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dreaming-medium · 1 year

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Stray Kids Kinktober Day 6

Stray Kids Kinktober Masterlist

Frottage - Bang Chan

Word Count: 8.8k

Summary: Being an award winning actress isn’t as easy as some might think. Award shows themself are one of the more difficult events to tackle. But luckily, during this ceremony, you get to meet some of your favorite idols, and they get to meet their favorite actress.

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“And after the awards ceremony there’s an after party at The Plaza.” Your agent’s voice is strictly business in the back of the limousine.

You’re playing with the fabric of your gown while absentmindedly listening to her.

“Do I have to be on set tomorrow?”

“Yes, your call is at 9:00 AM. Transportation will be at your hotel at 7:30.”

You groan and look up at the ceiling. “Why do they always put these award shows on weekdays?”

“Your weekends aren’t exactly free anymore, either.”

Yes, you’re aware.

The life of an actress was not easy. Especially an award winning one. Right now, you are the hot, new, up-and-coming actress that everyone has their eye on. The actress that every director wants in their movie, their TV show, their commercials– everything.

Currently, you’re in the middle of filming a TV show that has a high fantasy aesthetic to it. You’re the main role in the show, the main badass warrior that everyone roots for. The kind of character that has a million and thirty Tik Tok edits of her.

It’s one of those shows where your character is constantly going through the wringer. The amount of bruises that you have to sport on camera increases each day; real and fake.

Your nerves begin to creep up on you the closer you get to the award venue.

Red carpets were one of the hardest parts of the job. Memorizing lines? Easy. Learning blocking and fight choreo? You do that every day.

Talk to strangers and pose for pictures? No, thank you.

Who were you wearing again?

“This dress is Gucci, right?”

“No, it’s Christian Siriano. I’m glad you asked. Your jewelry is Gucci and your shoes are Prada.”

You stare at your agent blankly, she hasn’t looked up from her tablet once. You were not made for this part of the job.

“Jesus…” you sigh and lean back into the cushioned seat.

“While we’re at it, do you even know what award you’re up for?”

“Outstanding Lead Actress in a Drama Series, right?”

“And?”

“And?” you repeat incredulously. “I thought I was only up for one!”

Finally, your agent looks up with a smirk. “Trick question, you passed. Proud of you.”

You can’t help but laugh and look out the window. “You know I’m nervous as all hell, don’t test me.”

“Don’t be nervous. I’m sure you have this in the bag.”

“That’s exactly what I’m nervous about. I have to get up, walk up those stairs in these Gucci—“

“Prada.”

“Prada shoes. And then make an acceptance speech in front of everyone. Millions of people. No pressure.”

She laughs and looks down at her tablet again. “You’re very charming and everyone loves you, you can talk the paint off a wall, Y/N, just be yourself.”

Grumbling, you cross your arms over your chest. But you can’t sit still in that position for too long at all. You’re too fidgety.

In front of you, there’s a chilled bottle of champagne. You pour it into one of the flutes and sip it entirely too fast for the quality of the drink. ‘Sip’ is putting it gently, you down it.

A second glass is poured, but you choose to hold that one in your hand tightly. Absent-mindedly, you swirl the champagne around, watching the bubbles form and pop up at the top.

A few moments of silence pass, you begin to mutter to yourself to ease the stress. “Christian Siriano dress, Gucci jewelry, Prada shoes. Christian Siriano dress, Gucci jewelry, Prada shoes..”

The crowd starts getting louder the closer you get to the event. Cameras are already flashing outside your limousine.

“I haven’t even told you who’s going to be there.”

Your agent sounds extremely smug all of a sudden. When you look over at her, there’s a cocky smirk on her face.

“Who?” With that look, you’re not even sure that you want to know the answer.

“Maybe put the drink down before I tell you. Wouldn’t want you to spill it on your…”

“Christian Siriano.”

“Christian Siriano dress.”

After downing the contents once more, you put the glass down.

“Okay, who?”

Her smile grows even wider. “You know Stray Kids, right?”

Your face pales, even under all that makeup all the color drains from your skin.

“They’re going to be there?”

She knows, she knows you’ve been a fan for a while. You were a Stay before fame came your way.

Your agent smiles and nods, the light from her tablet illuminating her face.

“Don’t play with me,” your voice is strained. “That’s mean.”

You’ve been keeping your admiration of them on the down low for so long. Now that you’re in the public eye, you have to be very low key about things.

It was killing you.

“They did a soundtrack song for a show, it’s up for an award.”

You were nervous before. Now you’re downright hysterical.

“They’re going to be there? All eight of them?”

“To my knowledge, yes.”

The limousine comes to a gradual stop. The screams outside are deafening, even through the car doors.

“Will I see them?” You ask, gathering your skirt up to try and assist with a graceful exit out of the limo.

“Probably!” There’s a little hint to her voice that you can’t quite put your finger on. What is she doing? What does she know?

The driver comes around the limousine and you take a deep breath, activating your celebrity face.

It’s never hard for you to muster a genuine smile. You’re humble about your life, you know how lucky you are. Thinking about how far you’ve come is all the motivation you need to let the corners of your lips perk up.

“Ready?” Your agent asks.

“Yes, ma’am!”

The door opens and the roar of the crowd goes insane. You’re practically blinded by the flashes of the cameras.

You do your very best to keep a level head and follow the instructions of the security team around you.

In the meantime, as you walk into the venue, you turn and smile at the fans behind the barricades.

Sending them hand hearts, waving enthusiastically back at them. You look up at your head security guard.

“Can I please go sign a few autographs?”

He looks down at you, obviously annoyed. But annoyed in the fatherly way. Just by the look on his face, you knew he was going to say yes.

You quickly pick up your skirt and walk over to the barricade. The screams get louder and louder the closer you get.

“Hi! Hi!” You greet all the fans as they scream for you. So many different objects are thrust over the fence for you to sign.

You grab a marker and begin leaving your signature over everything in sight: posters, shirts, books.

Several selfies are taken with you. Every single fan is so sweet and kind that you can’t help but spend extra time with them.

They reach out and grab your hands, you hold them back and have conversations with them.

You always do this. It’s something you’re very well known for.

“Miss Y/N.” your security guard says gruffly behind you.

“Okay, okay. I gotta go, guys. It was so nice meeting you, and it was nice seeing you again!” You point to a fan that you recognized from a convention you attended a few months ago.

After blowing a few more kisses, you leave the barricade and head towards the red carpet.

If it was up to you, you would’ve stood there and talked with your fans all day and never gone into the awards ceremony. They’re the reason you’re here, after all.

Walking along the carpet, you plaster a smile on your face and wave to all the photographers. You stand still right in the middle of the space and strike several different practiced poses.

You make sure to look in all different directions and show off the dress hugging your body beautifully.

It’s a dark yellow gown with huge puffed sleeves that sit off your shoulders. The center of the gown dips down to show off your cleavage. The rest of the skirt poofs out in a princess style.

It’s absolutely gorgeous. Crafted to show off your body in the best way.

All the photographers call out your name, all of them trying to get your attention.

You wave to several that you recognize and say hello to others.

Your short minutes on the red carpet run out and you quickly make your way across to the other side to link arms with your agent.

She pats your arm, “Great job! Now for the hard part.”

On the other side of the red carpet there are several different magazines, websites, and other fashion sources lined up with interviewers stationed in front of cameras.

“I studied for this, remember?” you tease her and hug her arm closer before letting go.

The first interview you do is with Vogue, they had grabbed your attention so fast you almost got whiplash.

How’s the show? Who are you wearing? Are you nervous about tonight?

These are all questions you prepared for.

Next interview was with Vanity Fair. You had recognized the interviewer, so you approached her first.

“Y/N!” Her face lights up when she sees you.

“Hi!” you answer just as cheerfully, wrapping her in a big hug and then holding her out at arms length. “How have you been?”

“So good, you?”

“Can’t complain– busy. I’m so glad to see you!”

“Me too! Do you have time for an interview?” She asks hopefully.

“I always have time for you.”

She says thank you and her camera man gets into place. A second microphone is handed to you. Before you can blink, she’s in interview mode.

You smile and listen to her introduction.

“I am here with, Y/N L/N, star of the Emmy award winning show, Kings and Pirates. How are you doing tonight, Y/N?”

You lift the microphone up to your mouth and speak into it happily. “I’m doing great, thank you! Always a pleasure to be talking with you on the red carpet.”

“You flatter me, Y/N! Now tell us the obvious question here: Who are you wearing?”

“I am wearing an original Christian Siriano dress, Gucci jewelry, and Prada shoes.”

“The entire outfit is beautiful! An amazing dress to hopefully show off when you win Best Actress tonight…?”

You laugh humbly. “I don’t know, there are so many amazing actresses nominated tonight. A girl can hope, but when I see the other names around mine, I can’t help but be anxious.”

The interviewer opens her mouth to ask another question, but the crowd absolutely erupts in cheers. Louder than when you got out of your limo, louder than some concerts you’ve attended.

“Oh my god, I think someone important just showed up.” You joked into the microphone.

Both you and the interviewer are looking across the carpet, craning your necks to see if you can get a glimpse of whoever just stepped out.

“Minho! Hyunjin! Felix!” Crowd members scream out several names and your heart rate skyrockets.

“Oh my god, it’s Stray Kids.” You accidentally say into the mic.

“Oh wow! Are you a Stay?” She asks you. Your head whips around and a dark blush covers your cheeks.

Laughing nervously, you look down at the ground, suddenly sheepish. “Ah… well, yeah. I’ve been a fan of theirs for years now.”

“Did you know they were going to be here tonight?”

“I was told it was a possibility, but I didn’t want to get my hopes up.”

Joke after joke makes the interviewer and her cameraman laugh.

The interview continues without a hitch. But the entire time all you want to do is turn around and see if you can catch a glimpse of Stray Kids.

Yes, you’re famous. But you’re just a Stay at heart.

You say your goodbyes with the interviewer and turn to move onto the next one.

A gasp catches in your throat as soon as you step away.

All eight of them are right there, doing their own interview with Buzzfeed. They’re smiling and laughing about something.

You’re just able to stare. They’re right there. You’ve never been in the same space as them.

Act professional, Y/N! Stop acting like a fangirl, you’re literally on the clock right now!

Their laughter is contagious and you find yourself smiling as you turn away and walk to another interviewer trying to flag you down.

“… excited to maybe meet tonight? You guys are usually at music award shows, so this is definitely new for you! There’s some new faces that you probably have never seen before.”

“We actually were just talking about this on the ride over,” Chan says to the interviewer, ever the front man. “We’re all huge fans of Kings and Pirates, we watch it together every week when new episodes come out. We joked that it would be an amazing opportunity to say hi to Y/N L/N.”

It’s like the red carpet is pulled right out from underneath your feet.

“But that would be like trying to get a private conversation with royalty, you know?”

You? They want to meet you? They watch your show? Every week? Together?

“I think I just saw her around…” the interviewer trails off, by her tone you can tell she’s looking around for you.

Act casual, Y/N. Pretend like you weren’t listening to every word of their interview closely. Act normal for once in your life.

“Ah, no way.” Chan’s thick accent reaches your ears. He sounds so shy by his tone. Several other members murmur and tease one another.

“Oh, there she is! Y/N!” The interviewer grabs your attention— she technically already had it.

The members begin to get louder when you turn your head to look at the entire group of them staring at you.

When your eyes meet all of theirs, each of them freeze like a deer in headlights. Do they even know who they are?

You can’t tell if you’ve gone sheet white or bright red. Your heart is beating so fast it might explode.

The interviewer waves you over, you look over at the other one you were walking to and hold up a finger to say ‘one moment’ before walking over to the large group of them.

“Hi, hi!” You cheer casually when you come up next to them.

All right members look absolutely starstruck. Jeongin’s eyes look like they might bug out of his head.

They all bow politely when you join the group.

Chan’s bow is a second later than everyone else’s. He’s too busy staring in absolute disbelief.

“Y/N! It’s so nice to see you!” the interviewer says. You think you recognize her from another event.

“You as well,” you respond with a beautiful smile.

“Let’s get you a mic— oh, we have no more— maybe someone— can share?”

Chan is the member closest to you, he immediately angles the mic your way. He does it so fast and eagerly it almost hits right into you.

You giggle and thank him, “Thank you! It’s good to see you too,” you repeat and step a bit closer to him to make sharing easier.

He smells so good. You can feel his body heat radiating onto your bare shoulders. Thankfully, the outdoor chill isn't affecting you much due to your adrenaline being so high.

“Y/N, before I ask anything else, I do need to ask who you’re wearing.”

“Oh, a Christian Siriano original with accessories by Gucci and shoes by Prada.”

“Absolutely stunning,” the interviewer compliments.

A light giggle comes from your chest and you go to thank her. It’s under his breath but you hear Chan say something along the lines of ‘that’s an understatement.’

“I did call you over here for a specific reason, besides the fact that we would love to interview a nominee for Best Actress. It seems you have eight fans all eager to meet you!”

You turn and look over at the members with wide eyes. “Oh my god!” You say out loud and your hand flies to your chest. “I am literally honored!”

“You know Stray Kids?” The interviewer asks.

Well, if they already said they were fans…

You lean down into the mic and laugh, “I have been a Stay for so long, are you kidding?”

Every single one of them don shocked expressions. Chan goes stiff as a board.

You look at each of them with one of the most gorgeous smiles across your face. “When I was called over here with you guys I thought I was going to pass out. I had your discography playing in the room while my stylists got me ready.”

All eight of them move around like little kids meeting their idols for the first time. They each stare at you with literal stars in their eyes.

“The first album that caught my attention was In Life, actually. Haven is my favorite song.”

You rain compliment after compliment down on them.

“It’s truly an honor to meet you, we’re all such huge fans.” Felix is the one that breaks the silence into the mic. The rest of them all nod eagerly.

“Since we’re all fans of Kings and Pirates,” the interviewer brings your attention back. “Do you think you could give us a small spoiler for the new season coming out?”

“Ah,” you laugh and look around a bit, sucking your teeth in thought. “I reaaally shouldn’t, but…” You look to the side to make eye contact with all the members but Chan’s piercing gaze is the one that stole your breath away.

His stylist had done his hair in such a natural, curly way. Every single strand is sitting perfectly on his head. The makeup on his face highlights his features angelically.

Especially that beautiful nose of his.

Each of them wore black tie suits with a bit of personal flair on them. Chan’s entire suit, including the undershirt and tie, was black.

It takes a moment for your brain to reboot, not that anyone noticed. To them, it just looked like you were thinking of a small spoiler to give away.

“I think that fans can look forward to seeing an old face that we previously had to say goodbye to.”

Jeongin eagerly grabs Han’s arm and says something in his ear. The two of them start whispering about what the spoiler could possibly mean.

The rest of them all move around anxiously. Except Chan. He continues to stare at you with his lips parted slightly.

You hold his eye contact for one more moment before looking back at the interviewer with a sinfully sweet smile.

“Wow!” She says over-dramatically on purpose, “I think us fans have a lot to look forward to. Best of luck to all of you with your nominations tonight!”

“Thank you so much!” You chirp into the mic and stand there with a smile while she does her required sign off to go back to the main camera back in LA.

During those few moments, you feel Chan shift his weight so that his entire arm brushes against yours. Goosebumps immediately fly up your shoulder and through your neck.

It takes every muscle in your body not to react to it.

He’s still holding the mic between the two of you just in case you need to speak again. You want to turn your head and look at him so badly.

You want to talk to him in the worst way; ask him questions about the music, even just how his day is, anything.

The cameras cut and you instantly let out a sigh of relief, next to you, you see the eight of them deflate a bit too.

The interviewer says her thanks and the crew takes the mics back from everyone.

“It really was a pleasure meeting you guys,” you say with your hand on your heart again. “Words cannot describe how honored I am to be talking to you all.”

“Are you kidding?” Chan jokes. “We all feel the same way. I don’t think we even thought we would be able to stand near you tonight.”

You laugh and see your agent signaling you out of the corner of your eye.

“Bah! I’m just a girl, really! Best of luck to you guys tonight, I’ll be cheering extra loud from the crowd when you win!”

“The same goes for us,” Chan smiles. He sticks his hand out and you immediately grab it.

Electricity shoots up your arm and you have to bite your cheek to keep yourself from screaming.

Your hands shake and you say your goodbyes to each of the members before walking away to your next interview.

As soon as they think you’re out of earshot, they all begin talking rapidly to one another about you.

“Can you believe it?”

“She’s a Stay!”

“Oh my god, I think I blacked out, did that really happen?”

“You lucky bastard, you got to shake her hand and share your mic with her.”

“Stop acting like a middle schooler.”

Their voices fade into the background the further you get from them. You just can’t help but smile and look down at the floor sheepishly.

---------------------------------------

“I’ll find you after the awards show, okay, hon?” Your agent catches your attention as you walk into the auditorium.

She grabs both of your forearms lightly and kisses your cheek. “Best of luck to you, don’t make yourself look stupid on stage.”

That last part is whispered into your ear and it makes you laugh. “I won’t! I won’t!”

She says her goodbyes once more and you look up at the usher waiting for you.

This award show has its nominees all sitting around large dinner tables. There’s about ten people per table.

For your show, you were the only one nominated for an award tonight, so not even your director or crew was here to sit with you.

The usher held out his arm for you to take and you did so with a gracious smile. There’s a reason you’re known for charming everyone you meet.

He leads you through the vast room. Several fellow actors call your name and greet you, and you respond to each one happily.

“Here we are, Miss Y/N.”

No way. Absolutely no way.

Seated around the entire table are the eight members you saw mere minutes ago, their manager taking the ninth seat.

Sure enough, your name is printed on a sign draped over the back of the chair.

Minho looks up at you first and waves sheepishly. You immediately wave back.

If Lee Minho waves, you wave back.

“Hi again!” You greet them all before turning up and gently laying a hand on the usher’s bicep to thank him. He bows his head once and walks off.

Chan, who was seated next to your empty chair, practically springs out of his seat and stands next to you.

“I can’t believe this,” you tell him with a wide smile. He mirrors it and holds his hand out to the chair.

You laugh while he grabs the back of it and pulls it out from the table.

It takes a little bit of special maneuvering, but you manage to fold your poofy skirt down in order to sit down. Chan pushes your chair back in and takes his seat next to you.

He now sits on your left, Seungmin on your right.

“I guess I would’ve met you guys tonight regardless, then!”

“It seems that way,” Chan answers. He reaches up and rubs the side of his neck with his hand.

Now, from years of being a fan, you know that’s a nervous tick of his. And with your friendly nature, all you want to do is soothe him.

“It’s like I’m getting a deluxe, VIP fan meeting. When Stay watches the award ceremony they’re all going to put a bounty on my head.”

They all laugh and you turn to look at Seungmin, “Can I have an autograph before I die? I didn’t bring any of my albums with me, though.”

He laughs at your joke and your heart smiles with his beautiful grin.

“I knew I should’ve brought a photocard with me.”

Behind you, Chan shifts around. “You bought our albums?”

You turn back to him, “Of course I did. I wanted to support you guys. Best way to do that is streaming your music and buying the albums, right?”

“Yeah,” he answers nervously, his bottom lip pulling between his teeth. “Yeah, you’re right. Just didn’t think I’d ever meet a celebrity I admired and find out they’re a Stay.”

You giggle and lean forward on the table. “I hope that’s not weird. I think I would’ve exploded if I didn’t tell you guys how big of a fan I was.”

“Not weird at all, just unexpected.”

“I guess I feel the same way, especially after hearing that you guys watch the show.”

“We love the show!” Han tells you from across the table. “Sometimes Minho will cut dance rehearsals early for us to go back and watch it.”

“Seriously?” you ask. “Wow, that really means a lot, you have no idea.”

“It’s easy to be a fan of yours,” Chan grabs your attention. “You’re one of the kindest people we’ve met in a while.”

Oh, you are practically kicking your feet around.

“Fame is a whole other universe to tackle. I wanted to make sure I treat my fans and everyone around me the way I wanted to be treated before all this happened to me. It’s important not to lose yourself. But I know you guys all know that already. You’re masters at it.”

“Hyunjin still lets it get to his head.” Felix jokes.

“What!”

The pre-show continues like this as the rest of the celebrities file in. Many stop by your chair and say hello to you.

With each one, you get up out of your seat, hug and kiss them hello, then sit back down only to be interrupted again.

“You certainly are popular,” Chan comments after you say goodbye to a fellow actor. “That last guy crossed the room to come say hi to you.”

With a giggle, you joke, “Is someone jealous?”

He stiffens for a moment, his back going straight and he clenches his fists on the tabletop for a moment. “No.”

His answer is not firm at all.

Before you’re able to analyze it, producers come out among the audience to tell everyone the cameras are about to begin rolling.

“When is your award in the lineup?” You whisper over to Seungmin.

“Right before yours, actually.”

“Maybe I’ll see you all backstage then.”

You both smile at each other and shift back in your chairs.

Several cameramen come out into the audience with their large sets of equipment. One of them is very obviously hovering by you.

You know he’ll signal you if you’re being shown. The teleprompters strategically placed along the venue also show what is being broadcasted.

Opening music begins playing and the lights dim among the audience. The centerpieces on the tables give off an evening glow.

A waiter comes over and places your drink on the table. You actually had forgotten you requested one before sitting down.

You thank him and he takes his leave.

“What’s that?” Chan whispers in your ear.

“Espresso martini,” you answer. “Wanna try?”

Chan looks over at his manager, who is busy watching the host make his opening speech. He nods quickly and leans down, taking a long sip off the top.

A tiny ‘mmm’ comes from the back of his throat and he looks at you while licking his lips a bit.

“Oh that’s delicious.”

“And dangerous.”

You lift the glass and take a long sip from it and place it back down on the table.

“I got my first major role fresh out of college. I’m still learning how to not rely on alcohol to have fun.”

Chan just laughs and both of you direct your attention to the host on stage.

“-and if all else fails, we have our lovely knight in shining armor to protect us, tonight.”

The camera man turns and has the camera on your face. You smile brightly and blow a kiss into the camera. The entire audience lets out several positive reactions.

When the camera cuts away, you let out a sigh of relief. “I knew they were gonna do that.”

You take another large swig of your drink. It’s almost empty already. Curse these fancy people and their tiny portions.

Chan leans over and suddenly his hot breath is on your skin. Goosebumps rip down your body and you can’t suppress a shiver.

“Careful,” he whispers lowly. “I don’t think you want to be stumbling onto the stage.”

“I think you underestimate my alcohol tolerance, Mr. Bang.”

You both make eye contact.

The audience applauds as the host leaves the stage and the first announcer comes on. Both of you clap and Chan leans away from you. Out of the corner of your eye, you see his tongue dart out to wet his bottom lip before he pulls it between his teeth.

His cologne lingers around your senses even after he’s gone.

Dammit, he’s right. But, my god, you need another stiff drink.

---------------------------------------

“And here are the nominees…” The announcer says into the mic. The entire table is holding their breath.

This was it, this was Stray Kids’ award. Your jaw clenches with anticipation as the names are read off one by one. Individually, you crack each of your knuckles anxiously.

All eight of the members are staring up at the screen, each of them have their own nervous ticks.

You reach under the table to try and comfort Chan a bit, your hand landing on his knee. He jumps in place at the table at the contact.

Without looking at each other, he places his hand on top of your and squeezes a bit.

“It’s going to suck when I have to sit here by myself after you guys win.” you whisper to him.

“If we win.”

“You’re going to win.” You squeeze his knee again.

“And the winner is…”

You suck in a breath, all of them stiffen up. Cameras are pointed at each of the nominees tables.

“Stray Kids!”

Immediately, you spring out of your seat with a gleeful cheer. Clapping your hands together and smiling at each of them.

Without a second thought, Chan wraps you into a grand hug, pure joy written across his face. Your face morphs into a shocked one, but you hug him back happily.

He’s so warm. His hug is so tight.

After a few heartbeats, he tears himself off of you with an unreadable expression. All eight of them walk up to the stage and grab the award from the presenter.

Sitting back down, you take a second to catch your breath.

So badly, you want to focus on their acceptance speech, but all you can think about was the way Chan held you. It went straight to your heart, and thanks to the alcohol in your veins, it traveled a bit south as well.

Nervously, your hand comes up and rubs at your chest by your collarbones, a small nervous tick of yours.

The table feels so empty without the eight of them there. Their manager is the only one left sitting there with you. He’s watching their speech intently.

Both of you stand and clap once more as they walk off the stage. All of them pushing each other gleefully and playing slap ass. It makes you giggle.

All of the lights around the room shift again and another announcer comes into the stage. The same camera man as before comes around the side of the table to stand closer to you.

The announcer goes through their speech about how important actresses are, how each of you stood out, how it was an honorable nomination. Your heart is in your throat, you can feel each thud against your ribcage so closely.

No one was next to you to hold your knee.

“And the nominees are…”

Various clips of the other nominees in their element flash behind their names.

Your name is third. Several different dramatic scenes play out within the five second window. They chose some of your best scenes for that little animation. The next few nominees flash after that.

“And the winner is…”

You suck in your breath.

“Y/N L/N! King and Pirates!”

The entire audience erupts in cheers. Practically everyone stands up on their feet.

You bury your face in your hands in disbelief.

“Oh my god!” you practically yell as you stand up.

An actor from the next table places his hand on your back to help you out of your chair. You smile gratefully at him and make your way up to the stage.

During the entire walk, several different people offer you their congratulations, you thank each of them, shaking their hands.

Climbing your way onto the stage, you make your way over to the announcer, kissing their cheeks as a thank you and turning to speak into the mic.

“Oh wow,” you laugh into the mic, looking down at the award and then back up at the audience. “I know everyone says this, but I really did not expect this! I mean, have you seen any of the other shows?”

A gentle laugh comes from the crowd.

The rest of your acceptance speech is short, sweet, and to the point. The timer on one of the teleprompters definitely motivated you to speak quickly.

As you walk away with your award, music plays behind you. A stage manager comes up to you and ushers you through the wings.

Several more congratulations come your way, you respond to each of them humbly.

You turn a corner and are met with a cheer even louder than the one from the auditorium full of people.

All eight members of Stray Kids are clapping for you, jumping up and down in excitement. Your enthusiasm immediately matches theirs as you come up to them.

“I can’t believe it!” you say loudly, holding the award out to look at. “I think I’m dreaming!”

You turn and look up at Hyunjin, “Pinch me, I have to be asleep!”

He laughs at you and lightly grabs your arm. You yip dramatically and look back down at the trophy. “Nope, definitely awake!”

“If you guys would please find your seats, we need to clear this hallway.” a stagehand ushers your group away. He turns and looks down at you with a soft smile, “They wouldn’t leave until you came back.”

“Aww,” you coo to all of them. Your arm wraps around Jeongin’s, who happens to be the closest at the moment. “You guys are too sweet!”

Your head rests on his arm and you hug it close as a thank you. He pats your hand and bends his arm to escort you back to your table.

A pair of deep brown eyes burn into the side of your head the more you grab onto Jeongin. Not that you noticed.

Walking through the hallways, you see one back hall that has signs for the bathroom.

“Actually, I’m going to run to the ladies’ room before going back to the table. I’ll meet you guys back there. Do you mind taking this back to the table for me?”

You drop Jeongin’s arm and hold the trophy out to him. The maknae is hesitant, but takes your award anyway. You laugh at him and rub his arm before you head back to the bathroom.

“Am I allowed to be holding this?” he asks as you walk away.

The venue was a grand, old hotel, you follow so many twists and turns to get to the bathroom. Was there even one back here?

Did you take a wrong turn? There aren’t even workers back here.

You definitely aren’t supposed to be back here. Turning back and finding another bathroom is probably the best option at this point.

A gentle grasp on your wrist makes your heart jump and a gasp tear from your throat. Frightened, you turn around and raise your hand to hit whoever snuck up on you.

“Y/N! It’s just me!” Chan says quickly, cowering behind his hand just in case you still swing.

“Ugh, Chan! You scared the shit out of me!”

“Sorry, I called your name a few times, I guess you didn’t hear me.” You shake your head, he sucks his teeth. “That explains it. Staff told me there’s no bathroom down here, I wanted to grab you before you got too lost.”

Chan chuckles nervously, you laugh too. “That explains it. I guess those signs must’ve been extras that they printed for the venue. Who knows?”

It’s now that you notice he’s still holding your wrist tightly in his hand. His hand is so warm, so soft.

He nervously licks his lips and his eyes look all around the hall, anywhere but at you. His throat bobs with a gulp.

“I don’t ah— I don’t believe I gave you a proper congratulations. So, congratulations on the award. You deserve it.”

“Oh!” You giggle. “Thank you! And a hearty congratulations to you as well, I can’t think of anyone who’s worked harder than you guys.”

Taking another step closer to him, you turn your wrist around and take a hold of his hand.

“I also can’t think of any other celebrities I would want to celebrate with.” The corners of your lips pull into a grin, Chan’s twitch as well. “You guys are so sweet, cheering for me. Made the win that much better.”

Slowly, his ears begin to turn red and his jaw clenches a few times. His chocolate brown eyes flit all over your face and around the hall. His nerves on clear display.

“Yeah, well, you deserve it, so.” Chan clears his throat and adjusts the tie around his neck. “I can’t take credit for it, it was Changbin’s idea to wait for you and all.”

You reach up on your toes and press a long, soft kiss to his cheek. With his lips right by your ear, you’re able to hear him gasp under his breath and then stop breathing.

Underneath your lips, you feel how much heat is radiating off his smooth skin. It’s like you kissed a frying pan.

“Thank you, Channie,” you whisper against his skin.

The hand around yours twitches and tightens.

You press another kiss to his cheek before going to back away.

Quicker than you can blink, Chan’s free hand comes around your body and holds you against him. His hand curls around you to press into the small of your back.

Your head tucks under his chin, ear against the dip of his throat. His heart is beating just as fast as yours.

“Not yet,” he whispers so quietly you almost didn’t hear it. “Please, not yet.”

Your heart thuds in your chest at his words. How could you not? The Bang Chan is asking you to stay closer to him for just a little while longer. The same man you’ve admired from a distance for years.

The man who created such a deep parasocial relationship with you that it took a lot of self reflection to bring yourself out of it. And now, here you were, in his arms in real life, tucked away in the hallway of this hotel.

Smelling his expensive cologne and aftershave, listening to his shallow breathing, the entire world seems to stop. If your past self could see this, she’d probably pass out.

Hell, you might pass out now.

You squeeze his hand once and he responds with a grip of his own.

Slowly, you pull your head back to gaze up at him. He stares down at you with the most thoughtful expression.

Eyes are windows to the soul; and right now, his soul is so flustered and fulfilled at the same time.

“I can’t believe tonight is real,” you murmur.

Several times, you catch Chan’s eyes flicking down to your lips. Each stolen glance adds another butterfly to your stomach.

His hand on your back pulls you even closer.

“You keep talking as if you’re not one of the biggest names in the world right now.” he teases and you chuckle softly. “If anyone should be pinching themself, it’s me.”

His breath is cool and minty. Yours is tinged with espresso.

Your tongue comes out and licks your bottom lip before you pull it between your teeth. Chan watches, trying not to make it obvious.

“Can I try something?” Your question is deathly quiet. If it wasn’t for the silence of the hallway, there’s no way he would have heard it otherwise.

“Yes,” he replies immediately. It comes out as a huff; quick, short, and desperate.

“Close your eyes, Chan.”

He listens right away, his eyes snapping shut.

You hesitate for a split second, just taking in his ethereal beauty. Every curve of his gorgeous, blemish free face. It’s not fair.

Both of his hands twitch, his jaw clenches.

You lean up slowly and press a featherlight kiss on his plush lips.

His shoulders seem to sag inwards, a large, relieved exhale leaves his nose.

Fireworks explode behind your eyes, tingles shoot down into your fingertips.

You pull back after a second, his eyes open a bit and Chan stares down at you, his lips parting for a moment.

He stares intently into your eyes, as if trying to read you or see something within them.

Without breaking eye contact, he leans down and kisses you again. You melt into the kiss with half lidded eyes, they unfocus as you fall further into his kiss.

Chan pulls back for a moment to turn his head and capture your lips once more, his bottom lip slotting between yours.

Both of your eyes shut.

Your hands move and you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling his head closer to yours as he kisses you like his life depends on it.

Chan holds your waist with both hands, the heat from his hold going right through your dress.

Each kiss is hot and heavier than the last. His grips at your dress grow needier and needier by the second, he can’t hold you close enough to his body.

Within moments, you’re both opening and closing your mouths, with open mouthed, wet, sloppy kisses. His eyebrows pull together.

Erotic pants fill the empty hallway.

You ever so gently bite down on his bottom lip and pull your head back.

Chan sighs and his half lidded, hazy eyes look down into yours as his lip snaps back after you release it.

He takes two long steps and walks you backwards until your back hits the wall.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs against your lips before capturing them in another heated kiss. “You’ll have to tell me. I can’t do it myself. Not when I’ve wanted you for so long.”

Your fingers thread up through his hair on the back of his head and you pull him closer against you.

Tangled tongues and gentle grunts mix together.

“What if I don’t want you to stop?” you ask lowly in between kisses.

Chan groans and presses his entire body into yours.

You felt like you’re on fire with the way you’re so feverishly pulling him closer.

One his hands moves up and down your waist. The puffiness of your skirt getting in the way of his hips grinding directly into yours.

“So beautiful,” he mutters between kisses. “So gorgeous.” Kiss. “Wanted you for so long.”

It’s your turn to moan at his praise, you suck on his tongue and his eyes roll back in his skull.

When you pull away from each other panting, you look around in the hallway. There’s a door right next to you both, where it leads, you’re not sure.

Chan kisses your cheek and then makes his way down your neck with his lips.

“Chan,” you moan out.

“Yeah, baby?”

Fuck. That goes right to your head and makes your stomach flip.

He presses another wet kiss to your exposed collarbone and your head tilts back, knocking against the wall. He’s making it impossible to try and get any words out.

The hand on your ribcage squeezes when you let out a breathy exhale.

“Did you need something?” he mouths against your neck and bites down right after.

Oh, that cocky motherfucker.

“Fuck, Chan…!” You pull at his hair.

He brings his head up with a dopey look on his face, eyes half lidded and hazy.

“Hm?” he hums and leans in, pressing another kiss to your check.

One of your hands comes down and runs over his chest. You grab a hold of his tie and twist it around your hand before yanking on it. Your lips are right next to his ear and you make sure to let out hot exhales.

Chan gasps and presses a hand on the wall next to your head to keep his balance. A shiver wracks his body.

“You’re starting something you can’t finish.” The low, gravel timbre of your voice shocks even you for a moment. It’s raspy and sexy. It has an effect it has on Chan immediately. His pupils dilate and he takes a sharp intake of air.

“Oh, princess,” Chan bites your earlobe before blowing against it lightly. “I’ve never started something I didn’t intend on finishing.”

God, his voice. It’s like running your fingers over velvet. You yank his tie to the side and drag him towards the room like he’s on a leash.

Chan lets out a surprised grunt, but follows you nonetheless. Just like your little puppy begging you for your attention.

The entire walk over to the door, his hands are on your body. Anywhere Chan can reach, he’s touching you.

When you push open the door, you’re happily surprised to find an empty dressing room. All the lights are off– perfect.

Once you both are inside, the door shuts and you push Chan against the back of it. Your lips desperately smashing together.

He’s everywhere on your body. His hands don’t stay in the same place for more than two seconds before he’s groping somewhere else.

Blindly, he reaches for the door handle and clicks the lock in place.

Your fist is still tightly curled around his tie, you wind it around your hand a few more times while your tongues tango. Sinfully wet noises emanate from your locked lips. Your other hand runs down his chest to unbutton his blazer.

Chan pushes off the wall and shucks the blazer off his shoulders, dropping it onto the ground.

Never once do his lips leave yours. He’s intoxicating, you can’t get enough and neither can he.

He backs you up again until your ass hits a counter.

In one smooth movement, Chan reaches down and grabs your waist and lifts you onto the countertop. Your legs part and he stands in between them.

“This fucking dress,” he growls against your lips and nips your bottom one lightly. Desperately, he begins grabbing at the fabric, bunching it up around your hips. Underneath, you’re still clothed in stockings, corsets, spandex shorts, and many more.

He doesn’t seem to care. With both hands now grabbing your nylon-clad thighs, he brings both of your legs to wrap around his waist.

As soon as both of your hips meet, moans leave both of your mouths and you swallow each other’s. He’s hard as a fucking rock against you. So many layers of clothing separate the two of you from one another, it’s endlessly frustrating.

You pull his tie even tighter and one of his hands comes down to grip the edge of the counter for balance.

Your hips roll against his once and he has to tighten his grip so much his knuckles turn white.

“Do it again,” he whines against your mouth.

Who are you to say no?

Again, you roll your hips up into his. This time, his hard cock rubs right against your clothed clit. It’s just enough to send a ripple down your legs and into your toes and they curl in your Prada heels.

You don’t stop in between hip rolls this time, you do it again and again and again. Each one feels better than the next.

It’s like your head goes underwater, deep within the riptide of the oceans of pleasure.

And by the noises that are coming out of Chan’s mouth, you know he feels the same way.

His hips begin to meet your thrusts with his own. Both of you are grinding into each other like teenagers in your parents’ basement.

But you both are so needy at this moment that you’ll take anything you can get to scratch that insatiable itch.

With each thrust, his exhales get heavier and heavier, whimpers and whines come out in between them.

Your head kicks back against the mirror behind you after one particularly delicious roll. There’s no way you’re even on planet Earth right now with how much he’s making your body thrum.

“Fuck, babygirl,” he moans out and kisses your bare shoulder.

You pull on his tie absentmindedly while you cry out when he thrusts even harder.

“Wanna hear those moans with you on my cock,” he hisses when your legs tighten around his waist. “If I’m making you feel this good without touching you, think of how loud you’ll scream when I can finally fuck you into my mattress.”

“Chan-!” you whimper, your eyes squint closed, mouth falling open.

How is he so fucking good at this? Those dancer hips are merciless. It sends just the right amount of pleasure through your body.

“You know that Vogue photoshoot you did last month?” he moans into your ear, his lips right next to it.

Your Vogue photoshoot was a borderline boudoir shoot. Only a black sheet covered you in most of your shots.

All you’re able to do is whine out an “uh-huh”.

“Babygirl, I can’t even think about that shoot without my cock getting hard. God, fu–huck! Shit.”

He’s going to make you cum just by grinding on you. You can feel it coming closer and closer.

One of his hands travels up your body to grab at the side of your neck, his thumb caressing your jawline while he licks and nips at the other side.

“Want you to pose like that for me. I want you all to myself.” He sounds like he would eat you whole if he could. And fuck, you would let him.

He could tell you to get on your knees and bark right now and you would.

“Close, Chan…” you whimper.

Just hearing that he’s going to make you cum makes his eyes roll in his skull. Every single wet dream of his is coming true under his own two hands. He has Y/N L/N’s legs wrapped around his waist, his cock pressed against her clothed cunt, her skin in his mouth.

Is this what winning felt like?

“You gonna cum for me babygirl?” he hisses and bites your neck.

“Yes! Shit! Don’t stop, please!”

When you try to meet his thrusts, your hips stutter, they’re unable to keep up with how fast he begins moving.

“Need you to cum, babygirl, need it so bad. Need it like I need oxygen.” Chan’s hand moves and he pulls your lips together.

He’s all consuming.

Three more thrusts and your body seizes, your orgasm gripping you so tightly that you think you might black out.

You break free from his kiss to throw your head back. It thuds against the mirror. Your legs tighten around him so much he can barely move.

Chan rolls his hips a few more times, letting you ride out your mind-blowing orgasm. Each one is slower and more sensual than the last.

After a few seconds, your legs loosen up a bit around him. Chan trails softer kisses down your neck, over both of your collarbones, then back up to your cheeks.

They’re gentle and sweet. So different from the way he was absolutely devouring you mere moments ago.

“Chan,” you pant out. “Let me help you.”

“Soon, baby. Not here.”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a gold card– a hotel roomkey.

Chan leans forward and presses a long kiss to your swollen lips. While he’s attached to you, he slips the roomkey into the top of your dress where your breasts sat.

“The Mark, room 103. Fuck The Plaza, you have your own afterparty to attend to.”

#stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids kinktober #skz kinktober #bang chan smut #bang chan x reader #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #bang chan #fanfic

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leupagus · 1 year

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Gonna call this "All This Life" and it's just gonna be 5K of Jade being an embarrassing wife guy about Nate

It's July, which means she's about to lose him. She loses him every year around this point — either he's really gone, off to Barcelona or Milan, muttering imprecations at whatever interpreter they've lined up for him; or he's off in his own head, locked in his office and scowling down at the various football Lego sets that were the parting gift from that off-putting American Nate still has an inexplicable fondness for.

She never really liked Ted Lasso, but she loves Nathan Shelley, and so when they meet at the odd social function or sporting event she'll bestow a smile and a polite interest until he goes away. It never takes very long, which is nice.

"I've almost forgot how terrifying you are when you do that, love," Nate says to her after the Richmond 'do, half-asleep already. He'd smiled broad and warm and surprised when she'd come downstairs in that blue dress she hadn't been quite sure of at the store, worried it might be too tight, worried she hadn't kept the weight off like she'd promised herself. That smile had carried her out the door with a half-hearted "bye" to the babysitter and wrapped round her in the back of the limousine (he's still so weird, always insisting on limos for these stupid things, but he wants to keep his attention on her and not the road). And at the clubhouse, through seventeen variations of "So do you think you can keep Richmond's place in the rankings, what ho?" he'd turn to her and share that smile with her again, and then give a pleasant, twisting answer.

"Mm. Do what," she asks, rereading the last paragraph. She doesn't think much of Croft's translation, if she's honest — Polish is silkier than this, without the porridge lumps of English, but there are better words, better turns to evoke what Tokarczuk means. Still, it's not bad. There's something to learn from, here. Nate likes to say they're both in fields that let them learn from other people's mistakes.

"Give people that 'I'm just waiting for you to go away' look," Nate says, settling and resettling and re-resettling. He'll do this for another hour, trying to find the perfect angle so he can watch her until he falls asleep. He's never yet admitted that that's what he does; she's never yet admitted that that's why she stays up. So she can be watched — can hold onto his attention for those last moments.

(In July and August, though, he falls asleep almost as soon as he's in bed; he's taken to snoring, which she's saving up to tell him until the moment it will make him sputter the most. The beginning of a new season takes him away into new plans, different strategies, hunting for that millimetre of advantage amongst the pack of whatever league he's up against this year. And it's always him up against them; he's not the youngest anymore, but he still stands out in those anodyne pictures they put up of all the head managers. He'll never not have something to prove.)

"You used to give me that look," Nate mumbles, face half-mashed into the pillow. "S'one reason I fell in love with you."

"Your fetish for people who are mean to you is well-established," she says, turning the pages on both copies of Bieguni, even though she isn't really paying attention to the book anymore. Even though he knows she's not paying attention. Theirs is a marriage of hiding in plain sight, of pretending badly not to love each other as much as they do and holding secret and smug the knowledge that they've seen through the other's terrible facade.

#ted lasso fic #nate shelley #ficcage of interest #believe mothereffers

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sirianasims · 8 months

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On Saturday, my mother surprised us by letting us have our pick from her vast wardrobe for the red carpet event.

“This is crazy, Freya, why does your mom even own stuff like this?”

“I assume it’s from a promotional event or something with Conrad. She has a lot of odd things like that.”

“What about this? Too beach party?”

“What about ‘too naked’, Jess? Same for this one, I don’t know why you insisted I try it on. I’d feel less exposed in a bikini.”

“Fine. I guess we wouldn’t want to cause some sort of scandal for your dear stepdad.”

“Actually, knowing Conrad, he’d probably find it hilarious. But let’s try on a few more things.”

When we arrived – by limousine of course – I felt giddy with excitement. I’d visited mom and Conrad over the years, and I’d sat through endless dinner parties with directors and cast members, but actually being on the red carpet was new even to me.

Jessica and I had a lot of fun posing for the cameras.

No one knew who we were, but they assumed that we had to be important since we arrived with Conrad Richards himself, the star of Quantum Llamas.

Conrad was notorious for always being extra when making public appearances. He would usually put on a little performance with my mom for the cameras, and people loved it.

Back in the day, Conrad Richards had been known as a heartbreaker, but for the last 15 years, he’d only been breaking the hearts of his fans – by being aggressively devoted to my mother.

She was only too happy to play up that fact.

As Conrad delivered a short speech and a funny monologue from the new season, I noticed my mother beaming with pride in the front row, her love for her husband written all over her face. It made me miss Samuel terribly, and I longed to go home, away from the lights and the people and just be with him.

The next day, Jessica and I spent most of the morning in the pool before going home.

“Seriously, Freya, why do you not visit your mother more often? I’d literally kill to have this life.”

“Honestly? It gets exhausting. You’ve seen my mom, she and Conrad both thrive on attention. She loves this, all the glitz and glamour and dinner parties and red carpet events, and I just… don’t. I think I’m more of a homebody, really.”

“But you still want to be a great athlete? What if you made it, and you got really big, wouldn’t it be the same? Like, paparazzi and attention and security guards and sponsor deals and all that?”

I thought about it. I loved sports and I wanted to be the best at everything I did, but I hadn’t actually considered the practicalities of the life of a famous athlete that much.

“I guess? I doubt I’ll ever be, like, internationally famous, though. Plus it’s probably going to slow down my career whenever I get married and have kids and all that.”

“True. That’s why I’m not having kids any time soon, but I could definitely use a boyfriend.”

“What, tired of your dry spell?”

“Oh, you have no idea. You’re so lucky, I bet Samuel is an absolute fiend in bed, those restrained types always have hidden depths.”

“Uh… I don’t… We haven’t actually… You know.”

“What? Seriously, excuse me for prying, but why? You’ve been together for months, the man is gorgeous – how can you not?”

“I’ve just been really nervous about it? I actually think I might be OK going for it, but we’ve waited for so long that I’m not sure how to get started.”

“Come on, Freya, just jump him when we get home! It’s not like he’s going to say no, trust me!”

I splashed her.

“That’s more than enough advice, Jessica, thank you very much!”

beginning / previous / next

#duchellilegacy #duchellichapters #duchelligen4 #freya duchelli #jessica clemons #katherine gilscarbo #conrad richards #katherine is living her best life ok #mind your own business jessica!

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dilemmaontwolegs · 1 year

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Running from the Flames {24}

Pairing: Pierre Gasly x OFC Warnings: 18+ only, Pierre being a simp- this is a work of fiction and the events are not based on reality. Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

I would never truly be comfortable in front of all the cameras but they no longer sent me spiralling into a panic attack. I still held Pierre’s arm a little tighter as we stepped out of the limousine and made our way towards the mass of reporters.

I looked back at the car longingly but it was already pulling away so the next one could pull in, possibly the one with Granny and Matthew. Pierre had renewed her interest in the sport and now she was looking to invest in one of the teams, obviously we knew it was going to be Alpine but she wanted an invite to the event so she hadn’t declared that piece of information yet.

Someone called Pierre’s name and we were led to the side where a few special commentators were allowed to interact with guests. We were told to stand at the x taped to the carpet and dutifully moved into position as the woman introduced herself as Anya Beckett of Vanity Fair.

“I am here with the gorgeous couple, Pierre Gasly and Brianna Vowles, so tell me, who are you wearing tonight?”

Pierre expertly unbuttoned his fitted jacket with one flick and held the sides open as he did a turn. The women in the crowds lining the red carpet nearly deafened me with their screams and he waved with a smile and a wink that would only make them louder.

Since he was busy working the crowd up and then darting forward to sign a few autographs the microphone was turned to me for the answer.

“We are both wearing special pieces from Betty Strauss to raise awareness that today is the international White Ribbon Day which aims to eradicate violence against women.”

“Oh yes, I see that now,” she said as she waved to the crossed neck halter. “But this is definitely not any of the vintage collections I have seen, how did you possibly get the Betty Strauss out of retirement?”

A cheer went up as the next limo arrived and I looked down the red carpet to see Granny waving like a Queen to her subjects. Matthew looked every bit the professional model he was as he tucked one hand in his pocket and looked down the camera with a pose, one arm around Granny’s waist.

“Wow, I hope I look half as good as that at her age,” Anya blushed as Betty strutted her way over in towering heels. “Betty, it’s wonderful to see you outside of Fashion Week. I know this wasn’t on anyone’s bingo card for the season.”

“Life would be a drag if I were anything but unpredictable. Doesn’t my granddaughter look wonderful?”

Anya’s eyes darted between us. “Granddaughter?”

“Harry may have got the surname in the divorce,” Betty joked, “but we still had Damien together.”

“Of course,” Anya laughed nervously as she gave Matthew a side glance but he was used to Granny’s sense of humour that dad had inherited. “And can we expect to see this stunning piece in the new season drop for Strauss Fashion?”

I shook my head and spoke up. “This, along with Pierre’s suit and his racing helmet, are going to be up for auction tomorrow night after the race. All the money will be donated to The Kering Foundation so if you haven’t registered already you can find the link to the form on any of mine or Pierre’s social media accounts.”

I looked around trying to find him and spotted him way back down the red carpet with Charles who had just arrived. The two were talking animatedly together and he pointed my way before clutching his chest. I cocked an eyebrow up at Pierre and Charles cupped his hands around his mouth to shout over the crowd. “He won’t stop telling me how beautiful you look!”

“I can’t, it’s true,” Pierre shouted before they were asked to make their way towards the building and he caught me around the waist, his lips teasing my ear as he whispered. “You are so beautiful it hurts.”

“Ay, come on guys, some of us are depressingly single,” Charles complained as he pushed us apart and stepped in between to drape an arm over our shoulders. “Bri, you do look beautiful, Pierre, eh, not so much.”

“Bullshit,” Pierre scoffed. “You just called me ‘handsome daddy’ back there.”

“Wait, you don’t speak spanish…unless…” Charles looked at me and I could feel my cheeks burning under the layers of makeup. “You call him papi chulo? Oh, this is too good.” He slipped away from us, waving to the crowd as he rushed inside calling out for Carlos and I buried my face in my hands.

“Thank you for your time, enjoy your evening and best of luck for the race tomorrow,” Anya said after seeing it was going to be impossible to get our attention back and turned to the camera to reconfirm the information she had received. “There you have it, you could own some unique pieces of memorabilia whether you are a fan of Formula One or fashion, and it’s for a great cause too.”

Pierre winked to the camera and waved goodbye before leading us into the convention centre that was lit up brightly.

“Now everyone is going to be calling you papi chulo,” I groaned as we stepped inside and I immediately spotted Charles and Carlos huddled together. “I’m going to get a drink and let you have fun with that.”

Lewis found me at the bar and I complimented the flamboyant outfit he wore that was as far from the black tie dress code as possible. The bright rainbow tie dye colours of his oversized clothes represented his support for the LGBTQ+ community and on the back in bold print it said ‘Black Lives Matter’.

The bartender spotted Lewis waiting and rushed past the other people who had been waiting longer than us and Lewis tried to tell him to serve the others but the man obviously had his orders of priority.

“I’ll grab a mock mojito, please.”

“Oh, make that two,” I said I saw the ingredients on the menu and decided it looked delicious. I turned to him while we waited and noticed the white ribbon pinned to his shirt. “Hey, we match.”

“We all do,” Lewis chuckled and nodded his head to Lando and Oscar who were talking together not far away, a white ribbon pinned to their suits. “Pierre worked up a sweat chasing everyone up and down the paddock this morning. He even got one on Roscoe.”

“You don’t even let me put anything on him.”

“That’s because you want to put him in Alpine colours,” Lewis pointed out.

“I didn’t know he was planning that.” I searched the room and found him in a fit of laughter between Carlos and Charles, no doubt being teased goodheartedly.

“That’s hard to believe, he’s absolutely terrible at keeping secrets.”

I laughed at the honest statement and took a sip of the drink that had been placed on the bartop. The fresh zesty flavour of clementine and lime filled my mouth and I hummed in appreciation as I placed it back down. “Ok, you have officially sold me on non-alcoholic drinks.”

“They will be in high demand tonight. I don’t think anyone will want to drink too much with the race tomorrow.”

We looked at the youngest drivers on the grid and laughed as they tapped their bottles of beer together, cheering to their team.

“Oh, to be young again.”

Lewis choked on his drink with a laugh. “You're only 26, Bri.”

“I swear I hardly need to sleep anymore, I get so much stuff done before anyone else is awake that I need a hobby. Actually, I saw this clip on tik tok about how easy it is to knit that I am seriously considering trying. I practically fit the criteria for a retirement home.”

“You can make me a sweater, cute little pattern on it, plenty of colour, bam.”

I snorted at the idea and shook my head. “I think I’ll leave the big projects to the professionals,” I said with a nod in Betty’s direction. “But maybe a beanie won’t be too hard, or little booties.”

“Whose booty are we talking about?” Pierre asked as his arms wrapped around my waist and held one fist out to Lewis. “Sup, man.”

Lewis bumped his knuckles against Pierre’s. “No booty talk here but it sounds like Bri’s about to start nesting.”

Pierre’s brows pinched in confusion at the term. “Nesting?”

Toto broke through the crowd and looked relieved to have found Lewis, calling him off to talk with some investors but Lewis stopped to look back at Pierre with an amused look. “Google it.”

We didn’t have time to search for the definition because Otmar found us first with Esteban in tow. He gave them both a quick pep talk to boost their confidence before nudging them off towards the throngs of people wanting to talk to the drivers.

“How are you doing, kiddo?” Otmar asked as we took our places at the designated Alpine table. Granny and Matthew were already seated and enjoying a bottle of champagne together.

“Never been better, truly,” I said with a grin. “I would have rather had the usual family dinner than this though.”

Otmar laughed and agreed. “It’s a necessary evil and with Betty’s contribution we will be a serious contender for a place in the top three for the Constructors Championship next year. And I think the boys are holding their own in the lion's den.”

I scanned the crowd for Pierre and found him easily thanks to Esteban’s height. The men he was talking to were as charmed by him as I was and they listened to his compelling story with interest, laughing along with him when he joked about something.

“I’m glad they are getting along better,” I commented as I watched the two Alpine driver’s share a grin as they moved onto the next group.

“Makes my job easier, that’s for sure.” Otmar leaned back in his chair and swirled the amber liquid in his tumbler. “I’ve been meaning to speak with you about - Harry?”

“Harry?” I asked confused before following his line of sight and twisting in my chair to see my grandad sauntering into the room. I rose to my feet to give him a hug but I was lost for words since he was always too busy with work in the States to travel anywhere outside of it.

I immediately looked at Granny as he gave me a final squeeze before moving on and she cocked an eyebrow up at the sight of her first husband pulling out the chair beside her.

“Long time no see, Elizabeth,” he greeted her as he took a seat.

“Well I didn’t divorce you because I wanted to see more of you, Harold.” She waved a hand between the two seats either side of her. “My husband, Matthew. Sweetheart, this is Harry Vowles, Damien’s father.”

I leaned closer to Otmar and whispered out of the corner of my mouth. “This is awkward.”

Otmar swallowed his laugh and whispered back. “Isn’t it just?”

“So what brings you here, Harold?”

I tuned into the conversation but Gramps merely tapped his nose with a mischievous smile that had Granny narrowing her eyes. “All I’ll say is it is worth delaying some very important meetings.”

The lights dimmed and the MC for the night announced that the business part of the evening had concluded, finally. Pierre soon found his way back to the table and shook Grandad’s hand, spending a little time catching up since the last time they had seen each other which had been at the race in Austin, Texas.

I chewed on my lip as I watched the interaction before Pierre took his seat beside me, his hand slipping under the table to rest on my thigh. “Did you know he was going to be here?”

Pierre’s lips parted and his eyes darted around before his mouth shut closed again. He was suddenly uncomfortable in his seat and shifted around, tugging at his bow that was suddenly seeming to choke him.

I reached over and pressed my hand to his forehead, feeling it warm under my skin. “What’s going on, babe? You’re breaking out in a sweat.”

“Nothing, it’s just hot in here.” His hand slipped from my knee and he stood up, pressing a quick kiss to my forehead. “Je t’aime, I’ll be back in a minute.”

I grabbed his hand and he looked down at where they joined, a small smile playing on his lips. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

His smile grew and he lifted my hand to his lips, kissing my knuckles. “Never better, mon amour.”

Click here for chapter twenty five.

Tagging: @my-only-way-tocooperatewithlife @prrttysposts @alwaysclassyeagle

#pierre gasly fanfic #pierre gasly x poc!oc #pierre gasly x oc #formula one fanfiction #formula one imagine #f1 fic #running from the flames

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paskariu · 4 months

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Toyota Yaris Ranking

Because I am definitely not having a Moment about the Yaris I have decided to create a personal ranking from best to worst yaris model. This is just my personal opinion based on my own biases.

For the sake of simplicity, I won't rate the facelifts separately and instead only rank the entire model generation.

1 Yaris P1 1999-2006

The OG. The cuddle bug that graced the world and said "I WILL get you from A to B no matter what you do to me". Change its oil and it's happy.

2 GR Yaris 2020-

The cool little brother. The GR set out to fulfil the question we all wanted to be answered, "What if Yaris but fast as fuck".

Makes the old TR and RS variants sweat, and even people who previously scuffed at the Yaris do a double take.

Kind of looks like it has this dentist push-your-lips-away device on. Angry hamster.

3 Yaris XP9 2005-2011

As a reviewer put it, the second gen is an example of "sophisticated blandness". It's a car. It drives you places. The interior features are good enough for people who just want to have a car.

It takes all of this with a friendly face. Its circular body refined with a few chosen body lines to break up the shape make for a car that got a participation trophy at a sports event.

It's just happy to be included.

Fun fact: I have that model

4 Yaris XP21 2020-

Final evolution (for the time being). Lost some of the no-thoughts-head-empty charm of the older Yari. Manta ray inspired front is somewhat unique in today's angry faced car world. Wants to look like the GR, but not that much.

5 Yaris Verso/FunCargo XP10 1999-2005

What SUVs could have been. Toyota themselves called this an MPV- Multi-Purpose-Vehicle. This micro-van can bring your kid to school and then work on a construction site on the same day.

Get yourself a Yaris that can do it all. Looks like a stretched P1. What it basically is.

6 Yaris Sedan/Vios/Belta XP90 2007-2013

Looks neat. A hatchback-limousine based on the original Yaris, and spiritual successor of the Toyota Echo.

Same charm as the XP9. Looks just happy to be of service. That's a lot of names for one car though. Like the Echo, it's not available in Europe :(

Other generations of the Yaris Belta drop the Yaris part, being sold as "just" Toyota Vios/Belta which is why they're not on this list.

7 Yaris XP13 2010-2020

The awkward middle evolution. The XP21 also has a wild design, but this is just... no. I don't like this. All I see is Steve Harvey's block of a moustache but car.

At least the back looks neat.

-100 Yaris Cross

Why the fuck make a small car an SUV. Kill it with fire. Throw it in a ditch. IDK just make it leave. This is an insult to the original Yaris. I want to buy a ticket to Japan and murder whoever is responsible for this piece of shit.

The Yaris Verso was right there. Why not modernise that and release it. Don't tell me the reason I know why they did this I don't like it though.

Honourable Mention: Daihatsu Charade 2011-2013

Hail Mary by Toyota's struggling daughter in the European market. They called this Charade because it's literally just the XP9F pretending that it's not.

#Yaris incident #toyota yaris #gr yaris #this took me 3 hours #I'm so normal about the yaris please believe me

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nightlight-writes · 2 years

Text

Kisses (Luca Kaneshiro x Reader)

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None

Author’s Note: Happy Valentines Day!

Disclaimer: All characters and events depicted are intended to be purely fictional.

7:00 P.M. That was the time written on the message. You had just now realized that you had arrived around 30 minutes early. That was enough time to contemplate just what you would give your… friend? today. People always called the two of you cute. Your friend had always denied such things, but you had to admit, his reactions to being told such were cute in their own way. The earnest look in his eyes, the way he seemed so oblivious to his cuteness… and to your true feelings, they were immaculate.

While sitting on the bench, you reached into your bag. It contained all of your belongings, none of which were suitable as gifts. Even after searching through your pockets, you still hadn’t found them a gift. So you just sat there, mindlessly scrolling on your phone until your friend arrived.

Luckily, you didn’t have to wait long. After 15 minutes, a black limousine had arrived. Your friend alighted from the vehicle and closed the door behind him. Miraculously, his white pinstripe suit had remained almost pristine and unblemished. As soon as the car left, he immediately sprinted towards you with a huge smile.

“Hey, how’s it going?”

“It’s going good so far. What about you, Luca?”

You noticed that Luca seemed to be hiding something. Today was Valentines, so you wondered what it would be. Was it chocolate? Flowers? A card? A blush appeared on his cheeks as he averted his eyes, which only drew attention to whatever he was hiding behind him.

“I… Can I give you a kiss?”

Immediately, the mafia boss started to sweat.

“Sure, go ahead.”

The warm lights of countless street lamps cast a shine on Luca’s puckered lips. Slowly, he worked up the courage to lean closer into your face. Your heart thumped fast, but his breaths went by even faster. However, with a significant gap still between your lips, he backed off, held up the bag of Hersheys to your face and laughed.

“See? I got you some Kisses for Valentines day! You should give them to someone you like, like-”

After taking the bag from his hands, you stood on your toes. Being careful not to trip and fall onto the pavement, you wrapped your arms around his waist to steady yourself and gave him a kiss. Luca’s pupils grew as large as the full moon and his eyes had gone wide from shock. His entire face became pink and oily as sweat drops accumulated on his face. The blond wiped the sweat from his face with his hands, covering his face soon after.

“You really like me?! Really?”

After taking a few deep breaths, Luca revealed his face, sporting a sheepish smile and sparkling lavender eyes.

“I’ve never really had a partner… Will you give me some chocolate? Please?”

You nodded and sat down on the bench with him, opening the bag of Hersheys. Underneath the moonlight, the two of you fed each other chocolate, enjoying the little noises you would make. Quickly, you both finished the entire bag.

“Thanks for the chocolate! I loved spending time with you tonight.”

Luca’s jovial attitude was back and as strong as ever, showing no signs of his flustered disposition some minutes prior. Before going to find his car, he turned around and gave you one last gift.

“Oh! I forgot to give you this! Mwah~!”

#nijisanji #nijisanji en #luxiem #luca kaneshiro #luca kaneshiro x reader #nightlight.txt

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archoniluthradanar · 1 year

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A Day at a Baseball Game with the Volturi Masters : San Francisco Giants at Oracle Park

Second up in the Summer Fun with the Volturi Masters, polled story series results.

You have managed to persuade Aro to fly the four of you to America to watch a baseball game, by convincing him it is a seasonal requirement of humans. Go to a game and support a team, or die. He is intrigued by this, unaware that humans have such laws. You run to the throne room where you find them sitting off to the side, studying at the table and reading old manuscripts in languages you don't understand.

Aro turns and moves quickly to your side. "Is something wrong, my dear?"

"Not at all, Aro," you reply, breathless. "I was able to acquire tickets to a baseball game in San Francisco, America! A luxury suite," you tell him. "Now, if you can provide the transportation to get there..."

Aro smiles. "Of course, we'll take one of the private jets and rent a limousine for our arrival at the airport. When is this...sporting event?"

"Next Tuesday," you reply, grinning.

"What accommodations have you acquired for us?" Caius asked, interested.

"They're called luxury suites, Caius, and they have various types. Ours will hold up to 20 people, so if you want to invite any of the guards to come..."

"Not this trip," Aro interrupts. "Perhaps later, we will go back, if we enjoy this venture."

"Well, the luxury suites have privacy, with interior seating, should it be sunny that day. And there are seats out in front of the suite, where we can mingle with our neighbors." You become more excited the more you describe the trip to the masters. "If you don't mind, Aro, they cater food. May I choose something to order for myself?"

"You have no need to ask, child. We don't want you starved," Marcus remarks with a small smile.

"It's not the healthiest food, and you know how our chef is." The Volturi's chef generally makes you healthy snacks, by order of the masters, although he will sneak fresh-baked cookies to you when he can. You see hot dogs, chips and dip, chicken tenders, and ice creme sundaes served in mini baseball helmets in your future.

Once all the arrangements have been made and approved by Aro, he calls the Volturi pilot to have one of the private jets made ready for a quick journey to America Tuesday next.

On the day you're to fly to San Francisco, you rise early and shower, and dress in jeans and a sweater shirt, knowing the city by the bay can be cool, even in Summer. Excited, you throw some things into a tote bag, and leave your quarters to go in search of the masters.

You find them in the throne room, waiting for you. You greet each with a hug and kiss on the cheek. Your smile is reflected on their faces. You hope they enjoy this sample of human sporting events, considering that they may have seen the original Olympic games or the gladiatorial games in ancient Rome.

Felix brings a car around the back gate for the drive to the Pisa airport. When you arrive there, you all head for the private jet gateway. The pilot, who is a vampire as well, is there waiting for you.

Aro goes to speak with the pilot while you, Marcus, and Caius enter the jet and get settled. Not the largest jet in their inventory, this one is suited for long hauls. There are four oversized seats at the back of the interior that face each other, while two sofas sit opposite one another and closer to the flight deck. Since there are only four of you, it is more than roomy.

The flight begins and you look out the window to see Italy fall away, but you know you will be back. It's your home now. Soon, you begin to think of the coming trip, short as it will be. You sit next to Marcus on a couch, and show him the brochure of the baseball stadium called Oracle Park. It sits on the San Francisco Bay, with their suite having great views of the entire park. The suites are high up in the stands, with interior and exterior seating. There is a small fridge that will contain drinks for you. You've also ordered one of the food packages that will be in the suite, waiting upon arrival. You haven't had an honest-to-goodness hot dog since you left home.

The limousine is at the San Francisco airport, picking you up for the ride into the city. It pulls up to the front of the stadium, letting you all out. It will come for you as soon as you call to let the driver know the game is over, or the masters have grown bored and wish to leave. You hope it won't be the latter.

Once you get out of the car, you inhale deeply of the bay air. You've been to San Francisco before and remember it with fondness. Smiling with excitement now that you're here, you check to make sure the masters are ready to go inside. "Come, Aro. This way inside, everyone."

The masters have dressed casually as suggested by you. All are donned in black jeans and grey or blue Italian wool pullover sweaters. You think them all very handsome, and notice more than one woman you pass seems to be thinking the same thing. You smirk when you ponder the fact that these men, these vampires, look at you as their companion and assistant, and trust you completely.

The group is met by a park docent, who leads you to the suite assigned to you. Marcus has placed his arm around you, feeling you need protection in this crowd. Aro and Caius lead the way, looking around with mild curiosity. You know they're probably thinking with distaste, "Too many humans". They have, of course, fed only a couple of days prior to this trip, and you've warned them to keep a low profile while here.

Finally, you reach your suite and enter the spacious unit perfect for private game viewing. You'd never be able to afford this on your own, but with the Volturi, money is no object. The docent hands each of you a team mini bat as a souvenir. The Volturi masters look at the strange object, but you thank the docent and close the door after he leaves.

"What are these?" Aro asks you, looking the small bat over, turning it around in his hand.

"It's a souvenir of the game. Some days, visitors get free items to take home. Today is what they call Bat Day.

Caius' eyes gleam when he begins to swing the bat around as if it were a weapon.

"Caius, put the bat down," you warn him.

"But they gave them to us," he protests.

"Not to use against anyone!" You hold out your hand, silently asking for the bat. Caius refuses.

"There is no one here in our private suite. I promise not to hit anyone with it while here."

You lean in and kiss his cheek. "Make sure you keep that promise."

Aro turns to you. "My dear, you do seem to be taking liberties with the freedom we give you. The way you speak to us..."

You move to Aro's side, placing a hand on his chest. "Master Aro, I love you all, and I just want to help protect you from discovery by humans." You caress his cheek and smile sincerely. "You have given me your trust. You and Marcus and Caius may be thousands of years old, but because you rarely leave the castle, you're actually quite naïve to modern ways. I can help with that, if you heed my suggestions. Please? You know how much I respect each of you."

Aro smiles and turns to you. "You're right," he tells you. "We do trust you, and look to you for knowledge of this modern world." He kisses you on your lips with typical familiarity.

You walk around, checking out the suite. Seeing a table to the side covered with bowls, you inspect them to see food inside. You grab a potato chip and dip it in a small bowl. "Mmm...ranch." Then you take a chicken tender and dip it was well, and go to check out the outdoor seating.

You stand where the seats are, perusing the entire stadium. "This is fantastic. Marcus, come look!"

Marcus comes up behind you, placing his hands on your shoulders. "It is larger than the Coliseum."

"You were really...there? I knew it," you say, laughing.

You excuse yourself to run to the restroom, and make a stop at the stadium store. You buy hats for everyone, wondering if they'll agree to wear them.

When you get back to the suite, you're wearing your hat and offer each master one. .

Caius sees someone wearing their hat backwards, so puts his on that way. You marvel at how easily he would fit into modern times with his blonde good looks.

Marcus allows you to put his hat on him. His long hair is pulled back into a ponytail, and you admire him with your eyes and a smile.

Aro dons his hat and sits in his chair, his legs crossed, still acting as if he were lording over his realm.

When it's time for the game to begin, everyone stands for the anthem. As an American, you do as well, but the masters keep their seats. You just hope no one notices. When someone does cast a glare at the seated trio, you say, "They're Italian." The person shrugs and looks back at the field.

Caius sits on the far-left chair while Aro sits at his right. You are sitting next to Aro, with Marcus on your right. The game begins, and you explain what's happening whenever one of the masters asks a question. The game continues, the Giants currently ahead, 3-1 in the fourth inning.

You make a plate of food for yourself and grab a beer from the mini-fridge. The masters peer at your plate, unable to avoid making faces at what you are eating. You just laugh and eat more.

The next batter steps up to home, and misses the first two pitches. On the third pitch, the batter swings hard, and the ball flies straight and fast, right for your part of the stadium. Suddenly, you see Aro lift up his right hand, and the next thing you know, he catches the fly ball, bare-handed. You look at the jumbotron, with all of you on it, the camera pointed right at your box. The announcer is talking excitedly about the speed of that fly ball and Aro's bare-handed catch. The stadium is cheering. and Aro is smiling, enjoying seeing his face on the display, larger than life. You tell Aro to give you the ball, raising your hand in the air once he complies. You smile broadly at the camera, then go inside the box. Aro follows you, confused.

"You are upset. What is the matter?" he asks you.

"This is not keeping a low profile," you say, waving the ball around.

"It's not like I asked to have this ball thrown at me," he protests. "I thought it was well played myself."

You sigh and relent, hugging Aro while you apologise. "If you're not worried, neither am I. Being a good catcher doesn't tie you with being a...you-know-what."

When he smiles at you, you give him a wink. He returns to his seat while you go to the food table to fill a plate with more food. The hot dogs look good, so you make one up with mustard, relish, and onions. "It's too bad you can't eat any of this yummy food. I can't even imagine not being able to eat food like this." You sit down and take a bite of the hot dog.

Aro reaches over and with a finger, removes a dab of mustard from your mouth. You offer him your napkin to wipe it off his finger. He does so, and tosses the napkin in a nearby trash can. He then gazes at you.

You know why too. "Aro, I didn't mean that I won't. I will, eventually. You've never mentioned a deadline or forcing me." You reach up to touch the Volturi pendant that sits on his chest. "One day, you will place one of these around my neck, and it will be official."

"Aro, the game? Let's not discuss family business with our dear one, while the game is being played."

You take Marcus' hand and squeeze it, grateful for his intercession.

You receive the ordered ice creme sundae from a docent, who is told only one is necessary. You eat it from the souvenir mini baseball helmet, making noises while devouring the cold treat.

Caius starts to make denigrating remarks after what he deems a poor play. The man on a chair in the next suite hears him, and demands Caius shut up. Now Caius is angry at the human, and begins to wave the small bat.

The man rises from his seat and hangs over the dividing rail, blocking Aro, who is trying to hold back Caius and maintain his own temper.

You get up from your seat and tell the man, if he values his life, he had better sit down. The tone of your voice and the stare you give him, makes him back down, and he returns to his seat while muttering. "You see, Aro, I'll make a great one." You then face Caius, giving him a look begging his indulgence for the sake of peace, and to avoid getting kicked out of the park. He relents and sits down.

The last inning is being played, and the Giants are winning. People start to leave the park and Caius asks if it is over, since the players are still on the field.

'It's a thing," you tell him. "When the game looks like an obvious win, people leave early."

"Then shall we go?" he asks you.

"We can, if you wish," you say, going to put the rest of the food on a plate and covering it with several napkins. You put the now washed mini helmet into your tote along with anything you can take with you.

Aro leads you all out of the suite and goes back the way they come in, easily remembering the route.

You happily follow him, full and content. "Marcus, did you enjoy the game?" you ask.

"It was unusual. Not as exciting as the gladiatorial games, but interesting. Your team won, which is laudable. I enjoyed the company, child." He graces you with a smile, then again, places an arm around you to protect you from the now exiting crowd.

The limousine is waiting for you all, so you all climb in for the trip to the airport. You lean against Marcus, fatigue finally overtaking you.

The pilot is waiting outside the jet, and greets Aro, giving him the status of the flight, while Caius gets in, holding all the mini bats. Marcus picks you up in his arms and carries you inside while you hold your plate of food and the tote.

Once everyone has settled in, the flight takes off for the trip back to Italy. You look out the window, watching the city off in the distance. Then you snuggle against Marcus, sighing happily. You smile, grateful to be friends with such inquisitive vampires.

#Summer fun #aro volturi x reader #marcus volturi x reader #caius volturi x reader #the volturi #Volturi fanfiction #major league baseball

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snowbunnywatching · 2 years

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The Midterms

It was a momentous day. The bold new Racial Justice Party had won the midterm by a landslide, achieving a solid majority in the House of Representatives and a good chunk of the Senate. (The presidency would come later.)

The party had run on a promise of reparations and radical social reforms aimed at "healing the racial scars of America". Both of the established parties took heavy losses, and later voter behavior analyses would show that the election succes of the Racial Justice Party was built on a coalition between Black and/or progressive former Democrats and white female Republicans.

The skies were clear and the air was brisk as thousands of protesters marched on the Capitol. Most were Black men and women, but whites could also be seen in this sea of people. Protesters were dressed in the colors of the Racial Justice Party (red, black, and green) and were carrying flags and banners with messages like "Black Lives Matter" and "Reparations Now". Chants like "Say it loud! I'm Black and I'm proud!" filled the air.

The sight of the imposing crowd made some lawmakers from the established parties panic, believing that an armed rebellion was on the rise. Several congressmen ran to their waiting limousines, and the assistant to a sourthern Senator locked himself in the ladies' room.

But the demonstrators stopped at Union Square, across the Capitol. The chants died out and the rap-playing boomboxes were turned off. A deafening silence filled the National Mall.

The front of the demonstration had been Black-only, with the very front line made up of muscular Black men. As if on cue, a number of whites were allowed passage through the Black-only section, and they filed up to the front line.

All of them were white girls, in their twenties or younger. Most of them were sporting African-inspired hairdoes, whether dreads or box braids, and their style was decidedly "ghetto chic".

The girls got down on hands and knees at the feet of the front line Black men, sticking their booty shorts-clad asses skyward. And without saying a word, they all placed their lips on the boots of the Back men, kissing them.

All across America, live images of the event caused either shock or applause, depending on whether the viewer had voted for the Racial Justice Party. Cameras were filming up along the front line, displaying hundreds of white girls paying Black men the respect they deserved.

Everyone knew that Things Had Changed.

#story #blackonwhite #interracial #racial justice #cultural africanization #white guilt

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justplainwhump · 2 years

Text

Smile.

The wedding, chapter 1

[Dany’s story]

For no obvious reason, I’ve decided to write some wedding whump. This was mostly inspired by a prompt I couldn’t find again of a whumper commanding whumpee to smile, and includes an ask reply for @painful-pooch .

I borrowed @hackles-up 's mob boss Leo Luciano for this, because he’s perfect. As always, Ridley Lordin and B are hers as well.

Content / warning: mafia whump, intimate whumper, knife, forced marriage (m/f), threats, very graphic threats of noncon, misogynist language, implied pet whump, referenced dehumanisation.

An exclusive, secluded, and so wonderfully quiet wedding venue, I’ve heard Felicity gush about the chateau.

Wonderfully quiet.

I wish.

I haven’t had a moment of quiet in what feels like days. There’s been hordes of people around me, all the time. Felicity, master of ceremonies, everywhere, with clicking heels and fake glasses and a clipboard that holds absolutely no information but makes her feel in charge. A person, whose only job it was to get me into my dress and sew it close on my body. Two make up artists, to make me look "classy, natural!" and cover up the scars that couldn’t entirely be hidden underneath the exclusive white lace. Two more for the hair, even though Felicity decreed I was meant to wear it open not to draw too much attention to the thin lines in the back of my neck, where not long ago the collar had rested. Someone lady had rushed in to freshen up my nail polish, someone else delivered boxes of jewelry from the city’s most exclusive goldsmith and tried them all on me.

I’m sure I look fantastic. But all I see as I look into the mirror in front of me is defeat.

I never wanted to get married. And sure as hell, not even in my nightmares would I’ve imagined to get married to a man like Ridley. When this day is over, every last part of me will be signed over to him. I’ll become his, not only in the private, secluded shadow world where he can show me off as his pet, but in the most public way possible. Ridley is the richest man in the state, he’s running for mayor, he’s a celebrity in his own right. Behind the curtains only in the last half hour, I’ve seen more than two dozen limousines pull in, and twice as many sleek sports cars. The Lordin wedding is the societal event of the summer season.

"Don’t mess it up, princess," Ridley’s told me cheerfully, before he rushed off to meet someone important. "You’ll regret it."

As if I could. I’ve lost, each and every time I tried.

I reach for the white lace gloves on the cabinet in front of me and pull them over my scarred hands, swallow back the memories of what happened to them. That had the last time I’ve tried - we’ve tried - to be something more than what Ridley wants us to be. And we’ve paid the price.

I don't hear Leonardo Luciano step up behind me, but I feel him nonetheless. I don't know what it is, maybe a subtle draft of air on my skin, covered only by sheer white lace. Or maybe he does in fact exude a physical coldness all by himself. With what I've witnessed him do, I wouldn't be surprised.

I don't turn around, don't want to acknowledge his presence, but it's worthless of course. Just as I can sense him close in, he can sense my fear. And I know he savors it.

Topina, Leo calls me sometimes, little mouse. I hate how fitting it feels. A little mouse, nothing but prey, to be played around with, before the finishing strike. A trapped little mouse, heart racing uncontrollably at his presence. Playing along, because there's nothing else I can do. Because I’ve tried, and I’ve failed.

Something cool presses to the side of my neck and despite myself, I flinch. The flat side of a knife, all but caressing me.

"Stuart Hammond's precious daughter," Leo mumbles. He leans in over my shoulder, close enough for me to feel his steady heartbeat. His blue eyes meet mine in the mirror, shining with cold amusement. "Look at you now. All prettied up for your wedding. So quiet and obedient. His legacy. In my hands."

"Why are you here?" I whisper. Not that my words could make a difference. He was going to tell me anyway, or he wasn't. Nothing I do or say could change anything about his plan. I still try to keep up the illusion that I have a role in this, that I'm more than a mere prop.

"To be with my love on this special day of his life, of course." He smirks, and lets the blade wander closer to my throat. "And maybe to send a special message to my enemy."

I try to control my breathing. He can't kill me. Not like this, not on my wedding day, not under the eyes of everyone. He can't.

"Your Daddy won't be joining us today. Won't be here, to show off his principessa. But you're not his anymore, anyway."

I've never been, I think. I've always been my own. Dad has always let me be.

"I've taken the Hammond business. I've taken everything he ever had. Lots of it in the shadows. But the final step..." He places a kiss to my collarbone, and I freeze. Leo never did this. Never faked any affection. Leo is efficient and cold and brutal. This is new and it's frightening.

He chuckles, when he notices my shiver. "The final step will be in the light. I'll be the one to lead his treasured princess down the aisle. Show the world, who owns this city. Show the world who won."

No. No. He can’t do this to him. He can’t do this to me. After all he’s done to me, all he’s made Dad watch, this is… Too much. It’ll break him, if nothing else did.

"Please." My voice breaks, and I try to look away, but the tip of his knife bites in the skin underneath my chin, tilting my face up to look at him in the mirror. "Don’t… don’t do this."

Leo smirks. "Pathetic, how little fight is left in you. Pathetic you think you have any say in this. I enjoy watching my boyfriend play with you, but you're mine, Hammond."

He yanks at my hair and pulls me back hard, my spine bent painfully over the back of the chair. His face is blurry through the tears in my eyes. The knife is still there, blade resting against my throat, forcing me to stay in position.

"When will you learn that you're nothing? You're wrapped in pretty fabric now, but we all know underneath it you're nothing but your father's name with a tight little cunt attached to it. You-"

He's interrupted by a loud knock at the door, and a giggle that makes my stomach clench.

Leo enters a room just as he wants to be perceived, quiet and calm and efficient. Ridley however is loud and offensive, turning all eyes on him instantly. He looks like a picture cut out from a wedding magazine. Auburn hair styled to bring out his soft natural curls, white silk shirt, fitted tuxedo, dark red sash and cravat. His face is the slightest bit flushed, as from excitement, but from the way I see B behind him carefully wipe off his mouth, I am quite sure that the reason is another.

"It's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding," someone else chides behind him.

"Not here for the bride," Ridley retorts. He's not looking at the speaker, nor at me. His eyes are sparkling, set on the man still pressing a knife to my skin.

Leo clicks his tongue and I feel him shake his head, before he lets go of my hair and lets me slump back into my seat. "Amore." There's a nauseating softness to his voice. "On a day like this, we should respect the traditions."

I can't stop a hard chuckle. "The fuck you honor-"

His hand flicks up and the knife presses against my throat. "I love tradition," Leo purrs into to my ear. "Like - the woman keeps quiet when her betters are talking." He presses down on the knife, and I gasp as I feel it nick skin, blood welling up.

"Danielle, no," Felicity gasps, hands raised, frozen in place. "The dress! The blood."

"Danielle, no," Leo echoes, mocking. His other hand is on my neck, too, pressing a handkerchief to the cut. "You'll be useless, if you ruin this wedding. But still stupid enough to risk it, aren't you? Hammond through and through."

I can hear Felicity's relieved sigh when the knife is pulled away and the blood catches in the fabric. I still don't dare breathing.

"Just a kiss?" Ridley pouts, ignoring me. "You can't look that hot and not let me kiss you."

"After," Leo says and shushes him away with the knife in his hand. There's a hint of my blood still shimmering on the blade. "Now, go, amore. I'll see you at the altar, when I hand you our principessa."

Ridley looks at me now, finally, a condescending smirk dancing on his lips, as he takes in my dress and body, and I find myself begging all higher powers that the superstitions are true, that bad luck will curse him until the end of his days.

"Good work," he says to Felicity appreciatively. "Dress really brings out that cute little ass of hers, doesn't it?"

Leo has stepped up to my side, clicking his tongue impatiently. "Leave," he repeats sternly. "All of you. I want to be alone with her."

Ridley rolls his eyes and blows him a kiss, before he retreats. "Two minutes," Felicity calls, before she follows at his heel.

One of Leo's men steps in to hand a small bottle to Leo, before he too leaves and draws the doors close, leaving me alone in the plushy hotel room with Leo.

He grabs my chin, tilts my head up and I gasp in surprise as something cool hits my neck. Spray bandage, to seal the little nick on my throat. They've prepared for everything.

"I could've cut deeper." Leo cleans his knife on the handkerchief, looks at it thoughtfully, before he tucks it away. "But you know, Hammond, with you, I wouldn't. Because right now, I don’t have a reason. Because if you did give me a reason, just the tiniest one, if you try and use that marriage to mess with my fidanzato, you're my enemy. And my enemies don't get the mercy of a knife to the throat."

I nod, clenching my teeth. The skin on my throat feels tight under the spray. It's just that, I tell myself. It's not dread pressing down on my chest, making it hard to breathe.

"I know," I mumble.

"Oh, no, piccolina. I don’t think you do." He checks his watch, and gets up, offering me his arm. "It’s time."

I steady myself on the cabinet, just for a moment, before I rest my arm on his.

As we step out, one of the hairdressers rushes in to fix my hair, fingers combing through it and adding another layer of hair spray. I don’t even see the person behind me, laying out the long train of the dress, just feel the short tugs at my hips.

Leo’s hand on mine is like a vise. "You need to understand," he says, as he starts walking down the opulent corridor. "What your Daddy did was, he fucked with my business. I don’t accept that. So I took everything he loves, and destroyed it, little by little, and I let him watch."

We turn around a corner, and two employees in grey suits step back to open the winged doors to the estate’s grand ballroom.

Faint music sounds from the back of the room, but I can’t hear it over the collective gasp of the crowd, hundreds of faces I barely remember, staring at us, walking down the aisle. With him by my side, it feels like walking the gauntlet. Leo nods towards a camera. "He’s watching right now. I’ve set up a live stream for him. Smile for Daddy, will you?"

The corners of my visions start to blur. I force my lips to curl upward, still.

"And mind you, this was because he messed with my business. Ridley - he is my personal interest. So let me make this abundantly clear to you, Hammond." His voice is all but a murmur in my hair, barely audible over the wedding march played on the ballroom’s huge organ. "If you mess this up, I'll throw you to my men and let them fuck you, over and over, until you’ve stopped moving, and then I'll let my dogs have another round with you."

He waves at someone in the crowd. I can’t make out any details any longer. I just stare forward.

From the end of the aisle, between too many camera lenses and too large bouquets of dark red roses, Ridley is looking at us. At Leo, me, my dress, my face. His smile is almost cruel, almost hateful, almost obvious, but not just yet.

I stumble over a fold in the carpet, and Leo catches me. The warmth of his skin is nothing compared to the icy cold in his blue eyes.

"And only when even they have no use for your sorry remains any longer, I'll chop those up into bite sized pieces and serve you to Ridley's dumb old guard dog in his dog bowl, for dinner."

A camera shutter rapidly clicks in front us, as the photographer dances backwards, all lenses on us.

"Got that?" Leo asks amicably.

"Yes," I whisper tonelessly. There’s still some meters left to walk. I don’t think I can make it.

"Good." His hold of me tightens. "Now smile. You look horrible."

I stagger forward. Leo's hand rests over mine lightly, underneath his thumb is digging into the freshly healed stab wound in my palm.

I swallow back a yelp.

"You heard me, Piccolina," he whispers into my hair. "Smile."

I straighten my shoulders, raise my gaze, focus on Ridley's face, closer now.

He smiles.

So do I.

The camera clicks again.

#whump #mafia whump #whump story #dany #angst #threats #leonardo luciano #forced marriage tw #wedding whump

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dcbbw · 2 years

Text

Coitus Interruptus

This is my submission for @choicesflashfics; I used the following prompt: “I can’t believe you would even think to leave me like this.” It will appear in bold.

This story is also the answer to a nonny ask: Has Riley ever faked the big “O”?

Thank you to all who read over snippets of this fic.

Thank you to all who will read the story. Your likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated more than you know.

Please excuse any and all typos, missing/extraneous words, and/or grammatical errors. MS Editor rates me at 98% error free.

Pairing is (future) #Riam

All characters (except the children) belong to Pixelberry

Song Inspiration: Love to Love You, Baby, Donna Summer

Word Count: 2,400

Rating: Going with M/Mature because of lemon-scented Pledge

“You were simply wonderful this morning, love,” the King of Cordonia praised his Queen.

The couple were in the backseat of their chauffeured limousine, returning to the Palace after spending the morning at House Theron for a charity event sponsored by Duchess Joelle:

Gender is a Spectrum: A Union of Art, Fashion, and Inclusivity.

The program consisted of breakfast with the King and Queen, followed by an hour-long fashion show where models of all sexual orientations carried the Duchess’ latest art collection as they strutted and sashayed the runway in the latest haute couture from Ana De Luca, House Beaumont, and a rising up-and-comer from Duchy Domvallier whose works had been discovered on the app Fashion Parade.

For the fashion show, Liam had been the emcee and Riley, one of the models.

“I starved myself to be able to fit into those skinny, too-small outfits!” Riley complained as she dug in her purse for her cellphone.

“You were modeling the extended size collection,” Liam reminded her as he nuzzled her neck. “And did so beautifully.”

Riley’s head swung around, her blonde bob swinging synthetic hair across her cheek. “Extended sizing begins at SIZE 8, Liam! SIZE 8! NOTHING on my body wears a size 8!”

She sighed as she resumed her search. “I swear, this baby weight … maybe dieting is a good thing.”

Liam didn’t bother to point out their baby, Theodore, was now seven years old.

“You’re on a diet?” he asked in surprise.

“Not really.” With a cry of triumph, her hand emerged from the handbag with the phone. She turned her head once more, her eyes narrowed with distrust. “Are you saying I NEED one?”

Liam shook his head quickly. “No.”

The couple had a rare weekend free; their sons were at Applewood visiting with Regina and their Aunt Lena. Both had plans for their open weekend.

Neither had communicated their plans with the other.

Liam had plans for his wife that involved no clothes, no work phones, and lots of sex. He wasn’t chancing an argument.

“AND you had breakfast this morning, so not starving,” he quickly changed the subject.

“Do you know how long ago THAT was?” Riley demanded.

Liam did know. Riley had eaten breakfast aboard the royal family’s private rail coach at 8am. It was now 11:30am.

“You call TWO pancakes and ONE sausage patty breakfast?? THAT is NOT breakfast! A snack, at best.”

Riley’s plans involved eating food she wouldn’t have to cook or share, simping over Gong Yoo, and finding a new hiding place for her snack wagon and hamper.

Ever since Liam’s children had entered the picture, Riley had no food to herself any longer. From the moment of conception, his kids had been nothing but crumb snatchers stealing all her food. If they had been her children, they wouldn’t do her like that.

Riley often wondered how she ended up a single mother, and sole food source to kids that weren’t even hers.

Liam moved closer to his wife, his lips ghosting her jawline. His thumb grazed against her nipple, hidden beneath a red cotton camisole tunic and black sports bra. His lips curved as he felt it harden beneath his touch.

Riley slapped his hand away. “I’m trying to make a phone call!” she chided snappishly.

“To WHO?” Liam demanded as he rubbed the offended spot on the back of his hand.

“The kitchens! I need sustenance!”

“We’ll be home in a matter of minutes,” the King argued. “You can order from the rooms, and we can … pass the time until it’s delivered.” He raised an eyebrow suggestively as his palm rubbed her thigh.

Riley stared at her husband; her expression was neither agreeable nor amenable.

We’re hungry for two different things, she thought. I’m Team Chicken Kiev.

Her gaze went back to her phone, and she continued dialing. Liam rolled his eyes, annoyance flashing briefly in them.

He knew when Riley was hungry, she was impossible to deal with. He should simply wait until she satisfied her basic hunger before gratifying his baser ones. But Liam was in heat for his wife, which made him obstinate, impatient, determined.

We can have a quickie, and after she’s eaten … she’s all mine, all weekend.

The King pulled his wife close to him, her cheek nestled in the crook of his shoulder as she prattled off a litany of menu items to one the Palace’s chefs: Chicken Kiev (it could be fried or baked, as long as it was crispy); wild rice with mushrooms and gravy; string bean almondine; fried spicy sausages; fried potatoes; devil’s food cake slices; baklava; milkshakes.

Liam smirked down at her. “I have all the sausage you need, love.” He waggled his eyebrows.

Riley’s eyes peered up at him. “Yours isn’t spicy or fried. Just bland and boiled.”

Once safely inside their personal quarters, the parents video chatted with their children, oohing over the excited chatter about attending a magic show the night before, and playing soccer with the local youth in the still-healing orchards earlier in the morning.

They ahhed at the fact that after lunch, Aunt Lena was taking them to a street fair where there would jugglers, clowns, and cotton candy.

They bid their sons hasty farewells when the twins stated they wanted a dog, and their youngest began begging for a snake. A big snake, like the ones found in rainforests and jungles.

After the chat was over, Riley immediately called downstairs about her food.

Not ready yet. Soon.

She was leaned over, looking inside her nearly empty snack hamper and frowning at two packs of peanut butter and cheese crackers, when she felt Liam’s strong arms encircle her waist. His breath was warm and ticklish as his lips brushed over the raised hairs on the back of her neck.

Despite the rumblings coming from her stomach, Riley’s body responded instantly to Liam’s touch; she straightened up, pushing her back against his broad chest. She wriggled her ass against the crotch of his pants. She felt Liam’s lips curl against her skin, responding with a smile of her own.

And then her stomach loudly growled, and all thoughts of lust and lovemaking left her brain.

Where is my FOOD? How soon is soon? And now this man thinks I want the D.

The Queen exhaled a deep negro-spiritual sigh.

Let me handle this real quick.

Liam, of course, did not realize this. He thought her deep, put-upon sigh was a low moan caused by his roaming fingers and butterfly kisses. His wife’s eagerness in pulling off her clothes spurred him to disrobe in record time. The King did look strangely at his now nude wife as she hurried to their bed.

Riley preferred to saunter and tease him with her body.

“Come here, lover … touch my nakedness,” she purred as she crooked her index finger at Liam.

Riley was definitely never so bold, not when it was the two of them alone and intimate. This was when her vulnerability, her submissiveness to him freely revealed themselves.

But Liam’s need for her touch, her feel, her taste was almost overwhelming, and he began reasoning and justifying her unorthodox actions.

She’s in need more than me!

“I would deny you nothing,” Liam muttered in a husky whisper, his naked body joining hers on the bed.

He positioned himself so her breasts dangled enticingly above his mouth; his lips wrapped tightly around an elongated nipple, and he began to suckle gently. His hand curled around his very erect shaft, lightly stroking himself from head to base. He whimpered softly at the feel of his wife’s fingers in his hair.

“OW!” he yelled as she pulled his hair, hard. “What the HELL, Riley?”

“I want you inside me. Deep inside me,” Riley explained as she settled spread-eagled on the bedcovers. “Come ON,” she whined as she surreptitiously glanced at the clock.

It’s GOT to be soon now!

There was a scowl on Liam’s face as he stared moodily at his wife. His scalp tingled where she had yanked his hair. He wanted nipples on his tongue. But Riley wanted him inside of her.

I did say a quickie first ...

The King pulled himself up on his knees, his gaze trained on his wife’s sex. He plunged two fingers inside her entrance; they flexed and curled against her walls as arousal dampened his skin. The Queen’s hips arched against his hand; slowly, Liam removed his digits, placing them in his mouth before licking them clean. He pinned her wrists above her head as he sank into her.

Immediately, Riley’s neck arched as her hips bucked against his; moans, obviously forced, were uttered along with encouragements such as, “Fuck me harder, baby. Give me your dick!”

Liam stopped his thrusting; if one were counting, he had only gotten in three. His hands released her wrists, and Riley immediately began flailing her arms about. His wife looked like a one-person show consisting of really bad porn, crooked wig included.

Liam slowly pulled out of her tightness; Riley was still gyrating her hips, throwing in a back arch for good measure before her grand finale.

His eyes alternated between widening and thinning as Riley continued her histrionics, oblivious to the fact that Liam was no longer participating.

“Oh baby … oh baby … I’m cumming. I’m cumming, Liam,” she gasped, not a drop of sweat anywhere on her body. No trembles, no panting of breath. Nothing to indicate she had exchanged pleasure with the man she claimed to love.

Because she hadn’t.

“RILEY!” Liam bellowed.

Her eyes flew open, and she grinned up at him. “Was it good for you, too? Yeah? Okie doke, lemme up!”

Liam’s palms were pressed into the sheet-covered mattress, one arm on either side of his wife. “Did you just FAKE an orgasm with me?” he demanded angrily, his complexion reddening with frustration and disbelief.

Chimes rang throughout the suite, indicating that someone had entered the quarters.

“All’s fair in love and hunger!” Riley exclaimed as she pushed Liam off her, leaving her wig behind on her pillow.

“I can’t believe you would even think to leave me like this!” Liam hollered in annoyance, his index finger pointing to his half-erect penis.

His wife didn’t even look his way. In less than 10 seconds, she had tossed her nightgown over her head, grabbed a robe, left Liam alone in the room and was greeting wait staff.

She kissed the startled employee full on the lips as her eyes took in all the food.

After two pieces of Chicken Kiev, two whole sausages, a huge portion of fried potatoes, and some green beans, Riley felt common sense return to her body. Her eyes rolled in ecstasy as she devoured a slice of the chocolate cake; it fully restored her senses and sensibilities. Completely satisfied, she hummed softly to herself as she stored the leftovers in the refrigerator.

Now she was ready to perform her wifely duties.

Happy wife, happy life.

The Queen entered the bedroom, her eyes taking in her still-naked King; Liam’s hands were interlocked behind his head, which rested on two king-sized pillows covered in silk casing. His body stretched the length of the bed, one ankle crossed over the other. He was watching an international news channel.

He did not look at his wife.

Riley bit her lip before standing in front of the television screen. She gave Liam a sultry look before enticingly sliding the robe off her body.

Liam picked up the remote and turned the electronic device off.

Undeterred, Riley slowly licked her lips as she skimmed her palms over her curves. Her fingers tugged at a black lace strap, rolling it off her shoulder.

Liam turned onto his side, away from Riley; he pressed his palms together, resting his hands on the pillows; his cheek lay on the back of his hands.

“ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?” Riley shrieked as she threw her robe at him.

Her husband lifted his head, his eyes mere slits as he glared at his wife. “I AM AS SERIOUS AS YOU WERE PERFORMING YOUR … “

He sat up, throwing his arms in the air. “I don’t even have WORDS for what the hell you did!”

“I WAS HUNGRY!” Riley stamped her foot against the carpet.

“You lied to me and made a mockery of the most sacred act of our marriage. I have nothing further to say to you,” Liam replied coolly as he laid back down in the bed.

Riley continued to stand, a stupefied look on her face. “I’m ready now,” she whined.

Liam exhaled a loud breath. “I am neither hungry nor horny.”

“I cannot believe you are making a huge deal about me delaying sex,” Riley huffed as she continued to undress.

“This isn’t about the SEX! It’s about you thinking you can get away with faking an orgasm with me! And in such an obvious way, as if you think I’m stupid! You were extremely selfish, Riley and you attempted to play on my intelligence!”

“You KNOW how I get, Liam! You KNOW!”

“Apparently, I don’t.”

Riley pushed her lips to the side as she considered how to make this right without admitting she was wrong. Naked, she climbed into the bed, pressing her ample breasts against Liam’s muscular back.

“Show me on the doll where I hurt you,” she whispered against his tawny-complexioned skin.

Liam attempted to shrug her off, but Riley clung to him like a burr.

“Is it here?” she kissed his shoulder blade.

No response.

“Here?” Her lips brushed the nape of his neck.

Despite his best efforts, Liam felt his cock stir as his erection began to grow.

“STOP THAT, Riley!” His hand harmlessly swatted air.

Riley’s hand reached around to encircle his shaft; she smirked in satisfaction. “Ahhhh, here it is. Let me kiss it better, love.”

Liam frowned as he debated his options: Continue to refuse his wife or receive oral gratification. His pleasure derived from hers; he had never needed her mouth on his sex, but he did want it. He did enjoy it.

Immensely.

She owed him an apology.

He rolled onto his back, his eyes closing in pleasure when he felt her other warm wetness wrapped around his cock.

The couple spent the remainder of the afternoon in bed, lost in each other.

Riley didn’t fake anything this time around.

Liam made sure of it.

Tagging: @jared2612 @ao719 @burnsoslow @marietrinmimi @merridithsmiscellany-blog @queenjilian @indiacater @kingliam2019 @bebepac @liamxs-world @mom2000aggie @cmestrella @liamrhysstalker2020 @neotericthemis @twinkleallnight @umccall71 @superharriet @busywoman @gabesmommie1130 @tessa-liam @phoenixrising308 @beezm @gardeningourmet @lovingchoices14 @foreverethereal123 @mainstreetreader @angelasscribbles @lady-calypso @emkay512 @jovialyouthmusic @21-wishes @princessleac1 @charlotteg234 @queenrileyrose @alj4890 @yourfavaquarius111 @motorcitymademadame @bbrandy2002 @eversoaringqueen12 @queenmiarys @choicesficwriterscreations

#dcbbw writes #choicesflashfics #slightly nsfwish #riam

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