hii!!,can I request a short one where kylian is in an interview after the game and the interviewer asked about the celebration he did earlier at the game is kinda different than his usual one,and kylian just says like "it's a request from my girlfriend" or something like that😭,I'm sorry if it's a bit confusing loll,love ur works n have a good day!🙌
this is so cute!
CELEBRATION
kylian mbappe x f! reader
masterlist
:: He didn't plan his celebration, instead it was requested by you.
The final whistle echoed through the stadium. Another win, and another goal. Another match where Kylian found the back of the net. The cameras followed him immediately.
Instead of his usual celebration, he did something completely different. Simple, but quick. Enough to confuse the audience.
Commentators mentioned it. Fans started posting clips before the match had even ended.
"Since when does Kylian celebrate like that?"
"That was new."
"I've never seen him do that before."
Twenty minutes later he sat in the interview chair, still slightly out of breath, his match shirt clinging to him from the ninety minutes he'd just played.
The interviewer smiled. "Congratulations on the win."
"Thank you."
"You scored another brilliant goal tonight."
He nodded politely.
Then came the question everyone wanted answered.
"I have to ask." The reporter said smiling.
He already knew what was coming.
"Your celebration."
A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
"It was.. Different."
"It was."
"Was there a reason behind it?"
He looked down for a second before letting out a quiet laugh. "Yeah."
The interviewer leaned forward slightly. "What was it?"
He shrugged like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "My girlfriend asked me to."
The interviewer blinked. "That simple?"
"Mhm."
"You changed your celebration because she asked?"
Another small smile. "She said I should try something new."
"And you listened?"
He laughed. "I usually do."
The interviewer couldn't help smiling. "So this wasn't for a sponsor? A campaign? A message?"
"No."
"It was just for her?"
He nodded once. "She thought it'd be fun."
"And did she like it?"
He looked straight at the camera this time "I hope so."
Within minutes the clip surfaced.
Fans couldn't get enough of it.
Some joked he'd been "Taking instructions from home."
Others called it the cutest interview he'd ever given.
Meanwhile you were sitting on your couch with your phone in your lap. Your phone buzzed almost immediately.
Kylian 🤍
watched the interview yet?
maybe..
Three dots appeared instantly.
sooo
did i do the celebration right?
You laughed, shaking your head before replying.
you passed.
10/10, i loved it.
His answer came less than a minute later.
good.
wouldn't want to disappoint my favorite critic. see you later love. ❤
Summary: France win the 2026 World Cup. But this isn’t really about the match. It’s about the moment after — when Kylian decides he’s done being careful with the thing that matters most.
Author’s Note: The 2026 World Cup is here, girls. Call up the Etsy witches. It’s hexxing season.
I was rewatching season 2 of Bridgerton, specifically that moment when Anthony and Kate finally say fuck it and dance together, knowing everyone is watching and choosing each other anyway. I love that so much.
So, I really wanted to explore the idea of Kylian reaching a point where he’s no longer scared to be in love, publicly.
In this fic, it’s implied that they’d already discussed it. That there was an agreement sitting between them for weeks: if France win, we go public. Which is why the win feels heavier, sweeter, more intimate. He did it for them.
Enjoyyyyyyy. 💕💕💕💕💕💕
————————————————————————
Breath caught, hearts stalled — and then France detonates into sound.
Blue. White. Red. Streamers fall like confetti snowfall, curling through the air as if the sky itself has chosen a side. The stadium erupts, a living thing screaming “Allez les Bleus” into the night. Somewhere, Peter Drury’s voice rises above it all, lyrical and reverent, speaking of redemption, of time bending back on itself, of a boy who refuses to accept endings. Of two goals in ten minutes. Of history dragged back from the brink by refusal alone.
Kylian barely hears it.
He is already gone. sprinting, shouting, swallowed by teammates who crash into him from every angle. He laughs, then screams, then laughs again, overcome, unguarded. He drops to his knees once, fists pressed into the grass, forehead tipped back to the sky as if he might actually touch it.
“We did it,” he gasps, half-laughing, half-disbelieving. “We actually did it.”
On the other side of the pitch, Argentina collapses inward in quiet devastation. Hands on heads. Shirts pulled over faces. Grief moves quieter, but it moves just as deep all the same.
And you watch.
You stand where you always do — just beyond the edge of the moment, close enough to feel its heat, distant enough to let it belong to him. Because it belongs to him. All of it. The world. The cup. You have learned this discipline by loving someone whose life is conducted in public: to exist just outside the frame, to be present without imprint, to remain steady when the world tilts toward him and threatens to collapse under its own attention.
You watch him move through the chaos with an ease that still astonishes you. Oh, how deeply he loves this sport. With all its trophies, but more so the labour. The repetition. The hours. The self-correction. The fatigue. The sacrifice. Over and over and over and over and over and over again. The obedience to routine until nights like this look effortless. You think how few people understand this about him. How fervently he loves this silly sport and this team. He belongs to this team utterly, even as it takes from him without ever quite naming the cost. He gives anyway. Again. Always.
And then… there is the madness.
The cameras. The noise. The weight of being looked at from every direction at once. You cannot quite understand how he enjoys it, how he turns toward the chaos. How he smiles into the lens. How he can be playful and luminous, offering himself willingly to the spectacle. It should consume him. It should hollow him out. But it doesn’t. Instead, it seems to animate him.
He looks perfectly himself in the middle of it all, radiant and unguarded, loving the impossible theatre of it, and somehow still remaining whole. My sweet, joyful boy. As though the disorder has been waiting for his calm. As though this moment, loud and unruly and impossibly bright, has always belonged to him. Your eyes well up.
He has won. He is happy. My golden boy.
The chaos softens into celebration. Family members begin to appear, laughter mixing with tears. Cameras flash. The trophy gleams under the stadium lights, passed from hand to hand, kissed, lifted. You’re watching him joke with someone when he turns his head.
You are smiling when you feel it. That unmistakable shift. His eyes find yours across the barrier, bright, disbelieving, still vibrating with adrenaline. And then his expression changes. He smiles, small at first, then wider.
“There you are,” he murmurs to himself.
And then he begins to walk.
You feel the eyes before you hear the reaction — a ripple through the crowd as they clock his direction. Your heartbeat picks up, traitorous. You keep your shoulders relaxed, your face neutral, even as he closes the distance and stops in front of the barrier, looking up at you.
“Hi,” he says, breathless.
“Hi,” you reply, softer than intended.
He studies you for a second, then holds out his hand.
“Come,” he says quietly.
You hesitate. He notices. Of course he does.
“It’s okay,” he adds immediately, voice gentle. “With me.”
You take his hand. His grip is firm, reassuring, his thumb pressing lightly into your skin as he guides you around the barrier and onto the pitch. The crowd reacts with cheers, applause, approval washing over you both. It startles you, how kind it sounds.
And once you’re beside him, the enormity of it hits. The lights. The noise. 73 cameras possibly. The history beneath your feet. You’re on the pitch. France has won the World Cup. Your relationship is now public. Your breath goes a little shallow. He notices instantly.
“Are you okay?” he asks softly.
You nod. “I think so.”
He studies your face with his usual intensity. “You’re shaking.”
“So are you,” you say.
“Butterflies,” he replies lightly. “I’m here with a girl I have a crush on. She’s somewhere around here. I’ll introduce you.”
You laugh and give him a gentle push. “You’re an idiot,” you say coyly. He hums, amused.
Up close, he looks unreal — grass stains on his knees, sweat cooling on his skin, eyes still bright, as if the moment hasn’t finished moving through him yet. The noise presses in again and you feel suddenly, acutely aware of where you are.
He senses it again.
“Hey,” he says, stepping just a fraction closer. His thumb brushes against your knuckles, subtle, instinctive. “Look at me.”
You do.
“Forget them for a second,” he murmurs. “Talk to me like we always do.”
You swallow. “About the match?”
A corner of his mouth lifts. “Yeah. About the match.”
You exhale, the tension easing. “You scared me,” you admit. “For most of it.”
He laughs quietly. “Only most?”
“Eighty minutes,” you say. “To be exact.”
He tilts his head, mock-offended. “I had a plan.”
“You always say that.”
“And I’m usually right.”
You smile, small. “You were extraordinary. Simply extraordinary.”
Something soft flickers across his expression.
The noise seeps back in. A chant rolls through the stands, swelling, rhythmic, alive. Somewhere a camera whirs closer. A voice calls his name. Another laughs. Reality, impatient, taps him on the shoulder. He exhales and eases back half a step, though his hand still lingers at yours, reluctant.
That’s when the streamers fall again.
They drift slowly this time, unhurried, ribbons of white, blue and red catching in the air before settling around you. One brushes your cheek. Another tangles briefly in your hair before slipping free. Under the unforgiving stadium cold, sharp stadium light, your skin glows anyway, warm as burnished gold.
He forgets to move. For a heartbeat too long, he just looks.
“How did I get this too?” he murmurs, barely.
“Ky,” you whisper, half-laughing, noticing.
“Mmm,” a hum more than anything.
“You’re staring.”
His eyes flick to the falling colours and then back to you. “I know,” he says, unapologetically.
“This is… a lot,” you say, shaking your head, amused, self-aware.
He steps closer, lowering his voice again. “Breathe,” he says gently. “You’re doing great.”
Before you can retort, a photographer calls out, gesturing animatedly.
“Over here! Just one together!”
Kylian groans softly. “Ah.”
He squeezes your hand once — a silent question.
“Okay?” he asks.
You nod. “Okay.”
They guide you into position. The cameras flash immediately, a soft staccato of light. Someone off-frame laughs and calls, “Relax! It’s a celebration!”
Kylian tilts his head toward you. “See? They like you.”
“I think they like you,” you whisper back.
He grins, crooked and boyish. “That’s not what they’re shouting.”
Another camera clicks.
“Closer!” a voice insists.
Kylian complies easily, his arm settling at your back respectful, careful, but unmistakably there. You feel the warmth of him even through the layers of fabric, grounding you again.
“You good?” he murmurs.
“Yes,” you say.
A producer waves frantically, pointing upward. Kylian follows the gesture, then looks back at you with sudden delight.
“Look,” he says, lifting his free hand. “The screen.”
You glance up just as the Jumbotron fills with the two of you — streamers drifting, lights flaring, the moment impossibly cinematic.
“Oh,” you laugh, embarrassed. “Omg, no—”
“Yes,” he insists, already waving. “You have to wave.”
“Could I rather not—”
He nudges you gently. “Come on. They’re watching.”
You relent, lifting your hand in a small, shy wave. The crowd responds with louder cheers, warmer somehow. Kylian laughs again, triumphant.
He nods once, satisfied, then straightens as someone calls his name again, louder, insistent. Teammates. Officials. The trophy waiting.
He looks at you, regretful.
You squeeze his fingers and give him a sheepish smile. “Go.”
He hesitates just a second too long for a man who lives in motion. Then he leans in, his forehead nearly touching yours.
Plot: A stretch of distance wears at you more than you admit, until the moment he returns and everything unspoken finds its way back into your hands, your breath, and the quiet between you two.
Genre: Fluff, romantic smut
Warnings: It’s smut.... What warnings should I give?
You sat curled up on the bed, phone squeezed in your palm like it was the only thing holding you together. Kylian had left barely a day ago, but the apartment already felt wrong — too quiet, too cold, like it noticed he was gone just as much as you did.
When his name lit up your screen, your heart jumped.
“No, no.. It’s his turn!” he said on the line and you heard someone talking back.
“I just played the reverse card!” He raised his voice, and you smiled. It felt good hearing his voice.
“Naaaah, you have to pay more attention, bro. Tsk.” He laughed. “Wesh wesh (slang for: What the fuck)—You wanna play UNO, you gotta play it right!”
“Whatever man.” He was laughing, pacing the way he always did when he talked to you. “Allô?”
“Hi.” You greeted.
“Hi, love. How are you?”
“I’m good.” You lied.
“Yeah?” he asked mid-laugh. “Missing me?” He teased.
And you…
Something in his happy tone — the one you loved — made the distance hit you like a weight on your chest. You pressed a hand to your lips, trying to keep quiet, but your breath stuttered.
“Y/n?” His voice dropped an octave, soft but worried. “All good?”
You didn’t answer. Your throat closed, the tears finally slipping over.
“.....Y/n?”
You were breaking.
You tried.
You really tried.
But your voice cracked. “…Yeah........”
He stopped immediately. You could hear it — the stillness, the way everything in him froze.
“Yo... Where are you going? It’s your turn.”
A distant voice said through the line.
“Yeah.. Play on.” He said. You heard the ruffle of leather. And you knew he was moving to a quieter, more private place.
“Don’t be a spoilsport!” Another said.
“I’m stepping out.” He exclaimed. “Go on without me.”
His steps seemed rushed. “What is it? Did someone bother you?”
“No.” You mutter.
“What is it, sweetie. Tell me.” He asked in a quiet, calm tone.
You kept quiet for a while.
“Y\N?”
Then he heard it — the smallest, broken sniff.
“…Tssk.” A sharp little click of frustration left him. “No. No, no, no. Don’t do that. Baby…” His voice cracked just a little. “Why are you crying?”
You covered your mouth, embarrassed. “I—I’m sorry. I just… I miss you so much.”
A long breath came through the line — shaky, like he was fighting himself.
“Y/n…” he murmured, and your name sounded like it hurt him to say. “Ma chérie… Don’t do this to me right now.. Please. Please, please. please don’t cry.”
Your heart clenched.
“I know I shouldn’t cry,” you whispered.
“Oh, love” he hissed again, breath trembling. “You think I don’t miss you? You think it’s not killing me that you’re crying and I’m stuck here?”
You could picture him perfectly — jaw clenched, head tilted back, eyes closed like he was trying not to lose it.
“Just, please don’t cry.” he continued softly, “I can’t do anything while I’m here and you’re there.”
His voice thickened. “You… you don’t know how much I want to be home right now. To hold you. To kiss you. To feel you..”
You stayed quiet, listening to his voice.
“Oh, what I would give to feel your skin on my skin right now.” his soft moan escaped his lips, voice breaking. “Do you know what it does to me hearing you like that? I can’t handle it.”
A beat.
Your breath shook.
“I just miss you.”
He exhaled sharply through his teeth. That helpless, frustrated sound he only made when something genuinely hurt him. “I can’t even sleep without you stealing all the covers. I think my body’s confused.”
You laughed wetly.
“Aaah,..” he said warmly. “There it is. My favorite sound.”
You sniffed again. “Just promise you’ll come home as fast as you can.”
“Faster,” he said. “I’ll come home running if I have to.”
“Really?”
“Try me.” He chuckled, then softened. “I love you, Y/n. More than a win, more than anything. So please… no more crying, okay? Just... Two more days, okay?”
And somehow, even from miles away, you felt him closer.
“Okay..” You wiped your hot tears.
The laughter of his friends fading behind him. Your breathing has steadied now—no more trembling, no more sharp hiccups between words. Just the soft, fragile quiet that comes after tears.
“Do you want me to stay on the line till you fall asleep?”
“Aren’t you gonna… play UNO?”
He lets out a slow breath. His voice drops to that tender tone he only ever uses for you.
“UNO can wait,” he said softly, almost like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Tonight I just want to hear you breathe easy again… Stay with you until you fall asleep.”
You’re quiet, maybe unsure, maybe feeling guilty. He heard it in the way you shifted, the soft rustle of your blanket.
“I don’t want to keep you,” you whisperd.
He shakes his head, even though you couldn’t see. His voice lowers, sincere, steady.
“You can be selfish with me. I allow it.”
He walks slowly down the hall, finding a quieter corner, sliding down the wall until he’s sitting with his knees bent.
“Listen,” he murmurs, “I’ll stay. I don’t care if it takes five minutes or an hour. I’ll be right here.”
You sniffled once—but it’s a soft sound now, not broken. “Okay,”
He closes his eyes, letting all the noise of the lobby fade away.
“I’m not going anywhere. Just relax, okay? Breathe. I’m right here with you.”
Your breathing slowed again, steadier now, safer. Warm.
You whisperd, sleepier than before: “Kylian…”
“Hm?”
Your breathing has gone soft again, that fragile calm that comes after a storm. He thinks you’re drifting off when your voice suddenly slips through—quiet, a little drowsy, almost childlike.
“...Can you bring me rabitos when you come back?”
For a moment he just blinks, caught off guard. Then a warm, helpless laugh escapes him—low, breathy, the kind that comes from pure affection. He runs a hand on the top of his head, smiling to himself like you’re the most precious thing in the world.
“Sure.” he said softly, as if savoring the word. He chuckled again, quieter this time, the kind of laugh meant only for you. “I’ll bring you rabitos.”
He feels his chest melt at how sleepy you sound.
Another little hum. Softer. Slower.
He lowered his head, speaking into the quiet like it’s something sacred.
“Go to sleep, sweetheart.”
Your breathing settles into that steady, dream-bound rhythm, and he smiled to himself—alone in the hallway, phone pressed to his ear, listening to the girl he loves fall asleep with a candy on her mind and his name on her comfort.
He smiled, leaning his head back against the wall.
And he stayed there, phone against his ear, listening to your breathing slowly melt into the quiet rhythm of someone finally drifting toward sleep.
The airport doors slid open with a whoosh of cold air, and you stood there, hands twisted together, heart pounding so hard it felt like it echoed in your ribs. People streamed past you — families, businessmen, tourists — but you only looked for one face.
Then you saw him.
Kylian stepped out with the team, iPods in his ears, jacket in his hand, backpack slung over one shoulder. He was half-listening to something Jude was saying, tired but still laughing— Until his eyes found you.
Everything on his face changed in an instant.
The exhaustion melted.
The travel-weariness vanished.
And a slow, uncontrollable grin spread across his lips; bright, boyish, immediate. Like seeing you lit something inside him that he’d been missing for days.
His teammates noticed. They always noticed.
Kylian was already walking faster, steps growing quicker, purposeful, until he suddenly stopped mid-stride.
His grin faded into a soft pout.
Because your eyes were already filling with tears.
He lifted one hand in the air, still walking, and shook his head dramatically.
“Non…” he muttered under his breath, lips forming the word again and again as he gestured at you with both hands like he was scolding a toddler. “No tears. No crying. Non...”
But you couldn’t help it. Seeing him — really seeing him — after missing him so painfully made your chest cave in with relief.
He gave up on pretending to be annoyed. He practically jogged the last few steps, weaving past people with a single-minded purpose.
And then he was in front of you.
Before you could say a word, he slid his arms around your waist and pulled you into him — tight, warm, almost desperate. His face buried instantly in your neck, his breath trembling against your skin.
You clung to him, fingers fisting in the back of his navy blue shirt as if letting go wasn’t an option.
He inhaled deeply, slow, reverent. Pressing his nose into your hair.
“God…” he whispered. “Your smell. I missed this.”
You trembled softly in his arms.
He tightened his hold and murmured, voice low and steady against your ear:
“I’m here.”
Another warm breath.
“I’m here.”
His hand slid up your back, soothing.
“I’m home now. It’s all right.”
Your eyes squeezed shut as he cupped the back of your head, pressing his forehead to yours.
“No more crying,” he whispered, brushing your cheek with his thumb, even though he was secretly just as emotional. “You’re going to make me lose it.”
A tiny smile broke through your tears. “Sorry.”
“Hey,” he muttered, but his grin was soft, affectionate, hopelessly in love. “Come here.”
He kissed the corner of your mouth softly. just enough to calm, to ground, to say everything words couldn’t.
Then he rested his forehead against yours once more.
“Let’s go home,” he said quietly.
The car ride home was quiet in the best way.
Full of breaths you’d held for days.
Full of glances, fingers brushing, little sighs of relief whenever your eyes met.
When you pulled into the parking spot, he didn’t move right away. He just sat there, staring at your intertwined hands like they grounded him.
Then he lifted your hand slowly, pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles, and whispered:
“At last.”
You didn’t need to answer. You both felt it.
As soon as the door shut behind you, Kylian dropped his bag with a thud and stepped in close, arms sliding around your waist, body sinking against yours like gravity was pulling him into you.
His forehead brushed your cheek.
His humming came out low, gentle, almost relieved.
You melted into him, fingers slipping into his curls as he pressed kiss after kiss to your jaw, your cheek, your temple — slow, lingering, like he was memorizing your skin all over again.
“Do you know,” he murmured, nudging his nose against your cheek, “how long I’ve been wanting to hold you like this?”
You whispered back, “How long?”
He gave a soft, breathy laugh. “Since the second I left.”
You pulled back just enough to look at him. His eyes were warm, heavy, a little glassy — like he was letting himself feel everything he’d been pushing down.
“I hate being away from you,” he admitted. “I hate not being able to touch you, hate hearing you cry on the phone, hate knowing I can’t fix it right then and there.”
His jaw flexed. “It kills me.”
You slid your hands to his cheeks. “You’re here now.”
He leaned into your palms instantly. “Yeah,” he whispered. “I’m here.”
Then, with his gleaming eyes he only had for you: „..and I’m gonna fix it”
He wrapped his arms tighter around your waist and picked you up just slightly — enough to make you gasp — carrying you toward the couch.
He sank down with you on his lap, holding you close, chest pressed to yours, arms wrapped securely around your back.
Your face tucked into his neck.
His hand slipped under the back of your shirt, just to feel your skin.
He breathed you in like he was starving.
His fingers curled possessively at your waist.
He kissed your shoulder.
Your neck.
Your hair.
Then, softer than anything:
“I really love you, you know?”
You were curled on his lap, legs draped around him, arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders as if you were afraid he might disappear again.
But Kylian just held you there, one hand stroking your lower back, the other resting warm on your thigh — grounding you both.
„I love you, too.” You whispered and gulped. Heat rising up. „Pull me closer.”
He slid one arm around your waist and pulled you in even tighter, your chests pressed, your breath mingling with his.
He leaned back an inch, eyes soft, teasing. “Is this close enough?”
You shook your head immediately.
His lips twitched.
He sat up, his face close to yours. Breaths mingling. He licked his own lips, while looking at yours.
“Now?” he murmured.
You shook your head again.
He huffed a tiny laugh through his nose — not mocking, just utterly gone for you.
“Not close enough for you, hm?”
Your cheeks warmed. You didn’t answer.
You didn’t need to.
Kylian’s gaze deepened, softened — something melting behind his eyes.
Slowly, he reached down and tugged his shirt off, dropping it on the couch beside him with a soft thud.
And then he took your hand gently — so gently — and placed it flat on his bare chest, right over his pounding heart.
The moment your palm touched him, his breath hitched.
His skin was warm and golden beneath your fingers, muscles shifting as he breathed.
“How about now?” he whispered, leaning in, brushing his lips over yours without actually kissing you. The ghost of contact made your whole body tighten.
You shook your head, barely able to speak.
His breath hit your mouth.
He made a low sound, almost a groan, and pulled you in tighter by the waist.
“Now?” His lips brushed yours again — barely, barely — like he was torturing you and himself at the same time.
You hum softly.
His hand slid slowly down your arm, barely grazing you — the lightest, softest touch, sending shivers racing across your skin.
“Did you miss my touch?”
You inhaled sharply.
Your eyes squeezed shut for a moment like you needed to breathe through the feeling. When you opened them again, they burned.
“Yes,” you whispered.
His fingers traced up your arm — slow but sure — leaving goosebumps in their wake.
You shivered, and he watched it happen like it physically pained him in the best way.
“Like this?” he murmured, brushing his fingertips from your wrist to your shoulder, then back down, eyes locked onto yours.
You nodded, but he shook his head, leaning in until his lips were a breath from yours.
“I want to hear you.” he whispered, voice rough.
You exhaled, shaking. “Yes.”
His hand slid to the back of your neck, warm, steady, guiding you in. „Let me touch you properly, then.”
And then he kissed you.
Soft.
Slow.
It was all the days apart, all the longing, all the held-back wanting crashing at once.
His other hand clutched your waist, pulling you flush against him as his lips moved with yours — deep, hungry, like he couldn’t get enough, like he’d been starving for you.
Your fingers twisted into his curls, tugging, and he let out a low, throaty sound against your mouth that sent heat flooding through you.
He pulled back just an inch — panting, forehead pressed to yours, breath mixing in short, hot bursts.
“God…” he whispered, eyes burning into yours. “I’ve been going insane without you.”
Then he kissed you again — harder this time, full of fire and need and everything he hadn’t said over the phone.
His fingers traced the length of your arm again, slower this time, deliberate and tender, as if he was relearning every inch of you.
His forehead brushed yours.
“Tell me…” he whispered, breath warm against your lips.
“Tell me how much you missed me.”
Your voice was barely a breath. “More than I could handle.”
Kylian kissed the corner of your mouth — slow, lingering, reverent.
“I have to make up for it, don’t I?” he murmured, hand sliding to your waist to pull you even closer — impossibly closer. Guiding you to grind on him.
Your breath was already uneven, but his was worse — sharp, hot, almost shaky — like he was barely holding himself together with you moving on his lap like this.
Your faces were so close your noses brushed.
So close he could feel every tiny hitch of your breathing.
So close he kept flicking his eyes down to your lips, then back up to your eyes, then down again, like he was losing the battle not to kiss you senseless.
“Kylian…” you whispered.
That was it.
That tiny, trembling way you said his name — it snapped something in him.
He groundsled your waist tighter on his bulge.
His eyes darkened, pupils blown wide, and he whispered in a low, breathless voice:
„I love the sound of my name coming from your mouth.”
His forehead pressed to yours, breaths chaotic, lips brushing yours with every inhale.
You barely got time to answer before he kissed you again, deeper this time, his hands gripping your waist like he needed you anchored to him.
The kiss turned urgent, hot, almost frantic. The kind of kiss that had been trapped in countless messages and missed calls and nights apart.
In one swift, breathless motion, he tightened his hold on your thighs.
“Hold on to me,” he murmured against your mouth.
Before you could even process it, he lifted you — strong arms scooping you up effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist on instinct.
He exhaled, voice breaking between kisses as your lips brushed down his jaw „I’m taking you to bed.”
You gasped, hands gripping his shoulders, but he kept kissing you through it, walking blindly toward the bedroom with you in his arms, barely pulling away for air.
He pressed you against the hallway wall for a second, just long enough to kiss you hard, his body pinning yours gently but firmly.
Your breath left you entirely.
“Kylian, I—”
He kissed the word right off your lips, swallowing the sound.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about this. About you. About your mouth… your hands…” You confessed.
His breath hit your cheek as you whispered, “I needed you.”
Your hands cupped his face, pulling him in again, and he kissed you like he’d been without oxygen and you were the first breath he’d taken in days.
„This night will be worth the wait.”
He carried you the rest of the way, steps hurried, controlled but uneven with how badly he wanted you close.
When he reached the bedroom, he laid you down gently — so gently it contrasted the fire in his eyes — but he didn’t let go of you. Not even for a second.
He came down over you, bracing one hand beside your head, the other sliding back to your cheek, thumb brushing your lower lip.
Your breaths tangled.
Your noses brushed.
Your lips hovered just a breath apart.
“Look at me,” he whispered.
You did.
Kylian’s eyes were dark, burning, but soft around the edges — full of need, yes, but also relief, and love, and the ache of missing you.
“How deep do you want it?” he murmured, voice barely there.
Your fingers traced his jaw, and he shivered under your touch.
“Deep,” you whispered, breath shaky. “Slow and deep.”
Something in his expression cracked — a mixture of hunger and tenderness and something deeper.
He lowered his forehead to yours, lips brushing, eyes half-closed.
“Fuck,” he breathed, right before he kissed you again — harder, deeper, more passionate than all the ones before.
The moment his lips met yours again, the world shrank to the heat of his breath and the weight of his body hovering over yours.
Kylian kissed you like he couldn’t pace himself, like every second away from you had been stored up in him and was breaking loose all at once. His hand slid to your waist, fingers spreading, gripping you as if he needed proof you were really beneath him.
Your breath hitched when he deepened the kiss, his mouth moving with a hungry, uneven urgency — not rushed, not careless, but desperate.
He wanted you naked, but it’s not your body that he was thinking of. He wanted to undress every fear that you may have.
He wanted to unravel your doubts, and reassure you that you deserve to be loved right.
He wanted you naked, but it’s the beautiful vulnerability that he seeked.
He pulled back just slightly, panting against your lips.
“Y/n…”
Your name came out rough, like he’d dragged it up from somewhere deep in his chest. „Sit up. Let me undress you.”
He tenderly took each piece off,
Layer by layer.
Sweater.
Jeans.
Bra.
Panties.
Leaving you bare.
Watching you unfold.
Like petals of a flower.
He took off his pants as well.
His boxers.
Clothes piled on the floor.
You touched the hot skin of his chest. And he took your hand to guide it down to his abdomen.
He let out a breath — a shaky, needy one — and leaned into your touch like he’d been craving it more than anything.
Something flickered in his eyes — a soft surrender, a wild wanting.
He lowered himself until his body pressed fully against yours, warm skin molding to yours, his weight grounding you and igniting you all at once.
He slipped inside you, slowly, and held there for a moment. Simply gazing into your eyes. Surveying the depths of your soul as he tested the depths of your body.
His forehead dropped to your cheek as he whispered through a breathless laugh:
“Oh, Y/N,..”
His lips dragged slowly along your jaw. A lingering glide of heat that made your back arch toward him.
He felt it.
He groaned, low and unfiltered, and his hand moved up your side, tracing the shape of you like he was relearning every line he’d missed.
Your heart hammered under his touch.
“I missed you, Kylian…”
He lifted his head so your faces were level — eyes burning, breath fanning across your lips.
You cupped his jaw, pulling him in again.
The kiss he gave you wasn’t gentle.
It was raw, consuming, full of need that had been simmering far too long.
It stole your breath.
It stole his next breath too.
His hand slid to the small of your back, pulling you up into him in one smooth, instinctive motion. Your bodies meeting halfway with a heat that sent shivers racing through both of you.
He grabbed both of your wrists, pinned your hands above your head.
Thrusting deeper.
S l o w e r.
s
l
o
w
e
r
You wanted to touch him, but his grip didn’t loosen up, just like his desire for you.
Your lips broke apart only because he had to breathe, but he stayed so close your noses brushed, your breaths tangled, your lips ghosted.
„Can you moan for me, y/n?”
He nuzzled his nose on the bottom of your neck. „Bless me with the sound of it.” He muttered.
And you moaned.
From the depth of your soul.
His eyes fluttered shut, like the sounds hit somewhere vulnerable.
He lowered his lips to yours again — slower, deeper, more intimate — and murmured against your mouth:
“Oh, how I’ve missed the feeling of you.”
Your eyes teared up again.
Because you love him.
You love his smile, the way he looks at you, the way he holds you, the way he touches and kisses you.
You love his hands, his arms, his lips, his eyes. You love his body.
You love the way he thinks, the way his mind works. You love that he allows himself to be vulnerable with you and shares his deepest thoughts and knows you will not judge him and knows you will still love him.
You love how he loves. He loves life and he loves others. He loves so much. And you feel so lucky; he is in love with you.
He loves you…
And you love him, mind, body, and soul.
You said his name.
And he tasted it on your tongue. Breathed it into your lungs.
Till it mingled with your blood.
He said your name.
He let it escape with his breath onto your lips and into your ear as you felt him thrusting in and out.
You said each other’s names,
In the cold of the night,
You comforted one another, stroked, touched, and kissed.
He thrusted faster then,
„I’m close. Oh, I’m so close.” He said in a low, shaky tone.
You let him feel the ripples from your tongue, erupting so strong, that he had to hold onto the sheets to survive,
for you had a wild fire burning in your hearts, and only celebrating that fire together could save you both.
Your faces were so close your lips brushed every time either of you breathed.
„Kylian..” You managed to say.
„Mmm, amour?” He kissed your jaw.
„I want you to cum inside me.”
He stopped and stared.
He nudged your cheek with his nose again. Slow.
Deliberate.
Possessive.
His breath hit your skin, warm and ragged.
“Don’t,” he murmured, voice low and wrecked. “Don’t tell me things like that.”
It wasn’t a scold.
It was a warning — the kind that vibrated down your spine.
You swallowed. “I mean it—”
He nudged you again, this time dragging the bridge of his nose up your cheekbone, slow enough to make your pulse stutter.
“You don’t..” he whispered, his voice unsteady, heated. “When you say things like that… I lose every bit of control I have left.”
Your breath hitched. “Please…”
His eyes snapped open — dark and burning and way too close.
“Don’t say please like that.”
It came out as a whisper, but sharp, tight, almost dangerous.
You held his gaze. “Please.”
Something inside him broke.
A low, guttural sound left his throat. A sound you’d never heard from him, a mix of hunger and frustration and need. His grip on your wrists tightened for just a second before he let go completely, almost like he was terrified of what he’d do if he kept holding you.
Your arms fell free.
The moment your hands touched his back, sliding over warm skin and muscle— He inhaled sharply through his teeth, his whole body shuddering like your touch hit him too hard, too deep.
Your hands traveled down to his ass, and you urged him to thrust again.
“Y/n…” he breathed, eyes squeezing shut.
“Don’t do that. Not unless you want me to—”
He cut himself off, forehead dropping to your cheek, breath shaking against your skin.
You digged your nails in his skin.
He groaned — an actual groan — low, rough, involuntary.
His hands came to your cheeks, framing your face, his thumbs trembling just slightly as he tilted your head up to his.
He stared at you like you were breaking him apart.
His voice dropped to something sinful, smoky, a whisper right on your lips:
“Say it again.”
You exhaled shakily. “Please.”
His breath stopped.
His forehead pressed to yours so hard it almost hurt, his lips hovering a hair from yours.
“Again,” he murmured, voice unsteady and heavy with desire.
“Say it until I can’t think straight.”
You lifted your hips as a reminder for him to continue.
“Kylian… please”
He made a low sound, chest vibrating against yours, and whispered:
„Fuck..”
You found your salvation under the weight of his naked body moving again, hand gripped yours as he pushed and pulled you from one side of insanity to the other. there’s no prettier shade of pink than his parted lips glistening with your nectar. The only prayer he had was your name on his lips and a desire to love you.
„Keep your eyes on me.” He managed to say between breaths.
He thrusted deeper, but with more strength.
And you felt yourself tightening around him.
The sheets ruffle.
Your moans got louder.
His breathing more frantic.
The frantic collision of flesh, the sweat the heat, the pleasure is beyond human comprehension.
And then he spills it inside you. And he groans.
You felt his heat splashing inside the deepest part of you.
You stayed in the same position
Your orgasm came like a little death,
Writing each other’s eulogies in bed.
He watched you after;
How your breath fell short of your lips. And how you wiped your sweaty forehead, then laughed as your mood instantly changed. He wanted to see it all, feel all of you until his bones weakened with how heavy this heart was when his body is not next to yours.
Kylian was still catching his breath, chest rising and falling against yours. His forehead rested against your shoulder, warm and damp, like even being this close to you was overwhelming.
You ran your fingers gently through the back of his hair.
He inhaled sharply, then let out a low laugh. The kind that sounded wrecked and happy and exhausted all at once.
“Wait…” he murmured, voice still shaky.
“Hold on a second.”
You frowned softly as he pulled away, breathless and smiling like you’d just ruined him in the best way.
“Kylian…?”
He pressed a quick kiss to your jaw.
“Don’t move,” he whispered, still breathless. “I will be right back.”
He slipped off the bed, disappearing into the hallway.
You could still hear his uneven breathing — the little huffs and murmurs under his breath — as he rustled through his bag.
Then he came back in, triumphant, holding a small wrapped box in his hand.
Your brows furrowed.
He grinned, that boyish grin that made your chest ache.
“You told me to bring them,” he said softly. “And I listen to you, remember?”
He climbed back into bed, immediately pulling the blankets over both of you — cocooning you against his warm, tired body. The moment you were covered, he wrapped an arm around your waist and tugged you into him, like he’d been starving for this closeness.
He opened the box with one hand, still breathless, still looking at you like he wasn’t fully recovered from the moment before.
The rabitos glistened softly in the low light.
He picked one up, brought it to your lips, and whispered:
“Ahh.”
You opened your mouth, and he fed half of it to you gently, watching your mouth with that soft, hungry look you knew too well.
He munched the other half. And looked at you for your reaction.
“Bon? (Good?)” he asked.
You nodded slowly.
You swallowed, breath catching.
“Good.” you licked your lip. „Yum.”
He brushed his thumb over your cheek, slow and tender now, the intensity replaced by quiet warmth.
“Yum indeed,” he whispered, voice low and velvety, and pecked your lips.
He fed you another piece, his hand steadying your jaw, his breath mixing with yours under the warm cocoon of the blanket.
And with the rabitos between you, the blanket wrapped around you both, and his heartbeat pressed against your chest, he pulled you closer — like he was finally, finally home.
summary: you woke up thirsty at 3 am and found something that would fill thats thirst.
warning: smut smut smut, pussy eating, p in v, breeding kink, fluff at the end.
a/n: first time posting a fic, let me know what you think in the comment! posting this while I finish the slow burn anout kylian again! Hope you enjoy!
english is NOT my first language so excuse any spelling error or whatever. enjoy!
Minors DNI / Minors DNI
You woke up at 3am, thirsty, the heat making you wear only a tank top with panties. You walked downstairs, you walked over the sink, bending over slightly, you gasped as you felt hands on your hips.
"thirsty..?"
he said, growling, you knew it was kylian, your brother’s best friend. he bent over slightly aswell, whispering against your ear.
"jpeux t’aider.. mh?" (I can help you.. mh?)
you bent back, your back hitting his, you felt his fingers digging into your flesh.
"I didnt knew you were there.. Micky didnt said anything.."
You said as a shaky breath. you felt him smiling against your ear.
"yeah.. last minute plans.. happy I woke up at 3am too.. what are you wearing seriously.."
he said mockingly, his thumb slide under the waistband of your panties to the side, teasing softly.
"its hot.. I didnt knew you were there"
"you already said that. wont you be nervous hein"
he said chuckling as his lips went to your neck, his hand sliding up to slide your hair to the opposite side of your neck, It made you shiver, your back arched, your hips hitting his. He groaned darkly.
"putain.. fais gaffe Y/N.." (fuck.. be careful Y/N.."
your eyes shut, his mouth kissed the back of your neck, his hand going to your stomach, holding you in place.
"k-kylian.."
"quoi?"
he said almost instantly, he stopped leaning back.
"my brother s upstairs"
you said weakly, he laughed and went back at teasing your neck with his mouth.
"is it really all thats alarming your right now baby..?"
he said, the hand on your hips sliding to between your thighs, feeling the wetness peeking trough you lacy panties.
"fuck.."
you moaned, opening your thighs a bit
"your so wet already.."
he said, his fingers teased you trough your panties, his mouth slid to your shoulder, teasing. you moaned, he pressed his fingers against you more harder, you felt his cock on your lower back, you could feel how hard it was, begging to get freed, it felt warm against your back, you leaned against it. Kylian felt it, he grinded against you, benting you over slightly so he could grind against your cheeks. his hand finally slide under you panties to carress your pussy properly.
"fuck.. you have no idea what you do to me.."
he said against your shoulder, you moaned as an answer, your knees getting weak, he felt it, obviously he did. he picked you up easily, turning you around and placed you on the counter, you finally saw his face, jaw tight and eyes dark. He was only wearing low grey joggers, you could tell he had no boxers. He tilted your chin up, not for you to look at him but to have access to your neck, his lips overed over your pulse point.
"Y/N tell me you want it."
his hands went to your knees, opening them so he could be closer to you. you moaned, your hands going to his neck needingly. holding into him like you were scared he might just leave.
"please kylian.. do it.. sil te plaît"
you said, almost begging, you felt his breath getting heavier as you even asked in french, his control snapping.
"fuck.. good girl."
he said as he knelt before you, before your pussy, he leaned in and gave a lick to your still clothed pussy, as he felt your fingers goinf to his curls he slide it down, letting hang at one of your ankle, his hands went to your thighs, holding tightly, his thumb opening your folds at the same time.
He licked a long stripe, testing you.
"delicieuse.." (delicious..)
he said as he kissed you before licking you doing 8 shapes. he felt his cock getting harder, like it was going to explose but he was too focused on getting you pleased, too focused on the weak moans you let out while he was eating you out.
"fuck kylian I—"
as he heard you he went faster, his hand let go your thigh to slide a finger inside you, his moith now focusing on your clit. your eyes rolled back and you bite your lips to surpress your loud moans. Your walls went tighter around his single fingers. he slide in a second one, pumping in and out. you felt your orgasm build and he felt too. of course he did.
"putain.. vasy.. come on my toungue baby.."
he grunted against your core. you came on his toungue, he continued, licking every drop off, he leaned back and slide his fingers off, he licked them, looking at your eyes. you were panting, cheeks flushed and moith half opened to breath.
"so pretty for me.."
he said as he leaned into your lips, letting you taste yourself on his toungue. you moaned against his lips, he slid his toungue inside your mouth, your eyes were shut but you felt him smirking. he leaned back, you leaned in to let the kiss last longer but he was too far away.
"regarde toi.. comme ca juste a cause de ma bouche et deux doigts.." (look at you.. like that just because of my mouth and two fingers)
he said mocking you lightly, you bite your lips. You understood french thanks to your brother, michael. so you understood every single dirty things he said and he knew it.
"ferme la.." (shut it)
you said, with your thick english accent. he caressed your bottom lip.
"what a naughty girl.. using my language to insult me.."
he said as he leaned and licked your collarbone, following the bone.
"might need a punishment mh..?"
he said as he took a step closer, you felt his cock against your nude core, you let a soight wet stain against his joggers. your hand went to the waistband of his jogger. he leaned back just enough to look up at you.
"need something? cmon, use your words.. I know you can do it."
he said, caressing your jaw softly
"your dick. kylian fuck, I need it."
he grinned and freed his cock, you looked down at it, it was thick, trough the dim light of the moon you could see the veins, you bite your lips and looked up at his eyes. the vision of you looking at him with your swollen lips between your teeth made his dick throb even more.
"where the fuck are condoms in that house.."
you grabbed his shoulder and grabbed his dick, placing at your entrance.
"no need.. the only thing I need is you in me."
you managed to say as a shaky breath. he looked up at you, hoping for that answer. he kissed your collarbone roughly
"you sure?"
he said teasing your clit with the tip of his dick
"please.."
and that was enough, he thrusted into you, deeply, he stilled, letting you adapt to him. Your mouth went to his shoulder, teeth going deep into his skin, surpress your cries.
"so fucking tight.. so fucking perfect. tell me when I can move baby"
he said softly and with care, in contrast to his dick stretching you wide, letting your juice drip down.
"look at me Y/N. let me see your pretty face."
you leaned back, making his dick move inside you, you hissed and looked up at his eyes, pleading and needing.
"there you are."
you rolled your hipds against his dick and he knew it was the moment to move. he started to move, your nails digged deeply into his shoulders, you whined.
"cmon.. you can take it"
he said, starting to thrust, keeping eye contact. your eyes filled with tears and his thumb went to wipe them softly he kissed where he wiped the tears, he thrusted faster, deeper, making your toe curls.
"fuck.. Y/N I think Im gonna.. come."
he said his eyes closing briefly, you let out a shaky breath
"me too.."
he grinned and slammed deeply in you, letting his hot thick orgasm fill you, you rolled your eyes and came on him aswell, he thrusted trough your orgasm slowly, rolling his hips.
"youve been such a good girl for my cock.."
he said against your lips, he pulled back and kissed you, your legs were shaking and you fell into his shoulders, he chuckled and held you softly, pulling his jogger back up, he picked up your pantie and put it in his pocket, he picked you up and walked you upstairs.
"be quiet for me okay..?"
he said pressing a kiss to your temple, he entered your room quietly and let you down on your bed, he pressed a kiss to your forehead and turned around, you tugged at his joggers..
"stay.."
he turned around and his eyes softened. he layed down next to you, you put your head on his chest listening to his heartbeat, your kegs thrown over his, his hand found the back of your head and massaged it softly. he pressed another kiss to your forehead.
"your brother is going to kill me.."
"let him. I dont think Ill walk anyway tomorrow."
he chuckled and ruffled your hair
"sleep now."
his hand went to massage your shaky thigh that was over his legs. your breath slowed down, head going deeper into his chest. you fell asleep and so did he.
Warning : smut, minors DNI, 18+ only
Note : may contain spelling and translating mistakes
Please tell me I'll be able to take that dress off you later on tonight
Your breath hitched as you discreetly read the text you had just received. You sighed and it took everything in you not to search for your boyfriend's eyes in the crowded place.
Kylian and you had been dating for a little over nine months, and it was the first time you found yourselves in the same room at a public event. You had somewhat managed to keep your relationship a secret and you very much wanted to keep it that way. Tonight was risqué. And exhilarating.
Being a young actress still, you were just starting to get used to those award shows. Tonight was the most important one of your career so far as the film you played a supporting role in was nominated for best motion picture. Not only did you know just how hard everyone had worked on this film and hoped it would be rewarded ; but this could also change the entire course of your career, and your life.
Kylian had made it very clear the second he learned about that nomination that he would find a way to be there. He knew you wanted to keep the relationship private, you had been very adamant about that, and he respected that. But being there to support you tonight, even if only from afar, was something that couldn't be negotiated with. And being who he was, it probably just took a 20 seconds phone call to get an invitation.
And so there you were, your skin tingling from feeling his eyes on you as you sat next to your fellow actors, actresses and technicians. You had paid special attention to your outfit, working with the designer in charge of the whole team to find exactly the one outfit that you knew would make it hard for Kylian to keep his distance all night. And it seemed to be working.
Unfortunately not, I have to give it back the second the ceremony ends, it costs a fortune.
You pressed ‘send’ and couldn't resist throwing him what you hoped to be a discreet glance to see his reaction. His brows furrowed slightly but he didn't look up and instead quickly typed his response.
I'll write them a check.
You let out a little laugh at his reply, that was so typical Kylian. Money was obviously not an issue for him and when it came to you, he seemed to be willing to be spending it left, right and centre. It had been a cause for a few of your arguments.
No, you won't. I think you'll like my after-party dress even more anyways, and that one I bought. Just for you.
And you're not ready for what I'll be wearing under either.
Kylian's head shot up as he read your text, and for a second, your eyes met. His were a bit wider than usual and the intensity of his gaze had a blush creeping up your chest and into your cheeks in an instant. That single glance felt like it somewhat sealed a promise for the night to come.
The ceremony started and the room was filled with laughters and applause each time a prize was announced. You chatted away with your costars, catching up with them as you hadn't seen each other in weeks.
The evening went smoothly and way too quickly and before you knew it, it was time for the last award, the best motion picture. Your mouth went dry and you felt your palms getting a little sweaty as the presenter started his speech, naming every nominee before opening up the envelope.
The room erupted in cheers as your mind went blank. You had won ; the movie had won. The whole crew got up and started hugging each other as you stood there, doing the same, trying to register what was happening. You felt tears pool up at your lash line but tried to compose yourself as everyone started walking up to the stage to accept the award. You suddenly realised that you had to walk past Kylian to get there and decided to walk down that side of the aisle, hoping to maybe just be able to subtly brush your hand against his, and have him ground you in the moment, the way he always did.
You quickly looked up to see him standing and clapping, the proudest of smiles on his face and that sight made your heart swell in your chest. You were now fast approaching him and in a bold move that he knew would probably get him into trouble with you later, he lowered his hands to his side, and softly grabbed yours as you walked by, squeezing it two times before letting go.
That gesture went completely unnoticed by everyone else around you but it made your heart beat so fast and so hard you were sure it was going to jump out of your chest.
You stood smiling at the back of the stage as the director and main actors delivered their acceptance speeches, emotion evident in their tone as they thanked the whole team.
The rest of the evening felt like a whirlwind : a few very quick interviews here and there and before you knew it, you were pulled back by your agent to the suite where you were supposed to get out of your ceremonie dress, hand it back over, and then change into your after party outfit.
During the second of privacy you had in that room, right as you were about to slip into your second dress of the night, you decided to snap a shot of your reflection in the mirror, in your lingerie and heels, makeup and hair still done.
Just a sneak peek xx
Kylian felt like he was about to explode. Everything about this night felt so frustrating to him. First of all, seeing you looking so sinfully good for a whole three hours, without being allowed to touch you, kiss you, or even hold your hand felt like torture.
Then seeing you win and walk up that stage took that to a whole new level. He wanted to scream out how proud of you he was, wanted the whole world to know about it, to know you were his. But there again, he could not.
And now you were teasing him with a picture of you, standing in a set of lingerie, pretty sure he'd never seen you in anything that sexy before. To think he'd have to endure yet another hour or so of admiring you from afar, knowing full well what you were wearing under your dress as you'd socialize with complete strangers... He was pretty sure he didn't have the strength for that ; and quite frankly, he was also starting to lose willpower.
Fuck, baby...
We're only staying 30 minutes, not one minute longer.
He took a sip of water and a deep breath before walking into that after party. People immediately came from right and left to shake his hand, say hello, have a chat. It was pretty nice and he usually enjoyed those moments, but tonight, there was only one thing he could focus on, only one thing he wanted.
It felt to him as if the energy of the room shifted the second you walked in, catching his eyes for a brief moment before turning your head to the side and saying hello to someone he didn't know. You were right, he thought, that dress was even better than the first one, it looked flowy but hugged your body perfectly at the same time, the material seemed to hang only by two very thin straps on each of your shoulders. His mouth went dry.
But then you turned around and all the air left his body with one swift swoop of your hair to the side. It was a backless dress. The two straps went all the way down to just above your ass where the same flowy material covered you while highlighting the perfect curve. He could see the dimples just above it from where he stood ; the ones he loved so much ; the ones he so often traced with his tongue during intimate moments.
He felt the blood rush from his face straight to his groin, and he had half a mind to come up to you, suddenly not caring so much whether you had forbidden it or not. You were clearly on a mission to tease him ; and teased he was. You knew you were playing a dangerous game but he was certain you didn't know just how dangerous.
He took his phone out of his pocket as he started plotting his revenge, all the things he'd do to you in just a minute.
I will ruin you, you have no idea what you've just done xx
You didn't have the time to respond before he sent the second text.
It's 20 minutes now, not 30 anymore. Not up for debate.
And you knew just then that you had him exactly where you wanted him. Dominant, in control, and unstoppable.
Ok, but we can't leave together though
You'll leave first and go straight up to your room, I'll be up a minute after. Don't take anything off, not your shoes, not your earrings, nothing. I'll take care of that. You just wait for me, patiently.
You could feel the thrill of the situation coursing through your veins as you read his texts. He was clearly gone and you knew you were in for a memorable night. Not that there was ever a dull one with Kylian.
Your pulse started to quicken with each passing minute and before you knew it, you found yourself trying to breathe calmly in the elevator as it made its way up toward the suite that was yours for the night. You unlocked the door and then closed it behind you, walking to the corner of the room to light up a small lamp, to make the atmosphere a little bit more intimate.
You didn't have the time to do anything else before you heard a small knock at the door. You went to open it, bracing yourself for what was to come. In an instant, Kylian was in the room, immediately closing the door behind him before placing both hands on your hips and pushing you against the door.
"Godamnit, Y/N," he growled before crashing his lips onto yours.
His whole body was flushed against yours and you could feel all of him. His hard chest against your own, pressing against your breasts ; his knees subtly pushing against the inside of your thighs, somehow forcing your legs a little more apart ; and his bulge, pressing into your hips, almost painfully so.
"You're in so much trouble, baby," he informed you, his teeth closing in on your bottom lip and tugging slightly.
"Why, what have I done ?" you managed to breathe out ; "aren't you proud of me tonight ?" you innocently added.
He turned you around in one swift movement, pushing your front to the door and slapping your ass once before putting his lips at your ear.
"Oh don't give me that, you know exactly what you've done and I'll make you apologize for it."
He detached himself from you and with one finger and a featherlight touch, he traced down from the base of your neck down your spine and stopped when he reached the fabric of the dress, making you shiver.
"I'm super proud of you, and I'll tell you all about it once I'm done with you. Count a few hours, angel,"
You moaned at his words, his tone a little lower than usual, his voice thick with desire.
"In the meantime, you're going to be a very good girl for me, yes ? Do as you're told ?"
"Yes," you answered without even thinking. You were craving this at least as much as he was. You wanted that : him to take complete control, to let out his frustration on you, however he wished to.
"Good," he turned you back around and kissed you once more, whispering a single "I love you," before getting back into character and breaking away from you completely.
That was his thing : no matter how intense it would sometimes get in the bedroom, he always had to remind you every now and again that it all was just pure love for you. And each time, that single sentence had you moaning into him, making you even more willing to give him everything he wanted.
He left you there, breathlessly leaning against the door as he slowly made his way into the room, undoing his tie and grabbing an armchair from a corner. He placed it in the middle of the room, and sat down before looking back up at you.
"Come here," he instructed as he leaned back, legs apart.
He had opened the first few buttons of his shirt and he had never looked so good to you. You tried to maintain your composure as you slowly made your way over to him in your heels. You stood in between his legs, waiting for his next move, your lips parted in anticipation.
His hands came to rest on the back of your knees, his touch light as he tantalizingly started trailing them up your legs, reaching under your dress and then grabbing both your asscheeks and giving them a firm squeeze.
Your chest was heaving up and down as you felt your skin burning in the wake of his touch. You could tell now he was going to take his sweet time with you and you didn’t know if you could handle it after all.
“Please,” the single plea left your lips and a small smile appeared at the corner of his lips.
He trailed his fingers up your waist, his eyes locked on your as he found the small zipper of your dress on your left hip. He slowly slid it down and his eyes turned a shade darker as the material pooled at your feet, leaving you in the lingerie you had carefully chosen for the occasion.
It was a black bodysuit, backless, as you wanted it to be invisible under your dress. The front part was rigid and pushed your chest up, making them look as full as they could be. Kylian felt his mouth water at the sight in front of him. His mind was racing fast as he thought about his next move, wanting to savor you in this for as long as he could, he leaned back once more, admiring you for a second.
“Come on, baby, straddle me,” he told you, bringing his own legs together to make it easier for you. The chair was large enough to fit both of you and you took the hand he offered to place one knee on each side of his thighs. You could now feel the heat of his body under yours and smell the remaining of his cologne on his shirt. You wanted nothing more than to run your tongue over the little part of his chest he had exposed. Before you could do anything of that sort though, he fisted one of his hands into your hair and crashed his lips onto yours. His tongue almost immediately entered your mouth and he claimed you completely with just one kiss.
Pushing your body into his, you tried to reciprocate as best as you could, but he was clearly in charge of the kiss and all you could really do was let him subdue you like that.
The heat was becoming nearly unbearable and your panties were pretty much completely soaked by then. You tried to lower yourself down on him, to try and find a contact, initiate a friction that would relieve you a little, but he kept you still by your hair, not letting any control slip away.
You were completely out of breath and insanely horny when he finally pulled away. You were trying to compose yourself a little when you saw the most devilish smile light up his face, making you part your lips instantly.
“Arms behind your back, angel,” he demanded, relishing in the way your eyes shot open just a little bit wider as your legs clenched around his own. “I’m going to drive you crazy, and with what I have in mind, I don’t think you’ll be able to behave yourself, so I’m not taking any risk,” he explained, a fire dancing in his pupils.
You obeyed, your eyes following his every move as he slid his tie behind your back. But instead of tying both your wrists at the small of your back, he slid the tie a little higher up and fastened it just above your elbows. It forced you to arch your back and push your breasts in his face, and it was just uncomfortable enough to make you even hornier, if that was possible.
He then proceeded to slowly push his legs open again, forcing yours to follow on each side of his. With your arms bound behind your back like that, and your legs spread open as far as they could go, you were completely helpless and unable to move, forced to rely fully on him.
“Are you wet already, baby ?” he asked you as he reached his hand in between your legs and started unbuttoning your body. You instinctively pushed your pelvis against his hand, craving his touch there more than anything.
“You already know the answer to that,” you bravely replied and his fingers froze there for a second.
“I do, but I want you to tell me.” His voice was low and commanding, reminding you once more that he was in charge, and that when he asked a question, he wanted an answer.
“I’m so wet, Kylian, please, I need you,” you let out shakily as he uncovered your sex, the warm air of the room doing nothing to soothe your arousal.
You started moaning instantly as he trailed a single digit up and down your folds, collecting some of your arousal on the tip of his index before bringing it up to your lips for you to suck.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” he said, his gaze locked on your face as you sucked on his finger, “I’m going to tease and bring you to the edge over and over again, until you’re dripping down on me. I want to see a stain on my pants.”
You parted your lips in disbelief and his finger slipped out. The look in his eyes was enough to answer your unspoken question. He was serious. And there was nothing you could do about it, not when he had you tied up and unable to move like that. The erection that was so clearly pushing against the zipper of his pants was completely out of reach, meaning you couldn’t even try to persuade him not make this torture last as long he intended to.
“No, please, baby,” you started pleading as his hand found your aching core once more.
And so it started, his skilled fingers working at your pussy with a clear goal in mind. He knew you better than you probably even knew yourself ; he knew when to rub, circle or just brush your clit to make you moan and writhe under his touch. Then when he judged that your tiny bundle of nerves was getting a little too sensitive, he moved his fingers to your entrance, and circled it once or twice before plunging two fingers in, curling them just right, making you chant his name.
You knew you were in deep trouble when he came back to your clit once more. Your skin was on fire and your orgasm was fast approaching ; you were pretty sure even a featherlight touch would push you over the edge at this point. He pushed his thumb against it this time and you gasped, your head falling back. He was observing you closely, he knew your body by heart and he knew you were dangerously close to cuming ; but he didn’t want you to just yet. He wanted to see you break and surrender to him ; handing over your pleasure to his will. He had noticed your arousal starting to drip down the inside of your thighs and there was no way he wasn’t going through with his initial idea.
“You’re almost there baby,” he murmured, encouraging ; “I need you to hold it in for me.”
You whined and felt your body start to fight against your restraints, trying to free yourself so that you could just take matters into your own hands and give yourself what you so desperately needed. You felt Kylians free hand grab your hair at the back of your head and force it back up.
“Look at me, baby,” he instructed ; “I know you can hold it, you’ve done it before,” he reminded you.
He was referring to another wild night during which he had made it his mission to teach you to try and control your own orgasms. He had claimed it was because he wanted to go at it all night long and didn’t want you to get too overstimulated ; but you were pretty sure he just wanted to see you fight against your own pleasure, just because he had asked you to.
The memory of that delicious night did nothing to calm you down as Kylian started moving his thumb in tight, small circles over your clit again.
“N-no, I can’t, Kylian, I’m gonn-”
“Come on, focus for me please, you’re almost there. I swear in a second you’ll be dripping down onto my pants and I’ll give you what you need and more. Just hold it a little longer for me, please.”
And you couldn’t say no to this man, not when he was looking at you like that, his chocolate eyes burning into yours with an intensity that took your breath away. So you tried, tried to focus on his gaze instead of his finger, tried to contract your lower stomach to gain a semblance of control over your own body. It was torture, every muscle in your body was contracted in an attempt to undo everything he was doing with his fingers flicking your clit.
A small smile appeared on his face as he observed you closely. You were being so good for him, doing exactly as you were told even though it was the exact opposite of what you wanted. He was so hard inside his own pants he was sure he was eventually going to rip through the material.
Then he looked down to where your body hovered over his thighs and he saw it, the little string of arousal that had finally reached him. He had kept his promise and now he would have the absolute pleasure of ripping the most intense orgasm out of you.
He brought both his hands to your face and pulled you in for a messy kiss, his teeth closing onto your lips and pulling a few times before pulling away. He trailed his hand slowly down your body, making sure you were following his move before caressing your pussy once more, and then collecting the glistening drop of your juice on his pants.
You gasped and he smirked up at you ; you knew what it meant and you almost came on the spot.
“Are you ready ?”, he cockily asked.
He didn’t give you an opportunity to reply before plunging two fingers past your folds, curling them right up, brushing against the very spot he knew had you seeing stars. The fingers of his other hand found your clit at the same time and started toying with it messily, making it impossible for you to anticipate his next move.
You arched you back and let out a loud whine, taken over by the sensations but unable to focus on any of them specifically. You wanted to grind against his hand but your thighs were kept too far apart to allow that.
“Fuck, baby,” you moaned out.
“That’s it, love, you’ve been so good for me. Let go now,” he encouraged, his movements getting faster.
“I c-can’t, I, too much,” you mumbled incoherently as the knot in the pit of your stomach tightened dangerously.
“Now,” he softly ordered, letting you know just like that that he was still very much in control of your pleasure.
Your orgasm hit you like a tsunami wave. Your abused pussy started clenching around his fingers and he didn’t let up for one second, determined to drag it out as long as he could.
You were seeing stars, your head fell back and your back arched as you lost complete control of it all. The waves of pure pleasure kept coming in and you were a slave to them, unable and unwilling to stop them. They shattered you and took everything you had left after what felt like hours of unrelenting teasing from your boyfriend.
Kylian didn’t let up, once again knowing your body well enough to know you weren’t quite done yet. He started thrusting his fingers in and out, your arousal now dripping down his fingers and into his palm. He lessened the pressure of his thumb against your clit, knowing you were soon going to become too sensitive for that part. Your body spasmed at the same rhythm your walls pulsed around his fingers. His own desire was starting to get to his head and he even considered for a minute freeing his erection and pushing right into you to feel you squeeze him like that.
“Oh my god,” you finally let out in a breath, your eyes still tightly shut.
Kylian finally pulled his fingers out and it probably took you a whole minute to regain your ability to do anything. He put his arms around you and quickly undid the tie that was holding your arms together, before pulling your body into him.
“You okay?” he murmured against your ear, his hand brushing up and down your back in an attempt to soothe you down.
“Gosh, yes,” you replied, your face in the crook of his neck. “I don’t think I’ve ever had an orgasm that intense before,” you confessed as you wrapped your arms around his neck.
He smiled against your skin. There was nothing he loved more than pleasuring you, pushing your limits only to show you just how much more he could give you afterwards.
“That was intense,” he confirmed as his hands dropped to your ass to give it a little squeeze.
It suddenly occurred to you that he was still fully closed and you pulled away from his chest for a second to look at the bulge in his pants. You cocked an eyebrow at him before bringing your fingers to the zipper, a lazy smile pulling at your lips.
He gasped as you freed him and gently wrapped one hand around his rock hard cock. “I need you so bad,” he breathed out before lifting you up into his arms and walking you to the bed, confirming what you already knew : sleep was not on the agenda for that night.
A/N ~ ME POSTING?!?? Since whennnnn? (I got smut coming soon, just wasn’t in the mood at the time when I wrote this.)
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The Miami sun had long dipped below the skyline, casting the city in a golden glow that bled into dusk. The hotel room smelled faintly of his cologne and your coconut body lotion. Warm, lived-in. Comfortable.
Kylian lay on the bed, half dressed — dark slacks hugging his hips, shirt unbuttoned halfway as he leaned back on one arm, the other tucked behind his head. The TV played some muted sports channel, but he wasn’t watching it. His eyes were on you.
You stood by the mirror, lip gloss in one hand, brows pinched as you leaned in to check your eyeliner.
“You’ve been getting ready for an hour,” he said, teasing, voice low and smooth like honey. “You sure we’re not going to a photoshoot instead of dinner?”
You shot him a glare through the mirror. “You’re one to talk, Mr. Fashion Week. I’ve seen the way you treat a mirror.”
He chuckled, head tilting slightly. “Difference is, I don’t need an hour.”
You turned, holding your gloss like a weapon. “Want to say that again?”
He raised his hands in surrender, still grinning. “Nah, I like living. And I like you in a good mood.”
You smiled despite yourself, moving back toward the closet. “What shoes should I wear?” you asked, slipping on a pair of strappy heels, then switching to something a little more comfortable. “Be honest. Not footballer-honest, real honest.”
Kylian sat up, eyes raking over your legs as you walked. “The first ones,” he said without missing a beat. “But I’ll carry you if they start hurting.”
You looked at him, really looked — the way his shirt clung to his chest, the softness in his eyes, the calm in his smile.
“I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever,” you said gently, letting your arms drape over his shoulders as you stood in front of him.
“You haven’t.” He wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin against your stomach. “Between training, press, and whatever else the club throws at me…” He sighed. “This is the first time I’ve had a night off in weeks.”
You traced your fingers along the back of his neck. “And you chose me.”
“Obviously.” He looked up at you, expression suddenly sincere. “I always choose you, mon cœur.”
Your heart did that dumb little flip it always did when he said things like that. It didn’t matter how many stadiums he played in, how many trophies he lifted. With you, he was just… Kylian. Yours.
“You’re gonna ruin my makeup,” you murmured as he pressed a kiss to your stomach.
“You’ll still be the prettiest girl in the room.”
You pulled away, laughing, “Stop talking like that unless you want me to stay here all night.”
He stood, towering slightly as he kissed your forehead. “Come on. I made a reservation. We’re not missing it.”
—
The restaurant was tucked away near the beach — all warm lighting, flickering candles, and quiet music. Nobody bothered him here. The staff was discreet. He ordered for both of you, like he always did, somehow knowing exactly what you wanted.
You sat across from each other in a cozy booth, fingers brushing under the table.
“It’s weird,” you said, playing with the rim of your water glass. “Being in Miami while you’re working. It’s like… it’s a vacation but it’s not.”
Kylian nodded, chewing slowly before responding. “I get that. The sun’s out, the city’s buzzing, but I’m still waking up at 6 a.m. for training.”
You smiled. “But you got tonight.”
“I got you tonight.”
You pretended to groan. “You’re getting sappy.”
“Maybe.” He leaned forward slightly, voice soft. “You know I think about you all the time, right? Like, even on the pitch. Sometimes I score and I’m like, damn… wish she saw that live.”
“I did see it,” you reminded him. “In the hotel lounge, surrounded by like fifteen old men yelling at the screen.”
He laughed, and it lit up the whole booth. “Not the same. I want you in the stands. Or better — pitchside. Wearing my jersey.”
You raised a brow. “I’m not wearing that tight little kit. I’ve seen your shorts.”
He bit back a smile, eyes gleaming. “Fair. Just wear my name. That’s enough.”
The night melted around you — laughter spilling into dessert, wine refills, and the kind of quiet only shared between people who know each other too well. At one point, he reached across the table, took your hand, and just held it.
No cameras. No fans. No club. Just you and him. Kylian and his girl, in a city that didn’t know your names. And for once, that was exactly how he liked it.
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A/N ~ when I say this took me a week to write…I’m not kidding…
