Mbappe Smut - Tumblr Posts

Raw Dog

Summary: Kylian Mbappe x reader, breeding kink SMUT!

Kylian was a sucker for raw dogging, he couldn’t even remember the last time he bought condoms. He loved the idea of coming inside you, risking the possibility of impregnating you. The thought of filling your cunt with his seed did unimaginable things to him. He didn’t mind if you actually ended up pregnant because in all honesty, that was his primary goal. It was the ultimate way of marking you as his, and only his. 

Ditching the condom was a mutual thing and you were fully aware of this kink. The both of you agreed on using other forms of safe sex, such as birth control. You didn’t mind this at all, you actually enjoyed and encouraged it, the both of you benefiting from the immense pleasure. You loved feeling every ridge of his cock as he rammed himself inside you and he loved the raw feeling of your pussy clenching tightly around his girth. 

He would be on top of you, missionary style. His thrusts were slow but rough, dragging out and slamming back in. You would be under him, holding onto his back, nails leaving crescent shapes on his shoulders. He held your hips against the bed, anchoring you down as his hips did all the work. Your eyes would be slammed shut, enhancing the feeling of his cock stretching you to your limit. He grunted with each thrust, your walls getting tighter and tighter. 

“I’m gonna cum deep inside you,” he whispered huskily in your ear. He slipped out of you, earning a whimper from you. He stood at the edge of the bed and dragged you towards him. You giggled as he placed your legs over his shoulders, giving him more access to your pulsating cunt. He didn’t even hesitate, his large cock ramming into you. You moaned loudly, your wet walls welcoming him instantly. You stared up at him, mouth agape as moans and whimpers spilled out. He watched your face intently, loving the way your cheeks were flushed and the way you whispered his name.

“So beautiful…full of my cock,” he muttered under his breath, barely audible. He looked down, watching his cock appear and disappear with each thrust. His dick twitched inside you, and you knew he was close. He placed his thumb on your clit, playing with the bundle of nerves. This sent you over the edge, legs quivering as the knot in your stomach unraveled. The warmth of your juices triggering his release, filling you with his cum. He grunted and stilled himself, making sure every ounce of his seed was buried deep inside you. He pulled out slowly, his cock completely limp. He kept your legs in the air, smirking as he watched his cum drip out of your cunt.

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.