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Needed [J.K23]

Warnings: language, SMUT 18+ (MDNI, wrap it before you tap it) 🤭

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: Took me a hot minute to finish, got halfway through and realized that I didn’t know how to write smut, but oh well, here we are!

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“Hey Y/N!” Your manager called you as she hauled her documents around in her arms. She finally caught up to you. “I was wondering if you could give the players their schedule for today’s match day.” She nudged you with her elbow.

You looked at her like a deer in the headlights.

“Why me? It’s not really my department…”

“All the team who usually handles this is out sick unfortunately. Here are the schedules,” she said, handing you a printed piece of paper. You gathered yourself, breathing through your nose and exhaling through your mouth. “Besides, as an intern, this will be good for you.” She patted you on the back.

You stared at the documents in your hands. Familiar names were written in bold ink on the pale paper, yet you couldn’t help but feel a tight knot form in your throat.

You knocked on the door of the locker room, “Everybody decent?”. Flick opened the door for you.

You peaked your head through the door.

“Sorry to bother you all so early, my name is YN, I’m interning with Sarah’s team, and Marcela’s, who is unfortunately out sick.”

“Do you have the players’ schedules for today?” Flick interrupted you. He seemed to understand your nervousness, yet needed to wrap up this interaction.

“Where is Marcela?” Jules asked you, unable to tear his eyes off of you.

“Hermano, learn to listen when people talk.” Iñigo teased the defender, who cracked a smile.

“I don’t, I mean, I do have today’s announcements!” You answered Flick’s question, stuttering and mentally kicking yourself.

Jules chuckled at your mistake, “Are you nervous?” He teased you. You wanted to roll your eyes at him, but the warmth in his voice allowed your nerves to untangle. You proceeded with ease. He stopped talking, allowing you to continue.

“As you all know, today is game day. Your training session is due to take place as usual, which is in,” You looked at your watch. “30 minutes, but the warmup will take place an hour before the game is due to start.” You anxiously looked up at Flick, only to be met with two thumbs up from the German coach.

Moving over to where Pedri was seated, you handed him a paper.

”Pedri, the media team would like for you to stay to film a segment before the game, Sarah will be in contact with you.”

You walked over to Balde and Gavi, handing them their duties for the day as well. “You both have a press conference after training, please be on time.” You looked at Gavi who had a devilish smile on his face. This time, the players let out a laugh as they saw Gavi’s cheeks turn red.

Koundé raised his hand, “I had an interview scheduled for today but it’s been cancelled, would you happen to know when it’s due to take place now?”

You froze in your tracks, nervously flipping through the pages of the calendar.

“ I’ll communicate the details as soon as I receive them.” You concluded with the Frenchman. Your gaze lingered on his lips, sheepishly looking away.

“ Before I leave, does anyone have anything to add? Or a question?” You looked around the room, hoping for a reaction. You gathered your documents, taking the players’ silence as an answer. You glanced around the room one last time before exiting, waving away at the players.

You walked back to the office you shared with your team, replaying the interaction in your mind. Thanks to the whole team falling ill, you had the office to yourself. Looking at your watch, you concluded you had time to skim through your emails before training started. Most of the emails were routine communication, such as upcoming sale deals, upgraded pr campaigns, but only one caught your attention. The cursor hovered above the title of the email before clicking on it.

You observed the first training from the window in your office. Coffee in hand, you glanced through the crowd of players until your eyes landed on the one player who had caught your attention. Jules Koundé.

Ever since you had arrived, you were able to maintain a generally professional policy, despite your limited contact with the players. You loved being able to joke and banter with the players, all while knowing how to stand your ground. But with Jules, all it took was one look and your knees buckled, your thoughts turning into a puddle of obscenities. You had spent countless nights just imagining him pounding into you, your lips carelessly screaming his name into the mattress.

A knock stole your attention away from the window. Flick was standing in the doorway. “Is the training over?” You got up to greet the coach, smoothing your pants in the process.

”Yes, everything went well. Balde and Gavi are on their way to shoot their interview.” You both stood awkwardly, neither knowing what to say.

“Regarding Koundé’s interview, I will communicate the details to him as soon as I can get my hands on them. Marcela sent them by email, just give me the time to skim through everything.” You apologized profusely.

“Relax, Adidas sent over the new schedule, I can let him know.” Flick put a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

“Oh…” You disappointedly exclaimed, hoping to start a conversation with the RB.

“Unless you want to…?” Flick said, picking up on your disappointed tone.

“I mean, if you don’t mind, it’s just…” You stumbled over your words all over again.

Flick got up and closed the door to the office, giving the two of you privacy.

“Can I be honest with you?” You felt uneasy as the German coach sat on the edge of your desk.

“Is everything okay?”

“I’ve noticed something I think is worth…addressing. I’ve been observing your interactions with the team and one player in particular has stood out to me. I’m talking about a few exchanged looks. Nothing inappropriate, but noticeable.”

You held your breath.

“Listen, I am not trying to dictate your career, nor your life. But I need you to be careful. I have taken a close look at your work, the whole management team has. You are driven, you submit exceptional work, to say you are brilliant at what you do would be an understatement.” He got up, hands behind his back, pacing around the room.

“I know you’re professional,” He continued. “And I don’t doubt your intentions for a second. Frankly…I’ve been in this business long enough to know that perception is a powerful thing. Once people start talking, whether it’s the media, colleagues, or even the team, it can create narratives that are tough to control.”

He rested his arms on the back of your chair, his eyes piercing through your soul.

“If you feel anything towards Koundé, remember that there’s a dynamic to consider. Athletes operate in a different world. A world with a lot of attention, influence, and expectations. No matter how harmless things might seem, there’s always an imbalance that can complicate things down the road. The media may be forgiving towards him, but don’t expect them to be for you. They will tear into every single thing you have ever said or done.”

He got up and walked towards the door, his hand hovering over the handle.

“I won’t be the one to stand between the two of you, but at the end of the day, you are both employed by the same club. And we all know who will end up staying if things go wrong. I trust you to make an enlightened decision.” He concluded, walking out of your office.

You stood there, speechless, your mind still trying to process Flick’s words.

You shakily sat back down at your desk, desperately racking your brain for ways to get this conversation out of your head. Deep down you knew Flick was looking out for you, his tone soft yet firm. For the second time today, a knock interrupted your attempt to work. You signaled for the person to come in, barely looking up from your computer screen. The scent of a familiar perfume filled the room. You slowly looked up at your distraction through your eyelashes.

“I hope I’m not bothering you.” The French player shyly apologized.

You struggled to swallow the lump in your throat, your eyes unable to peel away from his biceps.

“No,” You cleared your throat. “Please, have a seat.” You gestured to him. You felt the heat rise to your cheeks as the player sunk into the leather chair in front of your desk, his arms resting on the sidearms.

“How may I help you?” Your voice was barely audible.

“Flick actually sent me here.” He cracked a smile, a warm sensation spreading across your stomach.

“About the Adidas interview!” You both said at the same time, a laugh escaping from you.

You felt yourself relax, the tension slowly fading away. You dove back into the many emails that were sent since that morning, your eyes skillfully scanning for the email title. You grew frustrated, the email nowhere to be found. The RB noted your thinning patience.

He got up from his chair, walking over to your chair. “Do you want me to take a look?” The words brushed past your ear as he stepped in even closer. Jules stood close, way too close, as he leaned over to help you find that damn email.

As he moved, his arm brushed against yours, the brief contact sending an unexpected spark through the space between you. The warmth radiating from him, the faint scent of his cologne, the quiet confidence in his movements, all of these factors were driving you closer to making a dangerous decision.

His hand hovered just beside yours on the keyboard, his fingertips nearly grazing your skin. The tension, thick and electric, as you swallow hard, forcing yourself to focus on the screen in front of you instead of the way his body nearly presses against yours. He notices, and lets the faintest hint of a smirk show at the corner of his lips.

“Found it,” he said, his breath warm against your cheek. But neither of you move right away, the silence between the both of you filled with everything unsaid.

Jules is still standing behind you, his fingertips trailing lightly over the edge of the desk, an almost absentminded gesture. You felt a pair of arms drag your chair around, forcing you to look at him.

He brought his hand to your face, his fingers resting under your chin. The tension was eating you alive, your desire for him to crash his lips into yours turning into an undeniable need.

"Are you sure about this?" Jules asks, his voice low, rough in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. “Because if you’re not sure we can-”

“Please”. You begged, interrupting his rambling.

His lips landed onto yours in a kiss that started soft, deliberate, but deepened with each passing second, as though he was memorizing every detail; the way you tasted, the way you responded to him; the way you melted, like putty in his hands.

You allowed yourself to relax into the warmth and softness of his lips.

To your dismay, he pulled away, chest heaving.

You admired the sight in front of you; a lust thirsty Jules, breathless and flushed cheeks. He sat down in your chair, his arm extending the invitation to you. You felt pulled forward, straddling his lap.

His hand rose to push a loose strand of hair out of your face. Every whisper, every lingering kiss, every slow, deliberate movement built something that felt inevitable.

His hands trailed over the hem of your shirt, teasing you. You grew impatient, your skin longing for his burning touch.

“Please, Jules..” You feverishly begged into his ear. His lips delicately travelled from your neck to your mouth, peppering kisses over your lips. Your eyes rolled back, a shy moan escaping from your lips as Jules sucked on your sweet spot.

Your body jolted from the newfound wave of pleasure, your hips bucking against his, dragging a low moan from the right-back.

“Want to take this off for me baby girl?” He sensually whispered into your ears, his tone sending shivers down your spine. You senselessly nodded. Your senses were sent in such overdrive, you struggled to grab at the hem of your shirt. The French player grew frustrated. He grabbed the material, tearing it off of your body. He let out a series of gasps as your lacy bra was exposed to him.

“Putain…” He groaned softly, the sight of your chest rising up and down, drawing a reaction out of him. “You look smoking hot.” He praised you, his lips kissing the base of your chest, soft moans escaping from your lips.

You leaned in, his ear close enough for you to hear your begs.

“Porfa….” You dragged your nails on his back, expertly clawing the skin. If this man was an angel on the field, he was a devil in between the sheets.

“Soon, soon. Let me take care of you first.” He expertly unhooked your bra, his lips latching onto your breast for a taste of what he had been longing for, ever since laying his eyes on you, “So sweet, yet so desperate. I love it.” He confessed as he stole a passionate kiss from you.

He wrapped his arms around your waist, laying you along the edge of your desk. You sat back up, your fingers dragging along the hem of your panties, your pants long gone. You felt his hand grab yours, pushing it away from your undergarment. It wasn’t long before you heard the sound of fabric ripping. Looking down, your panties laid in a pool of fabric underneath your feet.

“May I?” Jule’s hands faintly touched your thighs, shy of making any sudden move.

“Please.” You begged, closing your eyes as you felt him grab your legs, pulling them over his shoulders. You let out a shaky moan as his breath tickled your core, his tongue shyly making contact. Your body jolted as he ate you out, your eyes rolling to the back. Your mouth stayed agape from the pleasure, unable to produce any sound. Your hand instinctively found his hair, pulling him closer.

”Please… please, Jules.” You called out for his name, a burning sensation growing inside of you. Just as you were ready to come undone under his touch, he pulled away, a devilish grin on his face. Your face dropped, the lack of pleasure turning into disappointment.

He bent down to kiss your lips, pulling you closer in the process. He lifted your thighs, carrying you over to the leather chairs in front of your desk. He sat you down, your legs straddling his. He pressed a kiss against your forehead, his hands laying against the curve of your ass.

“Do you have a-”

”No…You?”

”Neither…Fuck, what do we do?”

You looked at each other for a minute before bursting into a fit of shy laughter.

“Move a bit closer, my love.” He guided your hips, lifting them gently. You caught a glimpse of his length, mentally gulping.

“I want you to make love to me. And I want it to be slow and passionate.” You confessed, your cheeks turning a slight shade of pink. The right-back stared at you for some seconds, his eyes overtaken by lust, red blush creeping on his face.

“I can do that. Slow and passionate?” He hummed in your ear, pushing back a few strands of hair from your shoulders. He leaned over, peppering some kisses on your collarbone. You couldn’t help but close your eyes as he slowly made his way down. His kisses felt like fire against your icy skin. You lifted your hips slowly, hovering over his dick. His hands guided you, until you were completely sunken down on him.

You let out a breathy moan, too afraid of alerting your colleagues in the nearby offices. Having yearned for his touch, your senses sent into heaven as he began rocking his hips against yours. You threw your hands around his neck, desperately bringing him closer. Your lips parted, ready to cry his name, only to be met with silence.

“Fuck…This…” He breathlessly whispered.

“So…Good…” You moaned in his ear. His hips continued rocking against yours, the friction bringing you closer to the edge. “Harder. Please.” You begged the Frenchman.

His hands snaked around your hips, gripping at the skin as he mercilessly pounded into you, drawing near pornographic moans from you. His hand flew to your mouth to drown out the noise. The sound of skin slapping filled the office, along with your pleas and cries of pleasure.

“Jules, plea-”

“I’m so close.”

“Come inside me, please.” You cried out into his ear, your hands clawing at his shoulders for support. You felt him move a few more times before a warm liquid filled you up, the remnants dripping down your thigh in a slow pace. You clung to him, chest heaving as you both came down from your high. His hands found yours, interlocking your fingers as he slowly kissed your forehead.

“That was…mind blowing, to say the least.” He bent down, pressing a kiss to your lips. “Next time I’ll make sure to take you out on a few dates, and bring you flowers-you like flowers, right?”

“Lillies.” You simply answered. “I love lillies.” You said, drawing hearts on his chest with your fingertips. “And my favorite dessert is tiramisu.” You giggled.

“I’ll make sure you get all that.” He helped you get out of the chair, your thighs still covered in fluid. You cleaned yourself up as he picked up your clothes off the floor and tidied up your office, replacing a few knocked files and crooked frames on the surface of your desk.

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The next day:

You came into work still sore from yesterday’s activities. Upon arrival, you ran straight to your office, wanting to avoid unnecessary chit chat with your colleagues. Setting down your bag, you noticed a bouquet of pink and white flowers sitting on the edge of the window. Lillies. No he didn’t… you thought to yourself. You picked up the note attached to it, unable to hide the grin on your face.

Ma chérie, I hope you’ll appreciate the little gift I have left for you in your office. As promised, I wanted to ask you out on an official date, which is why I suggest we dine at La perla nascosta di Gianmarco, a restaurant that specializes in Italian cuisine…and desserts.

Yours truly, Jules.

PS: Look in your desk drawer ;)

You shoved the note into your pocket, carefully opening your desk drawer. There, wrapped in pearlescent paper, was the same exact pair of panties he had torn off of you the day before. You grabbed the card he had left within the wrapped paper.

PS 2: I expect you to wear these to our dinner. You know me and fashion, I only want to see the best of the best. Although, I prefer when you’re naked and in my arms ;)

Kisses, Jules.

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