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vivwritesfics · 7 days ago

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Sugar, Sugar

Max accidentally becomes your sugar daddy. He doesn't mean to, you don't mean for him to. It just sort of happens.

Warnings: 18+, smut, creampie, sugar baby x sugar daddy dynamics (accidentally), oral

The Bag

He tightened his grip on you, fingers bruising your hips as he came inside of you. "Fuck," he choked out, slumping forward. His body rested over you as you tried to stop yourself from collapsing.

But Max wrapped his arms around you, holding you up. "You okay?" He asked, still trying to catch his breath.

When you nodded, he slipped out of you. "Yeah," you managed, settling yourself against the cushions. "Yeah, I'm okay." You needed to get into his shower, needed to clean yourself up.

As Max stood from the bed, he looked at you. You were obviously tired, worn out. Sweat clung to your skin and your hair was a mussed up mess.

He loved having you like this. He loved having you on his bed, worn out because of him. "I'll get the shower running," he mumbled and disappeared into the ensuite bathroom.

It was casual sex, nothing more. Neither of you were in the position for anything more than carnal desires.

But he had something for you. A present, something he had found just for you. All because you sent him a text, complaining about how your trusty work bag had broken.

He started the shower, held his hand under the steady stream of water as he waited for it to heat up. When it did, he called you into the bathroom.

You kissed his cheek as you walked past him. When you weren't having sex, it never went further than that. Just a passing kiss on the cheek, nothing more.

When you stepped beneath the water, Max left the room. He heard you humming to yourself as you scrubbed your skin and washed your hair. (Max knew how much more you preferred his shower. Every time you came to his apartment, after every time he had you on your back, knees, whatever, you used his shower. Took your sweet, sweet time and came out smelling like him).

You both had the option to sleep with other people. You could sleep with all of Monaco, if you so desired, and Max didn't have the right to get angry. Just like he could sleep with other people when away at Grand Prix.

But the both of you chose not to. You were each others only sexual partners, and that worked for you.

Stepping out of the shower, you wrapped a towel around yourself. It wasn't uncommon for you to spend the night in his bed. Each time, the two of you kept the entire bed between you. But, through the night, you migrated closer and closer, until you were touching.

You dried your hair as best you could and walked out of the bathroom. Still humming as you went, not paying attention to anything. Not paying attention to Max on the bed as you grabbed your hairbrush. "My mum is convinced we're dating," you mumbled as you brushed through your wet hair.

Max cleared his throat.

You were still talking when you tired towards him. But you stopped when you saw what was on the bed in front of him. "What's this?" You asked, your voice pitching slightly.

Max raised his shoulders in a shrug. "You said your work bag was broken."

Your work bag was broken, he was right. As pretty, as expensive as the bag in front of him was, it wouldn't do as a replacement. Not big enough for all of the things you lugged to your office.

But you sat in front of him on the bed and took the bag from him. "It's gorgeous," you said, your eyes lighting up. Because you really did like it.

"It's for you."

You put the bag down as you looked at him. "Seriously, Max, thank you," you whispered and threw your arms around him.

There wasn't much better than the feeling of his large hands against your back.

The Instagram Likes

Your likes kept appearing on his Instagram feed. It was his fault for not following more people on his private account, for not filling his feed with things that weren't you.

But it was all you. Your posts. Your tags. Your likes. Things you wanted, things you had liked. Things that were now in his shopping cart or on its way to his apartment.

He was just being friendly, right? Because you were friends. At the end of the day, you were friends. You had been friends before you started sleeping together and you were still friends now. It wasn't weird he was buying you things.

At least, that was what Max kept telling himself.

He had it all stashed in his Monaco apartment, waiting for you to come over. But it had been a triple header and you had been busy during the week.

All the things Max had bought for you (clothes, bags, shoes, jewellery) were piling up in his apartment. It was becoming a little embarrassing.

After the triple header (which had at least one win for him), Max invited you over. Just for some casual sex, nothing more. He definitely didn't have good food and good drink in the fridge, and a good movie queued up on the television.

He hated that he missed you. But, the second you walked through the door, he was upon you. No words were exchanged as he pinned you to the door and kissed you. You threw your arms around him, hooked your leg around his waist.

"Fuck," he grunted. You grinned as you tugged at his hair. Your favourite sound in the world was his groans of 'fuck' while he was deep inside of you.

I missed you.

The words were on the tip of his tongue, but he kept them in his mouth. But he had missed you, every part of you. He just wanted you on your back, your thighs squeezing his head as he ate you out.

He dragged you away from the door. Dragged, but you went willingly. You were happy to let him pull you into his room, to undress you.

Your clothes were discarded on the floor as Max climbed on top of you. He pressed his hips against your as you whined and moaned. Max knew how to fuck like like nobody else. There was a reason you kept going back to him. He made you see stars.

"I got something for you," Max mumbled as you both laid there.

Turned on your side, your eyebrows rose at him. "You got something for me?" You echoed.

"A couple things."

He stood from the bed and walked over to the cupboard. Several bags fell out and Max picked them all up. He brought them over and dumped them in front of you. "Saw your likes on Instagram, thought I'd buy you some of the stuff."

Tipping the first bag upside down, a bracelet fell into your hands. "Fuck," you whispered as you let it dangle from between your fingers. It was simply gorgeous. "Thank you Max, seriously. You didn't have to do this."

"I didn't," he replied as he laid back beside you. "But I wanted to."

You leaned in and kissed his cheek.

The Car

It had been three days since your car last started. You'd called the garage, but there was no way for you to be able to afford the repairs.

You didn't tell Max with the aim of getting him to buy you a car. The thought didn't cross your mind. You were just ranting to a friend as you walked the distance to work instead of driving.

The next time you went to Max's house, you immediately went to kiss him. Frustration and anger welled up inside of you, and you just wanted some release. That release was supposed to be Max.

Instead of pinning you against the wall and snogging you, Max took your hands. "What're you doing?" You asked as he brought you over to the sofa.

"I know your car is busted, so I got you something," Max said. He pressed something into your palm and closed your fist around it.

You frowned at him and opened your fist.

"You didn't."

Max kept grinning as he looked at you. "I did," he said.

"I can't accept this from you."

"Yeah you can."

You opened your fist.

A set of car keys sat in your hands. Brand new keys to a brand new BMW. "Max," you began. "Seriously, I..."

"At least until you get your car working. Forever, if you want."

You sucked his dick extra good that night. He held the back of your head as you moved, as you took him down your throat.

He came three times in your mouth alone that night. It was an all night affair, the both of you losing track of time.

There was a few days before you used the car for the first time. Just to meet your friends. It didn't exactly feel wrong, but you didn't feel right about it either.

They looked at you with raised eyebrows. "Where the hell did this come from?" One asked as you walked towards the group.

"Gift," you mumbled as you locked it and dropped the keys into your bag. "From Max."

The raised eyebrows became knowing grins. "Ah," somebody said and the group started giggling.

"Girl, you've got yourself a sugar daddy."

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violetdoestarot · 2 months ago

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it’s actually insane how many ppl are so ungrateful in this community

these are readers who are sharing their gift to give you guidance and to help yet you’re taking it for granted?

Crazy how people who don’t run tarot blogs or read tarot are complaining about pick a cards with a paragraph-

Some of us have jobs… and lives… and can’t dedicate every waking hour of our lives to being chronically online 😭 like y’all are getting FREE content & youre complaining?

#i used to have a tarot blog back in 2021 #people were definitely more appreciative back then #idk what happened now but i think a few invasive species migrated from instagram or whatever to here #oh and maybe tiktok

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klaisksoutrob · 1 year ago

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Sharing some drawings from the distant 2020

Pen and marker for october drawings, always a good month to try some of my dubious design choices for my OCs and see if they stick.

#Migrating back from instagram #original character #original art #ink drawing #fantasy drawing #Klaisk's art #oc stuff #ocs #my ocs #my art

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cheralith · 4 months ago

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poly!ryusae smut maybe? 🥺

Sorry if the question was uncomfortable to you, but I find poly!ryusae cute (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)

— TEST DRIVE.

ITOSHI SAE & SHIDOU RYUSEI. — sae thinks that with the addition of shidou into the relationship, you and him should get more familiar with each other on a more... personal scale.

contains/cw ; fem!reader, she/her pronouns, polyamorous relationship, smut, fingering, praise kink, implied-bi!sae & shidou, mild voyeurism, threesome implied at end, implied aged-up characters (20s) ; not fully edited as of 03/07 a/n ; it's been awhile since i've written smut so apologies if i'm a little rusty :L also darling anonnie do not fret i've been looking for an excuse to write about them more so thank u for enjoying these two freaks as much as i do! wc ; 3.2k

**explicit content — minors do not interact.**

"Just take him out for a test drive."

... was what your boyfriend had said to you a few days ago when you asked what you and him should do next in regards to the man you've both had your eyes on for the past couple of months. Shidou Ryusei, Number 13, center forward for your boyfriend's team and one of Japan's best strikers to date currently. It's hard to miss him and Sae's chemistry on the field, seeing how fluid they move together and how the ball just migrates so naturally toward them. To a more keen eye, it's even harder to miss how eccentric Shidou is around Sae, always prying for his attention and his praise like a dog to its master.

Sae would tell you about him when he comes home to your shared apartment, sighing about how the "Devil Boy" did this or that the "Horny Devil" did that. His tales of the infamous Number 13 would make you giggle at first over dinner, but when Sae told you that Shidou had found out about your existence and that Sae could just see that mischievous glint in Shidou's eye that Sae has gotten accustomed to when he showed the midfielder your Instagram account, you couldn't help but dabble yourself into this little... incident.

It was innocent at first—just making sure that Shidou knew that you were, in fact, real, by tagging along to Sae's practices and games more than you usually did. Then the touches began. Small and brief at the beginning, just giving his chest a congratulating tap after a win post-game with the team. Then you and him lingered around more, his legs not moving when yours accidentally bump into his; or perhaps Shidou would spot you and give you a large hug, welcoming you to the game and telling you to wish him and Sae good luck.

Then he'd raise the stakes a bit. Instead of a hug, he'd hold your hand in his own and kiss your knuckles, giving you a charming wink from below and peeking to see Sae's reaction (Shidou would twitch excitedly if Sae did as much as raise a brow). Or if Sae wasn't around, he'd hold your waist whenever he was escorting you out somewhere, just so he could "keep you safe, doll."

It all came hailing down one night after the last game of the season, where you and Sae invited Shidou out for dinner. Just the three of you.

In an addition to adding another glorious win to his soccer record, you and Sae offered Shidou another chance at upping his gluttonous pride.

"We want you to be a part of us," Sae stated simply, holding your hand and stroking the knuckles that Shidou had kissed upon his arrival at the private booth of the restaurant.

You laughed aloud so prettily at Shidou's confused look, one that you and Sae barely saw since Shidou was nothing less of overconfident.

"What Sae means is," you slide your empty hand over and beckon Shidou's own to join yours, you being the weaving connection between you, Sae, and Shidou. "we want to be a part of our relationship. If that's something you're interested in."

Shidou's magenta eyes had widened so large at the offer before a wicked smile preyed upon his lips, his tongue darting out to lick them. A soft giggle escaped you while Sae's lip quirked ever so slightly, his eyes deepening intently at the sight of his beloved and his dog getting along so well to his satisfaction.

You made sure to tip the housekeeper of the hotel you all stayed at extra heavily after you exited it with dazed looks on all your faces the morning after, legs feeling a little weaker than they were when you first came in.

A week later, Sae said you should get to know him better on a more intimate level. One less of an acquaintance and more of a partner considering you'll be around him much more now that he was woven in your life as more than just Sae's teammate. Sae saw him on a near day-to-day basis, so he took the opportunity when his parents asked him to come home one evening to leave you and Shidou alone to better yourselves with each other personally.

What he didn't expect was that you and Shidou just seem to hit things off a little too well.

You gasp aloud when you feel the tilt of Shidou's fingers curl upwards inside you, the hook of them sending a spark throughout your body. Nerves on fire, teeth go to bite your lip hard enough to draw blood as your body doubles forward limply. "Don't—!"

Shidou's arm around your waist tightens, making sure you stay upon his lap to ensure the closeness between you and him was uninterrupted. He peppers a slow trail of kisses on your shoulder blade, iconic smirk tattooing itself on your skin. "'Don't' what?"

Your legs that hang over Shidou's widen apart when he expands his own. Head lolling back to his shoulder, a heavy and ragged breath escapes you and you feel his fingers start to slowly pump again with their new position from inside you. The sparking sensation floods your body—more continuous, more rhythmic this time. The pleasure that came with every torturous more exponential than the last, especially as the pressure that Shidou applied rather than the speed of it seemed to be more effective than what you were used to.

"Don't... ah, tease," you mumble weakly, one of your legs twitching when Shidou's thumb adds to the play, tracing a pattern on your clit.

"Thought you wanted to take this nice and slow, doll," Shidou whispers in your ear, smirk in his voice nothing less of evident. "Just wanna break you in first before I truly break you. If you catch my drift, hm?"

Shidou's chuckle just barely registers in your ears, your mind muddled with the sensation that rocks your body. He suddenly quickens his fingers and your spine jolts. You let out a cry as you squirm in his lap again before his fingers slow down to the normal pace again. A whine pulls from your cracked throat, dry from the huffing and gasping.

"Ngh," you bite your warbling lip again, tears pricking your eyes as Shidou pulls his fingers out of you briefly... before jutting them in again and pumping... and then pulling out once more, empty air hitting your core. "No..."

"You don't like it?" Shidou teases, coy faux in his tone. "You like it the old way?"

The rapid nod of your head makes him bare his pearly whites widely. Who knew Sae's girl could end up so pathetic and needy? Shidou wonders if you and him are just like this alone, considering he was the one pampered that night in the hotel as an introduction to you and Sae. One of the best—if not, the best—nights of his life, dare he say. Just thinking back to when Sae's hands were around his cock as you kissed him hotly, silk sheets rustling about, made his pants tighter. He thinks of himself as spoiled, truly. The two people he's always wanted now equally by his side, giving him all the drive that he needs to amp up his body to explode in full.

Shidou's unoccupied hand goes to carefully take off your delicate underwear, noticing the evident wet patch on the fabric caused by you earlier.

"You don't mind if I keep these, do you?" he hums when he presses a kiss to your hot cheek when he tucks it away. "It'll be a little souvenir from my cute girlfriend."

Oh how it feels so right when the word spills from his lips—calling you his. Shidou supposes it's the guilt that was bubbling inside of him for so long since he first laid his eyes on you, a taken woman; not only that, but one of his best bud's woman (though, Shidou thinks there's some blurriness between him and Sae's relationship since both parties knew damn well there was more than just that, especially when Sae's eyes would linger a little too long at his bare, tanned, sweaty skin in the locker room). He reveled in it, though, feeling an excitement brew at the guilt that conjured whenever he'd look at you with a swirl of want as you reflected nothing back but innocence.

God, how he just wanted to absolutely ruin you.

And now a divine power has given him the chance to, and Shidou is sure as hell making sure he's never letting this chance go.

"How does Sae do it, dolly?" Shidou mutters, watching his slicked fingers come in and out of you before he pulls them out completely, a stickiness webbing them to his delight. His other hand goes to grab your wrist and position it where his other was once was. "Go on, show me."

Your lips tremble.

"I don't know..." you murmur weakly. Sae fingered you as skillfully as Shidou did, though in a different artform. Where Shidou was teasing, Sae gave everything and anything all at once, enjoying bringing such a pleasure to you as quick as possible to pile them together. But you were always wrapped up in trying not to pass out to notice how he toyed with you. "I can't remember..."

Shidou clicks his tongue and juts out his bottom lip mockingly. "Aw, poor baby doesn't get fingered enough by her boyfriend?"

You shake your head. "No! Sae does, I just... don't know how he does it."

There's a strike of arrogance that comes about Shidou.

"Maybe he's not doing it well enough then," he says with a dry laugh, even though he knows those long, pale fingers of Sae's could and have done some damage.

You whip your head around, brows knitted with just the cutest little pout Shidou has ever seen bestowed on your glazed lips.

"He does!" you insist hotly to his delight, seeing a new side of you that fires him up. "Sae just—a-ah..."

Shidou cuts you off before you pick a fight with him, not liking how your attention turned to your boyfriend and not your new plaything, creeping his fingers back inside of you to distract you. His other hand from around your waist grabs your face and combines his and your lips, your whimpers being swallowed by him.

"I was just kidding, sweetness, " he laughs lowly as you whine. "I know Sae would never let his girl go empty like that. You guys have been together for how many years now?"

"Four," you sigh out when you and him separate, a string of saliva connecting you and him. "... and a half."

Shidou whistles, grinning. "Looks like I have some catching up to do then."

He goes back to massaging your insides, letting you get used to the feeling again in contrast from the emptiness you felt earlier briefly. Your eyes flutter shut and your body relaxes against his touch, chest heaving up and down in a steady beat as you absorb his fingers. There's a peace that overflows your body when you fully meld into the accustomed pleasure, but it doesn't last long because you feel another constraint inside yourself that makes your back arch, a strangled sound coming out of your throat.

"Oopsies," Shidou singsongs, glancing down at the three fingers stuffed within you. "My finger slipped."

"Ryusei—!" you hiss. You want to cuss him out, tell him that he should at least warn you beforehand, but the violent thrusting of his fingers that hit your threshold again and again and again make you lose and tumble over your words, Shidou's true nature finally beginning to peek out.

Your legs warble. The tips of your fingers are on fire. Your toes curl erratically as you near your first limit.

"Ahh," Shidou hums pleasantly, in contrast to the fierce pulsing of his fingers entering and exiting you, a whiteness embellishing itself between his digits to his satisfaction. Your chest heaves rapidly again, eyes shutting tightly and jaw gritting as you try to find the unbinding of the coil that builds up inside of you. "You like this, though, don't you?"

"Please...!" you heave out weakly. "S-slow down... or I'll—"

Your sentence ceases to finish, a broken moan falling from your lips when his pace quickens again.

"Hm?" Shidou cocks his head to the side, falsely ignorant to the buildup you've been collecting. "You'll 'what', angel?"

"I'll c—oh my God... I'll..." you hesitate, your body shocking itself with a seemingly limitless bliss when Shidou's thumb returns into the play. "Ryusei, please!"

"Huh? Use your words, lovely," he murmurs into your ear, smirking widely again when your head falls forward limply right before it jerks back onto his shoulder, a silent cry exiting your lips. "I'll give you want you want. You just gotta tell Ryu, yeah? C'mon now."

You sob out miserably, fingernails digging into his bicep that balances you on his lip. "I'm gonna come—!"

Shidou's eye twitches and he bites his lip. "Oh are you, now?"

"Yes," you gasp out, "yes! Just please... oh God, just please let me finish. So close..."

Funny because you didn't have to tell him. Shidou just knows from the way you writhe and squirm and thrash about in his lap, how your tongue starts to stick out ever so slightly to gain more air from the one he pumps out of you. Your words really start to falter, because your lips read out his name, but nothing comes out of them, just shattered moans and whines as he thrashes and curls his fingers inside of you at a devilish pace.

"Fuck! Harder!" you manage to grit out. This desperate side of you makes Shidou's nerves alight again, a new face of you being shown to him and therefore, bringing you and him closer together. Just what Sae wanted. Mission accomplished, he thinks as he kisses your temple gently as way of coaxing you.

It all comes loose within an instant. At a lightening-fast pace and immeasurable pressure, you manage to unfurl the tight coil in your stomach and unbind yourself from the limiting pleasure that kept building inside of you, setting you free. You finish over his fingers, walls tightening around them as your body convulses and washes over them with a loud and melodic moan that echoes through your shared bedroom with Sae, wet sounds adding into the crescendo.

Shidou laughs wickedly as your climax slowly bubbles down, your body twitching at every shudder its aftereffects ripple through you. "Oh, that was magnificent, doll," he praises, kissing your cheek. "So good, you're so gorgeous. What a show!"

"What a show, indeed," a voice drawls aloud.

You and Shidou snap your head up together to face the door. Itoshi Sae stands stilly at the entrance of it, luggage in hand and jacket still on his body, one day earlier than expected from his visit home.

Your jaw slacks at your other boyfriend appearing suddenly before you, and despite him seeing you naked many times before, you feel a sudden shyness over take you when he stares at you sat on a shirtless Shidou.

"Sae," you call out weakly with a crooked smile, your limbs so numb and barely sensible. "You're back."

"Welcome home, Sae-chan," Shidou chants happily, eyes brightening. His fingers still halfway in you, he takes them out to wave a sticky hand at the midfielder, who sighs at the sight of it.

Unfazed, Sae drags himself and his luggage into the bedroom, seemingly unmoved at the sight before him.

"Flight got moved to morning today since Coach asked to meet with me tomorrow in private," is all he says as he shuffles out of his jacket and hangs it on the door.

You want to ask him how his parents are, how dinner and their catch-up went, how Rin is doing, but an exhaustion creeps onto you slowly that makes your lids grow heavier as seconds tick by mercilessly.

Sae slowly approaches you and Shidou, his eyes dancing about your linked figures and gazing at the wetness between your legs, the turquoise within them varnished with a glaze of want.

"I see you two have become well-accustomed with each other," Sae states.

Shidou chuckles audibly, his arm around your waist going to tightly hug you affectionately as stipples kisses on your heated neck. "Just like what you wanted, right?"

Your own eyes shoot open suddenly and you fidget against Shidou's firm hold, desperate. "He's being so mean, Sae!" you cry out with teary look.

Sae raises a brow and looks back at Shidou, who merely shrugs.

"Listen. I gave her what she wanted," he refutes and gestures to the evidence at your core. "Not my fault she was being needy."

You gawk at him, making him snort aloud. "You're the one who came onto me!"

"Was it?" Shidou dumbly asks, though the memory of him crashing his lips onto yours the moment the apartment doors closed plays in his mind. "I don't remember."

You turn back to Sae with a pout. "He kept teasing and edging me for a hour straight..."

"You clearly liked it though."

"Yeah, but sometimes, it was too much!"

Sae sighs and rubs his forehead when you and Shidou bicker back and forth like children, though a little relieved that you and him broke the ice of awkwardness so early enough to the point where you can squabble like he and you do. He was apprehensive that you and him would stay on the same platform that you usually did, where there was just that thin barrier of respect that both of you teetered crossing, but Sae's seen that the barrier has been broken through, the evidence displaying itself right in front of him.

"I told you to take a test drive with each other, didn't I?" he asks, cutting between you and Shidou's petty argument. You look back at Sae, who is suddenly lowering and positioning himself between your semi-viscid legs to your astonishment. "Maybe I should've been a bit clearer, then."

Shidou follows your gaze, chest heaving a bit when he realizes what Sae is doing as the latter hooks his hands around your thighs. You watch with wide eyes as Sae nears his head toward you and sticks his tongue out, his warmth sheathing your folds unexpectedly and making you whimper warmly again.

Sae pulls back and pierces his eyes into you, then to Shidou, then back at you, fixating on your ardent one. He draws one of his hands back and fixes itself at the cusp of Shidou's pants that sits right beneath you, drawing out a sharp hiss from him at the contact of Sae cupped hand.

The look of mild fatigue and yearning that paints your face along with the look of eagerness and lust that streaks over Shidou makes Sae's gaze darken intently.

"I wanted you both to warm each other up for me," he states simply, just before diving between your legs again and firming his grip around Shidou's hardened clothing, the actions making you and Shidou moan in unison.

a/n ; "alice aren't u supposed to be on hiatus 🤔" listen man ive been staring at this msg in my inbox while thinking heinous things as my took my midterms. i deserve this!! i also wrote this kind of drunk so you can totally tell where my self-indulgence starts to hit lol

anyways, thank you for reading!! comments and reblogs are very much appreciated and always noticed ♡

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anarchblr · 5 months ago

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In 2017, a group of people in Chicago, decided to open a library/community center at Blood Fruit Printworks in Bridgeport. Since then, Blood Fruit Library has evolved and migrated across neighborhoods in order to work together with varying neighbors and friends. As always, we are committed to sharing and preserving the words of those we agree and, inevitably, disagree with who have published their own thoughts for our reflection. We believe these written words can serve as a jumping off point for our own discussions with others, helping us build networks of affinity. We invite you to share your own favorite readings with the library (be they in the form of pamphlets, zines, books, digital articles, posters), so that we are learning and sharing together. Although, we are amoebic in nature - moving, shape-shifting, and changing as we respond to the world around us, we continue our efforts to always offer a tangible "place" in addition to the books. We don't want another atomized pocket of learning through isolated book-reading. We want to always combine book sharing with human connection. A book is just a book. Let's meet, talk, connect, plan together.

✨Help Bloodfruit Library/Yolotl get through the winter! This space, ever transitioning from radical place to place in Chicago has held many people people, ideas, events and histories. ✨The space is in a commercial building and the gas bills are hundreds of dollars every month (on top of rent and other utilities!). With the cold snap in chicago it’s pertinent that we be able to keep on the heat on. Please consider subscribing to our Patreon or donating to the Venmo! Both links in bio.

From the new location of Bloodfruit we create linoprints of solidarity and send them across made-up borders to a couple of searching brigades/ family collectives of forcibly disappeared persons in Mexico. We also send messages of solidarity to comrades in that fight when they face hard times, to let them know that here in so-called Chicago we are thinking of them, that all of our worlds are wrapped up together, that our liberation is bound up together. We are still going strong as a donation point for unhoused neighbors and gatherings for folks, and are excited to be soon offering zines of the month, spanish classes, translations of texts, reading clubs, radical movies, workshops, and more. If you have any asks and/or offerings that can bring community together, please reach out to us, this is a space for you. Of course the anarchist books and zines in our collection have grown and are still available! Open hours currently are Fridays from 7-10pm in Rogers Park. Direct message us on instagram (@bloodfruitlib) for the address! See you soon!

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Patreon

Venmo

Hi everyone!

Please check out one of the long-standing anarchist projects my friends have been holding down in so-called "Chicago"; they've recently restarted their patreon because living expenses have been staggering lately. They do amazing work in spreading the anarchist message and communicating with comrades across international borders while always also helping an eye on local events, themselves being a host of a truly free anarchist library that has everything from writings from the Situationalist International to Zapatista Carocoles to Afro-Pessimisim to Kurdish revolutionaries; it's an invaluable cultural hub of anarchic culture.

You can give a one-off donation of whatever amount but the patreon starts at 5$; at 10$ you'll receive a free PDF zine per month and at 15$ we'll also send a print copy.

Please consider spreading and contributing to this project.

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amirawrah · 2 months ago

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⭐︎ Bienvenue à la Famille

with KYLIAN MBAPPE⭐︎

synopsis: While on vacation with his family in France, you struggle to keep up with the fast-paced conversations. Kylian notices and quietly translates everything, making sure you never feel left out.

amirah: guys my first kylian fic hope you all like this also i wrote a smut like 😃

The scent of salt hung thick in the breeze, soft waves lapping lazily against the shore as the sun cast its golden light over the terrace. The Mbappé family vacation villa sat like a postcard on the French Riviera—white stone, terracotta roof, and views that made you forget the rest of the world even existed.

You sat nestled between palm fronds and wicker chairs, hands resting in your lap as bursts of French surrounded you like music you couldn’t quite catch the lyrics to. The table was full—Fayza was recounting a story to Jirès with animated hand gestures, Ethan was teasing Kylian in rapid-fire French, and an aunt you hadn’t even known was coming had just arrived with a tray of fresh clafoutis.

You smiled politely. You caught a word here, a phrase there—but most of it flew right past you, leaving you nodding along while pretending to understand. It wasn’t that you hadn’t been learning French—you had. Duolingo, late-night YouTube videos, Kylian quizzing you before bed. But nothing had prepared you for the pace of a real family conversation.

You didn’t think anyone noticed. You were wrong.

Warm fingers grazed yours beneath the table, and then—his lips were at your ear.

“She said Ethan used to scream every time he saw seaweed in the water. Like full panic attack, swim-for-your-life energy.”

You turned slightly, startled, and caught the subtle amusement dancing in Kylian’s eyes.

“He’s lying,” Ethan called from across the table, in English. “I was like, five.”

“Six,” Fayza corrected sweetly.

You chuckled as Kylian leaned closer again, his breath tickling your skin. “Don’t worry, I’m your personal translator now. You’ll never be lost.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile gave you away. “You just like whispering in my ear.”

“True.” He paused. “Also, it’s funny when you blush.”

And there it was—that smirk. The one that spelled danger with a capital K. He leaned back casually, arm brushing yours as he reached for his water, as if he hadn’t just turned your spine to jelly.

Later that afternoon, the group migrated to the beach. You walked barefoot through warm sand, your sundress fluttering in the breeze as you tried to hold conversation with one of Kylian’s cousins. She was sweet, maybe a few years older than you, but she spoke French like a bullet train. You caught the word jardin, something about her mother, and Instagram.

You gave her your best smile, heart sinking. You hated feeling like this. Like you were always one sentence behind, a guest in the middle of someone else’s language. The more you tried to keep up, the more the words blurred.

Suddenly, a hand slipped around your waist.

“She’s saying her mom wants to redo the garden and asked her to find inspiration online,” Kylian murmured softly. “Apparently, everything she pins ends up being pink.”

You exhaled, tension melting from your shoulders. You nodded at his cousin, laughed, and said, “C’est une bonne idée.” That's a good idea.

She smiled, delighted. Kylian squeezed your waist.

“She also just called you très jolie, by the way,” he added, dipping his mouth to your neck. very pretty

“Kylian,” you hissed, cheeks heating.

He grinned. “What? I didn’t want you to miss out.”

That night, the villa buzzed with activity. Someone had lit the grill, music flowed from a Bluetooth speaker, and laughter echoed beneath the stars. You sat curled on the outdoor couch, a plate of food balanced on your lap, watching Kylian help Ethan light sparklers near the pool.

Fayza joined you a few minutes later, handing you a drink.

“You look relaxed,” she said in warm accented English.

“I am,” you admitted. “It’s beautiful here.”

She nodded, then added, “You’re doing better with the language than you think, you know. It takes courage to listen this much.”

You blinked, touched by her words. “It’s hard, sometimes. I don’t want to feel like a burden.”

“You’re not. And you have him.” She nodded toward Kylian, who was now holding a sparkler like a sword while Ethan shouted something dramatic in the background.

You laughed. “He’s very helpful.”

Fayza gave you a look—one of those knowing motherly ones. “He’s smitten. You ground him. You notice that?”

Your heart skipped a beat. You didn’t know what to say, so you smiled, quiet and a little overwhelmed.

Then Kylian bounded over, cheeks flushed from laughter, still holding a sparkler.

“Come dance with me.”

“What?”

“I’m stealing you.”

You didn’t protest. He grabbed your hand, pulled you gently to your feet, and led you a few steps away from the group, into the soft shadows near the palm trees. The music floated out to meet you—smooth, slow, dreamy.

There, beneath the moonlight and fairy lights, he wrapped his arms around you and began to sway.

“You’re showing off,” you murmured, tucking your head into his chest.

“Always.”

You laughed softly, fingers brushing the back of his neck. “I don’t know the words to this song.”

“I’ll whisper them to you,” he offered. “But only if you promise to keep blushing.”

“I hate you.”

He grinned into your hair. “You love me.”

You looked up at him, at the way his eyes sparkled, at the hint of mischief and the abundance of affection.

“Yeah,” you said. “I really do.”

The next morning, you woke to the smell of croissants and sun-warmed linen. Kylian was already out on the balcony, shirtless, legs kicked up on the railing as he scrolled through his phone. He looked up as you appeared, eyes crinkling.

“Morning, sleepy.”

You stretched and padded over. “Did everyone already eat?”

“They’re downstairs. I saved you a chocolate one.”

You kissed his cheek. “Mon héros.” My hero.

He pulled you into his lap without warning. “Say it again.”

“What?”

“Mon héros. You sound cute when you try to be dramatic in French.”

You smacked his arm lightly as he laughed.

The rest of the week followed a rhythm—lazy breakfasts, chaotic lunches, sunburnt afternoons, and golden evenings spent wrapped in conversation, or wrapped in Kylian. You started understanding more. He would lean over to translate a joke, but by the end, you were laughing before he spoke.

Sometimes, he whispered things he didn’t need to translate.

“Tu es belle quand tu es confuse.” You look beautiful when you’re confused.

“Tu fais de gros efforts et c’est adorable.” You’re trying so hard and it’s adorable.

And your personal favorite, one night at dinner when you struggled to find the right word in French, and he leaned in and whispered, “Tu es déjà parfaite, ma chérie.” You are already perfect, my darling.

On your last night, the whole family gathered around a bonfire on the beach. The stars shimmered overhead like spilled sugar, and someone passed around roasted marshmallows and cheap red wine.

You leaned into Kylian, your head on his shoulder, and listened to the voices around you—laughter, teasing, warmth. And for once, you weren’t lost. You didn’t understand everything, but you understood enough.

You felt his hand slip into yours.

“You were amazing this week,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“I fumbled through half of it.”

“And still you did it. I’m proud of you.”

You looked up at him, eyes soft. “You really helped me feel like I belonged.”

He leaned down, nose brushing yours. “You do belong.”

You kissed him—slow, grateful, a little tipsy from wine and love.

He smiled against your lips. “So, uh… want to practice your French?”

“Now?”

He grinned, eyes gleaming. “I have a few phrases in mind. Bedroom only.”

You swatted at him, laughing. “You’re unbelievable.”

He caught your hand, kissed your knuckles. “Tu m'aimes pour ça.” You love me for it.

You sighed, pretending to be exasperated. “Unfortunately.”

He pulled you closer, wrapping both arms around you and tucking you into his side.

The bonfire began to dwindle, embers glowing red like coals behind your eyelids as Kylian led you up the path from the beach, fingers laced tightly with yours. The moonlight painted silver over the trail of your footprints in the sand, and your heart thudded a little harder with each step closer to the villa.

You knew that look in his eyes—the low burn, the barely-contained tension. He’d been on his best behavior all week: polite, sweet, translating for you, being the golden boy his mom adored. But now, with everyone asleep and the night stretched out before you, something different lingered in the air.

The moment your shared bedroom door closed, he pressed you against it, his hands on either side of your head, caging you in.

“You’ve been teasing me all week,” he said softly, his voice a low murmur, lips brushing your cheek as he spoke. “Smiling at me in that sundress. Kissing my neck on the beach. Whispering ‘merci’ every time I helped you with your French…”

“I was being polite,” you said, breath catching.

He leaned in until his lips hovered over yours, eyes burning. “You were being dangerous.”

Then he kissed you—and it wasn’t sweet anymore.

It was hunger and heat, weeks of holding back poured into a single, breathless moment. His tongue slid against yours with confidence, familiarity, and just enough restraint to keep your knees buckling but your heart racing.

His hands trailed down your arms, over your waist, until they gripped under your thighs. “Jump.”

You did—wrapping your legs around him as he carried you effortlessly to the bed, laying you down like you were something sacred. His mouth trailed down your jaw, along your neck, pausing at your collarbone where he sucked gently—claiming you, but tenderly.

You tugged at his shirt. “Off.”

He grinned, pulled it over his head, and you let your eyes linger—he was all golden skin and carved muscle, the athlete in him obvious, but what got to you most was the way he looked at you. Like you were the reason he breathed.

He kissed you again, slower this time, hands exploring the familiar curves of your body with reverence. “You’re shaking,” he whispered.

“I’m excited.”

He chuckled, dark and low. “Good. I want you breathless.”

Clothes disappeared, tossed to the floor in a trail that told a story of urgency and trust. He kissed every part of you—shoulders, hips, thighs—with a whispered compliment in French. You didn’t catch every word, but you didn’t need to.

You understood what he meant.

When he finally moved over you, hands on either side of your face, eyes locked with yours, he paused.

“You ready, mon cœur?”

“Yes.”

He kissed you once more before he slid inside—slow, deep, letting you feel every inch. You gasped, arching into him, and his mouth found your neck again as he began to move. His rhythm was steady, intentional—driving you wild but never rushing.

“Tu es si belle,” he whispered, his voice strained with desire. “So tight. So perfect.”

Your nails scraped down his back. “Kylian…”

You understood what he meant.

When he finally moved over you, hands on either side of your face, eyes locked with yours, he paused.

“You ready, mon cœur?”

“Yes.”

“Tu es si belle,” he whispered, his voice strained with desire. “So tight. So perfect.”

Your nails scraped down his back. “Kylian…”

“That’s it,” he breathed, voice thick. “Say my name. Say it again.”

“Kylian.”

He adjusted his angle slightly and you cried out—pleasure blooming sharp and bright through your whole body. His lips brushed your ear.

“Je t’aime comme ça… you feel that.”

You barely registered your answer—you were too lost in the feel of him, the tension curling tighter with each thrust. He reached down, thumb finding your clit, circling it expertly while his lips captured your moans.

“Let go, bébé. Viens pour moi.” Come for me.

And when you did—when the pleasure surged through you in a wave so powerful it left your vision white—you clung to him like he was the only thing anchoring you to the world. He followed seconds later, whispering your name like a prayer as he spilled inside you, body shaking, heart thudding against yours.

You lay tangled together in the aftermath, skin damp and legs still wrapped around him. He traced slow circles on your stomach, eyes half-lidded.

“So,” he said, lips curving into a lazy smirk. “Still nervous about French conversations?”

You laughed softly, breathless. “Not anymore.”

He rolled over, pulling you with him. “Good. Because the only phrase I want you to remember tonight is tu es à moi.” you are mine.

You repeated it, messy and sleepy. “Too-ay… ah mwah?”

“Close enough.” He kissed your forehead.

The room was still humming with aftershocks when Kylian sat up, brushing a hand through his curls. He looked over his shoulder at you, a little dazed, completely satisfied.

“You good?” he asked with a grin that could melt glaciers.

You stretched like a cat beneath the sheets, glowing, lazy, and so very warm. “I’m amazing.”

“Yeah?” He leaned down, kissing your shoulder. “Want to be even more amazing?”

You turned your head to look at him, already knowing what that smirk meant. “Kylian—”

He scooped you up, bridal style, without warning.

“Kylian!”

“We’re showering,” he said simply, like it was the most innocent plan in the world. “Can’t have you walking around dirty.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

He nudged the bathroom door open with his foot and set you down on the tile, turning on the water to a perfectly warm temperature. Steam began to fill the glass enclosure, curling around your bodies like a promise.

The moment you stepped in, his hands found your waist.

“God, you’re unreal,” he muttered, eyes roaming your body as water cascaded down your curves. “Turn around.”

You did.

He stepped in behind you, his hands running down your back, fingertips gliding along your hips. You leaned into his touch as his lips kissed along your shoulder, and you could feel him harden against you again, pressing into your lower back.

“This was your plan, taking about dirty” you whispered.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said, voice husky, grinding slowly against you. “Just trying to help you get clean…”

You braced your hands on the wall as his hands slid around to cup your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples until you gasped. He tilted your head to the side and kissed you deeply, the hot water mixing with the heat of his mouth.

Then, with one arm wrapped tight around your waist.

He slid into you from behind with a slow, deep stroke that stole your breath. The position—his body flush with yours, the slippery slide of water and skin—made everything more intense. His rhythm was smooth and controlled, his hands everywhere: gripping your hips, sliding up your ribs, tugging gently at your hair as your moans echoed off the glass.

The glass steamed completely over as your body arched, and he reached down again, fingers circling your clit with precise pressure. It didn’t take long—between the warmth, the closeness, and the way he whispered your name like he was worshipping you—you fell apart in his arms, your body trembling as the orgasm rolled through you.

He wasn’t far behind, burying his face in your neck, hips jerking as he came with a groan that you felt all the way down to your toes.

You both stood there for a second, panting, water running down your overheated bodies.

Fifteen minutes later, you were wrapped in a towel, hair dripping, as Kylian walked out shirtless, sweatpants slung low on his hips. You were mid-lotioning your legs, humming to yourself when—

“YO!”

The bedroom door burst open.

Ethan stood in the doorway, holding a phone charger, absolutely frozen at the sight of you on the bed and his older brother stepping out of the bathroom behind you with damp curls and a smug expression.

“Oh my God—”

“Ethan!” you shrieked, diving under the sheets with your towel clutched tight.

Kylian, unbothered as ever, just crossed his arms. “Tu frappes avec ta bouche ou… ?” You knock with your mouth or…?

“"Êtes-vous sérieux?!” Ethan yelled, covering his eyes dramatically. “ Je suis venu emprunter un chargeur ! Je n'ai pas demandé à être traumatisé !” Are you serious?! . I came to borrow a charger! I didn’t ask for trauma!

You peeked out from under the sheets, face flaming, as Kylian tossed a pillow at Ethan’s head.

“Get out.”

“I am out!” Ethan backed into the hallway, flailing.

Kylian closed the door behind him, chuckling as he turned back to you. “So… breakfast with the family might be awkward.”

You flopped back on the pillows, groaning. “He’s never going to let us live this down.”

Kylian climbed into bed beside you, pulled you into his arms, and kissed your temple. “He’ll survive.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You’re enjoying this.”

“Of course,” he said smugly. “We’re finally even. I walked in on him last year. Now he knows how it feels.”

You stared at him. “Your whole family’s just casually walking in on each other?”

He winked. “Welcome to the Mbappés, baby.”

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