While on the run in Paris we also shot some amazing models from The Face management Paris with Mimi as the photographer, Ash of course on makeup, Garments and styling by Bishme Cromartie, and me shooting behind the scenes. Oh and Brother Marcus as our cultural guide lol. The Power Rangers đđȘđœ
The beautiful part of the whole experience for me was seeing Ash and the crew running like a well oiled machine, making magic happen with 8 different models, some whom barely spoke English. Even after the makeup equipment arrived a day late because our checked bags got caught up in Iceland. This being my first time meeting Bishme and Marcus we clicked instantly through our love for Ash and Mimi. Theyâve been a team for years now before I even met Ash. To have them bring me in to help their production out was kind of a dream come true. The experience of watching Mimi book and shoot with a top modeling agency, Bishme being a world renown Black designer from Baltimore, famous in his own right from winning âProject Runwayâ one of the first fashion tv shows I watched as a fashion major at Morgan state. Now being a photographer/videographer/Designer and welcomed into a team that does all the things I love creatively and artistically was and is Surreal, I canât wait for the next trip and shoot.
Plot: It's the evening of the Ballon d'Or but Kylian has his eyes on a different trophy.
Warnings: pda, fingering
Word count: 1726
Masterlist
Lights flashed, the second Kylian's dress shoe hit the tarmac. Easily, he slid from his leather seat, out of the blacked-out car. He strolled around to y/n's side and opened her door for her. Taking her hand, he helped her out and she stood up, glancing at her surroundings.
The road was packed with fans, yelling and screaming at the sight of Kylian. They clamoured at the metal barriers, hundreds and hundreds of phones pointed in their direction. She smoothed down her dress; it was silver and shimmered in the bright lights. Its tight, sequinned fabric hugged her curves, accentuating her perfect hourglass figure.
He rested his hand on the small of her back and guided her toward the red carpet. As they walked toward the crowd on the carpet, his hand left her back and found her hand instead, ensuring she wasn't pulled away from him.
A large camera pointed at the pair, broadcasting their every move to millions of people. Kylian swerved from the path his security team were forging for them, signing a fan's shirt and posing for a couple of selfies. Y/n hung at his side, smiling politely at people; this was Kylian's domain, his night, she knew nobody had come to see her.
Once he'd finished, they started down the carpet again and he leant down to whisper to her, "Are you okay?"
Smiling softly at his handsome face, he glanced up, "Peachy."
He squeezed her hand, their fingers intertwined; a woman in a black blazer and skirt approached them. "Kylian, suis-moi pour les photos. Y/n, attends ici un instant." she instructed, briskly whisking him away.
Kylian, follow me for the photos. Y/n, wait here for a moment.
Cameras flashed as he smiled, hands folded in front of him. She almost drooled at the sight of him in that well-fitted suit, the exact same shade as her dress. His watch's gold accents glimmered on his wrist and she eyed the single button of his suit jacket, thinking about how efficiently she could undo it.
Suddenly, the same woman from before ushered her toward Kylian, who wrapped his arm around her waist. The second the woman stepped out of shot, cameras started flashing, as the pair smiled for them. After a few seconds, they began to move away from the cameras but once again, the woman rushed over, stopping y/n.
"Y/n, quelques photos en solo maintenant." she said, ushering Kylian to the side.
Y/n, some solo photos now.
As she finished with her photos, she glanced over at Kylian, who watched on with the closest a human could physically get to heart eyes. She wandered back over to him and his hand rested on the open back of her dress, discreetly rubbing the smooth, exposed skin.
Her cheeks flushed as his hand crept lower, sneaking beneath the fabric, "Kylian..." she murmured.
"What?" he asked innocently, though his dark eyes glistened with desire.
"Do you know how many cameras there are here?"
"Only two hours until we can go back home." he shrugged, moving his hand up to her back again.
As they stepped through the theatre's grand entrance, she quietly said, "You don't have to act so miserable. You're nominated for a Ballon d'Or, crack a smile."
"Well, I've not won. We all know Leo will win again and it's a waste of time I could be spending at home with my beautiful girlfriend." he hummed, glancing around nonchalantly.
"Ouias." he nodded, dropping a kiss on y/n's lips, "You know where you're going, amour?" she nodded and he was quickly whisked off.
Heading toward the auditorium's doors, she glanced to the usher, "Y/n y/l/n." He guided her to her seat, which was in the very front row, beside Kylian's. Confused, she glanced at the usher, "Sorry, I thought that plus ones sat separately from the players?"
He shrugged, "This is where you are on the seating plan." When she still looked perplexed, he offered, "You're a big star. They probably want reason to give you more screen time- it'll attract viewers."
As he walked off, she glanced around at the seats next to her. Kylian sat on one side of her, Erling Haaland on the other- which meant she was going to be consistently sandwiched in every shot that was broadcasted. The rest of the name plaques on her row read the names of other footballers, not a single wife or girlfriend in sight. Great.
As the rest of the theatre behind her began to fill up, her row remained entirely empty and she sat there, awkwardly. Eventually, the lights dimmed and she slipped her phone into her purse, getting ready as the ceremony began.
One by one, all of the nominees stepped out onto the stage until finally they called Kylian's name. Confidently, he stepped onto the stage, one hand tucked into his pocket as he strolled to the front of the stage.
After a few minutes, they were sent to their seats and he locked eyes with her, smirking. As he sat down, his hand found hers, resting in her lap.
The ceremony dragged on for hours and hours, a camera continually fixed on Erling and Kylian and, in turn, y/n. As they wrapped up handing out the women's trophy, Kylian, who'd been growing more and more impatient, let his hand slip under the thigh split of his dress. Her breath caught as he slid his hand around to her inner thigh, nipping at the sensitive skin.
She hissed, "Kylian, stop."
"What?" he shrugged, staring ahead at the stage, as he rubbed circles on her thigh. David Beckham walked out onto the stage and as he began to speak, the camera continually cut to Kylian but he didn't seem to care. She caught his wrist and pulled his hand up to a more appropriate position. "Fuck," he whispered, "I can't wait to get you out of here."
"Keep it in your pants." she scoffed, patting his hand.
Trying to hide her flushed face and rosy cheeks, she readjusted her hair, flicking it over her shoulders. "Let's discover the four finalists of this year's edition. Who will succeed Karim Benzema?" the host said.
A montage of clips of Kylian, Haaland, Messi, and De Bruyne played but Kylian didn't even bother cracking a smile or pretending to be interested.
Beckham flicked his envelope open, "The winner of the 2023 Ballon d'Or is... Lionel Messi."
Kylian didn't even flinch, his expression remaining the same bored line. She squeezed his hand but he really didn't seem to care. After Messi had wrapped up his acceptance and the ceremony ended, everyone headed to a reception.
Kylian's hand held y/n's firmly but as they got to the drinks reception, he carried on, pulling her after him toward the exit. "Kylian!" she called, glancing around self-consciously, "Kyky! What are you doing?"
"Getting you out of here," he muttered, wrapping his arm tightly around her waist.
She stopped, firmly digging her heels into the ground and refusing to move, "No, hon, you've got to stay at the reception for a little while. It's rude to leave."
"I don't have to do anything. What are they going to do, cancel me?"
"Obviously not but it's just polite." she scoffed.
His hand moved to her ass, giving it a squeeze, "I will actually fuck you in the bathroom if we don't get out of here soon."
She giggled, "Sure, bud."
"Do you want to try me?" he asked, deadly serious, practically shoving her out of the door.
Fans still waited outside, yelling for his attention, but this time, he elected to ignore them. The second the car doors shut, his lips were on hers, hungrily. His hands squeezed her sides as he moaned into her mouth. Her lips parted, allowing his tongue to explore her mouth.
His hands worked lower and lower, once again slipping under her dress through its slit. He cupped her heat through her panties and she pulled back slightly, "I'll never be able to look your driver in the eye again."
"Don't mind." he declared, latching onto her neck. His lips worked lower and lower, pressing kisses onto her chest. His fingers pushed her panties aside, "Fuck, baby, you're so wet for me already."
"Kyky-" she warned, though it came out as more of a moan, as he applied pressure to her clit.
"What was that?" he asked, squeezing one of her breasts with his free hand.
With his other hand, his fingers gathered up slick before diving inside her. He slowly began to move his digits, twisting, curling and pumping them up inside of her. Her hands gripped his shoulders so hard that her knuckles turned white, as he quickened his pace.
"Fuck, amour," she murmured, resting her forehead on his.
His hand finally left her tit, sliding down the strap of her dress. She didn't wear a bra beneath her dress and he groaned at the sight. His mouth latched onto her tit, sucking hungrily. His long, calloused fingers continued working their magic.
"Kylian," she whined, "I think I'm close."
His lips moved back to her neck, "You can cum for me, baby."
As he sucked on her sweet spot, the coil in her gut wound so tight it snapped. She bit down on his shoulder to stop herself from yelling. Stars overtook her vision, as she rode out her orgasm on his hand.
As she rested her head on his shoulder, trying to catch her breath, he pulled his fingers out and sucked them clean of her juices. Softly, he brushed her hair out of her face, dropping a kiss on her temple.
He smiled at the sight of her, whispering, "Je t'aime, ma belle."
This suit consists of a hooded blouse, made of white flannel, decorated with ruffles of red wool ribbon. We will use 8 meters of flannel, 80 centimeters wide. After having completed figures 1 and 2 which are folded, we will cut two pieces according to each of these figures, completing the length, - according to the proportions of each person, - in the direction indicated by the point of the arrow, and leaving the fabric necessary for a 3 centimeter hem on the lower edge of the blouse; this should reach approximately the ankle of the foot; we cut the piece of the blouse according to figures 3 and 4, the last one as well as the sleeve (figure 5 represents half) in one piece, without sewing. Figure 6 is half of the cap, also cut without seam, leaving in addition the material necessary for filling on its outer edge. We sew the two halves of the back together, in the middle, at the back, then also the fronts together, from the star to the lower edge; we make a hem in the right side, all around, and we place on the hem a woolen ribbon 2 centimeters wide. We pleat the upper edge by placing two crosses on the intermediate point, so that the punctuated lines represent the outer side of the folds; we edge the folds with a cord, and we join the blouse and the piece by assembling the similar letters. The piece has been lined with piping and trimmed with buttons and buttonholes; we then assemble the blouse from there. To the bottom edge, the piece from F to G. Sew the sleeve together, from H to the cross, and gather it on each long side. The lower edge is trimmed with a double strip placed on horseback, 1 1/2 centimeters wide, the length of which is determined by the size of the arm; we cover this strip with a ruffle made of woolen ribbon, we sew the sleeve in the hem, H with the same letter of figure 1. The hood is folded inside, so that it is double until to the inside line which indicates the place of the slide. We cover the edges of the fabric with a cord which serves as a drawstring. We gather the hood on its upper edge, from the point, we join it to the blouse by assembling the similar letters; The fillings of this seam are covered with a red ribbon. The blouse piece and the hood are decorated with ruffles as the design indicates.
Bonjour, ça fait maintenant deux fois que tu mentionnes le fait que M. Macron est en train de "tuer la gauche". Qu'est-ce que tu entends par lĂ ? J'ai beau lire des journaux, je n'ai peut-ĂȘtre pas la culture politique pour bien suivre^^'
Donc si vous avez envie de vous perdre dans la nature de Yosemite, de glisser en patins Ă roulette et de lĂącher les smartphones, Back to the Future pourrait ĂȘtre pour vous !