Kylian Mbappe Fanfic - Tumblr Posts

Roses & Kisses

Plot: (requested) In which Reader gets an unexpected gift from her Ex-Boyfriend and Kylian gets jealous.

Genre: Smut, Dom! Kylian

A/N: You’ve been waiting for this

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

Graduation day.

This day is one of the best moments in your life. It is one of those moments that you will never forget.

Something that you have been waiting for all your life. It is the day you were going to see your parents happy and proud of you. The day your life would change for good.

It is an eventful day.

Starting with an hour of boring speeches (broken up only by a few daring clowns that bring inflatable balls to bat around - which the crowd and students loved, but teachers hated).

Followed by 10 minutes of worry as you wait for your name to be called while shuffling up toward a stage.

Then a few quick seconds of relief when your name actually is called. A few hand shakes as they give you a piece of rolled up paper.

Then, intense happiness as you launch your cap skyward.

You search for your family real quick. They congratulate you. Behind the crowd you glance at your boyfriend’s car.

You know it is a risk for him to show up in a crowded place, so you appreciate the ‘under cover’ appearance.

You say goodbye to your friends and family and get into his car before someone notices.

It was different with him.

From the laughs, to the kisses, to the sweet silent exchanges — being with him nurtured every part of you.

Kylian insisted you two go to the student residence instead of his home. You wondered why that would be, but he said he’d explain later on.

When you reach your room you’re surprised. You’re still in disbelief that it’s all done, as you stare at the little rolled up piece of paper you received a few hours ago.

Kylian smiles when you close the door, removing his sunglasses and cap. They didn’t really do a good job at hiding his identity, but then again it was nearly summer and most of the students didn’t really dwell around campus.

“So...” He tucks his hands in his pockets as he steps closer to you. “My smart girl has graduated at last.”

You nod, smiling.

“Your smart girl is also hungry and is wondering if you’ll take her out for dinner.” You hug his neck and he grins before pecking your sweet lips.

You were willing to go for another kiss, but there’s a knock on the door. You furrow your brows and he gives you a questioning look.

“I thought your roommate was visiting her parents abroad?”

“She is..” You answer.

You head to the door and look through the peep hole.

“Oh, that’s nice!” You cheer, smiling at him.

“Qui est-ce? (Who is it?)”

You open the door, and the mailman greets you.

“Mademoiselle Y/N?”

“That’s me.”

You take the large bouquet, thank the man and then close the door. You smell the roses and your lips curve into a very flattering grin.

“I swear to God, Kylian. Sometimes you’re very cheesy, but I love the roses. Merci bébé.”

His eyebrows are tied in a knot. But he doesn’t refuse your grateful kiss.

Still confused, he turns around to see your figure disappear to get a vase for the bouquet.

“You could’ve just given them to me in the car..” You mention.

“Uh... Y/N?”

“Is this why you insisted on coming here?”

“Y/N...” He calls again.

You glance at him and when you see his confusing look, your smile disappears.

“The roses are not from me.”

“What?”

“I didn’t get you those roses, Y/N.”

You stare at him blankly for a moment, and then you look at the bouquet you are holding. You notice the note that came with it.

Oh.

You don’t really sweat when you’re nervous, but it shows on your face and from your body language. How you suddenly feel your mouth get dry, and the way you scratch over your brow or suck your lower lip inward.

So, when your boyfriend noticed he got easily intrigued to ask: “Who are the roses from?”

You lick your lips and look out the window. “They’re from Alain.”

“Who?”

“My Ex-Boyfriend.” You say, putting the bouquet on the table. Then you make your way towards the sink to get some water.

Kylian’s eyes sparked — practically sending threats, but you didn’t dare to look. “Your Ex-Boyfriend.”

“Yes.” You didn’t need to lie, and Kylian may have figured out who Alain was with the snap of a finger anyway.

He checks the bouquet and you freeze in place.

“Why is your Ex-boyfriend sending you roses and love notes?” His smooth tone didn’t change, but it had an undertone of unpleasantness.

“It’s not a love note.”

Kylian gives you a ‘are you kidding me?’ look, poking the inner side of his cheek with his tongue, before he grabs the note to read it aloud:

“Chère Y/N, Ça me manque de te parler. Je ne suis pas bien sans toi. Je regrette profondément ce que j'ai fait. Alain ” (Dear Y/N, I miss talking to you. I sincerely regret what I did. I’m no good without you. Alain)

“C’est quoi ce bordel?!” (WTF is that?) He glares.

“He probably thought of me cause of the graduation. We had always dreamed of graduating together.” You explain.

You clear your throat.

Well, if you already started telling the truth, you might as well tell the whole truth.

“He texted me a few months ago and suggested we’d meet up. I declined. He never texted afterwards. The end.”

Kylian’s eyes were near-black now. He grins at first.

Teeth are showing, and then he laughs but his voice rings hollow.

It was a sardonic laugh — positively terrifying and unsettling.

“Wow. That’s nice information you hid from your boyfriend. Good job.”

You understand why he is upset, but you also don’t want this to turn into something bigger than it was.

“I’m sorry. I thought it would be best to handle this on my own. You were travelling and I didn’t want to worry you.” You justify your actions but he doesn’t accept it.

His hands are on his waist, and he laughs that unsettling laugh again; the one that you hear when he’s reached the limit of anger.

“A fucker is sending you roses, and you want me to simply sit back and watch?”

Frustration overrides your guilt: “Well, I can’t really control what others do or say. I told him I wasn’t interested. What do you want me to do? Send the bouquet back and tell him to fuck off?”

“Now that’s a good idea.” He voices out.

“That’s a ridiculous idea, Kylian. I’d rather ghost him. He’ll get the point.”

“Obviously he didn’t seem to get the point, cause he sent you roses.” He hints.

“Could we please forget about the roses and move on?!” You object.

“Why are you so okay with this?!” He shouts.

“I'm not!” You scream in protest.

He looks to the side and chews on his lower lip. If anger could be a person right now, it would be Kylian.

“Jealousy is not going to get us anywhere.” You say in almost a whisper.

“Jealous?” He asks. “Jealous?!”

There it is again. The snickering.

“You think I’m jealous?” He raises his voice. He never looked that annoyed by you before.

“I don’t know. You tell me.” You shrug and cross your arms in front of your chest.

He laughs and shakes his head. He was intending to walk away but then he heard you talk again.

“Yeah, you’re jealous.” You hum, intending to walk away to end the discussion with a sleek smile on your lips. And he’s overly irritated.

He turns around and looks at you: “No, I’m not...”

“Yeah, you are.” You say.

He walks towards you. His footsteps are loud. Like someone who has not learnt to walk quietly and instead relies on the verges to muffle his steps.

“I am. Not. Jealous.” He says as he keeps on moving closer to you till your faces were a few inches apart. “Jealousy is for men who have nothing. I’m protective over what’s mine.”

“Is that so?” You raise a brow.

His eyes hold all the answers. His breathing is unsteady because his soul and spirit were thus.

“So you’re not threatened by his gesture?” You ask.

“No, I’m not threatened at all, because I know that by the end of the day it is my bed you’ll be sleeping on and it is my name you’ll be screaming over and over again.”

Your body shivers to your core. You take a good look at him; the darkness in his eyes — you can’t say if he’s calmer or on the verge of an outrageous reaction.

“I want to make a few things clear.”

Kylian’s breath tingled the thin skin of your lips with each word.

“He texts you, he dies. He sends you roses, he dies. He looks at you, he dies. Hide the truth from me..” His grasp tightens on your waist as his voice drops. “And I will fucking die.”

Something pierces through your heart and shifts your parts. “I—...”

“Promise me you’ll tell me if he texts or calls you.” The intensity of his words steals the remaining breath from your lungs. “Give me your word, Y/N.”

“I promise.” You vow. “ As long as you tell me if anyone flirts with you as well, otherwise we’ll have a very serious problem.”

His mouth falls open and he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip in a hopeless attempt to control his irritation.

“Deal.” He simply says.

His acceptance of this agreement is abnormal but sufficient to wash away the guilt you’ve been suffocating on for the past few days.

It’s enough to fill your muscles with a certain need. A need so strong and demanding, it whispers beneath your thick skin.

Kylian leans forward and whispers in dark words against the shell of your ear, “How about I fuck him out of your memory. You’ll be so full of me you won’t even remember his name.”

Your chest heaves up and down. Your breast brush up against the lapels of his jacket.

You admit to yourself that you want him; his wit and intelligence, his jealousy and protective demeanor, his unbound love. But mostly his anger and possessiveness.

Your mind and pulse have gone haywire. You don’t say a word. You don’t have to; because your body language was telling enough.

His throat flexes.

A breath passes, and then— you collide.

Hands. Lips. Teeth.

His mouth smashes against yours, your fingers press on the flesh of his neck, and urgency ignites between you until your limbs are heavy and frail with lust.

The only thing there is between you is the frantic, unhinged need for you to be as close to him as possible.

Your back slams against the mirror closet. You whimper, more at the thick, hard press of Kylian’s length against your thigh than the impact. Pain is non existent. Your blood is liquid fire, burning away any sensations but lust, need and pleasure.

His hand grips the back of your neck and he kisses your jaw, his teeth grazing the skin before he breaks away and says, “Tell me you want me.”

“I want you.” You are breathless already and desperate.

Then his body molds against yours. He brackets you with his arms, and a groan rises in your throat when he draws your bottom lip between his teeth and pulls.

His hands slide down the length of your body, caressing your inner thighs, waking each nerve ending along their path before he reaches for your pants.

Your breath hitches.

“I’ll have you on your knees.” He promises as he tightens his grip around your waist, “You’re mine, Y/N. Start acting like it.”

And then he sinks his fingers into your hair, his thumb digging into your cheek, and he claims your lips.

He kisses you with unbounded hunger. He kisses you like he has never kissed anybody before. Before you, any physical closeness with the opposite sex was only to satisfy his need.

With you, you are the need. Mostly, it was about loving, passion and tenderness. Today it’s different — It’s fucking, owning, and claiming. A statement.

It’s about you and your bratty behavior. About how you give in to him when he kisses you.

He probes, you fall.

He pulls on your lips, you whimper.

He ravages your tongue, and you’re all feeble against him, your hand trembling on his chest, and your body becoming one with his.

His mouth devours yours for all the fucked up things you said.

The minute he wrenches his lips from yours, you make a sound, a cry, a disappointment, or something in between.

Your skin has turned hotter, and you’re looking at him as if you can’t understand him. But you want to.

He turns you around so your back is against his chest.

In your roughly 150 square feet room you are now facing your mirror closet. And you can’t help but feel turned on by the way he is grabbing and kissing your neck like he’s satisfying his need and silencing his hunger.

It was erotic; watching his reflection as his other hand slips inside your pants, your panties, homing in straight on your sweet spot. Your mouth falls open on a gasp as he buries his digits knuckle deep inside you.

“So fucking wet for me already?” He growls in your ear, his hips pushing strongly against your ass.

Your walls quiver each time his fingers slip in and out. His thumb rubs over your clit.

You hear muffled voices coming from the hallway and your stomach flips. You’re worried but Kylian doesn’t flinch.

“Kylian...” You warn.

“Let them hear.” He spits, his desire, his possessiveness seeping from his voice into your body. Your heartbeats beat wherever you felt him. His scent, his warmth, his touch surrounding you, imprisoning you, owning you in a way that made your blood so hot you feel like a ticking time bomb waiting to explode.

His hand moves against you, inside you, as he moves behind you. It coiled the heat tighter and tighter into your belly, your spine tingling, aching, and beating with electric flashes of pleasure as you bite your lip to keep your pants contained.

Before you change your mind or stop yourself, you slip a hand behind you, cupping him through the fabric of his pants. You squeeze him hard as he swears into your ear, his fingers speeding up inside you.

“Someone’s hard for me.” You tease and he breathes a short laugh and as a response he gives your clit one rub, then another one right before he squeezes it hard. Suppressing your moans like before, he pushes you over the edge and removes his fingers.

Your gaze is locked with his as he watches your reflection through the mirror, his eyes sharp on you, before he cups your breast with his hand and licks your neck up to your jawline.

Your breasts get heavier, nipples hardening as heat pools down in your stomach, your breaths hasty.

Your eyes wander over that hard, male chest you’d felt squeeze against you, the chest you’d seen bare just a day ago. The tracksuit covering the hard muscles as the open collar uncovered a strip of delicious male flesh that made you want to lick it, from the line of his pecs to the vein running at the side of his corded neck, right up to that chin, and that mouth.

God, you’d let yourself see him, your eyes floating lower and lower to below his waist.

And your breath hitches.

The front of his pants bulged out, unashamed and proud, tenting the fabric.

His hand finds your jaw, turning your face to the side so he can pull you into a devastating kiss. Your lips part, and in an instant he licks into your mouth, his tongue stroking yours, your core pulsing.

The kiss is slow and sensuous, your mouths meeting again and again as you reach your hand back to grab his neck.

He groans on your skin, and the kiss turns into something out of control in less than a heartbeat, turning wild and needy, tasting of that sweet madness that exists between you.

He looks you straight in the eyes. His fingers fiddle with the buttons of your high waist pants.

“Let’s see. How hard. You’ll come.” He punctuates each word with a flick of his thumb, popping button by button free. Need surges your body, flushes your skin with an overwhelming, addictive rush.

He pulls your pants down along with your panties.

His skin is so warm against yours, and he feels like a burning line of warmth against your body. His cock brushes your slit, and he teases you, guiding it against you but only letting it dip into you before he’s back to teasing.

You whine, hating how much you need him. “Fuck me,” You tell him. “Stop being an ass and fuck me.”

"I should make you say please.” He sneers against your ear, but when you open your mouth to answer he suddenly slams into you, causing you to choke on a gasp.

“But I like you desperate and demanding. You’re so needy. Do you want me to release you from your pain?”

He’s the only person in this world you can’t get enough of. The only one you always crave.

Love. Chemistry. Attraction. Desire. Everything between you keeps you burning; a single touch is all it takes to send you both up in flares. By the time he breaks the kiss, his breathing is ragged as he orders you to part your legs.

And without any warning m, he thrusts hard into you at an unhurried pace. The sound of his cock smeared with your juices and excitement echoes in the air.

“Moan for me.”

Thrust.

“Break for me.”

Thrust.

“Make me your one and only.”

Your thighs tremble and pleasure tingles your stomach. The pain gradually but undoubtedly turns into a thousand pleasurable sparkles.

You press your hands flat on the mirror, because you need the anchor. Kylian is dragging out your most animalistic side and stroking it, literally and metaphorically.

“Name,” He growls. Your eyes open slightly, finding his, clouded mind. “Say my name.”

Your heart stops. You swallow, aware of him beating inside you. His fingers flex on your throat, so big he encompasses it, the sense of danger and safety blending together in a exciting concoction.

“Kylian..” You whisper.

“Look me in the eye while you say it!”

“Kylian,” You sigh, encouraging him, moving your hips to his, observing him. It turns you on, seeing him like that, seeing yourself like that, both of you dressed but so, so naked.

He squeezes your clit, making your hips shake automatically.

“Louder,” He grinds out between clenched teeth.

“Kylian,” You moan louder, feeling all the edges on his cock, could feel those beating veins, all naked inside you. He begins to rub your clit harder, his hips picking up speed, your palm flat against the mirror as you steady yourself. His hand around your throat holding your head up so he can have better access to your neck. It wasn’t too tight but firm enough to make you feel completely caged, completely owned in that moment.

And you owned him right back, keeping him trapped inside you with each thrust. Slowly, the fire in your body concentrated on your burning core, your whole body shaking as you started getting light-headed from the overload of sensation.

He rolls his hips, nearly blacking you out with the sudden movement, touching your sweet spot.

“That’s my girl.” He praises.

He fucks you in every sense of the word.

The mirror on the closet begins to shake so much it rattles. The sound of the wood plowing a hold in the wall matched the rhythm of him plowing into you.

A lot of students could probably hear you, but right now? Fuck that.

Your eyes remain connected even on that shaking glass as he thrusts in and out of you, rolling his hips, alternating. Your walls squeeze him, weeping and clinging to him, the thrusts inside you spreading fire all over your body.

Sweat coats your skin, your shuddering voice turning into boisterous groans turning into little shouts you seem not to control anymore.

And then you feel his teeth on your neck. Hard.

You explode, screaming as your knees buckle. You drop your head low, your walls releasing like never before, your heartbeats through the roof, so loud you can feel them thundering all over in your body. You could feel your own wetness running down your thighs, your eyes look for his radiant brow ones as you watch your own cum dripping on the floor, committing everything to memory.

He suddenly pulls out, and you see him stroking his erection with his clenched hand, his face turning into agonizing pleasure as he explodes, his cum pooling on the floor.

You watch, fascinated, still reeling from your own pleasure, listening to that growl take off his chest as he jerks off for a few seconds, milking out each drop, breathing out.

“That was mean..” You say.

“Was it?” He asks while wiping himself clean with a tissue. “Judging by how hard you came, you seemed to like it.”

Your fingers button your pants and the tingle of arousal begins to spread.

Again.

It hasn’t even been five minutes.

This man is planning to kill you one day, and you wouldn’t object.

“Kylian,” You grit out. “I won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”

He doesn’t seem to be concerned. “ You won’t need to. We’re flying.”

“What?”

“I booked us a flight to Marrakech.” He says so casually but it stops you at your track.

“You did what?”

“Happy graduation, ma lune.” He smiles.

You throw your hands around his neck and kiss-hug him.

“I need to pack my bag!” You say out loud and you head to grab your stuff from around your room.

Kylian sits on your bed. Checking his phone while you pack your huge bag. And when you head to the bathroom your phone beeps.

Usually, he doesn’t look. But when he sees a certain name pop up on the screen he feels his anger boil up again.

He takes a quick look at the bathroom door, hears the rattling of you going through your stuff. And when the air is clear he takes your phone in his hand and reads the message:

Alain.96: Hey ☺️ did you get my roses?

Entering the password. He jumps into his DM.

‘He’s foolish’ This is how he sees himself in your eyes. His love was foolish.

Maybe you’ll think that he was overreacting but he loves you very much. He loves you deeply.

To him it was a simple one on one thing. And because he’s a man, he knows exactly how other men think. And sending roses was not a thing to let pass by so easily.

One last look at the door and then he does what every man would do to get rid of a problem; you take matters into your own hand.

Jealousy; a tricky feeling.

It encompasses his feelings ranging from suspicion to rage to fear to humiliation. And strikes him till his bones start to shiver.

He blocks his account and puts the phone right where it was.

Flashing a sweet smile at you.

“Are you done?” His tone calm and relaxed.

You nod, and he gets up.

“Let’s get you something to eat then.”

Hfjdnekekmsskksekkekeke. IT’S BEEN A WHILE! I MISSED WRITING SO MUCH.

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.

Hi babes!

I’m leaving for two weeks (vacation) but when I come back I’ll be writing a new one shot.

I have A LOT of requests in my inbox 📥

What’s it gonna be?

I just picked the ones I actually wanted to write. (Apologies to the anon whose request wasn’t up there 🩷)

I totally agree

What type of fics do you prefer to read the most

I love me some angst 😮‍💨 I don‘t really love to read/write fluff

But I low-key search for angst and dramatic, forbidden love kinda fics. These hit the best

WOAHHHH 🤩 AMAZING 100/10❤️

A Masked Obsession

Plot: After helping your lover with moving out to another country, you find some stuff that comes to your interest. Unbeknownst to you, a certain mask comes to benefit.

Pairing: Kylian x Reader

Genre: Smut, Dom!Kylian

Warnings: kinda kinky, spitting (requested), hardcore

A/N: I hate how my brain gives me stupid ideas before I go to bed...

“What about that one?” You say, holding some grey joggers up for him to see.

“Nah, leave it here.” He shrugs and continues packing his bag.

The late afternoon light spills into the room as you stand in front of his closet, helping Kylian pack for his move to Madrid. His suitcase is open beside him, half-filled with neatly folded clothes and a few personal items. He’s focused, methodically folding a favorite jersey, the weight of the move hanging in the air between you like a quiet, unspoken goodbye.

You hand him a stack of shirts when your fingers brush against something smooth and unfamiliar. Curiously, you pull it out—a black protective mask, worn and slightly scuffed. Recognition sparks immediately, and you smile.

“Wait, is this the mask you wore when you broke your nose?” you ask, holding it up, remembering the match where Kylian played through the injury, that mask becoming a symbol of his resilience and determination.

Kylian looks over and grins, a mixture of pride and nostalgia in his eyes. “Yeah, I didn’t realize I still had that. Thought I got rid of it.”

You can’t resist the urge to slip it on, the cool material fitting snugly over your face. You turn toward him, your voice slightly muffled behind the mask. “I’m batman!”

He chuckles, throwing another shirt into his suitcase. “Don’t you mean Batwoman?”

You grin beneath the mask, peeling it off with a playful flourish. “No,” you say, voice softening into a low, teasing tone. “I have always been on team Catwoman.” Your eyes meet his, glinting mischievously as you draw out the last word. You curl your fingers into mock claws. “Miaau.”

Kylian freezes mid-laugh, his smile fading just a bit as something shifts in the air. His gaze flicks to your hand, the way your fingers mimic the slow, teasing swipe of claws. You didn’t mean anything by it—at least, not at first—but now there’s a heat building in his stare that makes your heart skip.

He clears his throat, trying to brush it off with a casual shrug. “Catwoman, huh? That’s cute.”

Cute?

You rock your hips as you walk across the room. “Careful, sweetheart… I play rough.”

“Stop,” he cuts you off. But you notice the change. Something in his voice has thickened, a hesitation beneath his words. Sensing his sudden interest, you decide to push it a little further. Crawling onto the bed, you prowl closer, your movements slow, deliberate. “What, afraid of a little scratch?” you ask, your voice dipping lower, more playful.

“Y/N....” he warns. “Come on, I’m trying to pack. My ride to the airport is going to be here in an hour.” His voice suddenly hard, darker than you’ve ever heard it. His expression has changed, the usual boyish grin gone, replaced by something far more intense.

He looks away for a moment, as if trying to shake off whatever’s stirring inside him.

You sit by the edge of the bed, legs crossing. “It’s just a little teasing.” You tease.

“Well, you’re playing a dangerous game,” He murmurs, his voice rougher than before, his body tense, as though he’s holding something back.

Your heart races, but you can’t resist pushing a little more. “Maybe I like danger,” you say, your smile coy, your lips barely curving as you sit back, still playing the part.

Kylian’s eyes finally snap back to yours, and for a moment, neither of you speaks. He should laugh it off. He should make a joke, push you away, anything to bring things back to normal. But he doesn’t. Instead, he takes a slow step closer, “Good.” he says. His gaze locked on yours, the heat in his eyes unmistakable now. “I’ll make sure you get an unforgettable dose.”

You swallow hard, his gaze darkening as his resolve starts to crack. He’s close now, too close, and you feel the air between you change—charged, electric.

Your breath hitches, the air between you charged with something dangerous, something unspoken. His fingers brush against your cheek, trailing down to your jawline, tracing the edge of the mask. It’s a light touch, but it sends shivers through you. There’s a possessiveness in the way he looks at you now, as if the mask has unlocked something darker in him and he’s waiting for you to surrender.

You don’t move, don’t dare to break the tension as his hand slides lower, curling gently around your throat. His grip is firm but not harsh. “Let’s see how far you’ll go..” He whispers, lips brushing the edge of the mask. “, Kitty cat.”

And then, without warning, he closes the distance. His mouth crashes into yours, fierce and unapologetic, a kiss that’s raw, possessive, full of dark longing. It’s not gentle; it’s hungry, like he’s been holding back for too long and now, with the thought of leaving, he can’t anymore. His hand tightens at the base of your neck, pulling you closer, as if he’s claiming you in that moment, his body pressed flush against yours.

The kiss deepens, the taste of him overwhelming, his tongue sliding against yours with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. Every touch, every movement, feels like it’s laced with a deep desire, the urgency of time slipping away, and the desire to make this moment last. His other hand grips your waist firmly, possessively, like he can’t let go, as if everything else ceases to exist in this instant.

The mask on your face amplifies the tension, making you feel both vulnerable and powerful, like you’ve stepped into a side of him you’ve never seen before. His breath is hot against your skin as he pulls back, his voice hoarse with desire.

“I just hope...” He strips off his shirt. “.. You know what you’re getting yourself into.“

He’s on top of you again, gives your lips a taste and takes your hands in his, pinning them above your head.

“These stay up.” He lets you know.

Then he kisses you again, this time slower, but no less intense, like he’s savoring the moment, as if trying to memorize every inch of you before the world pulls him away. Instantly your hands move to grab the back of his neck and he pulls away, pinning them once more above your head.

“Up, I said.” He warns, and you gulp.

He pulls your shirt up, and the cups of your bra down to suck on the soft flesh of your breasts.

“Fuck,” you mutter, then you close your eyes, lips pressed flat. Heat hitting your cheeks.

This time you intend to comply. But oh, his kisses...

His kisses were fire, ever burning on your skin. And you can’t fight the urge not to grab him by his neck and pull him closer to you.

So you do as you please. You pull him closer and he shoots back by leaving your breasts bare. His eyes are dark, intense, and magnetic, holding a captivating depth. They shimmer with an untamed desire, as if constantly yearning for something just beyond reach.

“I guess we’ll have it my way then.” He breathes, undoing his belt.

The click of the metal buckle clinging in your ears and your heart. The rustling of the freed belt sends a shiver down your spine. He ties your hands with his belt. The leather is slightly cool on your wrists. Pinning your hands above your head once more.

“They stay up there.” He orders and you nod.

His gaze lingers on you, his eyes reflecting the promise of what is to come, as you lay there, hands bound and heart pounding, completely at his mercy.

He strips your lower part naked.

“Now..” His eyes darken. “I’ll have you as I’ll have you. And I’ll take you how I’ll take you. And there’s not a single thing to do about it.”

You clear your throat and you contemplate whether you should say something or stay silent.

“Spread those knees, baby. Let me see that pussy from up here.”

You part your knees, allowing him to see you. And his expression turns hard.

“Now, while you’re down there you’re gonna look up at me with those eyes and watch me lick you clean.” His words are demanding and dark. It makes your stomach feel funny. He gets down on his knees and your stare at his back muscles flex as he grips your thighs in a possessive manner.

You jolt as he starts kissing your thighs and making his way to your core. His breath fans over your clit, and you whine, doing your best not to moan.

“Now who’s playing rough, huh?” He whispers. And before you can answer, his head dips, and his dark hair tickles against your legs seconds before his mouth fastens around your clit. Your hips buck, but he holds you still, gripping your thighs to hold you in place, and to anchor his face right where he wants it. He’s sucking and flicking his tongue at the same time, ratcheting up the pleasure with each passing second. It’s almost too intense.

It’s almost too much.

He merely growls against you, the vibrations of his voice driving you that much closer to that powerful edge.

Sweat accumulates under the mask.

The scent of your arousal mingles with the musty smell of the mask, creating a heady and intoxicating aroma that fills the air. His tongue is rough yet gentle, devouring you with a skillful touch. The texture of the protective mask scratches against your nose, adding to the overwhelming sensation.

“Kylian... Oh fuck, please...”

He wrenches his lips from your clit.

“Please what?”

“I can’t.. Please...” You beg, you can’t form words. But he doesn’t give you what you want. He works according to his own book.

He sucks on your clit until the pressure becomes unbearably hot. White stars dance behind your eyelids as you whimper in short, choppy breaths.

You can’t say it, but by the way your fists are clenched and your hips are bucking, lips pressed flat. He knows you would be begging for him to go faster, harder, to be touched all over. Your hands are clasped together like you’re praying, and he wonders how good you’d look kneeling on the floor. But he’ll save that for later, right now he wants you to suffer a bit. So he stops completely and you gasp out in frustration.

“Fuck!” You groan angrily. Trying to move your hands to do it yourself, he smirks that you are tied up nicely. And he thinks that you’ll have to do this more often.

“Tell me how bad you want me to touch you.” He whispers.

“So, so fucking bad,” you whimper. “I’ll do anything.”

“You wanna make me proud, don’t you?”

You nod. “Yes.”

“So, make me proud. Come on my face.” He thrusts his tongue in your opening, and you shamelessly scream in pleasure.

He dives into your core, licking your clit slowly and running his fingers through your slit. He doesn’t hesitate to put in two fingers, watching as you muffle a gasp out in pleasure. He pumps them in and out slowly, reaching with his free hand to squeeze your hip.

“Kylian... I—.. I’m coming, I’m coming.” You repeat and he smiles before kissing your thighs again and then looking back at you. Pulling back.

Why the fuck is he pulling back?

“Kylian...?” Your eyebrows furrow. “Don’t do this, please.”

He stands tall and your eyes follow his every move.

“Kylian... I swear to God..” You threat. Eyes burning in fury. “Don’t play this game.”

“What’s the matter? I thought you liked games?” He bites his lower lip and it irritates you. It frustrates you how you allowed him to take control and he’s taking advantage of it.

“Please, Kylian. Let me.”

“Let you what?”

“Let me come.”

“Mmm.” Pretending to be thinking. He stands tall and unbuttons then unzips his jeans to ease the tightness in his pants. Then he towers over you. “Non.”

Then his fingers are inside you again. With each flick of his finger on your nub, he turns the pace up slowly, higher and higher, until your breaths are shallow and whimpers sound.

“Please. I’m sorry—so sorry.” There are tears welling in your eyes. You just want to be released. “I shouldn’t have teased you. Really, I shouldn’t have. But I couldn’t help it.”

“Ouais.” He pulls his fingers out and lifts his hand to his mouth, his two fingers coated with your cream. He savors the sweetness. A soft *click* echoes as his lips release them. “You shouldn’t have. But I’ll make sure you learn your lesson.” His expression is one of indulgence, completely absorbed in the creamy delight.

He hovers over you and grabs the belt that’s wrapped around your hands and effortlessly pulls you up. You sit in front of him. On the same level as his torso.

He amends the issue quickly, standing before you and pulling his jeans a bit down, just enough to free his hard member. You watch with undivided interest when his length springs free of his boxers. Your gaze locks right on it, deepening into a look of pure want.

“Do you see this cock? Do you see that pre-cum? Dripping already.” He teases you, pumping himself once as his blood rises to the surface.

“Do you see how it’s not in your mouth?” He strokes his length with his fist. “Too bad it’s gonna stay that way.”

What?

“Kylian...” You try to complain, but he cuts your words.

“Play with yourself. Play with it the way I like to watch.” He demands while stepping backwards to rest against one of the moving boxes.

Shock pummels through you, but you don’t hesitate, not with his face looking so intense. You don’t question his demand, not once. And with your fingers you reach for between your wobbly legs, throwing your head back.

“No, no, no. Keep your eyes on me, baby.”

You make eye contact. Your face hot, and he bites his lip at the sight. How you’re completely and entirely helpless. How your eyes glaze over with pure bliss.

“Look at you being a good girl already. It would be a damn shame to stop. Wouldn’t it?” He asks and you whine.

Slicking up his hand, wrapping it around his member, and rubbing it up and down. You can see the skin sliding back and forth.

He strokes it faster now, his breath rigid.

“So..” He breathes. “Stop.”

What the fuck?!

“Kylian, no!” You shout, already frustrated by his mind games.

“Hands off.” He orders. “On your knees, face down.”

You lean forward, facing away from him. Your arms rested on the mattress when you hear his devotions; words spoken in a voice that drifted away from you. Being most devout he stands behind you and growls.

“You’re gonna get fucked the way you deserve. Do you understand?”

You whimper.

“Come here.” He grips your hips and you gasp.

*Ding-dong*

The sudden, sharp sound of the doorbell cuts through the quiet, startling in the room.

“Hmm. Would you look at that. It’s my ride to the airport.” He pushes himself away from you, putting his clothes back on. “Keep it wet.”

Kylian moves quickly to the door as you fall quiet, the tension easing just slightly. The sound of the door creaking open is followed by muffled voices outside. His tone is low, almost casual, but there’s an edge of urgency in his words. Through the door, you catch snippets of his conversation.

“Yeah, that’s them… Just grab the bags... There’s one more upstairs. I’ll go get it.” He says, his voice faint but clear enough to recognize the familiar instructions.

He bounds up the stairs with quick, purposeful strides, the soft thud of his shoes barely muffled by the carpet. The muted creak of the wooden steps follows him as he ascends.

He clothes the door behind him. His eyes suddenly turn to mischief.

“Keep. Your mouth. Shut.” He warns.

He grasps the back of your neck with firm fingers, pulling you toward him with an intensity that leaves no room for hesitation.

“He can wait.” He says mid-kiss. Then your lips collide again with a raw force, his breath mingling with yours as he claims your mouth in a heated, possessive kiss. As if trying to consume every part of you in that moment. He snatches his lips away from yours.

He doesn’t say anything. He simply grabs his bag and hurries downstairs. It takes him good two minutes to get back to you. Closing the door behind him.

He exhales sharply, his shoulders slumping as the frustration washes over him. Then he walks toward you. “Open.”

Open what?

He slaps your left thigh with his hand to part your legs. And then you hear him spit. It wets your core with a faint splatter.

He pounds into you with a deep, strong thrust. And a sharp moan pours from your throat, followed by his name.

He’s grunting through the thrusts and you lick along the seam of your lips, as if to taste his name on your tongue. And you moan loudly.

“That’s a good fucking girl. That’s a good fucking girl.” He praises. Sweat building up.

Wanting more of a friction. More of him. You throw your head back and you match his movements. Bouncing back so he can get even deeper into you and hit that spot.

“There you go, throw it back. Bounce that ass on me the way I like it. Come on.” He groans. His tone frantic.

You flinch, your brain beginning to split and latch on to the fact that you’re being fucked in a way you never knew you would like.

He pulls you by your hips and you sink your face on the mattress because you can’t take it no more. Screaming into it with pleasure.

“I’m gonna ride you. I’m gonna fucking ride you till you can’t fucking walk.”

He groans into the skin of your back.

“This is what you’ve been waiting for, isn’t it? Well here it fucking is, so fucking take it.”

He fucks you harder, seeming to get off on your body.

This entire situation is beyond fucked up. Yet, it becomes impossible to feel a damn thing outside of the orgasm looming.

Cries pour from your throat, and he moans them all off, proving just how starved he is.

“Don’t stop,” You gasp, your voice strained. “Fuck, Kylian, please.”

His lips retreat from your back, and he hovers over your back only to grab your jaw and turn your face to the side and take your lips between his teeth.

His thrusts are even deeper now as he moans against your mouth. “Take that fucking cock. Come on. Come on. Fuck me.”

His kiss trail down to your neck. You lose all coherent thought, your surroundings becoming disjointed and incomprehensible. The pleasure is like a disease, shutting down your nervous system and taking control. You’re a slave to his power. Drunk on his love, and there’s nothing you can do but succumb.

“Fuck me good.” He whimpers. “Fais-moi jouir.” (make me cum) He repeats and your bones liquefy, the muscles surrounding them seize. Vaguely, you feel rather than hear the broken cry leave your throat.

“I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum.” He whispers hazily.

And with that announcement, his body tenses up. Your back is arching like the string of a bow.

He closes his eyes as the orgasm surges through him, tidal waves at first, turning into ripples that slowly ebb out, leaving every muscle of his body absolutely exhausted. Then he releases, your head slumping forward as he explodes into his orgasm, groaning loudly, shamelessly, probably having the chauffeur worried.

Time stills, and you shatter just as he releases on your back, sending blood rushing to your head, intensifying the explosion detonating throughout your body.

Your thighs shake, your eyes roll back in their sockets and you scream out your orgasm, and clasp one hand over your own mouth, moaning quietly.

You allow yourself to fall flat on the mattress. Your cries still audible. Catching for breath as you remove the sweaty mask.

He rests his head on your back. His sweaty face pressed against it. His body going completely limp.

He stands with his dick in his hand, mind completely empty, panting heavily, eyelids fluttering. You feel disoriented, like you don’t really remember where you are.

“Shit.” He mutters. “I have a plane to catch.”

You sit on the edge of the bed and watch him get dressed as you do too.

The light from the window illuminates the dust motes dancing in the air, and the room feels a mix of nostalgia and emptiness.

You leave for the bathroom to pull yourself together. It’s not like it’s the first time he leaves for another country.

Deep breaths and a few wipes against your face fixes the issue... For now.

You get back into the bedroom to see him sitting on the bed, phone in his hand.

“Got everything?” You block your sad thoughts.

“Not quite yet.” He gets up, then presses the black mask into your palm and you laugh.

Did you just unlock a new kink in him?

“You’re not serious...”

He surprises his smile and shows you his phone screen.

You glance at the phone, your eyes widening as you take in the detailed design of the costume. The soft, velvety material and the delicate, whiskered mask were perfectly tailored. Then your eyes dart to the sentence:

‘Thank you for ordering Smitten Kitten Costume!’

You look at him.

“We need to have a serious conversation, young man.” You imply.

He tucks his phone in his pocket and smirks. “Call me batman.”

A/N: I’m sorry... No I’m not.

Jealousy

Pairing: Kylian Mbappé x femreader / you or whoever you want

The rented apartment was finally quiet. Kylian Mbappé collapsed contentedly into the armchair in front of the fireplace and stretched his legs. He finally agreed with President Florentino Pérez about the extra wishes he requested, and even managed to lure Minna out of the snail's house.

But there were also problems.

1 month ago Minna receives bouquets of red roses as a gift once a week. If that wasn't enough, the "traitor" could most likely be among the players of the Real Madrid football team, considered his second family.

Despite the search, they have not yet found the man who wants to get the girl.

For some time now, he has been feeling guilty about spending less time with his love than he would have liked. He tiredly laid his head back, closed his eyes and thought about her slender body, his palms itched from the lack of touching her shapely breasts, his lips thirsted for the taste of her wet lap.

He smelled a mixture of honey and chamomile in his nose, and a small hand sliding down his chest towards his crotch. His body reacted immediately, greedily pulling his bully to him and taking possession of his mouth. The fingers urgently clasped his stiff cock under the jeans, he tried to pamper it with intense stroking.

- Minna! - Kylian breathed and raised his hips towards the woman's hand almost begging.

- Kylian, my love!

- No! - the man's eyes suddenly popped up. He violently pushed the young assistant hanging from him, who landed on the floor with a loud thud. - We have discussed this a thousand times, Ana Maria!

"I thought..." the black-haired beauty looked at him pleadingly. - But you answered so enthusiastically - he cast seductive glances at Kylian, approaching him on all fours. - Besides, since I've been here, you haven't even used your little whore.

Kylian was overcome with anger, his skin turning red with anger. The long fingers of his strong hand wrapped around Ana Maria's throat.

- She is the most innocent, most honest woman I know! - The man's voice was like a dragon's roar, a fiery flame erupted from his throat.

- I'm sorry, I didn't want to say bad things about him - The girl's voice was just a grunt, as the raging soccer player's fingers wrapped around her neck. - Let me go, please!

- You are the past.

-...I'm sorry...

- He is my present, my future.

- Let she go, Kylian! - The man's clouded brain did not hear the voice coming from behind him. - Let she go immediately! Please Kylian! Do you want to kill her? - Dani Carvajal's pleading bass finally found a way, and the fingers in spasm fell relaxed next to the body.

- What happened? - Rüdiger came through the door panting. Klyian leaned against the fireplace and tried to calm down. It looked like he was sucking hot flames into his lungs, not air.

- Later... - Carvajal beckoned, then giving quiet instructions to Antonio Rüdiger and to Vini, who appeared in the meantime, he took out Ana Maria, who was left behind.

- My friend! I know you don't take advice, but I think it's time to find your girlfriend - said Vini back from the threshold.

- I don't think you should give me any advice! - Kylian snapped.

- Look for her in the garden... - the Brazilian winked at him.

- In the garden?

- ... with Jude and Aurélien.

- What are they doing?

- I don't know - grinned Vini.

The jealous Frenchman flew faster than an airplane in the crimson light of dawn. The fact that someone could touch the woman he loved completely blew his mind. He didn't lie to himself, he stormed out into the garden like a fire-breathing dragon and punched Jude Bellingham, who was hugging his wife. Jude fell into the group of onlookers, and and dragged the girl, Minna, who was clinging to his chest, with him.

- Kylian, don't! - Jude just managed to avoid a punch from his jealous teammate. He immediately said a prayer.

In the end, the otherwise mild-mannered girl solved the problem when she stopped the man she loved, who was angry with all the people in the world, with a kiss.

- Look! - said the girl with a flushed face. She smoothed loose strands of hair from her single braid from her sweaty forehead and bravely looked into the black flashing eyes. - Tell me, what's wrong with you? Why did you have to rush in here like a madman?

- He touched you! - the man gave the other a deadly look.

- Of course he got to me. I asked him to teach me the dance move he took down the club yesterday.

- You could have asked me for help!

- I haven't seen you in weeks, and when we run into each other, you immediately push me away. - Minna looked reproachfully at the French man.

- Forgive me, but no one has the right to touch you! Kylian returned to his favorite topic. "Besides me," he added.

- Kylian Mbappé! You are totally crazy! - With a sigh, Minna looked up at the sky, at the multitude of gray-white clouds.

- Yes, I'm crazy! Because I love you! - While the madly in love Kylian's hands held Minna's face, his lips pressed against hers. All the emotions that had been suppressed until now burst to the surface.

- Do you think you can beat me with a kiss? the girl whispered with a smile.

- No, but I have other ideas.

- Yes? - Minna's eyes dimmed from the emotions rushing at her. - But before we move on to the implementation of your plans, I want to tell you something.

- What, my love? - Kylian lifted the girl in his arms to the great joy of the onlookers.

- I'm pregnant.

( english isn't my first language ) - just the usual

Thanks for visiting.