Family's Growing

Family's Growing

Kylian Mbappe x Fem!Reader

Warnings: kylian has baby fever, dirty thoughts, baby talk, breeding, oral (f!receiving), fingering, penetrative sex (p in v), breeding/pregnancy kink goes burrrr, daddy used in a sexual context, begging, creampies, finger fucking and sucking lol, cum play.

Word Count: 1,615

Author's Note: okay I'm finally back on track with these - yes I know Tuesday is over but please look past that lol.

merry smutmas series

--

Kylian finds himself swooning over how good you are with his niece and nephew, the thought of having a family with you spins around his head. 

Christmas was a time for family and that seemed to be the only thing on your boyfriend's mind.

The two of you had gone over to his parents' place for Christmas dinner, all of his cousins were there as well as their kids. Kylian was not the favourite uncle for no reason, all of them knew they were getting good gifts in bountiful amounts too.

The tree in the living room that was once full with presents were now opened, the floor covered in wrapping paper. It was only two kids, his cousin's son and daughter, and Ethan if you counted him as well; and yet, it seemed like Kylian had bought the entirety of Paris for them.

Kylian watches as you lay on the floor with his niece and nephew, the three of you putting together a tower made of legos, whispering and giggling as you built the tower.

He smiles to himself as he watches the scene unfold in front of him. A part of him isn't sure what he did to be so lucky, to have a career as great as his and to have a girlfriend who's so loving and kind and supportive. You loved his family like your own, right now was a prime example.

Seeing you with kids always did something for him, you had a maternal nature about you, anyone who met you could see that.

The thought crossed his mind many times, how nice it would be to start a family with you. You two had spoken about it ages ago, when you began dating. You both decided that you'd revisit the idea when you were more stable in life and that you were now. Both you and Kylian were stable in careers, you two lived together, you had been together for a while and you had the means to raise a child.

He couldn't see where it would be a no.

As much as he wanted a kid with you, the idea of making a kid was much more appealing.

Clothes on the floor, hands all over each other, watching as you begged him to cu- "You okay?" Ethan asks his older brother, breaking his thought.

Kylian clears his throat. "Yeah," he nods, a smile on his face as you glance over your shoulder at him.

"They love her," Ethan nods towards you with the kids, "y/n's always been good with them."

"She was good with you too," Kylian teased his brother. You two had begun dating just before his World Cup win, the two of you barely 18 years old and Ethan was 12 - still a child in his brother's eyes and he always will be.

Ethan rolls his eyes at his brother's comment.

After some time, the kids started to get tired which was their parents' signal to head out. You and Kylian left not too shortly after that as well.

Your boyfriend finds you in the kitchen after he changes for bed, his arms wrapped around you from behind whilst your elbows propped on the counter as you waited for the kettle to boil.

"Something on your mind, baby?" You asked him, twirling the string attached to your tea bag.

"Just thinking."

"About?"

Kylian hums. "Kids."

His answer catches you off guard, you turn to face the man with a confused look on your face. "Kids?"

He shrugs, smiling. "Seeing you with the little ones today, I don't know - it got me thinking. It'd be nice to have our own, don't you think?" His hand rests on your hip, thumb disappearing under the hem of your shirt.

A glance at your boyfriend's hand, your eyebrows raised. "Do you really mean having kids or making kids?"

You can't help the laugh, kissing your boyfriend. The man wraps his arms around you, pulling you flush against him. Kylian picks you up, holding you tightly as he kisses you and carries you over to the couch.

Kylian puts you down, sitting on the couch for a moment as he looks at you. You take that as your sign to undress.

The silk shorts sliding down your smooth legs, pooling by your ankles before you step out of them, you pull off the tank top and that leaves you in the blue set he loves. You reach behind to unhook your bra but Kylian stops you, “leave it on.” 

He pulls you by your waist back to him, his hand slipping down to rest on your ass before giving it a smack. You’re quiet, looking down at your boyfriend on the couch. 

He puts you to lay on the couch, he’s sat between your legs with one on either side of him. You’ve propped yourself up on your elbows to look at him and Kylian drags his fingers up your thigh, moving to your clothed pussy. 

“I like this,” he tells you, fingers rubbing over the blue lace. 

You smile, “I know.” 

He pulls the panties to the side, his eyes fixed on your pussy. He gives you no warning, pushing his fingers into you. The sound leaving your mouth was like heaven on earth to him. 

Kylian's fingers curl upwards, your back arching at the feeling. 

“Keeks, please.” your hand reaches down to wrap on his wrist but he swats your hand away, managing to pull both to rest on your stomach and his free hand over your hands, pinning them to your stomach. 

You try to wiggle your hands away from him, trying to grab on something. “Behave.” He tells you, adding another finger. 

Your face twists, pleasure all across it and our hands stop wiggling, he smiles, satisfied. 

Kylian can feel it; he knows you’re close, you’re squeezing on his fingers, your thighs trying to close, trying to squirm away from the pleasure. 

He can feel your eyes on him, he reaches for the blue lace you’re wrapped up in and tugs it down your legs, letting it fall to the floor with the rest of your clothes. He shifts to lay on his stomach between your legs, leaving a trail of kisses as he works his way up to your cunt. 

Your eyes meet his, he knows you’re looking. He wants you to look at him. 

Your hips buck when you feel his tongue against your clit, your hand gripping on his hair. 

Kylian knew you like the back of his hand, gripping your thighs to keep them in place as his tongue lapped your clit. Your hips buck, your way of saying you want more, he gives in. 

"Please," you whimpered.

"What, mon ange ? Tell me."

You look at the man between your legs. "Fuck me."

There was no hidden meaning behind it; no scolding, no need to hurry him up - you wanted him and that was it. 

“Gonna let me fill you up princess? Hm?” He asks, shifting to line himself up with your cunt. You nodded eagerly, your leg hitching on his hip.

At this point, you can’t do much except lay there and take it; not that you don’t want to because you do, you really do. 

The tip of his cock brushing over your clit before moving to push into you. Your back arches, hips jutting forward to meet his.

Hard and rough, not enough to hurt you but enough to tell you that he's in charge.

Kylian wanted to hear you.

His hand now on your chin. “C’mon amour, let me hear all those pretty sounds you make.” He says, the angle you were at puts him deeper than before.

The slightest movements and you can feel it in your stomach. It’s like he can hear your thoughts because his hand moves from your chin to your stomach. His big hand spread over your stomach, “you’d look so pretty with a baby in you, hm?”

Kylian lets you fall back onto the couch, both of his hands on your hips. “Maybe I should fuck one into you.”

His name falls from your lips like a prayer, he could listen to you say it over and over again. You were close enough that you could taste it.

“So good for me, you take it so well.” He whispers to you, kissing under your ear.

“Uh huh,” you breathe, leaning back against him, your legs felt like jello under you. Your head drops back onto the couch, begging him to let you cum.

He lets you drop back, back arched for him once again. He feels you cum around him, the wetness covering his cock. It’s not long after, followed by a few sloppy thrusts, that Kylian cums too.

The tip of his cock brushing between your folds, spreading his cum all over your pussy.

He pulls away, smiling at the whimper he gets from you. His fingers replacing his cock, covered in his cum when you roll over, he sticks his fingers in your mouth and he doesn’t have to tell you what to do.

“Good girl,” he hums, watching as your tongue laps over his fingers. Kylian pulls his fingers away, leaning down to kiss you. A mess of the two of you, not sure where one of you starts and the other ends.

You lay there for a while, Kylian on top of you, your leg tossed on his hip as his head rests on your sternum. Your fingers drag over his shoulders, the man humming quietly.

"We should do that again," he whispers.

You laughed, "keep it up and we'll end up with a baby by next Christmas."

Kylian nods, kissing you. "Let's try again then."

--

taglist: @nosugarallspice  @evieepepi08 @mimithepooh @koufaxx @dannyramirezwife-simpaccount @topguncultleader @molliemoo3 @aisharmi @mamako23 @ac3may @lewislcver @miahgonzalez16  @books-and-netflix-pls  @wibi96 @bwddermilch @pedrisgatorade  @clarasenchant @sainzluvrr // @trentsfav @trentsmyfave @noturbabe22

We don’t talk about this pic enough

kylian relationship headcanon?

can i come over ? ────── just another episode of tenderness.

♡ ────── pairing : kylian mbappé x reader ♡ ────── tags : reader's gender, ethnicity, nationality, and appearance is not specified. ♡ ────── wordcount : 667 ♡ ────── notes : posting this one as a good luck token for the france vs netherlands game!! ily kylian. i try to not just write the happy parts of the relationship but also the hurdles you two might face? i might do more of these since i've got some ideas still :^) (quick disclaimer: since these are headcanons of real people, i'd like to emphasize that if you do not agree with any of the things i write, please kindly click off the post). title is from cool dry place by katy kirby ♡ masterlist.

Kylian Mbappé. Every single person on the Earth knows his name. But you especially—how could you not? When he doesn’t have his eyes on a football game, or his legs on a football field, he has them on you.

Hand on your knee at every single group dinner, behind your neck at every hangout with friends; his skin is always in contact with yours at every single second.

Touchy does not even begin to describe him.

If it were up to him, he would drag you to the changing room and have you sit between his legs—but no, it is not up to him.

Well, mostly because he doesn’t want to be the one that brings the elephant into the room, but also it is so bad that other people are beginning to think of you as a nuisance.

“Mbappé can’t keep his hands off his partner,” a tabloid once wrote, and it only took a few quote retweets from some Parc des Princes employees, heavily agreeing, for it to go viral.

“Sorry,” you once said to a manager, then to a janitor, then to a teammate, Kylian trailing quietly behind you, arms around your waist.

And he gets sooo whiny if you push him away—what’s worse than losing a match? His dramatic ass would say that it’s having you steer away from his touches!

“Kylian,” you whine on the couch, pushing his face away as he tries to kiss you for the hundredth time that hour. “Please, I’m trying to watch a film here.”

“Mhm,” He pouts, arms around your back, hoping that you’d look at him. He looks at you, his chin on your chest before sighing. “You hate me right? Be honest.”

“Please,” you say again, eyes never leaving the television, “you can kiss me all you want the moment the movie ends.”

He tends to avoid. You’ve known him for so long, and you are at the point where you would almost forgive him for the amount of issues that have simmered too long in both of your discontent.

But you don’t do that. No. You see forever with this man, right? So you sit him down and talk.

You’ve got to admit that Kylian has gotten so, so much better in recent years.

He used to flee at every problem—it’s not that he has trouble expressing his emotions, it’s that he has trouble being vulnerable.

“You’re doing this again,” you roll your eyes, arms crossed over your chest. Kylian won’t look you in the eyes. “I’m sick of this.”

“Come on,” Kylian tries reaching a hand over the table to you—well, if he’s going to ignore you, you sure as hell are going to ignore him too. “Look at me, we don’t have to talk about this right now.”

“Right,” you huff out, letting out a sarcastic laugh, “so when are we going to talk about this.”

Kylian stays quiet.

Kylian likes luxurious things; and he likes you. The same thing, really, in his eyes. A priceless watch and your priceless kiss—this is the kind of luxury a man like him can only dream of.

He goes all the way for his show of love, of course! He customises everything he owns with your initials.

Once, he somehow left his passport in the airport, and what got people into talking was not his passport, but your initials embroidered on its leather cover.

The strap of his duffel bag is changed into a shade of your favourite colour, your initials and his sewn together under it—it does not stop there! A gold plated lapel pin with your name on it becomes a staple on every single suit he wears; socks with your initials when cuffed; matching bracelets he only takes off before practice and matches.

He makes sure the camera flashing on his face gets it: he’d pose in a certain angle, throw his scarf over his shoulders in a certain way.

Even when you’re not there, he still loves showing you off!

pls rb if you think cuddling doesn't have to be s3xual

im tryna prove a point to my bf's mother help me out

The Marriage Series | Part I (Chocolat)

Plot: (requested) Inspired by the song Dodo by tayc

Genre: Dom! Kylian, smut

Warnings: a bit...kinky

A/N: I apologize in advance cause this is a bit... Um.. how do I put this... 🌚 just see for yourself. Also I know I say this every time but going through the scenes with Jana really helps lmao so special thanks to my BBG 🩶

Taglist: @okayymochi @kevjrr @darlingmbappe @fictional-l0v3r @neymarloverxxx @jkkyks @xanjoy @mounthings @mywhimsyjournal @mitruscity @anaofc @ihazels @sangriaswined @karotland @venusesworld @brideofmbappe @luz45789 @suzysface @edgyficuselastica @giannislovesney

“GOD!”

Just the slight of your tired mind was enough to release the breath you didn't even know you were holding.

It was a compromise between passion and directed studying, and you needed to have a solid comprehension of that fall outside of your “passion drive.”

Usually, self control becomes more important to you. But your frustration was growing by every minute.

You gulp down some of your water, and place the galss on the table. Everything around you becomes more interesting when you have to study.

You've never really took a close look at that vase in front of you, but suddenly it was so interesting to you.

You turn the antique vase over and over, your eyes following the engravings, enchanted. Your mind spins back to centuries before, one day someone carved this with such love in their heart, how else could it be so beautiful?

You burry your head in the space between your crossed arms on the table.

Focus, girl. Focus.

Focus? jumping straight out of the window when you hear your husband giggling in the other room.

“Dieu, Ousmane! Tu vas nous faire perdre!” (You will make us lose!)

His giggle rolled about the room like a child's spinning top, vibrant and heart warming as it moved around you in its chaotic way. It came in fits and bursts - loud to soft to nothing at all and back to loud again.

You sigh deeply. He'll keep it down soon, he knows you're studying. But his giggle was a stone bouncing across a glossy lake.

“Kylian! Can you keep it down, amour?” You shout from the dining room, but he didn't hear you.

Of course. He had his headset on. You lick your lips in frustration, and move towards the living room.

The moment you stand by the door, he was squirming again, raising his shoulders to hide the thick neck he had. He then straightens his back, and sits with his legs wide apart - and it only complimented his masculinity even more.

Relaxed posture.

Smooth, gentle hands, yet gripping so hard on that controller.

Brawny, tanned thighs.

Your eyes fell right on his groin. His dangly bits quite tempting and alluring. Though it wasn't his intention to lead your thoughts into oblivion.

Focus.. Remember?

“Kyky?” You call, and only then he notices you're standing right there. You notice it on his eyebrows first, the way they twitch up when he's just noticed something, then in his dilated pupils - he moves the left headset speaker away from his ear.

“Mm?” He hums. “Are you done?”

“No. Can you please keep it down a notch? I'm trying to focus.” You ask, and he simply nods, putting the speaker back on his left ear.

“Bon sang, les gars! (Damn it, you guys) I was only gone for one minute?!” He scolds his mates and you grow even more irritated.

You cross your arms in front of your chest.

“You know what?” You complain, dropping your hands to slap your thighs in annoyance. “I'll take a break.”

You observe him being concentrated on the game with his mates. He relaxes back on the couch, man-spreading again, and you can't help but fantasize about the fact that you fit right there in the space between his legs.

Perhaps a little break is just what you need to get your concentration back on track.

But when he screams for his friends to shoot and then groans, fuck.

The nerve endings in your body - especially inside of your thighs produce a vigorous tingling.

You lean onto the door frame and watch him with needy eyes. Biting the frustration off your nail.

You feel a sense of need, the need to be filled and touched. To be fucked roughly and finally satisfied.

“Bébé...” You say with a sultry voice. “I said I'm taking a break.” You hint towards your desire for him, instantly squinting your eyes, the corner of your lips tilt upwards in a seductive smile.

Alas, he's a man behind a screen, in short: not focused.

He refuses to pause the game and just shows his notice with merely a thumbs up.

“I'm in the zone, babe.” He whispers and his eyes are once again glued to the screen.

How dispiriting!

You feel hunger for his touch - anywhere, everywhere. And you want to do whatever he wants because you need him to release you from that pain. 

You never knew you could be that impatient. But here it is, and you needed a solution for that; quickly.

It was a mixture of annoyance and frustration when you look at his surroundings. How unfocused he gets whenever he plays FIFA with his friends. It was starting to get on your nerves how discouraging his behavior was getting. You glance at the coffee table that was separating you from him and notice the unfinished dessert plate.

“You haven't even finished eating your chocolate mou-”

Spark.

That spark in the mind when it comes up with a wicked idea is the most satisfying to you.

You smirk.

Slow steps.

It’s both incredibly irritating and the most empowering thing. There’s an added dimension to every movement, every step, that just signals “I’ll let you eat me up, if you just tip me over the edge…”

You are about to let yourself off-leash, because if he weren't to notice your sexual desire, you might as well pull him into your orbit, totally focused on pleasing you.

You inspect the mousse. Its dark and rich, it reminds you of the taste of him.

“Well, if you don't want it, I might as well finish it for you..” You coax.

You dip your finger into the richness and swoop a bit of the mousse. And when you finally catch his attention, you take it in your mouth. The tender caress of your tongue and the tiny nibbles on the end of it is a very provocative teaser for what’s to come - If he'd only play it right.

His eyes stare, as if climbing imaginary stairs to some fantasy about you licking his finger instead. His excitement is increasing, and you watch the fireworks commence in his eyes.

“Mmmm..” You wail, and he panics, wide-eyed, pressing his index vertically on his lips as a gesture to shush you. You smile playfully.

Hm.

He has the microphone turned on.

Fun.

His tensed body eases into a more relaxed position when he sees you take the plate with you. He probably thought you would just give in to reality and continue studying with dessert as an emotional support, but you weren't backing out so easily.

To his surprise you climb onto his lap so you're straddling him in a kneeling position and hold on to his left shoulder as you lower yourself onto him.

He holds his breath as he turns off the mic.

“Fine, you want some cuddles?” He fusses and embraces your body with his arms, only to grab the controller and move his head a bit to the side to get a better look at the screen.

Excuse you, Mr.?

You grab his chin and forcefully turn his head to make him lock eyes with you. You had made your lust a consternation of shamless actions and in the bloodshot eyes you held with his, your eyes were speaking volumes of appetite.

If all your previous attempts didn't succeed in gaining his attention, this definitely will.

You dip your finger into the chocolate mousse again, and bring it to his mouth instead. He opens it, sucks your finger clean; A moment of bliss to the tongue as sweet as the moment a rose opens for the eyes.

It causes a tightening sensation in your chest, you kinda feel your breasts expanding. Your loins feel very sensitive, in a good way, and throb, as if it has a heartbeat of its own.

You wipe another bit of the sweetness from your finger on his bottom lip, and kiss him slowly and tenderly, a taste that deserves to be savored.

You feel his hands slide to your waist, and after that he tucks his fingers underneath your shirt and slips them up your back. Kylian pulls away from your mouth to look at you. His hand curves over your hip, and after that slides over your ass, squeezing it.

You lean toward him and keep your bodies close together as you take control of the speed of rolling your hips over him. You could feel his bulge and manoeuvred your butt cheeks until they were either side of it. He was pressed against the back of the couch. Fighting the urge, but you started rocking slightly, trying to make him hard.

“Fuck! Can we do this later, please?” He inquires through heavy breaths, and you shoot him a sophisticated, doubtful look.

You don't answer, instead you wrap your arms around his neck and slide your lips over his jaw.

You observe as chills break out over his arms. He moans, and after that rests his hands on your butt. You roll your hips on his hardness, wanting to feel him hard against you, and he meets your movement with a yielding groan, causing you to chuckle gingerly.

“Just... 30 minutes, baby.” He tilts his head to make more room for you to relish his neck with tongue-kisses. He moans, and the sound encourages you to get that out of him again.

“Kyks? Are you there?” You hear Achraf through the speakers. Kylian scoots you up, clearing his throat to hide the horseness of his voice, then turns his microphone back on.

“Ouais, je suis là. (I'm here.)” He lies while closely watching you execute your evil plan.

You place the plate on the coffee table. Settling your mouth over his ear, you cover up the mic with your hand. Your lips tilt up in a wry smile and you whisper: “Let's see if you can keep quiet..”

You're needy, but kind enough to let him keep his shorts on, you only yank them down a bit along with his stretchy boxers to release his hardness from the pressure of the hugging textile.

You take the remaining bits of the mousse and spread it over his swollen head. He takes his headset off, and wears it around his neck instead. Warning you with his eyes, biting hardly on his lower lip. You can already tell that his blood was rushing through his skin, raising the temperature.

One last look,

It was all you gave him before you kiss the tip of his cock, moving down to the underside with the tip of your tongue. You move up and down his shaft with a series of light, gentle kisses before licking the rest. You swirl your tongue around his tip. Coating it with a mixture of his flavor and the bitterness of cocoa.

“Oh, Bordel de merde. (Oh, for fuck’s sake)” He curses as he plops his head back to rest on the backrest.

Focus becomes... not difficult, exactly, but narrower and shallower and not easy to control.

“Are you alright, Kylian?” Ousmane asks on the other end of the call.

“Mhm..” He fights the urge to groan, but when you push him so deep and choke a bit, he releases the trapped air in his chest.

“Are you in pain or something?” Achraf worries.

He seems to suffocate in this minute and you'd gladly lament it. He might catch fire from this and joyfully turn to cinder. And you seem to enjoy it a little too much; being right here, your mouth doing magic as he sinks into this feeling, his heartbeats undefined from yours.

This. 

Until the end of time. This.

“I'm...” He sighs mid-sentence “, perfectly fine.”

Gathering your hair in his hand, he involuntarily thrusts into you, and you taste him, rub his legs, easing his body under your touch. The heat from your mouth and your breath make him throb with anticipation — practically begging you to slide it back in your mouth. He battles back a moan, torment and joy twining together as he pushes your head up and down in a more profound and harder way.

His grip around the controller loosened, and he was unsure of where to put his now free hand, so he rests it beside him.

“Kylian, you're not paying attention..” Achraf says.

“I am paying attention..” He confesses as he looks at you taking him well.

His legs shake strongly under your hands. You take a frequent break from his member, and move down to lick his balls. Gently massaging and sucking on your man's testicles.

You overpower him with an extraordinary pleasure that feels like nothing he has ever known. It's reckless. Uncontrolable, it's distinctive and wild.

He starts to breathe a little quicker. Everything feels tight and unbareable. You feel him getting incomprehensibly close, and because you're a masochistic she-devil you pull out before he can come.

He turns the mic off, clearly annoyed. “Tu fais quoi là, putain?! (Are you fucking kidding me?!)” He scoots up.

“Sorry..” You cover his private part by pulling his shorts back up, and move backwards with slow steps. “We ran out of chocolate mousse..” You wink, and his freakiness is on the loose.

Something between anger and desire knocks revenge and demonization in his soul. It awakens the most intense desires in him.

“Les gars,... (You guys..) I gotta go..” He gets up, and you swear to yourself that if you don't inhale the ecstasy of existence from his temper, then all this asceticism and restrictions were for nothing.

“No, I just have to take care of something.” He explains as you bite your lip playfully and take your shirt off. You toss it on his face while he throws his headsets somewhere on the couch and hurls after you.

“That's it, young lady. You're gonna get fucked now.” He threats, but you secretly took it as a well deserved treat.

You hurry towards the dining room and giggle, you want to run behind the table for a little more fun and chase, but you married one of the fastest football players in the world, so you didn't really stand a chance. You don't make it that far. He already has his tight grip around your wrist.

“You want to play?” His voice was a snarl. “Fine, we'll play.” He grasps the back of your neck, spins you around, and slamms his lips against yours. Outrage still brimmed inside him, and you push against his hard chest. You can't even tell when he took his sweatshirt off.

He pulls your head back, and you look into his eyes; A strong brown, a sort of visual poetry in the way it magicked tall oaks into your thoughts. And you knew right then you weren't getting slow and sweet.

He was planning to fuck you mercilessly.

“Don't fight me.” He breathes on your lips, and effortlessly pulls your pants down. “You won't win.”

What infuriated you the most is his complete ability to negate your will, that he could control every atom of you, all your upright corners bow down from the look of his eyes, submit to him.

He longs for your weakness, and you long for your immoral truth with him.

You didn't care; if your death were at his hands, what is life to begin with?

What is life if you don't take it from his lips?

He runs his hands over your skin. And you take note how they felt distinctive; slow and concious. You close your eyes when he pulls you against him and buries his face in your neck. Feeling his bare skin against yours, it took you a moment to speak.

“Kylian,....”

He brushes his lips along your neck from one shoulder to the other, unsnapping the clasp of your bra, then tears it totally off, and pushes your back down onto the table. The hard surface cools your back as his warm hands rekindle your soul. He goes for your full breasts, taking each one in his mouth and grinds his hips between your thighs until you were both past ready.

A calm groan escapes his throat when he squeezes his pelvis against yours, and you could feel how much he needed you through his shorts. You hold your breath, knowing the only thing keeping you from that final step was only two thin pieces of fabrics away.

He runs his hands up and down your breasts, making you squirm and float towards him. “How do you want to be fucked?” He purrs.

“I can take you against the table. You'll wrap your legs around my waist like the good girl you are, won't you, sweetheart?”

You bite down on your bottom lip. His messy words and his touch drive you insane.

“And then I'll pound inside you so hard, you'd rub your back against the table. Or I can take you on the floor on all fours until your knees bruise from how hard I'll push in and out of your tight pussy. Oh, the choices we have.”

His hand meanders down your stomach, to the highest tip of your thighs and coast over your folds. “Hmm. You're soaking wet.”

Your eyes close briefly.

You're not wet, you're burning. And his touch is like spilling gasoline on fire.

More.

You need more.

But he doesn't touch you were you mostly needed, instead he cups your breasts with his hands and plays with your nipples as he tastes your neck again.

Earlier, he was tenderly kissing down your throat, now he is sucking hard on the skin at the base of your neck.

“Kylian, baby. You're not gonna leave a mark on my neck. Are you?” You worry.

“That depends...” His sloppy kisses don't stop. “Do you taste less better than last time?” He smirks against your skin, then rips your panties off, the elastic burning your thighs from the friction.

In the years of your marriage he had learned to not touch his naked wife, but to admire her first. So, he walks backwards like a noble being, watches you with the eyes of a king, and all your existence is in question.

You were prepared for anything he had in mind. You prop your upper body up on your elbows to watch his next move.

“Now what?” You ask.

He pushes a chair away from the table and sets it down so he's sitting opposed of your clit.

“Now, while you're sitting there, I want you to look at me with your pretty eyes, and play with yourself.” He commands and everything in you is rushing to fulfill it.

He leans back on the chair, his legs part and he licks his lips in anticipation: “Go ahead, I'm waiting.”

You swallow hard, then part your folds with your fingers. Your head falls back with a delicate groan.

“Eyes on me.” He demands, and you lift your head back up to look at him.

He slips his shorts down over his hips, and after that off his legs. He closes his eyes, and his breathing is deep and heavy as he starts to stroke his long member.

You drill your fingers inside yourself as he pleases himself. You're attempting to hold onto something, the sound of you fingering yourself is louder than your pants. His palm strokes his length in a synchronized rythym.

“Faster.” He inquiries, and you know just by the depth of his look, with their intensity, with his persistence that he is enjoying this torture. All his words, all his muffled groans, penetrate you.

He grunts, “You like that, don't you.”

You can't stop, feeling your stomach twist as the pleasure keeps building up, “You're so fucking wet. Are you gonna squirt for me?”

You nod, because you can't stop what he needs you to do. You can only hold on, hearing your juices squelch around your fingers.

“I'm close. I'm so close.” You whine.

“Look at me.” He says. In your debilitated state, you roll your head down and with your legs parted, you can see everything he is doing to himself clearly.

Your pussy is stretching over your fingers, your swollen clit over it, and you are forced to see him play with himself. You speed it up enough until you feel your release almost hit you.

Your legs start to shake.

“Mmmm....” He groans. “Stop.”

The fuck?

“What?”

“Hands off.” He orders, and his body is hovering over yours again. He grazes your lips with his thumbs. “Tell me, Y/N. What do you need?”

“I need…I need to come.”

“You think you deserve to come?” He kisses the top of your breasts, taking little nibbs and enjoying the view of them squeezed hard against his chest.

There is arrogance and confidence in him, which makes you realise that he will certainly set out towards your destruction. You do not know how to expose your eagerness further, how to make him take you off with his madness.

He is in control now that you had declared your submission.

“Only if you want me to.”

The desire and hunger that seethed inside the profundity of his eyes frightens and turns you on.

“Ask me nicely,” he asks.

“Please, make me come.”

“Oh baby, I'm going to do more than make you come. I'm going to mark each sweet inch of your fucking body with my teeth, and when I'm done, you'll know who owns you.”

He kisses you hard, taking your neck in his hands. “Since you're so much into games, lil miss. We'll play a little...” He bites your lip shortly, but hard.

What now?

He takes your hand, and licks your juices off your fingers.

“I'll ask some questions about myself, and if you answer them correctly, you get to come.”

“Ky...?” You gulp.

“How old was I when I started playing for Monaco?” He asks, teasing your opening with his head.

You close your eyes and answer: “16..”

You open your eyes when he breathes a laugh against your mouth. “Good girl.”

You feel the burn of his cock as he thrusts into you.

“Fuck.” You mumble.

“What were my first trainers?”

“The...God, um... The Nike AirMax..” You pant. He leans in and places a sloppy kiss on your lips. This kiss makes you curve your back shakily when chills spread all over it.

He starts to move in and out of you. Your breathing gets so unsteady to the point where you feel like there's a knot to your chest.

His lips are now focusing on one spot in particular. Your mouth falls open whereas your hands slap on his firm shoulders.

He grins when he sees you under his mercy. He was mostly reluctant with you, but the time has come for him to disturb your comfort, to shift your pieces, to tease you, and to come to you with all his power, violence, and revolt.

“Last question, petal.” He indicates, the sweat beads already dripping down his forehead. “How many goals did I score at Monaco?”

Shit.

Your mouth goes dry and your eyes close shut. You know the answer. You know it, it's stored somewhere in your brain, but fuck! Where is it when you need it?

You look at him, your hand grasping his arm that is traveling up your back.

You don't want him to stop.

“Allez, bébé..” His movement turns slower.

“Uh...” You stutter. “18?”

“Wrong.” He declares, and pulls his cock out of you so harshly, you jolt at the sudden emptiness. “The answer is 16.”

“Kylian, please.” You beg with your eyes.

He stares into them, he has a poker face, but his eyes were twitching. Not a good thing to make him angry again.

“You want it?”

“I want it…”

Your chest trembles. Your sticky skin is hot, your core throbbing with the desire to be drenched in his cum.

He leans over you again. Whispers against your mouth: “I'll have you how I'll have you..” He says generously against your lips. “and I'll take you how I'll take you, and there's not. A single. Thing. You can do about it.”

He takes your mouth into his, then breaks the kiss.

“Turn around.”

You couldn't, cause he has already spun you around with force.

“Bend over the table.” He presses your chest flat on the cool wood.

“If you like chocolate that much, take it.” and he doesn't even warn you before he shoves his dick into you.

You gasp, slapping your palm flat on the table.

“I'm the one fucking you,” He growls, driving his cock even harder into you.

“I control when and how hard you come. And right now, I want you to take my cock like a good fucking girl and come all over it. Understood?”

Your lips part and you give into submission.

“Yes.” you pant.

With the pressure he was pounding into you, the table was squeaking. That beautiful antique vase dropping onto the table. The water glass nearing the edge with each hump. You close your eyes when you see it fall.

Cling!

Luckily it doesn't break, but the water reaches your toes and it cools them down.

“Tell me you like it, Y/N.” He had to know that you loved this. That this is not the last time he will do this.

That you were his.

You never planned to allow anybody take you like that ever since you met him.

You were already his. All along.

“Tell me, baby. Say it.”

“I...” You whimper as he moves his hips in a wild I-will-do-that-all-damn-night motion that had you breathing difficult.

You push your hips back, and he thrusts more harder into you. “Say it.”

Tour eyebrows knot together at the great sense of pain as chocked on your words. “I love it.” You breatge. “I love it with you. Fill me up with cum, baby…” Your eyes snap open.

Fuck, what did you just say??

Kylian's eyes widen. His lips part and a frantic fussing pant leaves them as his head drops back, and he moans, “Fuck, yes.”

You have no time to be alarmed by what you just said to him since your body is rubbing against the soft surface of the table.

“Kylian... Oh, Kylian.” Your breast heaves against the table.

Calloused fingertips skim the sensitive skin of your throat as his palm circles the base.

He rocks you many more times, one commanding hand on your hips, and the other presses you down by your neck so you won't be able to escape.

He does not rest until he pounces with all his might, and removes all your strength with the fangs of his lust. He has folded you into the deserted chambers of his mind. Has left his madness and disorder, retreating away from himself.

“Your body is my favorite thing.” He takes an earned breath.

“And seeing my hand around your throat like a necklace is my favorite piece of jewellery.”

His mouth opens. At this point, you have no idea how loud you were being. You might be screaming for all you know…

Your blood is surging and rushing up your ears.

Gulping, you look over your shoulder at his smooth, damp chest. He licks his lips and drops his head. Your eyes meet, and Kylian thrusts even harder to shove his dick into your slit.

His fingers tug onto your hair, holding your head whereas you lose youself under the sense of his bouncing cock.

His deep grunts and groans has your walls clench around him as your cries resound around the room,

Kylian's stomach tightens, his thrusts getting messy. A low moan escapes him, followed by a gravelly fuck, as he spills into you. He rests his cool chest on your back, and kisses it, breathing against it.

He pulls it out gradually with a shuddering breath, dragging the swollen head over your folds.

Your brain is a mixed mass of statics, the sexual cloudiness filling the room as his fingers untangle your hair and he chuckles in satisfaction. Catching for breath for as long as you can, until the climax wears down.

The feeling jerks your body wakeful, and your legs feel paralyzed.

“I don't know about you, but..” He whispers, and you push your body up, turning around. “That was one of the best fucks we've had.”

You attempt to walk, but hold onto him for more balance. He chuckles, wrapping his arms around your waist, planting kisses on that soft spot behind your ear.

You smile, and duck down to take your panties.

“What are you doing?” He wonders.

“Getting dressed.” You imply.

He snortles. “Gimme that.” He snatches your underwear. “Here's what you're gonna do.” He drops your undies on the ground, and your eyes do it too. “You're gonna go to bed, and wait for me there.”

Your eyebrows tie in a knot. “To do... what exactly?”

His lips quiver into a sultry smile, his hands squuze your butt cheek. “to play another game, of course.”

His mouth presses on yours, and you stand still while he walks past you.

“Say, we do have some ice, right?”

“Mhm.” You confirm, and then your eyes go wide when you get his hint.

“Kylian!”

Well,

Wrong man to mess with.

Lesson learned.

A/N: THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE POSTED AN HOUR AGO, BUT TUMBLR DELETED MY PROGRESS!!! URGH.

can you plz do suby!jude x reader when he is injured and horny:/

nsfw, jude bellingham

♡⸝⸝ jude's arm had been in a cast for a good week now, meaning he hadn't been able to touch you or himself, and it was tortuous. he could use his nondominant hand, but you had told him to rest and relax, too much movement might get him in the hospital again.

but one night he just couldn't take it anymore. he could swear you were wearing less and less clothing every day, and he just needed to get off. so, he came to you, his cock already rock hard and leaking, a wet patch forming at the front of his boxers.

without a word he smashed his lips onto yours, pushing you until the back of your knees hit the couch and you sat down, jude taking his spot next to you. his healthy hand came up to gently hold your head in place, his voice soft as he spoke against your lips, "need you so bad, please"

and how could you say no when he was asking so nicely. you let your hand stray down to his hard on, smiling against the skin of his jaw where you had been trailing kisses when you felt just how wet he was. a whimper escaped his throat as he gently humped your palm, "already so hard and wet for me. such a good boy, baby. coming to me hard and ready"

he frantically nodded, his hips moving faster against your palm, making you tsk as you pulled it away, muttering a quiet "lay down, baby". and once he was laying down with you between his thighs, you started mouthing at his cock over the fabric of his boxers.

"please- shit- please, no more teasing. please" the moans leaving his throat were unchecked as he begged for you to just take him into the heat of your mouth.

you pulled his cock out, not even bothering to strip him of his clothing, before letting your mouth find his tip. you sucked vigorously on it, tearing him between the pleasure and sharp pain of being simulated so directly. you let yourself sink down to the base of his cock, allowing yourself to gag on it, knowing how much he liked the feeling of your throat constricting around him.

and you were right because he was cumming right away, shooting his load down your throat and whining loudly, his thighs trembling violently next to your head. you pulled up so his tip was left in your mouth and sucked, letting your tongue run all over it, overstimulating him. he started whimpering, his voice high as he told you just how much it hurt, tears rimming his pretty eyes, but he wasn't the one to run the show here.