#fc barca

you and lamine never really got any privacy. in his house it was because of his mother and kenye. they were always home and always around you two. then, in your house it was because your parents were always around as well, they also had cameras everywhere, and did not let you two in your room together, alone.

so, when lamine’s mom said she had to go run errands for the whole day you both were relieved, except that kenye did not take kindly to naps, or leaving you alone.

you spent basically the whole day running around behind him, playing with him, cooking him food, watching movies with him, and talking to him. you could feel the tension between you and lamine and it was getting unbearable.

finally, by the magic of a warm milk bottle kenye fell asleep in your arms. you rocked him for a couple more minutes to make sure he was actually asleep, then you placed the bottle to the side and took him to his bedroom.

while you were tucking him in lamine was picking up after kenye, mostly his toys. you scurried over to lamine’s bedroom, waiting for him, smiling, and he finally arrived.

“finally!” you whisper-yelled, excitedly patting the spot in front of you.

lamine smiled, “took way too long,” he laughed.

you nodded in agreement and instantly went in for a kiss when he sat down, not wasting any time. he picked you up so you could sit on his lap as he roamed his hands around your body.

he groaned into the kiss slightly, causing you to giggle and put your foreheads against each other, “this was very much needed,” you blushed.

lamine opened his mouth to say something, but you stopped him by kissing him again. he brought his hands up to spank your ass and grip it right after to soothe it, he did it a couple times while you started to grind slightly, the last time he did it you heard a voice.

“lama?” a tiny, soft voice said from behind you.

lamine instantly froze as well and took his hands off you, creating some distance, “kenye,” he awkwardly smiled.

you wiped the lipstick stains off of lamine’s face, “hey kenye bebe.”

“why close?” he questioned, rubbing his eyes.

your face turned red, “we were just talking bebe.”

“up.” he requested, putting his arms out and yawning.

you picked him up and placed him in between you and lamine, “you have goodnight kiss.” kenye laughed, pointing at one of the lipstick smudges.

you and lamine laughed, slightly embarrassed, “yes she was just kissing me goodnight kenye.”

he pouted, “my turn.” kenye said, as he pointed to one of his cheeks.

you laughed softly and placed a tiny kiss on his cheek, then he pointed to the other one, and kept going back and forth.

“enough?” you asked, while giving him a tiny hug, “i think lamine’s jealous.” you whispered.

he nodded, “hehe, jealous.”

lamine rolled his eyes, “i’m not jealous, i got kisses first.” he teased kenye.

kenye, still in his sleepy state teared up, “lamine!” you hissed, annoyed.

“what!” he laughed, “it’s not my fault he’s a little cry baby.” he said, which made it worse because now kenye was full on crying.

you groaned, “yeah, he is literally a baby, lamine.” you rolled your eyes, “it’s okay bebe, no more kisses for lamine, okay?”

you wiped his tears and he did the same, nodding his head, “okey.”

“now let’s go to sleep, yeah?” you kissed his forehead.

you placed him in between you and lamine, he gravitated more towards you which caused lamine to laugh. finally, he fell asleep again and so did you.

-

might also make another version of getting caught by his older teammates, that would be so cute

l. yamal taglist: @massivepainterfan , @oharella , @piecredheart , @brune77e , @maybelu7 , @soobieewoobiee , @httpworshiper , @cnrdfisher , @deadpool15 , @night-fury-kamila , @frvrisa , @kylianaegyouwww , @ceziaa , @secretkittydreamland , @watamontee33 , @shakerhalfling8 , @auroraeanne , @rockurwurld , @oliseamorr <3

perm. taglist: @pinkfashionkilla , @koneooo , @random34674 , @mumisntproudofme , @itsopinionsbased , @bangtan7553 , @eerilyjaggedconstruct , @putaaamadre , @gigi9na <33

you had been dating lamine yamal for a few months now.

he was always so sweet with you, stealing moments after training to pull you into quiet corners for soft kisses, sending you silly voice notes when he was away with the national team and showing up at your door with your favorite snacks after long days.

everyone around him assumed he was this experienced guy.

the way girls used to throw themselves at him and how the media painted him as a young heartthrob with a list of exes.

you never pushed. you loved the way he blushed when things got a little heated.

one quiet evening after a big win, you were both in his apartment, curled up on the huge couch watching a movie.

lamine kept glancing at you instead of the screen, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your thigh under the blanket.

you turned to him smiling and kissed him softly.

the kiss deepened quickly, his breath hitching as you climbed into his lap, straddling him. his hands settled on your waist, gripping a little tighter as your tongues met.

“i want you,” you whispered against his lips, feeling the heat building between you.

lamine nodded and carried you to his bedroom like you weighed nothing.

clothes came off slowly. he was so gentle, worshipping every inch of your skin with his mouth.

you could feel how hard he was against your thigh, his body trembling slightly with anticipation.

when you finally guided him between your legs and he pushed inside you for the first time, you both moaned at the feeling.

he was thick and warm, stretching you perfectly, but something felt off.

his movements were hesitant, a little clumsy, like he was concentrating too hard not to hurt you.

you wrapped your legs around him, pulling him deeper, and noticed the way his hips stuttered, the slight wince on his face mixed with pure bliss.

that was when you tilted.

you cupped his cheeks, slowing him down gently as you looked into his eyes.

“lamine… baby, have you done this before?” you asked softly.

he froze for a second, burying his face in your neck, embarrassed.

“no...” his voice came out quiet and shy.

your heart melted at his confession. you kissed him deeply, running your fingers through his hair.

“it’s okay, we’ll go slow,” you smiled.

lamine relaxed against you, nodding as he started moving again, this time with more confidence guided by your praises.

you showed him how to roll his hips, how to find the rhythm that made you gasp his name.

it turned into something hotter, sweat-slicked skin sliding together, his moans growing louder and more desperate every time you clenched around him.

he was a quick learner, soon thrusting deeper, hitting that perfect spot inside you while his thumb found your clit, circling it shyly at first then firmer when he heard how much you loved it.

you smiled through your moans, pulling him closer so your bodies were completely flush.

the room filled with the sounds of skin meeting skin, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

lamine lasted longer than you expected for his first time, focused entirely on making you cum first.

when you finally tightened around him, shaking with pleasure, he followed right after, burying himself deep and spilling inside you with a broken groan of your name.

afterwards, he didn’t pull out right away.

he stayed on top of you, catching his breath, pressing soft kisses all over your face and neck.

“thank you for being patient with me. next time i’ll be even better, i promise.”

you laughed softly and held him tight, running your fingers down his back.

“you were perfect, lamine.”

the two of you stayed tangled together under the sheets for hours, talking quietly, laughing about the rumors and how wrong everyone had been, sharing gentle touches and more kisses until sleep took you both.

he was inexperienced but so full of love and eagerness to learn everything with you.

the seat beside yours stays empty until the last boarding call.

you don’t look up at first.

there’s another line in the quarterly report that doesn’t quite add up. the acquisition numbers look optimistic to the point of fiction, and you’re halfway through highlighting a paragraph when someone slides into 4b.

a soft thud.

a carry-on tucked away.

the faint smell of expensive perfume and something clean.

“hi.”

you glance over automatically.

she smiles.

it’s unfair, really.

the sort of smile that belongs on magazine covers rather than overnight flights across the atlantic.

“hi.”

she settles in, buckling her seatbelt with practiced ease. a baseball cap disappears into the seat pocket, revealing blonde hair that’s slightly flattened from wearing it through the airport.

you return to your report.

you make it exactly three sentences.

“business or pleasure?”

you look up. “…pardon?”

she nods towards the stack of printed reports balanced across your lap. “are you reading for business or pleasure?”

you blink once. “unless we’re suddenly counting stocks as pleasure…” she laughs. “…then no. it’s all business.”

“some people do count investments as pleasure.”

you snort despite yourself. “do they?”

“absolutely.”

“those people need hobbies.”

she grins. “to each their own.”

there’s a pause, and you study her for a second. “what about you?”

“what about me?”

“why are you going to chicago?”

she leans back comfortably. “i’ve got a modelling thing.”

you nod slowly. “so you’re a model.”

she smiles wider. “i’m a footballer.”

“…oh.”

“but thank you for complimenting my looks.”

your cheeks warm just enough to annoy you. “that wasn’t-”

“it absolutely was.”

“i made an assumption.”

“based on my face.”

“based on the modelling.”

she hums, pretending to consider it. “i’ll allow it.”

the aircraft begins to taxi.

the conversation should end there.

it doesn’t.

“and you?” she asks. “what do you do when you’re not insulting footballers?”

“I work in finance.”

“that explains the reports.”

“i’m glad we’ve solved that mystery.”

“high-powered?”

“reasonably.”

“boring?”

“only to people who don’t enjoy spreadsheets.”

“ah.”

she nods thoughtfully. “so definitely boring.”

you smile despite yourself. “you asked.”

“i did.”

she offers her hand. “alexia.”

you take it. her grip is warm, firm, her hands slightly calloused from years of training and competing.

“y/n.”

“nice to meet you, y/n.”

the seatbelt sign stays on for another twenty minutes.

by the time it switches off, you’ve somehow learnt that she’s flying over for a campaign with a sportswear brand after preseason training.

she learns that you’re presenting to a board on monday morning.

“that’s why you’re reading reports on a plane?”

“i like being prepared.”

“you’re reading printed financial statements.”

“yes.”

“on holiday.”

“i’m not on holiday.”

“exactly.”

she shakes her head dramatically. “tragic.”

the flight attendant appears with drinks. “can i get you anything?”

alexia glances at you. “wine?”

you hesitate for perhaps half a second. “…why not.”

“two reds, please.”

the first glass disappears surprisingly quickly.

the second follows not long after dinner.

your reports are abandoned somewhere between discussing football stadium atmospheres and the merits of deep-dish pizza.

she tells stories well.

animated hands.

bright eyes.

every sentence somehow ending with you laughing.

you tell fewer stories.

she notices.

“you’re one of those people.”

“what people?”

“the quiet ones.”

“i talk.”

“when spoken to.”

“that’s generally how conversations work.”

“mm.”

she tips her glass slightly. “but when you do talk…”

she studies you over the rim. “…it’s usually worth listening.”

the compliment lands heavier than expected, causing you look away.

outside the window, there’s nothing except darkness broken occasionally by wing lights.

the cabin dims.

most people around you begin settling in.

blankets.

headphones.

sleep masks.

business class becomes strangely intimate in the low lighting.

voices lower.

movements slower.

alexia slips off her shoes, folding one leg beneath herself. “you’re thinking again.”

“am i?”

“finance face.”

“finance face?”

“very serious.”

“i don’t have a finance face.”

“you absolutely do.”

she reaches over before you can react. two fingers gently press the space between your eyebrows. 

“right…”

another light push.

“…there.”

you stare at her. “…what?”

“your frown disappeared.”

she withdraws her hand like nothing happened. “much better.”

you should probably be irritated.

instead-

“you’re very confident.”

“only when i drink.”

“often?”

“maybe once a month.”

you laugh quietly. “i can imagine.”

she watches you for a moment. “there it is.”

“what?”

“you smile more than you think.”

you hold her gaze. “you’re very observant.”

“occupational hazard.”

“football?”

“captain.” she shrugs. “always watching people.”

the silence that follows isn’t awkward.

it’s… comfortable.

dangerously so.

she looks good in the dim cabin lighting.

you notice details now.

the strength in her forearms.

the watch on her wrist.

the tiny scar near her thumb.

she catches you looking. “what?”

“nothing.”

“liar.”

“i wasn’t-”

“checking me out?”

“…”

she smiles slowly.

“it’s okay.”

you clear your throat. “you’re very sure of yourself.”

“would it help if i admitted i’ve been trying not to look at you for the last hour?”

your heart does something deeply inconvenient. “…really?”

“really.”

another pause.

“those reading glasses aren’t helping.”

you glance down. “my reading glasses?”

“you put them on to read.”

“…yes.”

“terrible decision.”

you laugh under your breath. “because?”

“because every time you adjust them…” her eyes flick briefly to your mouth before returning. “…i forget what i was saying.”

the air feels warmer.

or maybe it’s just the wine.

you remove your glasses. “better?”

she exhales once. “significantly worse.”

your laugh comes quieter this time.

closer.

neither of you has noticed when the armrest stopped being enough space between you.

your shoulders brush now whenever either of you moves.

she doesn’t move away.

neither do you.

“can i ask you something?”

“depends.”

“are you always this…” she searches for the word.

“…careful?”

“careful?”

“like you’re calculating twelve different outcomes before you say anything.”

you think about denying it.

instead-

“usually.”

“and right now?”

your eyes meet hers, and your voice becomes softer. “right now… i’m trying very hard not to make a bad decision.”

she smiles. “interesting.”

“why?”

“because i was thinking exactly the same thing.”

another beat.

the hum of the engines fills the silence.

she tilts her head slightly. “i’m going to ask you something.”

“okay.”

“you can absolutely say no.”

“okay.”

“but if i don’t kiss you before this plane lands…”

her smile turns almost shy for the first time all evening.

“…i think i’m going to regret it.”

your eyes flick briefly to her mouth then back. “…that’s funny.”

“why?”

“because i was wondering how much longer you’d wait before asking.”

she laughs.

quiet enough not to disturb anyone sleeping nearby.

“so…”

“so.”

“…may i?”

instead of answering-

you lean the remaining inch between you.

her lips meet yours gently. just once- soft, testing even.

when you pull back, neither of you says anything for a few seconds.

alexia’s forehead rests lightly against yours.

“…well,” she murmurs.

“well.”

“that didn’t exactly help.”

“no.”

“made it considerably worse.”

you smile.

“i noticed.”

her thumb brushes absentmindedly against your wrist. “walk with me?”

“where?”

she glances meaningfully towards the rear of the aircraft.

“just…” another smile. “…to stretch our legs.”

you look at her.

at the sleepy cabin around you.

at the knowing expression she’s trying (and failing) to hide.

then you quietly unbuckle your seatbelt.

“lead the way.”

the aisle lights are dimmed to a faint amber glow. most passengers are asleep, blankets pulled high, headphones in.

the hum of the engines swallows almost every sound.

alexia walks just ahead of you, one hand lightly brushing the seat backs. you follow close enough that when the plane shifts in a bit of turbulence your fingers graze her lower back.

she doesn’t pull away. if anything she leans into the touch.

the galley at the rear is empty. the flight attendants have retreated to their jump seats. 

alexia glances once over her shoulder at you, that small conspiratorial smirk playing on her lips, then pushes open the door to the accessible lavatory.

the second the door clicks shut behind you the tiny space feels electric.

she turns and kisses you like she’s been waiting hours to do it. not gentle this time. her hands slide up your neck, fingers threading into your hair as she backs you against the counter. 

you taste the red wine on her tongue, feel the solid warmth of her body pressing flush against yours.

you kiss her back harder, nipping at her bottom lip, and she makes this soft surprised sound that shoots straight between your legs.

“fuck,” she breathes against your mouth, half laughing. “you’ve been holding out on me.”

“you’ve been talking too much.”

she grins, bright and wicked, then ducks her head to mouth at your neck, sucking lightly just below your ear.

your head falls back against the mirror with a quiet thud.

her hands move with purpose. one slips under your blouse, palm sliding up your ribs, thumb brushing the underside of your breast through your bra. the other grips your hip, pulling you even closer.

you tug at the hem of her shirt, fingers finding warm skin and the firm lines of muscle along her abdomen.

when you scratch lightly down her sides she shivers and presses her thigh between yours.

the pressure is immediate. perfect. not enough.

“alexia-” you whisper.

she answers by rolling her hips, slow and deliberate, grinding against you until your breath catches. her mouth finds yours again, deeper, messier.

you can feel how turned on she is. the heat of her through her joggers. the way her breathing is already getting ragged.

her fingers work open the button of your trousers, sliding the zipper down just enough to slip her hand inside. 

when she feels how wet you are she groans quietly against your lips. “dios mio… you’re soaked.”

you don’t answer with words. instead you push your own hand down the front of her joggers, past the waistband of her underwear, and find her just as drenched. the sound she makes when your fingers slide through her folds is low and filthy.

for a moment you just touch each other like that. slow, exploratory strokes. learning what makes the other gasp. 

her forehead rests against yours, both of you breathing hard in the tiny space.

she curls two fingers and presses them inside you without warning. your knees nearly buckle.

you bite down on her shoulder to stay quiet, and she hisses in pleasure at the sting.

“that’s it,” she murmurs, voice wrecked. “just like that.”

you match her rhythm, sliding two fingers into her at the same time. she’s tight and so fucking wet it makes your head spin. 

you crook your fingers and she clenches around you with a broken moan she tries to muffle against your neck.

the plane hums beneath you. someone coughs a few rows away. the risk of it all only makes everything sharper.

alexia’s thumb finds your clit and starts circling and your hips jerk forward involuntarily. you’re both trembling now, trying to stay quiet, hands moving faster, breaths mingling hot and desperate.

she kisses you again, messy and urgent, like she can’t get enough.

you’re right on the edge already.

alexia can feel it. she curls her fingers deeper, stroking that spot inside you with devastating precision while her thumb keeps perfect pressure on your clit. 

her mouth is on your neck again, sucking, biting, whispering filthy little things against your skin.

“come on amor… let go for me.” the words combined with the steady rhythm of her fingers push you over. 

you come hard, clenching around her, thighs shaking as the orgasm crashes through you. 

you bury your face in her shoulder to muffle the sound, nails digging into her back through her shirt.

she doesn’t stop. she keeps fucking you through it, slower now, drawing it out until you’re trembling and oversensitive.

when you finally catch your breath you kiss her hard, tasting desperation. your fingers are still buried inside her, and you start moving again with renewed purpose. 

you match the pace she used on you, curling, stroking, thumb circling her swollen clit.

alexia’s hips stutter. her breathing turns broken and shallow.

“fuck… just like that,” she gasps.

you can feel her getting close. her walls flutter around your fingers, slick and hot. you add a third finger and she moans louder than she should, forehead pressed to yours, eyes half shut.

her hand is still between your legs, lazily stroking you even as she starts falling apart. 

the overstimulation makes you whimper but you don’t want her to stop.

“i’m gonna-” she chokes out.

“come for me,” you whisper against her mouth.

she does. hard. her whole body tenses, thighs clamping around your hand as she rides out the waves. 

you keep moving through it, gentler now, until she’s shaking and panting into your neck.

for a long moment the only sounds are both of you breathing heavily and the low drone of the plane engines.

alexia pulls back just enough to look at you. her cheeks are flushed, lips swollen, hair completely messed up. 

she looks wrecked in the best possible way. she brings her fingers to her mouth and slowly licks them clean, eyes locked on yours the entire time.

you nearly short-circuit all over again, and she grins at your expression, soft and satisfied. 

you both start fixing your clothes with shaky hands, stealing little kisses between adjustments. 

when you’re decent again she leans in and presses a gentler kiss to your forehead.

then, like it’s the most casual thing in the world, she murmurs, “so i’ll pick you up friday at eight.”

you blink, still a little dazed. “sorry?”

she smiles, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “unless you only wanted this to be a one time thing.”

“no- no i’d love to see you again,” you say quickly, heart doing something ridiculous in your chest. “but i don’t even have your number?”

alexia’s smile widens, warm and a little cocky. “well amor, we better fix that then, shouldn’t we?”

⸻