood lifts. After the game, he’ll walk over, all sweaty and out of breath, and the first thing he does is kiss your forehead before saying, “Did I play good for you?

⭐︎

When the final whistle blows, when Arsenal secures the win, Wilo should be celebrating with his teammates—

And he does, for a second.

But then, his first thought?

You.

So he barely even thinks, just walks straight toward where you’re waiting near the tunnel, still slightly out of breath, still covered in sweat.

And without hesitation, he cups your face gently, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You giggle, scrunching your nose. “Wilo, you’re sweaty.” He grins, not caring at all.

"Did I play good for you?"

Your heart melts instantly.

Because the way he says it?

Like your opinion is the only one that matters. Like all the praise in the world means nothing if you’re not proud of him.

You shake your head fondly, reaching up to brush damp curls from his forehead.

“You were amazing, baby,” you murmur, eyes soft.

And just like that—

William Saliba, big, strong, unshakable center-back—

Blushes.

Because nothing feels better than knowing he played well.

But knowing he played well for you?

That’s everything.

⭐︎

You guys have inside jokes : You and Wilo have so many inside jokes that his teammates are constantly confused. He’ll say something random mid-conversation, and you’ll both burst out laughing while everyone else just looks at you like, “…Okay?”

⭐︎

It happens during a team dinner.

You’re sitting next to Wilo, scrolling through your phone when he leans over and casually whispers,

"its brown"

And just like that—

You lose it. Choking on your drink, slapping a hand over your mouth as you start laughing way too hard.

Wilo?

He’s already grinning like an idiot. Because he knows exactly what he just did. The two of you are dying while the rest of the Arsenal squad just sits there, staring.

Bukayo frowns. “What—what’s funny?”

You try to explain, wiping tears from your eyes. “It’s—it’s from this one video—”

“No, no,” William interjects, shaking his head dramatically. “They won’t get it.”

And the thing is—

He’s right.

Because the second you try to explain, it just sounds so dumb. But that’s the best part.

You and Wilo have so many of these little things—stupid memes, random phrases, weirdly specific jokes that have built up over time. And he loves it.

Loves that no matter where he is, no matter how serious football gets— With you, there’s always laughter.

Always this.

And as you both keep giggling, ignoring his teammates’ looks of pure annoyance , Wilo just leans in, pressing a quick kiss to your temple. "you're the best"

And honestly?

He wouldn’t trade this for anything. Not even if it meant his teammates finally understood what the hell you were laughing about.

⭐︎

Building IKEA Furniture Together: One time, you two tried assembling IKEA furniture, and it was chaos. Wilo insisted he didn’t need the instructions (he did), and at one point, you had to take over because he was so confused. Now, every time you see an IKEA store, he just groans and says, “Never again.”

Calls You Cute Nicknames in French: Wilo loves using little French nicknames for you, like mon amour (my love), ma belle (my beautiful), or mon ange (my angel). And if he really wants to fluster you, he’ll say them in that deep voice of his, smirking when he sees you blush.

Puppy-Dog Eyes When He Wants Cuddles: If you’re busy and he wants attention, Wilo will literally just stare at you with the softest puppy-dog eyes. He won’t say anything—just pouts slightly until you sigh and cuddle up to him. Then he grins like he knew you wouldn’t resist.

Visiting His Childhood Neighborhood in France: One day, he takes you to Bondy, the place where he grew up. He shows you the streets he used to play football in, the little shops he’d visit as a kid, and even introduces you to old friends and coaches.

Watching Horror Movies Together : You say you can handle horror movies, but Wilo knows the truth. The second something jumps out, you jump into his arms, and he just chuckles, wrapping an arm around you. He’s completely unfazed. No reactions, no fear—just casually eating snacks while demons are crawling out of TVs. “You okay?” he asks, smirking when you clutch his arm even tighter. If you get too scared, he immediately suggests switching to a rom-com, pressing soft kisses to your hair as he says, “I like when you watch cute movies with me better.”

Rainy Day Movie Marathons : If it’s pouring outside, expect a cozy day in. Hoodies, blankets, snacks—the works. He lets you pick the movie, but if he finds it boring, he turns his attention to you instead. Kissing your shoulder, playing with your fingers, whispering in your ear until you’re like, “Are you even watching?” If you fall asleep on his chest, he won’t move. He just smiles, kisses your forehead, and whispers, “Sleep well, baby.”

Surprise Date Nights : Wilo loves surprising you with dates. He’ll just text, “Be ready by 7,” and when you ask where you’re going, he just smirks. It could be a rooftop dinner, a late-night picnic, or even a surprise weekend trip. But the best part? The way he looks at you the entire time, like he’s the luckiest man in the world.

The Way He Uses His Height to His Advantage : Wilo loves hovering over you. Backing you up against a wall, trapping you under his gaze with that lazy smirk. Sometimes, he’ll purposely make you reach for things just so he can step behind you and grab it instead, pressing up against you in the process.

⭐︎

You’re reaching for the box of pasta in the cupboard, your fingers just shy of it when you feel that familiar presence behind you. Wilo’s voice, low and teasing, drifts into your ear.

“Need some help, mon amour?”

Before you can reply, his hand slides past yours, brushing your arm as he effortlessly grabs the box, his chest pressing against your back. You try not to let the closeness get to you, but it’s hard when he’s right there, so close you can feel the heat from his body.

He leans in slightly, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers, “Don’t worry, I’ve got it for you.”

His height is impossible to ignore now. He steps in closer, trapping you between him and the counter, a smirk playing on his lips. You try to step away, but he’s already following your every movement, his body nearly enclosing you in his space.

“You’re making me work harder for it now, huh?” he says with that teasing grin, making you feel small beneath him.

You roll your eyes, but the way his gaze stays locked on yours, full of mischief, makes your heart race. You can’t help but feel the heat between you, his presence so overwhelming you can barely think straight.

“You look so cute when you’re frustrated,” he murmurs, leaning in even closer, his body pressing into yours.

With nowhere to go, you give in to the moment, unable to resist his magnetic charm. You might be frustrated, but you’re also completely lost in him.

⭐︎

The Way He Kisses You :Wilo is a slow, deep kisser—the kind that leaves you breathless and clinging onto him for more. If he’s frustrated or jealous? Ohhh, that kiss is rougher, more possessive, like he’s making sure you feel who you belong to. He loves teasing, too. Brushing his lips against yours but not quite kissing you, just to see you get impatient before he finally pulls you in with no escape.

⭐︎

You’re standing there, arms crossed, eyes locking with Wilo’s across the room. He’s been a little off lately, and you can sense something in the air—a tension, thick and palpable.

You know something’s up, but neither of you has said a word about it. That is, until he walks up to you, his gaze intense, like he’s trying to read you.

Before you can say anything, he’s there—closer than you expected. His hand moves to your chin, tilting your face up to meet his. His eyes flicker down to your lips, and for a split second, you swear you can feel the heat between you two.

He leans in, his lips brushing yours lightly, teasing you, but just barely—enough to make you crave more. You try to close the gap, but he pulls away, smirking at your frustration.

“Wilo…” you whisper, voice catching in your throat.

“Impatient, are we?” he murmurs, his lips hovering dangerously close to yours but never quite making contact.

You feel your breath quicken, and he knows it. He’s doing it on purpose, pushing you to the edge of sanity. The way he teases you, brushing against your lips just enough to make you ache for more, is almost too much to handle.

Finally, when you can’t take it any longer, he closes the distance between you. And when his lips capture yours, it’s nothing like before. There’s no gentleness, no playfulness. It’s raw, a kiss filled with frustration and need. It’s a kiss that demand your attention, that makes you feel every inch of him.

He pulls you in so tightly you’re almost breathless, his hands finding your waist as if he’s claiming you. It’s possessive, almost as if he’s reminding you just who you belong to. He deepens the kiss, the intensity increasing with every moment, as if he can’t get enough.

When he finally pulls back, he’s breathless too, his chest rising and falling against yours. His eyes are dark, filled with something you can’t quite read but know you love.

“I Love you,” he whispers, his voice smooth, like he’s reminding himself just as much as you.

⭐︎

The Way He Looks at You Like You Hung the Stars : Wilo is not subtle when he’s in love. His eyes soften every time he looks at you, and even in a room full of people, he’s only focused on you. He has this lazy, love-drunk smile whenever you’re talking—completely mesmerized, like he could listen to you forever. Sometimes, he just stares at you for a little too long, and when you catch him, he just shrugs and says, “I can’t help it. You’re beautiful.”

He Remembers Everything About You : Wilo takes notes—he knows exactly how you like your coffee, your favorite perfume, the little things that make you happy. If you mention wanting something, even casually? Boom, he surprises you with it weeks later, acting all nonchalant like, “You said you liked this, no?” You think he’s not listening? Oh, he is. He brings up small details from conversations you forgot about, just to prove how much he pays attention.

⭐︎

It’s a lazy Sunday morning, and you’re lounging on the couch, sipping your coffee while scrolling through your phone. Wilo is nearby, stretched out on the floor, idly playing with his phone, but his attention is only half on it. You can feel his gaze on you, a constant presence, even though he isn’t directly looking at you.

You sip your coffee, noticing that something about it feels just… perfect today. The temperature is just right, not too hot, not too cold. It’s sweet, but not overly so. It’s exactly how you like it. You glance over at William, who’s now watching you with a soft smile on his face.

“Mm, this is perfect,” you mutter to yourself, half-joking.

Wilo’s lips curl into that signature smirk. “I know,” he says nonchalantly, as if he hasn’t just perfectly nailed your coffee order once again. You raise an eyebrow, setting the cup down. “How did you—”

“I take notes,” he says casually, his voice smooth, as if it’s no big deal. “I pay attention to the little things.”

You laugh, thinking he’s just messing with you, but you know him too well—he’s serious.

“I remember you said you liked it with just a little extra cinnamon and not too much milk,” he continues, his voice playful yet sincere. “Thought I’d surprise you.”

You stare at him, stunned. “Wait… You actually remember that?”

“Of course.” He grins. “You talk about things, and I listen. You’d be surprised how much you share without even realizing it.”

Later that week, you’re walking through a shopping district with him when you casually mention, “I’ve been wanting to try that perfume, the one with the vanilla and rose scent. Just haven’t gotten around to it yet.”

William nods, only offering a half smile, and you think nothing of it. But when you get home that evening, a small box is sitting on your bed, wrapped neatly with a bow. You open it to find the exact perfume you mentioned, the one you’d forgotten about almost immediately.

You laugh to yourself, shaking your head in disbelief, then text him, “You’re impossible.”

He responds in an instant: “You said you wanted it, didn’t you? Thought I’d surprise you.”

He’s done this before—surprised you with things you’ve barely even mentioned. That’s just how he is. He remembers your favorite colors, the songs you hum when you’re in a good mood, even the books you love that you haven’t picked up in ages.

It’s one of the things you adore most about him—his quiet attentiveness, his way of making you feel like the most important person in the world.

You smile softly at him, your heart full. “You really do remember everything, don’t you?”

“I do,” he says, his voice sincere. “And I’ll keep remembering, as long as you’ll let me.”

You pull him into a gentle kiss, grateful for his thoughtfulness, and for a love that’s built on all the little things.

⭐︎

The Way He Talks About You to Others : If someone brings you up in conversation, he immediately starts smiling. He glows when talking about you. His teammates? Tired of him. They’ll ask about Arsenal, and somehow, he brings you up.

He Drops Hints About Marriage All the Time: It starts subtle—playing with your fingers, randomly asking “Do you like gold or silver rings?” or If you’re watching a wedding scene in a movie, he casually says, “Ours would be better." or “I’d marry you tomorrow if I could.” Dead serious. No hesitation. And if someone calls you “Mrs. Saliba” by accident? He just grins and says, “Sounds nice, no?”

⭐︎

You’re sitting at a café, Wilo beside you, enjoying the peaceful afternoon. The two of you are laughing, chatting about nothing in particular when the waiter approaches to take your order.

He smiles at you both, taking a quick glance at your intertwined hands on the table, and then he accidentally blurts out, “So, what can I get for you two, Mrs. Saliba?”

You freeze for a second, a slight blush creeping up your neck as the word hangs in the air.

Wilo looks over at you with a sly grin, his dark eyes twinkling with amusement. You catch a glimpse of his smirk before he turns his attention back to the waiter.

"Sounds nice, no?" he teases, his voice smooth and low, clearly enjoying the moment.

Your heart skips, and you try to play it off, but the way he’s looking at you with that mischievous glint makes it impossible to hide your smile. “You’re not gonna let that slide, are you?” you say, nudging his shoulder.

Wilo just laughs softly, leaning closer, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers, “I don’t see why not. ‘Mrs. Saliba’ has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

You bite your lip to keep from smiling too much, but you can’t help it—your stomach flutters at the thought. It’s silly, you know, but the way he says it, with that teasing edge, makes everything feel just a little more real.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he adds with a wink, clearly reveling in the way he’s got you flustered.

The waiter, who’s clearly confused by the exchange, chuckles awkwardly and nods, before taking your orders and walking away.

You glance at Wilo, who’s still grinning at you, obviously enjoying every second of your reaction.

“You’re impossible,” you mutter under your breath, but your smile betrays you. “I’m just getting started,” he says with a wink, squeezing your hand.

And as he pulls you closer, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, you can’t help but feel like maybe—just maybe—“Mrs. Saliba” wouldn’t be so bad after all.

⭐︎

He’s Serious About Building a Home With You : Even before you officially move in together, his place slowly starts feeling like yours. Your stuff is already there—your favorite snacks in the kitchen, your clothes in his closet, your perfume lingering everywhere.

⭐︎

It starts with something small—your favorite snack tucked into the kitchen pantry, where it didn’t use to be. You spot it one day, the familiar brand of chips you always crave during movie nights, and you can’t help but smile. You’d casually mentioned it a few weeks ago while you were over, joking that you could always eat them, and now, there they are.

But it’s more than just the snacks.

You open the closet to grab your jacket, and your eyes flicker to the corner where your clothes now hang, neatly folded, alongside his. The shirts you didn’t realize you left behind after the last sleepover. A sweater you thought you forgot about, but now it’s here, just like it’s always been.

When you wake up in the morning, the faint scent of your perfume lingers in the air, carried by the soft fabric of the pillows you’ve claimed as your own. It’s as though his penthouse is slowly becoming a blend of both of you.

You walk into the bathroom, reaching for your toothpaste, and there it is—right next to his—just like you’ve always used it. Your things are becoming a natural part of his space, and it’s not just about the physical objects. It’s the way the place feels. It feels more like home every time you walk through the door.

It’s a Wednesday afternoon when you finally notice it. You’re sitting on the couch, flipping through a magazine, when Wilo walks in, his usual easy smile on his face. But this time, there’s something in his eyes, something soft and sure.

“You left your hair tie in the bathroom,” he says casually, holding it up as he walks over.

You laugh, grabbing it from him. “I didn’t realize I was taking over your place,” you tease.

He grins, sitting down beside you, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. “I don’t mind,” he says, his voice gentle. “I like it. It feels right, you know?"

Your heart skips at the way he says it, the sincerity in his voice. He doesn’t have to say more. His words speak volumes. The idea of a future, of a shared space—it's not just a passing thought. It’s happening.

“I like it too,” you whisper back, your voice a little softer than you intended. “I like being here… with you.”

Wilo’s fingers gently brush against your hand, squeezing it. “I know,” he says, his eyes locking onto yours. “I want this to be home. With you. All of this—your things, your laugh,—it makes this place feel real. Feels like it’s ours.”

You sit there for a moment, taking in everything around you—the cozy warmth of the room, the quiet hum of everyday life, and the simple fact that you’re both building something together. Slowly, piece by piece.

It’s not about grand gestures or big promises. It’s in the little things—the way your shoes are now next to his by the door, the way he remembers the little details about you, like how you prefer the couch pillows arranged just so.

You smile at him, feeling more at home than ever before. “Yeah, it does feel like ours.”

“Good,” he says with a soft chuckle, pulling you closer. “Because I’m serious about this. I want to keep building it, piece by piece, with you.”

And as you rest your head on his shoulder, you realise that this is more than just the beginning of living together. It’s the start of something deeper. Something permanent. A future with him.

⭐︎

He Has a List of Baby Names in His Notes App : You accidentally see it one day, and he just shrugs, totally unbothered. “What? Can’t be unprepared.” There are French names, English names, even a few inspired by your favorite things. If you ask, “You really thought about this?” He just smiles and kisses your forehead. “Of course. It’s with you.”

⭐︎

William Saliba isn’t just thinking about the present with you—he’s thinking about forever. And the best part? He already knows it’s you. Always has, always will.

[wslba2]

𝐅𝐈𝐗 𝐔𝐒

𝗅𝗈𝗇𝖽𝗈𝗇 , 𝗎𝗄

𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 - 𝗜𝗠𝗣𝗘𝗥𝗙𝗘𝗖𝗧 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗬𝗢𝗨 , 𝖺𝗋𝗂𝖺𝗇𝖺 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖾

𝗦𝗨𝗠𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗬 : 𝗂𝗇 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗁 𝖶𝗂𝗅𝗅𝗂𝖺𝗆 & 𝗒/𝗇 𝖿𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉

𝗣𝗔𝗜𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚 : 𝖿𝖾𝗆 𝗈𝖼 𝗑 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅𝗂𝖺𝗆 𝗌𝖺𝗅𝗂𝖻𝖺

𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿 & 𝖺 𝖻𝗂𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗌𝗍

I SWITCHED OFF THE TV, it was a pretty harsh match and William had just picked up an injury. I shouldn’t care about him, he made it clear that we were nothing to each other. Usually he would come over but it’s been 3 weeks since we last seen each other or even talked.

My thought was cut off when I heard a knock on my door so I walked over looking through the peel hole to see William standing there. What the fuck is he doing here?!

Before I could even think I opened it. Our eyes met and I looked up at him. “Why are you here?” I spat bitterly “Are you still mad?” He asked earning a huff from me. “Yes.” I crossed my arms looking at him. “Can I come inside it’s freezing.” He pleaded “No. Go back home.” I rolled my eyes

“Y/n. Let me explain.” He reasoned “Then explain, we’re face to face right now.” I answered “Not in the fucking cold! You’re going to get sick.” He cursed pushing me inside and closed the door behind us. “William! This isn’t your house!” I scolded him

“Okay and? It’s yours. Plus I know every bits and corner of this house get over it.” He chuckled. him and his ego. “Okay explain.” I said impatiently. “My legs hurt I wanna sit down.” He ignored me walking over to the couch. “William! I’m being fucking serious.” I glared at him “So am I. My legs hurt, you think I’m lying?” He smirked at me. “Hug yourself to sleep, I’m leaving.” I huffed when he pulled me back. “Why would I hug myself when I can hug you?” He raised his eyebrows.

Fucking hell.

“Okay okay I’m sorry, I wanna say, I do care for you and everything that came out of my mouth during that arguement was a lie and I didn’t mean anything I said.” He said looking at me genuinely. “It doesn’t matter, we aren’t anything anyways.” I mumbled “I fucked you, I slept with you, what else-” I immediately covered his mouth “Shut it!” I yelled hiding my smile. “See your smiling!” He smiled.

“Whatever you’re so annoying.” I rolled my eyes turning around before he catched up to me. “Does that mean I get to sleep next to you?” He asked with happiness in his tone. “No you’re in the guest room.” I jokingly answered dead panned “No I’m not.” He rolled his eyes following behind me. “Does your leg hurt?” I asked looking down. “Yeah, I need to get tests done tomorrow to see how long I’ll be out for.” He replied walking into my closet grabbing some clothes walking into the bathroom. “I’m gonna shower.”

I picked up my phone and saw I had a few missed calls from Gabriel. I clicked on the notification and called him back. “Hello?” He answered “You called me.” I said “Ah I forgot, did William come find you?” He chuckled “Yeah he’s here.” I replied “ah okay, he just ran off with an injured leg.” He laughed.

We bid goodbyes and William came back out. “Who were you on the phone with?” He asked coming over and laid on “his side” of the bed. “Gabriel, he said you ran off with an injured leg.” I laughed “I literally told him.” He shook his head laughing. I shrugged getting up heading into the bathroom and did my night routine walking back out.

“Are you free tomorrow night?” He asked turning over wrapping his arms around me. “Yeah why?” I responded as he pulled me closer “Let’s go out for dinner tomorrow.” He suggested “Is the William Saliba asking me out?!” I teased him “Yes I am.” He proudly answered kissing my temples.

I could feel my cheeks heating up as I dug my face in his chest. “Look who’s shy now.” He chuckled “Shut up!” I rolled my eyes smacking his chest.

The next day rolled by and it was currently 6pm. William had left in the morning after we both had breakfast since he had to get tests done or whatever. Our reservations was 7:30 so I had an hour in a half

I stared at closet looking for something to wear. It was cold so I needed to stay warm.

After a few minutes I decided on this black Meshki Tarna dress, I paired it with my pair of black Prada slingbacks finishing it off with my black mini Kelly. I quickly did my makeup and straighten my hair before William texted me he was outside to see his car parked.

I smiled and opened the passenger seat door. “You look beautiful.” He smiled at me “Thank you.” I grinned fastening my seatbelt. “How was your day?” He asked placing his hand on my leg. “It was alright, just laid in bed the whole day, how’s your leg?” I replied “I’m out for two games. Hopefully I’ll be fit by the time we play Girona or something.” He shrugged and I nodded.

We sat in comfortable silence with music in the background. When we arrived he parked his car then coming to my side opening the car door. “Thank you.” I sent him a smile as he closed the door grabbing my hand. “Mhm.” He hummed in response.

He was wearing all black as well and god he looked so fine.

The waitress sat us down handing us menus. “What are you gonna get?” He asked looking over my menu as if we had different ones. “Um a carbonara and I think an iced tea.” I answered flipping through the pages but nothing caught my eyes. “I’ll get a steak and water.” He said looking at the waitress who took our order then left.

“Is this a new spot?” I asked looking around “Yeah, everyone on the team says it’s good.” He shrugged and I hummed in response. Our food quickly came out and I felt my face lit up when I saw the food. “I’ve never seen you so happy.” He chuckled “Because you aren’t food.” I sassed opening my silverware.

“Wait don’t start we’re in public.” I added realizing the crazy things William would say. “Wasn’t planning on it.” He trailed off teasing me. “I swear to god.” I rolled my eyes. “Kidding, anyways, do you wanna walk around after?” He asked as we both ate. “Sure.” I smiled.

After dinner we sat for a bit chatting before deciding to leave after me and William fought over the bill. He would always win but it would be weird if I didn’t offer. “You ready?” He asked and I nodded getting up. He quickly wrapped his arms around me.

One thing I loved about London was the night life. It was beautiful here. When we reached the bridge me and William looked out enjoying the view before he came closer and hugged me. “It’s beautiful.” I mumbled lost for words. “Not as beautiful as you.” He grinned kissing my forehead. “What happened to your ego?”

I giggled hugging him back. “Will you be my girlfriend?” He asked as we pulled away and I looked up at him smiling. “Yes.” I answered with no hesitation. His face lit up before he came closer pulling me into a kiss.

-

I hope you enjoyed my first one shot! Sorry if everything looks funky, I'm still trying to figure things out.

[insidekatmind]

Love at first sight~ William Saliba

Request: yes!

It was a cold winter evening in London. The Christmas lights illuminated the streets, and the city vibrated with that magic typical of the holiday season. You entered a small bar hidden among the streets of Soho, attracted by the warmth that shone through the large fogged windows.

The place was cozy, with soft lights and a jazz background that made the atmosphere perfect. You sat at the counter and ordered a hot cappuccino. As you waited, your gaze wandered around the room, until you met his.

William Saliba was sitting at a corner table, with an elegant coat over his shoulders and a cup in his hands. His gaze was magnetic, and his dark eyes rested on you with curiosity. He smiled at you. You, surprised and a little embarrassed, looked away, but you felt your heart beating fast in your chest.

After a few minutes, as you sipped your cappuccino, you saw him stand up and approach. When he stopped beside you, the scent of his aftershave made you lose your train of thought.

"Can I get you something?" he asked with a charming smile, his deep voice making you shiver.

"I'm fine, thanks. But... can we chat?" you replied with a hint of boldness you didn't even know you had.

Sitting down next to you, William began to talk about his love for London and football. When you told him you had recognized him, he laughed, pleased but not presumptuous. The conversation flowed naturally, as if you had known each other forever.

The hours flew by. You talked about everything: your passions, his experiences in the Premier League, your dreams for the future. Every word brought your worlds closer, every smile shortened the distances.

When the bartender announced closing time, William stood up and helped you put on your coat. "Can I walk with you?" he asked, and you nodded, your heart beating fast.

You walked side by side through the streets of London, while the city slept and only the streetlights framed your perfect moment.

"It's not often you meet someone who makes you feel like this..." William said, stopping under a tree decorated with lights. He looked into your eyes, slowly approaching you.

And before you could answer, his lips met yours in a sweet and intense kiss, which set off fireworks in your heart.

That night, in the streets of London, a love story was born that neither of you would ever forget.

[kennaskorner]

This is really giving me the vibe of if you're dating Wilo his friends respect him, and they know he doesn't play about you, so they don't either. Built in brothers and bodyguards.

[saleeba]

been a bit busy ; william saliba

summary ♡ fans are worried about your sudden absence across all social media platforms until an update from you creates the most ecstatic of shockwaves.

pairing ♡ william saliba x south asian/brown!fem!reader

content ♡ fluff, social media au, inspo from that classic thing brown influencers do where they hard-launch their partner only after getting engaged/married :P, reader is a content creator herself, y/l/n = your last name, google-translated french 💋

faceclaim ♡ mishti rahman | mishti.rahman

a/n ♡ hiiii i was so invested in & rlly set on having mishti as the faceclaim for this that i waited until she posted her own wedding content to use & i’ve had this in my drafts since nov 2023 😭😭 big up my bengali queen tho :3 this is quite short but hopefully u all enjoy it! pls lmk what u think!! 🫂💘

yourusername has uploaded to her instagram story!

yourusername and w.saliba4

liked by tolami_benson, sophiaaemelia and others

yourusername sorry everyone, been a bit busy 🙈 normal services will resume shortly — we have so much to catch up on! 🥰❤️

view all 83,127 comments

luvy/n a bit busy??? a BIT busy?????? where did HE come from

↳ yourusername 😭😭 i promise he’s nice xx

benwhite congratulations mr and mrs y/l/n!!! 🥳

↳ yourusername thank youuu benny 🥹❤️

↳ w.saliba4 benwhite we agreed to go with saliba-y/l/n 😅

↳ aaronramsdale w.saliba4 whatever she lets you believe mate 👍

gaabisevero congrats to the cutest couple ever 🥺

↳ yourusername thank you so much my love 💕💕

lomly/n AYYYY WE’RE NO LONGER FATHERLESS

y/nfan2 U GUYS THAT ONE DAMN PIC SHE PUT ON HER STORY HOW DID WE NOT CLOCK IT WAS FROM HER OWN DAMN MEHNDHI ???????

afcy/n miss girl knows how to play the game and she played us all like a damn fiddle 😩😩

↳ y/nfan17 that's MRS girl now 🥹

w.saliba4

liked by declanrice, arsenal and others

w.saliba4 thank you all so much for the blessings and sweet messages as we start this new life together! and to my wife: i thank the universe that you are mine to love every day. je t’aime, mon ange ❤️‍🩹 yourusername

view all 283,843 comments

y/nwilo he’s WHIPPED 😩😩

_gabrielmagalhaes ❤️❤️❤️❤️ ❤️ by author

song4y/n oh she chose so well 🥹🥹

↳ y/nlover they both did!!!! 🫶🫶

tolami_benson power couple!! ❤️❤️❤️ ❤️ by author

yourusername i love you so much baby ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹 i’m so lucky to be spending forever with you

↳ w.saliba4 i love you so much ❤️❤️❤️❤️

[kbg96]

Allez l'équipe, donnez nous un peu de contenu de mon mari euh pardon je veux dire Saliba

[amirawrah]

✩once in a lifetime... part one 🥐💋🎨

staring : Wiliam 'wilo' Saliba x Ameerah Tamilore Adeyemi

❀ summary: After attending an Arsenal match with her friends, she never expected to leave the stadium with a lingering sense of unfinished business. William Saliba saw her walk away that night, and he didn’t stop her—something he instantly regretted. When fate brings them back together at a party, their unspoken connection is impossible to ignore. As the night unfolds, stolen glances turn into quiet confessions, and what started as hesitation becomes something undeniable. But with emotions running high and unspoken feelings in the air, the real question remains—will they finally say what was left unsaid, or will history repeat itself?

❀ amirah: yayyyy i finally made a fic series, i don't know how many chapters but well see where this is going eventually. Like, repost and share and don't be afraid to fall in love with wilo too.

William Saliba had always been composed. On the pitch, he was unreadable—calm under pressure, focused, unshaken. Off the pitch, he was the same. He was used to attention, to people admiring him, but he never let it get to him. He never let anyone get to him.

Until you.

The first time he saw you, he knew he was in trouble.

It wasn’t just that you were beautiful—though mon dieu, you were. It was something else. The way you carried yourself, effortless yet captivating, like you weren’t even trying to steal his breath but still did. And then, you smiled.

That was it. That was his downfall.

Because your smile wasn’t just pretty, it was dangerous. The kind of smile that made a man forget how to think straight. The kind that made him feel something deep in his chest, something he couldn’t shake. It was warm, it was bright, and it made him feel like he was done for.

He was supposed to be the composed one. The one who kept his emotions in check. But at that moment, watching you laugh at something your friend said—he didn’t even know what, he just knew he wanted to be the reason for it—he felt something unfamiliar.

He was nervous.

William Saliba, nervous? He would have laughed if it weren’t true. His stomach tightened, his heartbeat picked up just a little, and for the first time in a long time, he felt out of his depth.

You glanced at him then, your eyes meeting his, and that smile widened. Like you knew. Like you could see right through him.

Yeah. He was in trouble.

And the worst part? He liked it but before he could do something he saw you turn your back and leave with your friends.

He should have stopped you.

William knew it the second he saw you walking away, slipping out of the stadium with that same effortless grace that had first drawn him in. He had just finished a match—a good one, a solid performance—but the usual rush of victory felt dull the moment he caught sight of you leaving.

You hadn’t even looked back.

He stood there, still in his kit, still catching his breath, watching as you disappeared into the crowd. His feet felt planted to the ground, his body frozen in place, even as something in his chest told him to move. To go after you.

But he didn’t.

And now, regret sat heavy in his stomach.

He ran his hand down his face, his mind racing. Why hadn’t he said something? Why had he just let you go? Maybe it was because he still didn’t know how to handle what you did to him. How you, with one look, one smile, made him feel like he was completely out of his element.

William Saliba didn’t hesitate on the pitch. He made quick decisions, precise movements, always in control. But with you? It was different. He hesitated. And now, he was paying for it.

“Tu es stupide,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head at himself.

He exhaled sharply, forcing himself to look away from where you had just been. But the uneasy feeling stayed, the kind that gnawed at him, making him restless.

The match was over. But the real battle? The one between his pride and the pull you had on him?

That had just begun.

❀.

You didn’t look back. You couldn’t.

You weren’t sure what you expected when you came to the stadium that day. You didn’t think you’d get caught up in the energy of the match or feel so drawn to one player. But there he was—William Saliba. You couldn’t help but notice him, not just for his skill on the pitch, but for something about the way he carried himself. He was different. And when your eyes met for the first time, something clicked.

But as you made your way to leave, the feeling of his eyes on you stayed with you. You could feel him watching, maybe hoping you’d turn around. Maybe hoping you'd say something, anything. But you couldn’t.

It wasn’t like you didn’t want to.

You wanted to stay, to walk up to him, to see if the tension you felt was mutual. But no. It wasn’t that simple. He had his own life, his own world—one that you weren't sure you could just step into.

So, you turned your back and walked away.

You tried to keep your head high, trying not to let the weight of the moment get to you. But inside, there was a storm. You couldn't shake the feeling that something could have happened if you’d just stayed a little longer, said a little more.

But then again, he hadn’t done anything either. He didn’t chase after you, didn’t stop you from leaving. Maybe that was his way of saying he wasn’t interested.

It’s fine. You tried to convince yourself. You came here for the match, not a man!.

But as you stepped further away from the stadium, the thought lingered. Maybe next time, you’d try to make that connection. But for now, you’d let it go.

You hadn’t said much since you walked out of the stadium. Justine and Halle kept glancing at each other, exchanging puzzled looks, but neither of them spoke up until you all reached the car.

"Alright, what’s going on?" Justine finally asked, raising an eyebrow. She slid into the front seat, glancing at you through the rearview mirror, waiting for you to respond.

You were staring out the window, lost in your thoughts, replaying the way he looked at you, the way you left without a word. It wasn’t like you to let something affect you this much, but there you were—still caught up in the moment with William Saliba.

Halle, sitting next to you, nudged your shoulder lightly. "Hey, you’ve been quiet. What’s up?"

You blinked, coming back to the present, but both of them were already looking at you with knowing expressions.

“Nothing,” you muttered, though even to you, it sounded unconvincing.

“Oh, please.” Justine chuckled, turning around in her seat. “You’ve been daydreaming this whole time. About him, right?”

Your heart skipped. "Who?" you tried to play it off, but Halle caught the slight shift in your expression.

“Don’t play dumb,” Halle said with a smirk. “We saw how you were looking at him during the game. And now, you’re clearly thinking about him again. Spill.”

You sighed, not even bothering to pretend anymore. “I just… I don’t know. I feel like I missed something back there. I don’t even know why I walked away without saying anything.”

Justine leaned back with a knowing smile. "Ah, so you’re into him."

You groaned, sinking into the back seat. “I don’t know if it’s that. I just…” You ran a hand through your hair. "There was this feeling. Like, something could have happened, but I just let it slip away."

Halle laughed softly, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Well, if you want advice, don’t just stand there thinking about it. Go back next time and do something about it."

Justine nodded. “Yeah, no one’s ever going to know if you don’t make the first move, right?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. "I guess you’re right."

Your friends exchanged a look, both of them clearly pleased with themselves for getting you to open up. They could already see it—the connection was there, and you were only just starting to realise it.

“Well, just so you know,” Justine added with a smirk, “if he’s half as interested as you are, you’re in for a wild ride.”

You groaned again, but this time, it was with a little more excitement.

ameerahsnarrative

liked by tolamibenson,heisrema, justineee, sheishalle and 500k others

ameerahsnarative: here at the emirates stadium with my girls @tolamibenson @sheishalle @justineee, had such a good time, so happy we won!.

click to view all comments

@tolamibenson so happy you girls came🥰

♥️by ameerahsnarrative

username1: wow you are pretty

username55: did you meet any of the players?

@justineee wow today isn't just your day huh @ameerahsnarrative fuck off

username88: Forget the match, I’m tryna be YOUR starting XI

username77: girl when are you posting on youtube

@ameerahsnarrative i'll be back soon dw username77: woooo!!

.

❀.

William stepped into the locker room, the sound of his boots echoing on the tile floor as the adrenaline from the match slowly started to fade. His mind should’ve been focused on the game, the win, the fans. But instead, his thoughts were filled with the image of you—your smile, the way you carried yourself so effortlessly.

He tried to shake it off as he headed for the showers. Focus, he told himself. You’ve got a job to do.

But even under the hot stream of water, as he scrubbed away the sweat of the game, all he could think about was you. The way you walked out of the stadium, your back to him, leaving him standing there frozen. He hadn’t said anything. He hadn’t moved. Why? He should’ve followed you, stopped you, at least said something.

But now you were gone.

After a quick shower, he changed into a clean set of clothes, slipping on his usual laid-back style—black hoodie, ripped jeans, and sneakers. He ran a hand through his damp hair, still distracted. You’ve got to stop thinking about her, he told himself, but his thoughts drifted right back to you. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, seeing the frustration in his own eyes.

He needed a distraction.

Just as he was about to grab his keys and head for the door, a few of his teammates wandered into the locker room, their voices loud and playful, breaking through his haze.

"Oi, Saliba!" Bukayo clapped him on the back, causing William to snap out of his thoughts. "You coming with us to Noah’s party?"

William blinked, trying to push thoughts of you aside. "Noah's, huh?" he muttered, trying to focus on the conversation.

"Yeah, big party tonight," Gabriel joined in. "It’s going to be a good one. You in?"

A few other teammates joined in, all eager for a night out after the win. William nodded absentmindedly, trying not to let his gaze wander back to the door where you’d disappeared.

"I guess I could use a distraction," he finally said, giving them a half-hearted grin.

They all seemed excited, chatting about the party details—who else was coming, what they’d be doing, and who was bringing what to drink. It was all standard stuff, but William barely heard it. His mind was elsewhere. His eyes kept flicking to the door. To you.

“Hey, come on, Saliba,” Bukayo said with a grin, “you’ve been quiet. You sure you’re in the mood to party?”

William forced himself to smile, trying to shake the thoughts away. "Yeah, yeah. I’ll be there."

But deep down, he knew it wasn’t just the party he was thinking about. It was you. The way you’d walked away, the way you hadn’t even looked back. He couldn’t get rid of the feeling that he had messed up, and no matter how many parties or distractions he tried to throw at himself, that feeling wasn’t going to go away anytime soon.

Next time, he thought. Next time, I won’t just stand there.

For now, though, he was headed to Noah’s party, but his mind—his thoughts—were already on the next time he saw you.

❀.

Music played softly in the background as you, Justine, Halle, and Tolami got ready for Noah’s party. The room buzzed with excitement, everyone shuffling between mirrors, makeup bags, and outfit options. Tonight was meant to be fun—a chance to let loose after the match and just enjoy the night.

Tolami, being Bukayo’s girlfriend, had been the one to invite you to the Arsenal match in the first place. She had insisted you’d have a good time, and she wasn’t wrong. The energy, the crowd, the thrill of seeing the team up close—it had all been incredible. But what stuck with you the most wasn’t just the game itself. It was him.

William Saliba.

You hadn’t mentioned anything about it to Tolami. Not about how your eyes kept finding him on the pitch, or how your heart had felt a little too heavy when you walked away after the match. You weren’t even sure how to put it into words, so instead, you kept quiet, focusing on getting ready like nothing was on your mind.

“Ugh, I swear, picking an outfit should not be this hard,” Justine groaned, holding up two dresses against her body. “Which one?”

“The black one,” you and Halle answered at the same time.

Tolami smirked. “That was quick.”

“I mean, she can never go wrong in black,” you shrugged, brushing a little shimmer onto your cheekbones.

Tolami adjusted her earrings before glancing at you through the mirror. “I’m excited for this party. Noah’s always knows how to throw a good one.”

“Yeah, should be fun,” you replied absentmindedly, fixing your lipstick.

Justine, however, wasn’t letting you off that easy. She turned to you with a pointed look. “You don’t sound excited.”

“I am excited,” you defended. “I just have a lot on my mind.”

Halle, ever the observer, narrowed her eyes at you. “Would this ‘lot on your mind’ have anything to do with a certain footballer?”

Tolami, who had been adjusting her bracelet, froze slightly before looking between you and Halle. “Wait, what?” she asked, intrigued. “What footballer?”

Justine and Halle immediately grinned at each other, and you groaned internally. Great.

“William Saliba,” Halle said, dragging out his name like she was unveiling the biggest gossip of the night.

Tolami’s eyes widened slightly before she turned to you with interest. “Wilo?”

You exhaled, shaking your head. “It’s nothing. Really.”

“Lies,” Justine said, folding her arms. “She’s been all in her head ever since the match.”

Tolami looked at you expectantly. “Okay, I need details. What happened?”

You hesitated before finally giving in. “It’s not even that serious,” you admitted. “I just… I don’t know. There was something there. I saw him after the match, and it felt like I should’ve said something. Or maybe he should’ve. But I just walked away, and now I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Tolami’s lips curled into a smirk. “So that’s why you’ve been all quiet.”

Justine nudged your arm. “You should see him tonight and figure it out.”

“Yeah,” Halle added. “No more overthinking. If you feel something, go with it.”

Tolami laughed, shaking her head. “Damn, I had no idea this was going on. But honestly? They’re right. If there’s even a little chance of something there, you might as well see where it leads.”

You exhaled, shaking your head with a small smile. “You guys are ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” Justine grinned, “but we’re right.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the excitement creeping in. Maybe tonight wasn’t just about the party. Maybe it was about seeing William again—and maybe this time, neither of you would walk away so easily.

ameerahsnarrative posted on her story

[caption: party ready💋]

❀.

The second you stepped into Noah’s house, the atmosphere hit you like a wave—loud music, flashing lights, and a crowd of people already deep into their drinks and conversations. The bass from the speakers vibrated through the floors, laughter and shouts mixing into an overwhelming hum of energy. It was exactly the kind of party that most people thrived in.

But not you.

Parties were never really your thing. Sure, you had no problem going out with your friends, dressing up, and playing along with the excitement. But once you were actually in the chaos of it all, you always found yourself withdrawing. Big crowds, forced small talk, music so loud you had to scream to be heard—it just wasn’t your scene.

As soon as you and the girls stepped inside, Tolami, Justine, and Halle were immediately caught up in the energy. Justine was already pulling Halle toward the dance floor after repeatedly asking you if you wanted to join, and Tolami was scanning the room, probably looking for Bukayo. Meanwhile, you took a deep breath and did what you always did at parties—you found a quiet spot to blend into.

You made your way toward a less crowded corner of the room, claiming a spot near the large window where a soft breeze filtered in from outside. You weren’t necessarily hiding, but you weren’t throwing yourself into the center of attention either. With a drink in your hand, you observed everything—the people laughing too loudly, the way some were already a little too tipsy, the DJ hyping up the crowd. It was all so familiar, yet so foreign at the same time.

A couple of people came up to make conversation, and you smiled, nodding politely, but you never let the interactions last too long. You weren’t in the mood to force excitement or pretend to be someone you weren’t. Instead, you leaned against the wall, slowly sipping your drink, letting the party exist around you without feeling the need to completely join in.

Your eyes absentmindedly wandered through the room, taking in the different faces, the way people moved so effortlessly in spaces like this. That’s when they landed on him.

William Saliba.

Dressed effortlessly in a fitted black shirt and jeans, he stood with a few of his teammates near the bar, casually engaged in conversation. But something about his demeanor was different—like he wasn’t fully present. His gaze was scanning the room, as if searching for something. Or maybe… someone.

Your fingers tightened around your glass as a familiar feeling settled into your chest. It was the same feeling you had when you walked out of the stadium, the same one that told you that whatever this thing was between you and William, it wasn’t over.

And from the way his eyes landed on you—lingering, assessing, almost relieved—you had a feeling he knew it too.

❀.

The moment William’s eyes found yours, the noise of the party seemed to fade into the background. The flashing lights, the music, the people—it all blurred into something distant, something irrelevant. For a second, neither of you moved. You just stared, caught in the unspoken tension that had been there since the match.

You swallowed, unsure of what to do. Your instinct was to look away, to pretend you weren’t affected, but something in his gaze held you in place. It wasn’t just curiosity—it was something deeper. Like he was still thinking about the way you walked away, just like you had been thinking about how he didn’t stop you.

He shifted slightly, like he was debating whether to come over.

Your heartbeat picked up.

But before he could make a move, one of his teammates clapped him on the back, pulling his attention away for a moment. That was enough for you to break eye contact, inhaling sharply as you turned toward the window, pretending to take in the view outside.

Get it together.

You weren’t even sure what you wanted. Did you want him to come over? Did you want to talk about what happened—or didn’t happen—after the match? Or were you just caught up in something that wasn’t even real?

“Hey,” Tolami’s voice suddenly pulled you out of your thoughts. She had appeared beside you with Bukayo on her side, her drink in hand, her eyes flicking between you and the direction where William stood. “You good?”

You hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah, just needed some air.”

Tolami studied you for a second before following your line of sight. “Wait a minute…” A slow smirk spread across her face as she put the pieces together. “That’s who you’ve been thinking about, isn’t it?”

You exhaled, shaking your head with a small, defeated smile. “I hate that you’re so observant.”

Tolami laughed, leaning in slightly. “Girl, he’s been looking at you like you stole something from him.”

You glanced back, only to see William’s gaze had returned to you. This time, there was no hesitation in his stance. He said something quickly to his friends before pushing off the bar and making his way through the crowd—toward you.

Tolami nudged your arm playfully. “Oh yeah, you’re in big trouble.” she said with Bukayo saying "ouhhhh" by her side.

Your heart was in your throat as you watched William close the distance. No more walking away. No more overthinking. This time, there was nowhere to hide.

Making his way through the crowd, he approached them, his confidence steady on the outside, but something about her made him feel uncharacteristically unsure. Tolami noticed him first.

“William,” she greeted with an easy smile.

He returned the gesture with a polite nod. “Tolami.” His voice was smooth, deep, but he was already shifting his gaze toward the real reason he was here.

And then, finally, he was looking at her.

Up close, she was even more breathtaking. Her dark brown eyes held something familiar—shyness, curiosity, and maybe just a little bit of the same hesitation he felt. The same eyes he hadn’t been able to forget.

For a second, neither of them spoke. The energy between them was thick, charged with something unspoken. It was only when Tolami cleared her throat that William realized he was still staring.

He exhaled lightly, gathering himself before speaking.

“I don’t think we’ve met properly,” he said, his accent laced with warmth. “I’m William.” His deep, rich French accent wrapped around the words, smooth and slow.

Her brain took a full three seconds to process what he said because she was too busy reeling from how stupidly attractive his voice was. Her lips parted slightly, almost like she wasn’t sure what to say at first. Then, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and gave a small, shy smile. “I know,” she admitted softly. “I mean—yeah. I know who you are.”

His own smile ghosted at the corners of his lips, amused by her nervousness—mostly because he felt the exact same way.

“And you are…?” he prompted gently.

She hesitated, then finally answered, her voice carrying a soft, melodic tone. She told him her name, and just like that, it was engraved into his memory.

Tolami and Bukayo watched the exchange with an unreadable expression, but there was something knowing in Tolami's gaze. “Well,” she said after a beat, taking a step back and dragging her boyfriend with her. “I’ll leave you two to talk.”

William barely registered her leaving because his attention was solely on the girl in front of him. He shifted slightly, rubbing the back of his neck, suddenly feeling uncharacteristically nervous.

“I—uh,” he started, then let out a small chuckle, shaking his head at himself. “Sorry, I don’t usually get nervous like this.”

She laughed softly, tilting her head. “So I make you nervous?”

He let out a breath, meeting her gaze again. “I think you do.”

And just like that, the tension melted into something lighter. The party buzzed around them, but in that moment, it felt like they were in their own little world.

You felt your pulse quicken at his words. The way he admitted it so easily—that you made him nervous—sent a small rush of warmth through you. William Saliba, confident, composed, and undeniably magnetic, was standing in front of you, slightly unsure of himself.

And it was because of you.

You let out a soft laugh, shifting your weight slightly. “That’s funny,” you said, swirling your drink absentmindedly. “Because I was just about to say the same thing.”

William’s lips curled into a subtle, amused smile. “So we’re both nervous?”

“Seems like it.”

For a moment, you both stood there, letting the words settle between you. The tension wasn’t awkward—it was just… there. Charged.

William glanced around briefly before looking back at you. “You don’t seem like you like parties much.”

You raised a brow. “And what gave that away?”

“The fact that you’ve been standing in this exact spot for the past ten minutes,” he said, smirking slightly. “Just watching.”

You sighed, shaking your head playfully. “I do like parties… I just don’t like being in the middle of everything. It’s too much sometimes.”

William nodded as if he understood. “I get that.” He leaned slightly against the wall next to you, his presence comfortable, familiar in a way you weren’t expecting. “I don’t always like them either. At least not the way my teammates do.”

You smiled. “So why are you here then?”

He let out a small chuckle. “Good question.” Then, after a slight pause, he added, “I almost didn’t come, actually.”

That made you tilt your head, curiosity piqued. “Really?”

William held your gaze, his deep brown eyes steady. “Yeah,” he admitted, voice quieter this time. “But now… I’m glad I did.”

You felt your breath hitch slightly at the way he was looking at you, as if he meant every single word.

Before you could overthink it, you smiled, glancing down briefly before looking back up at him. “Me too.”

William’s smile grew just a little, as if he was pleased by your answer.

For the first time that night, you weren’t lost in your thoughts. You weren’t stuck overanalyzing things or trying to blend into the background. You were here, in the moment, with him.

The party carried on around you—music pulsing, people dancing, laughter spilling over in waves—but none of it seemed to matter anymore. The world had shrunk down to just you and William, standing in the corner, locked in this quiet, unexpected moment.

He shifted slightly, his gaze flickering down at you, almost like he was still processing the fact that you were really here, that you were actually talking after everything that had happened at the match.

“I meant to say something earlier,” he admitted after a pause.

You blinked, tilting your head. “Earlier?”

“At the stadium,” he clarified, his voice carrying something that sounded like regret. “When I saw you leaving.”

Oh.

Your fingers tightened slightly around your glass, the memory flashing in your mind—the way you walked away, the way he stood there, watching but not moving.

Your lips parted, but you weren’t sure what to say.

William sighed lightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know why I didn’t,” he admitted. “I just… froze, I guess.”

You studied him for a moment. “Why?”

His jaw flexed, like he was debating how honest he should be. Then, finally, he exhaled, shaking his head with a small, self-deprecating smile. “Because I knew I was in trouble the first time I saw you.”

Your breath caught slightly at his words.

William let out a soft chuckle, his eyes locked onto yours. “I don’t usually get caught off guard, but with you… I did.”

You felt your cheeks warm, a mix of nerves and something else—something much softer—settling in your chest.

“Well,” you said, voice barely above a whisper, “maybe you should’ve stopped me.”

His expression shifted slightly, something unreadable flashing in his eyes. He took a step closer—not too much, just enough that you could catch the faint scent of his cologne, something warm and subtly intoxicating.

“Would you have stayed?” he asked, voice lower now.

You swallowed, holding his gaze. “I don’t know.”

William let out a breath, then nodded slowly. “Then maybe I should’ve tried anyway.”

The weight of those words lingered between you, thick with something unsaid, something unfinished.

And in that moment, you knew one thing for sure—this wasn’t just some fleeting conversation at a party. This wasn’t something either of you would forget by tomorrow morning.

This was something different. Something new.

And neither of you were walking away this time.

[wslba2]

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

𝗙𝗜𝗫 𝗨𝗦

[coffeevacation]

eating this up😋😋😋😋

The beginning very much reminded me of that pottery video Nella Rose did with Craig Mitch🤣

But loved this!!!!

In your hands

warning ‼️: smut

word count: 4,991

pairing: william saliba x black female reader

summary: on a nice, innocent pottery date you can help but desire for you to be in william’s hands instead of the clay

tag list: @sucredreamer @irishmanwhore @whoevenisthiz @iamquiantrelle @dexastres @coffeevacation @goldenngt @btslover117 @kennasutopia @jessnotwiththemess

note: my first william fic🥳 the girls and i had a timeeeeeee with that pottery video so i had to write something because it was really making me ✨tingle✨. as always enjoy and tell me what you think!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The warm glow of the studio lights cast golden hues over the room, reflecting off the damp sheen of the spinning clay. The air smelled of earth and something faintly musky—maybe the clay, maybe the lingering scent of William’s cologne. Either way, it was intoxicating.

You had both been waiting weeks for this pottery date, but between his matches and your packed schedule, the timing never aligned. Until tonight. And now, here you were—knees touching as you both sat in front of the wheel, hands trembling slightly as you tried to center the clay.

William let out a low chuckle, watching as the mass of clay wobbled under your uncertain hands. “Let me help you, bébé” he murmured, his deep, accented voice sending a shiver down your spine.

Before you could protest, he reached for another chair, dragging it behind yours. The scrape of wood against tile barely registered before he settled in—his long legs bracketing yours, his chest pressing flush against your back. His presence engulfed you, surrounding you in his warmth, in the scent of him—clean, rich, subtly spiced. It made your pulse stutter.

His hands found yours, covering them with ease, his fingers warm and firm as they guided your movements. The clay was soft beneath your touch, pliant, shifting under the gentle pressure of both your hands.

“Just like that baby” he whispered, his lips dangerously close to the shell of your ear. His voice was low, smooth, almost teasing. “You have to keep it steady, or it’ll fall apart.”

The words, innocent in context, settled deep in your stomach, curling like a slow-burning fire.

You swallowed thickly, forcing your focus back on the clay, but it was impossible when every breath William exhaled ghosted over your skin, sending sparks of heat straight to your core. His fingers laced with yours, guiding them up and down the spinning strangely cylindrical shaped clay. Smoothing, shaping, molding. The way the unshaped clay leaned to the side reminded you of the curvature of William. How he hits some many unknown spots inside of you.

Your mind drifted, thoughts slipping into dangerous territory. His hands were large, skilled, his grip both firm and delicate. You imagined them elsewhere, imagined those same fingers dipping inside you with the same careful precision. The way his chest molded to your back, the solid weight of him behind you, how easily he took control.

A sharp inhale betrayed you, your breathing shifting ever so slightly. William must have noticed because his grip on your hands tightened, just a little. His thumb brushed over the back of your knuckles, slow, thoughtful.

“Faster” he murmured, instructing you to press the pedal.

You did, and the wheel spun quicker, the clay stretching, lengthening beneath your touch. But you weren’t thinking about the vase anymore. No, all you could think about was the way his voice dropped an octave when he spoke in your ear, the way his body heat seeped into yours, the way his fingers still moved over yours, teasing, coaxing, controlling.

His breath was heavy now as he tried with a small amount of strength to keep the clay in the middle of the wheel. He let out a few grunts that sent you down a spiral. Each exhale a low rumble near your ear. You weren’t sure if it was the effort of keeping your hands steady or if he could feel the same tension building thick in the air between you.

Then, his voice dipped lower, darker. “Get it wet for me”

The instruction was innocent enough—he wanted you to add more water to the clay before it dried out. But the second the words left his lips, your stomach clenched, heat rushing through you in waves.

Your fingers trembled as you reached for the bowl, scooping up water and letting it drizzle over the spinning clay. But in your mind, all you could hear was the weight of those words, all you could think about was how wet he was making you.

For a moment, you let your eyes flutter shut, let yourself get lost in the sensation of his hands over yours, the steady rhythm, the quiet intimacy of it all. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the strength in his arms as he held you still, the way his breath stuttered ever so slightly when you shifted against him, his heartbeat steady on your back.

A low hum vibrated in his chest. “Bébé?” His voice was softer now, laced with amusement. “Baby? You can stop the wheel now—we got the shape you wanted.”

Your eyes snapped open.

The clay had transformed—what had once been a messy, phallic-shaped lump was now a perfect, smooth vase, ready to be fired and painted. You had no idea how long it had been like that, how much time had passed while you were caught up in everything else.

William was quiet for a moment, but you could feel the smirk on his lips before you even turned to look at him. His fingers lingered over yours, his chest still pressed to your back, his breath still warm at your ear.

“Alright, they said we can just leave the pieces on the wheel and they will come and pick them up” he murmured, his tone knowing, teasing, promising. “Are you ready to go?”

Your pulse thrummed.

Yes. Yes, you were.

William stayed close behind you, his chest still pressed against your back, his hands still covering yours. The wheel had stopped spinning, the clay was molded perfectly, but the tension in the air hadn’t settled—it had only thickened, stretching between you like an invisible thread ready to snap.

Finally, he exhaled, slow and controlled. “Come on bébé” he murmured, his voice deep, rough around the edges. “Let’s clean up”

His hands slid from yours, trailing lightly over your wrists before pulling away completely. The loss of contact left your skin tingling, hyperaware of the warmth that was no longer there. You swallowed and stood up, but your legs felt unsteady—whether from sitting too long or from the way his voice had been in your ear all night, you weren’t sure.

William noticed. Of course he did.

A smirk played at the corner of his lips as he straightened to his full height, towering over you. “You okay baby?”

The way he said it—low, teasing, laced with something smug—made your breath hitch.

You rolled your eyes, trying to act unaffected, but he saw right through it. He always did.

The two of you moved to the sink, side by side, hands covered in clay residue. The water ran warm over your fingers as you rinsed off the mess, but the real distraction was William—how he stood so close, how his arm brushed against yours, how he watched you with darkened eyes through the mirror above the sink.

“You did good for your first time” he murmured, voice smooth as silk. “I liked watching you work.”

His gaze flickered down, slow and playfully, and the way he said it made it clear—he wasn’t talking about pottery anymore.

Your breath stuttered. “Glad I could entertain you”

William smirked, reaching for a paper towel. Instead of handing it to you, he took your wrist gently, turning your palm up as he slowly—too slowly—wiped your hands dry, his touch lingering over your fingers. His thumb brushed over the sensitive skin of your wrist, pressing lightly against your pulse.

“Always do” he murmured.

Heat coiled in your stomach.

You knew you needed to leave before things spiraled right here in the studio, but every second stretched out, every movement felt drawn-out, and teasing.

Finally, you both grabbed your coats, the fabric sliding over your skin like an afterthought. He helped you with yours, pulling it over your shoulders, his fingers grazing your bare collarbone before smoothing the lapel down.

“Ready?” he asked.

Hell yes. You thought.

But you nodded anyway.

As he led you toward the door, you reached out, grasping his arm—needing the connection, needing to feel him under your fingers. His muscles flexed slightly under your touch, but he didn’t say anything, just let you hold on as he opened the door and led you outside into the cool night air.

The walk to the car was slow. Tension curled between you like thick smoke, wrapping around every step, every glance. The air was crisp, but it did nothing to cool the heat simmering between you.

William opened the passenger door, stepping aside to let you in. But before you could move, he leaned in close, one hand bracing against the car beside your head.

His scent wrapped around you—something rich, something warm, something distinctly him. His lips hovered near your ear, his breath warm as he murmured, “Get in bébé”

It was a simple request. But the way he said it—commanding, full of promise—made your entire body shiver.

You swallowed hard and slid into the seat, your thighs pressing together instinctively. He closed the door with a soft click, rounding the car and slipping into the driver’s seat with effortless grace.

The car was silent as he started the engine, but the energy between you was deafening. The air felt thick, heavy, charged. You shifted slightly, trying to find some semblance of control, but when William’s hand landed on your thigh—casual, but firm—your breath caught in your throat.

His fingers flexed slightly, his thumb brushing along the inside of your knee.

“You’re quiet” he mused, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye as he pulled onto the road. “Something wrong?”

You turned to look at him, his profile sharp under the glow of the streetlights. His jaw was tight, his grip on the wheel firm. He looked composed, relaxed even—but you knew better. You could see it in the way his fingers drummed lightly against your skin, in the way his chest rose and fell just a little too calculated.

You exhaled slowly. “Just thinking about… getting home.”

William let out a soft hum, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “Yeah?” His fingers inched higher up your thigh. “What about it?”

Your pulse thrummed. “Just that I’d rather be there right now”

That did something to him. His fingers twitched against your skin, his grip tightening slightly. His jaw clenched, and for the first time, he broke eye contact with the road for a brief second, flicking his gaze toward you.

Dark. Heated. Possessive.

His foot pressed just a little harder on the gas.

The rest of the ride was silent, but the tension didn’t fade—it only thickened, crackling between you like static electricity. Every glance, every breath, every small shift in your seat felt loaded, stretched taut.

By the time he pulled into the driveway and cut the engine, you were already reaching for the door handle. But before you could move, his hand shot out, gripping your wrist.

“Aye aye wait, let me get your door” he murmured, sounding slightly confused as to why you would ever reach for your door when he always does.

You turned to him, your breath catching when you saw the look in his eyes—dark, hungry, filled with all the things he hadn’t said yet.

Slowly, he reached for his own door handle, stepping out first before rounding the car. He opened your door just as slowly, offering his hand.

You took it.

The second your fingers laced together, he pulled you up—too fast, too sudden, too intentional. You barely had time to react before you were against the car, his body crowding yours, his hands bracing on either side of you.

“Still thinking about getting home?” he asked, voice a rough whisper.

You swallowed hard, your pulse pounding against your ribs. “Not really. No”

A slow, knowing smirk curved his lips. “Good”

And then—finally—he kissed you.

It was soft at first, teasing, like he was savoring the moment. But then you sighed into him, pressing closer, and something in him snapped.

His hands gripped your waist, his body pressing into yours, deepening the kiss with a slow, consuming hunger. His fingers traced along your spine, his grip tightening like he couldn’t get enough, like he needed more.

By the time he pulled back, his breathing was uneven, his forehead resting against yours.

“I’ve been wanting to kiss you like this for hours” you murmured.

Your lips tingled, your whole body alight with want. “You don’t have to wait anymore.” he whispered, trailing his fingers up your arm, across your collarbone, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. A deep chuckle rumbled through his chest, vibrating against you.

And with that, he led you inside and to your bedroom—where waiting was no longer an option.

A slow, heavy silence settled between you, thick with anticipation. William’s grip on your wrist lingered, his thumb stroking over the delicate skin just above your pulse, tracing slow circles that sent a ripple of heat straight through you.

Neither of you spoke. You didn’t need to.

His dark eyes roamed over you, taking in the rise and fall of your chest, the way your lips parted slightly as you tried to steady your breath. His own breathing was measured, deep, his broad chest rising and falling in a rhythm that felt too controlled—like he was holding something back.

Your skin prickled as he finally moved, his free hand reaching up to toy with the lapel of your coat. His fingers, long and warm, ghosted over the fabric before he slipped one button free. Then another. And another.

Each movement was excruciatingly slow.

Your breath caught as the last button came undone, the heavy material sliding apart. His hands, now unhindered, spread the coat open, his fingers grazing over the thin fabric of your top beneath. The contrast of warmth against cool air sent a shiver down your spine.

William smirked. “Cold bébé?”

You swallowed hard, your voice barely above a whisper. “No”

His smirk deepened, approval flickering in his gaze. He slid the coat off your shoulders, the weight of it disappearing as it pooled at your feet with a soft thud.

For a moment, he simply looked at you.

His gaze swept over every inch of exposed skin, dark and intense, lingering on the way your nipples strained against your top, the way your thighs pressed together like you were already trying to contain the tension thrumming through you.

Then, he sat down.

Spreading his legs, he pulled you between them, his hands gripping the backs of your thighs, firm and possessive. The heat of his palms burned through your jeans, his thumbs tracing lazy circles just beneath the curve of your ass.

He leaned in.

His breath, warm and steady, fanned over your clothed stomach as his lips hovered—so close, yet refusing to touch. His hands squeezed gently, fingers digging in just enough to make you feel him, grounding you in the moment.

Then, he lifts your shirt slightly and pressed his lips to your skin.

Soft. Slow. Controlled.

A sharp inhale escaped you as his mouth moved lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your hip bones, his tongue flicking out to taste, to tease. Each kiss lingered, warm and wet, the faintest hint of teeth grazing your skin before he soothed the spot with his tongue.

You clenched your fingers into his hair, not pulling—just holding. Needing something to keep you tethered.

William inhaled, then exhaled against you, his voice a deep murmur vibrating against your skin. “You smell so good” he mused, pressing another kiss, this time firmer, just above your waistband.

His fingers toyed with the button of your jeans, flicking it open with a practiced ease. Then, just as slowly, he dragged the zipper down, the sound loud in the quiet room. His fingers slipped beneath the waistband, brushing against your lower stomach, teasing but not rushing.

“Lift” he instructed, voice low, smooth as silk.

You obeyed, shifting just enough for him to tug your jeans down your hips, dragging them over your thighs, your calves, before discarding them somewhere behind him. The cool air kissed your newly exposed skin, making every nerve stand on end.

His eyes darkened as they trailed over you, lingering on the damp spot forming on your panties. He didn’t comment, but the way his jaw tensed, the way his hands flexed against your hips, told you everything.

Then he moved again, gripping the hem of your top and pulling it over your head in one smooth motion. Your arms instinctively crossed over your chest, but William tsked, catching your wrists and gently pulling them away.

“Laisse-moi te voir chérie” (Let me see you darling)

The way he said it—low, reverent, like he was asking and demanding all at once—made your stomach tighten.

His fingers traced over your bare skin, the lightest touch, following the curves of your waist, up to the swell of your breasts, stopping just shy of touching where you wanted him most. His eyes flicked up to yours, gauging your reaction, watching the way your breath hitched.

He didn’t say it out loud but his eyes told you how beautiful he thinks you are. How much he admired you, in every way.

Your skin felt hot, your whole body thrumming with the weight of his attention. “William…”

He hummed, pleased by your breathlessness.

Then, swiftly, he guided you down onto the bed, following until he hovered over you, his weight pressing into you just enough to make your breath catch.

His lips found your throat, pressing slow, lingering kisses before his teeth grazed against the sensitive skin. You gasped as he sucked, harder this time, leaving behind a mark you knew would still be there in the morning.

His hands mapped your body, fingertips tracing, memorizing. His soft palms scraped lightly against your soft skin, the contrast sending a delicious shiver through you.

One hand drifted lower, teasing, testing, before slipping between your thighs. His fingers brushed over your panties, feeling the heat, the dampness, his breath hitching slightly against your neck.

“Déjà si mouillée” (Already so wet) he murmured, voice thick with approval. “I haven’t even touched you properly yet”

Before you could respond, he slid your panties down, taking his time, his fingers grazing over your thighs as he discarded them. His gaze stayed locked on you, dark, smoldering, as he traced a single fingertip along your inner thigh, moving achingly slow toward your center.

Then—finally—he pushed one finger inside.

A sharp gasp slipped from your lips as he moved, slow, measured, his other hand pressing against your stomach to keep you still. He worked you open, thrusting in and out at an unhurried pace, watching your every reaction. You could already hear your juices drenching his finger.

“Look at you” he murmured, almost to himself. “So perfect for me”

A second finger joined the first, stretching you just enough to make your back arch, your thighs trembling around him. He curled them, pressing up—hard—against that spot that made your whole body jolt.

A smirk tugged at his lips. “How does that feel mon amour?” His voice was rough, almost teasing. “Are you gonna cum for me bébé?”

You couldn’t answer—not with the way your breath hitched, your body responding to every slow, devastating movement.

Then, just as you teetered on the edge, William withdrew his fingers.

A whimper of protest left you, but he only chuckled, sitting up slightly. He lifted his fingers to his lips, his tongue darting out to taste you. His eyes locked on yours the entire time, as he wrapped his lips around his fingers.

Your breath hitched, heat pooling in your stomach all over again.

Then—he pressed those same fingers against your lips.

“Open”

The single word sent a shiver through you. You obeyed, parting your lips as he slid his fingers inside, letting you taste yourself on him. His gaze darkened, his smirk deepening as he watched you suck them clean.

He hummed murmured, voice thick with approval.

And then—he reached for his belt.

His eyes stayed locked on yours, his smirk promising something slow, something devastating, as he murmured, “Let’s see if you can take more bébé”

You lick your lips, anticipation thrumming through your veins as you watch him undress with a torturing slowness. His fingers grip the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head, revealing a chiseled torso adorned with tantalizing muscles and glistening skin that catches the dim light. Each ridge and contour of his abdomen flexes as he unbuttons his pants, letting them drop to the floor with a soft thud. His boxers follow suit, sliding down his thick, toned thighs, leaving him completely exposed. Your eyes widen as his dick springs free—thick, veined, and proud. Its light brown shaft contrasts against his skin, the pink tip flushed and needy, curving slightly to the left as it pulses with arousal. Your breath catches, and your mouth waters at the sight of him.

“I can take more” you murmur, voice trembling with desire, the words a plea that escapes your lips. “I need more”

His eyes darken, filled with an insatiable hunger that matches your own. Slowly, he lowers himself between your thighs, the warmth of his skin searing against yours as he presses your legs wide, framing his hips. His hands trail up the soft curves of your thighs, spreading you open as he dips his head to capture your lips. His kiss is deep, consuming—his lips melding with yours in a passionate dance, tongues tangling as if he’s tasting you for the first time. His mouth moves with an urgency that leaves you breathless, every kiss more demanding than the last, like you’re the only thing sustaining him.

His lips trace a scorching path down your neck, his breath hot against your skin, making your pulse flutter wildly beneath his touch. When his mouth finds that sensitive spot just below your ear, he sucks gently, his teeth grazing your skin, sending shivers down your spine. A soft moan escapes your lips, but it quickly turns into a desperate whimper as he positions himself, the head of his dick pressing insistently against your entrance. Slowly, achingly slow, he pushes inside, stretching you open, inch by torturous inch, until he’s fully seated within you.

A guttural groan rumbles from deep in his chest, vibrating against your collarbone as he buries himself to the hilt. His forehead rests against yours, eyes closed, breathing ragged and heavy. “No matter how many times I’m inside you” he murmurs, his voice thick and gravelly, fingers threading through your hair tenderly, “it feels better every time” His eyes open, locking onto yours with an intensity that steals your breath away, his gaze filled with raw, unspoken emotion.

He stays still, letting you adjust, the fullness of him sending sparks of pleasure rippling through your body. Then, he begins to move—slow, languid strokes that drag against your walls, setting every nerve ending ablaze. He moves with expert precision, each thrust deeper than the last, his hips rolling in a sensual rhythm that leaves you gasping for air. His eyes never leave yours, watching every flicker of pleasure that crosses your face, memorizing each soft moan and breathless sigh.

But soon, his restraint wanes. He shifts, lifting both your legs with effortless strength, draping them over his broad shoulders. The new angle sends him deeper, the thick length of him pressing against that perfect spot inside you, making your back arch off the mattress. He leans forward, folding you in half beneath him, his chest pressing against yours, his skin slick with a fine sheen of sweat. His thrusts grow harder, more demanding—each one a powerful surge that forces desperate cries from your lips.

Your nails dig into the thick muscle of his biceps, fingers clutching desperately as he pounds into you with an unrelenting rhythm. Every stroke is deep, precise, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. His body is a furnace above you, his skin burning against yours, slick with sweat. You can feel the heat radiating from him, every flex of his muscles, every slight shudder of restraint in his body as he pushes deeper, stretching you to your limit.

“Oh William” you whimper, voice breaking as the intensity of his thrusts robs you of breath. Your head falls back against the pillows, but he doesn’t let you escape—his large hand cups your jaw, tilting your face back toward his. His dark eyes are hooded, half-lidded with lust, locked onto you with a gaze so heated it makes your stomach coil tighter. He watches every flicker of pleasure that crosses your face, drinking in each gasp, each moan, each helpless whine that spills from your lips.

“This what you wanted baby?” His voice is rough, laced with desire, the deep timbre vibrating through your very core. “Me fucking you nice and hard, just like this, yes?” His words are punctuated by a sharp thrust that knocks the air from your lungs, makes your toes curl, makes your back arch into him.

“Yes” you breathe, voice barely above a whisper, barely coherent through the pleasure wracking your body. Your fingers slip down his arms, nails dragging over the sculpted ridges of his forearms, gripping at anything you can hold on to. “Oh, yes—please.”

A dark smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, but his expression is wrecked with need, his body trembling slightly as he tightens his grip on your thighs. His fingers sink into the soft flesh there, anchoring you beneath him as his pace quickens. His hips snap forward with a bruising force, slamming into you over and over, deeper and harder, until the pleasure borders on unbearable. The room fills with the intoxicating sound of your bodies colliding—wet, fevered, the slap of skin against skin mixing with his deep, husky grunts and your breathless cries.

His dick drags along your inner walls, each thrust hitting every single perfect spot inside you, making your vision go dark at the edges. But it’s the way his pelvis grinds against your swollen clit with each deep stroke that sends shockwaves of pleasure radiating through you, your body wound so tightly it feels like you might snap.

Your breath stutters, chest heaving, every muscle in your body tightening as the pleasure mounts higher, higher, until you’re teetering on the edge. The coil in your belly twists, tighter and tighter, heat pooling low in your stomach until you feel like you’re about to burst.

“Uhh baby—I’m cumming,” you gasp, your voice raw, trembling. Your hands fly to his back, nails digging in, desperate, as your entire body locks up beneath him. “Please don’t stop”

He groans at your words, his thrusts growing more erratic, more desperate. His head falls forward, forehead pressing to yours as he slams into you, driving you over the edge. And then it hits—your orgasm crashes through you like a tidal wave, white-hot and all-consuming. Your body shakes, your walls fluttering around him, gripping him so tightly that he lets out a strangled groan, his pace stuttering as he fights to hold on.

But he doesn’t stop. He rides you through it, fucking you harder, deeper, until you’re a trembling, breathless mess beneath him. The overstimulation has you gasping, your body writhing as he wrings every last drop of pleasure from you.

A few more hard, punishing thrusts, and then he’s pulling out, scrambling up your body. His hand wraps around his dick, stroking himself furiously, his jaw clenched, his muscles glistening as he hovers over you. His breaths come in sharp, ragged pants, his eyes locked onto you—your heaving chest, your sweat-slicked skin, the way your body glows in the aftermath of your orgasm.

And then—he breaks.

A desperate moan rips from his throat as he spills himself over you, hot, thick ropes of cum painting your chest, your stomach, even reaching your neck. His entire body shudders, his hips jerking as he milks the last of his release onto your skin. His head falls back, eyes squeezed shut, the sheer force of his orgasm wracking through him, leaving him trembling above you.

When he finally comes down, his chest still heaving, his dark eyes meet yours once more. You hold his gaze as you dip your fingers into the sticky warm mess on your skin, gathering it up and bringing it to your lips. Slowly, you suck each finger clean, savoring the taste of him with a teasing smirk.

The sight has him groaning again, his head falling forward as he watches, utterly wrecked, utterly mesmerized. His hands drop to the bed beside you, as if he needs to brace himself, as if the sheer filth of you licking him off your fingers is enough to make his legs give out.

“Fuck” he breathes, voice hoarse, shaky, still dazed from the intensity of it all.

Leaning down, he captures your mouth in a slow, languid kiss, tasting himself on your lips, his tongue sweeping across yours in a possessive, lingering claim. Finally, he pulls back, collapsing beside you, strong arms wrapping around your waist as he pulls you against his chest.

His fingers trace lazy patterns along your spine, and with a breathless chuckle, he murmurs, “Maybe we should do dates like this more often. You laugh shyly into his chest “I don’t think we’ll make it out of the parking lot if we go on another date like that”

The afterglow settles between you like a warm, lazy haze, your bodies tangled together beneath the soft sheets. His strong arms stay wrapped around you, his fingers tracing idle patterns along your bare back, grounding you in the quiet intimacy that lingers after the storm of pleasure. Your heartbeat is still erratic, your body still thrumming with the echoes of his touch, but in this moment, you feel nothing but contentment. William presses a lingering kiss to your forehead, his lips warm and tender, a stark contrast to the way he had just ravaged you. His scent—deep, musky, unmistakably his—surrounds you, mixing with the remnants of sex in the air, making you never want to leave this bed.

[insidekatmind]

Masterlist

William Saliba

Love at first sight

Movie

Jamal Musiala

Early morning

Alejandro Garnacho

Sweet Victory

Lose game