#highly recommend this press conference

[v6quewrlds]

https://www.tumblr.com/v6quewrlds/775754782581358592

was dr reader here during the beard phase? and uf so what did she think abt it?

also what does she think abt that photo in the link?

okay this question was so serious to me, i had to get on my laptop to do some research and math.

they were a fresh couple during that specific press conference. like official for a couple weeks, fresh.

she was working in cleveland so she was feral. staring at her phone during her lunch break trying to keep it together while joe was walking around looking like that? she loved mr. patchy, still reminisces about that time :(

enjoy these screenshots i took

[wintfleur]

ꔫ lavender and vanilla

°. — pairings ( Oscar piastri x fem! reader )

°. — summary ( oscar was such a good boyfriend, he always took such good care of you. Now it’s your turn to take care of him and help him relax after a stressful day )

°. — details ( g; fluff. w; kissing, slightly suggestive at the end. wc; 1.9k )

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( I came up with the whole plot in the shower listening to ‘motions’ by Naomi Scott, I highly recommend giving the song a listen, her music is so good and sooo underrated. Is anyone a doctor? Because I need my mind to be cleaned from all the Oscar brain rot I have…I can’t focus on anything but him! ˙ᵕ˙ )

“Keep on going to the daylight, if it feels right” you sang along to one of your favorite songs, your voice echoing through the lavish hotel bathroom. You didn’t have to worry about being quiet since you were the only one in the room, and you knew that neighboring hotel rooms were empty, the occupants all at the track. It was a late Thursday, and from the text you received a few minutes ago from your boyfriend, you knew he would be walking through the front door of the room; any minute now and you couldn't wait anymore. 

You missed your boyfriend dearly, you had stayed at the hotel all day only going out a few times to get some things, while he was stuck at the track for press conferences and getting ready for Friday and the weekend. You knew by the time Oscar walked through those doors he would be absolutely exhausted, he hated having to do media. Hours earlier you laid in bed wearing one of Oscars hoodie, breathing in his scent and wishing he was there to keep you warm instead. 

You had been scrolling through your phone, looking through all the pictures of you and him. There were some pictures of you and him when the two of you were younger-and strictly just friends. Then pictures of the two of you on the dates and vacations he would take you on, you were so happy. He took such good care of you, and now that's all you wanted to do. So, you got out of bed, got dressed and went out to get some things for tonight. Determined to have tonight be relaxing for your boyfriend. 

And now here you are hours later, sitting on the edge of the huge bathtub watching as the hot water fills up the tub and mixes with some of the lavender oil you put in. The scent of the lavender water and the few vanilla scented candles you had placed around the bathroom created the perfect aroma. The cold edge of the tub caused goosebumps to appear on your thighs, your body just itching to get in the hot water.

You heard the familiar sound of the front door unlocking and opening and the faint sound of your boyfriend calling your name. A big smile spreads on your watermelon Chapstick flavored lips (his favorite) and you quickly shut off the water before basically skipping out of the bathroom and into the large room. Your eyes immediately go to the bed where you see your boyfriend's back, his shoulders sagged as he dropped his phone and keys on the bed, his backpack on the ground. 

Oscar quickly turns to face you when he hears your footsteps, a smile appearing on his tired face at the sight of you. He had also missed you dearly. He had only a few seconds to get a good look at you before you threw yourself in his arms, your arms around his neck and his arms tightly wrapped around your waist. Oscar nuzzled his face into your neck, taking a deep breath and taking in the smell of your perfume, his favorite smell. 

“Hi pretty girl” he mumbled into your neck, his tone showing how tired he was. He pulled as close to him as he could, his hands massaging your hips. 

“Hi handsome” you beamed, your hands trailing down his arms as you pulled away from the hug. Oscar kept his hands on your hips as you took a step back, his eyes took in the sight of you. You were wearing a pair of green silk shorts that stopped in the middle of your thighs, and a matching camisole. Your hair was pulled back with a ribbon, you looked absolutely beautiful. 

“Look at you, all dolled up for me?” Oscar purred as he moved one of his hands from your waist, to cup your cheek; his thumb caressing your cheekbone softly. You leaned your face against his hand before whispering sweetly “I have a lot more for you to.” 

Oscar raises his eyebrow at your words and a smile adorns his face, curious on what you mean by that. You say nothing as you grab onto his hand and pull him into the bathroom. As he steps into the bathroom, he's hit with the relaxing smell of lavender and vanilla and the soft sound of music playing from your phone. When Oscar sees the filled-up bath, he realizes what you meant, and he can't help but ask “What's all this for?” 

“You always take such good care of me Oscar, i want to take care of you tonight” you expressed softly as you looked lovingly into his eyes, pulling him closer to the hot bath. Oscar smiled at your words, he was so lucky to have such a caring and loving girlfriend like you. Oscar brings your hand he was holding to his face and places a soft kiss on the top of your hand before saying “Well let's not wait any longer then.” 

You giggled at your boyfriend's eager tone, you let go of his hand before taking a step back from him, your hands going to your shorts to get undressed. Oscar takes his focus off you and instead focuses on undressing himself, sneakily looking back at you a few times. Oscar lets out a loud chuckle when he feels you slap him on the back with your top, when you catch his stare on your bare chest. 

You grab your clothes and pick up Oscars that he left on the floor with a roll of your eyes. He had a habit of leaving his clothes in the middle of the floor. You set the clothes on the counter while Oscar slowly sinks into the hot bath. Oscar lets out a heavy breath, his eyes closing as he rolls his shoulders, the hot water and lavender already doing wonders on his tense body. 

You lifted your leg and dipped your toe in the water, testing to see how the water is. It was hot enough to give you tingles, but not too hot for you to want to get out. Oscar lifts his head from leaning back against the edge of the tub and opens his eyes when he feels you slowly sink into the water. You had your back to him, and you were sitting between his legs, the bath was big enough for three, so you had no trouble fitting. 

Oscar let his arms dip under the hot water, where he grabbed onto your waist and pulled you back against him, the water sloshing at the fast movement. You leaned back against him, your head on his chest. Oscar smiled and rested his hands on your lower half, whispering in your ear “Now that's better.” 

You absentmindedly start playing with his fingers as you tilt your head to see him, he was already looking down on you; a smile on his lips, the tense look he had already gone. You were happy to see that. You spoke in a soft tone “is it too hot? I can put in some cold water if it is.” 

“No, it's perfect, don't worry…just like you” he trailed off into a whisper at the end, chuckling when he noticed how flustered you got from his words. You look forward and watch the dancing flames coming from the gas fireplace that was in the wall. The two of you relaxed in silence, and you silently debated if you should ask him what's been stressing him out lately. You have known Oscar for a long time, so you were quick to realize that something has been bothering him, and you had an idea it was work related. You wanted to reassure him, but you also didn't want to ruin the moment. 

“What has got you thinking so hard baby?” Your boyfriend's voice breaks you out of your thoughts, one of his hands moving up to softly massage your arm. He could see it in your eyes, that there was something on your mind. Seeing as he noticed, you took that as a sign to ask him about it. 

“I’ve noticed you have been stressed more than usual lately, is everything okay?” 

“Just some race related things, nothing for you to worry about” Oscar spoke in a reassuring tone, he didn't want to bother you with his silly nerves especially since he knew it was over nothing. Oscar's hands absentmindedly trace random patterns on your stomach, his eyes focused on your side profile. 

“I always worry about you osc, you know that” you spoke sweetly as you turned your body slightly to face him more, your leg draping over his leg. Oscar sat up straighter and rested one of his hands on your thigh, softly caressing it. Hoping that you wouldn't notice how red he got from your words, you meant so much to him. 

“I know, but I’d tell you if it was something serious” Oscar promised before placing a kiss on your shoulder, smiling when he sees the goosebumps that form from his touch, placing a few more delicate kisses on your neck. You smile before whispering “Promise?” 

“Pinky promise” Oscar chuckles as he lifts his hand from your thigh and holds out his pinky. You join him in laughter at the sight of his pinky before breaking out into a smile, you interlock your pinky with his. Oscar leans closer to you and takes your lips in a soft kiss, only pulling away to whisper against your lips “I love you.” 

“I love you” You whisper back, bringing your hand up from the water to cup his cheek and capture his lips in a kiss. Oscar was eager to kiss you back, following your lead as you took charge of the kiss. You tilted your head as you deepened the kiss, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth and teasingly biting it, causing your boyfriend to moan against your lips. 

Oscar felt himself slipping deep into the kiss, his mind getting foggy at the feeling of your plump lips against his. The feeling of the water dripping down his neck from your hand gave him tingles and he felt his breath being sucked away from you. You rested your palm against his rib cage and slowly pulled away when you felt him pant during the kiss. A small smirk adoring your face at the sight of your flustered and panting boyfriend. 

Oscar still had his eyes closed as he tilted his head back, his lips were parted as he tried to catch his breath. His lips were red from the bruising kiss the two of you shared. If Oscar was stressed before, he definitely wasn’t now because all he could think about was you and your dangerously addictive lips. You felt his chest rise and fall under your hand, you leaned down and placed a delicate kiss on Oscar’s collarbone before turning back around; your back to him. 

You let yourself lean back against Oscar, your knees coming up to your chest and poking out of the water, the cool air hitting your legs causes goosebumps to littler your legs. Oscar—who still had his eyes closed, moved his hands to rest on your stomach again. You closed your eyes as well, finding comfort in being in your lover’s arms. You could tell that the water was starting to get warmer, and the lavender scent was becoming dull, but you weren’t ready to get out yet. 

“Oscarr” you couldn’t help but let out a whine when you feel something poke at your lower back, of course your boyfriend wouldn’t be able to control himself. You glance back at him to see him giving you a sheepish smile, his cheeks red. 

“What? You can't kiss me like that and then expect me not to get hard.” 

°. — taglist ( @iloveyou3000morgan )

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( I’m not sure how I feel about this one, it’s kinda rushed at the end but I just really wanted to get this out. but omg Oscar!! I’m so proud of him! He’s absolutely killing it! )

[daisynik7]

[F4M] You Leave a Naughty Voicemail for Your Husband While He Works Overtime [Established Relationship][Mutual Masturbation][Car Sex][Sub to Soft Dom][Breeding Kink][Mating Press][No Thoughts][Brain Empty][Just Fucking]

Read Part 1 here!

Pairing: husband!Nanami x f!reader

Rating: Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~3.6k

cw: established relationship, p*rn without plot, smut –  PIV sex (cowgirl, missionary, mating press, doggy), mutual masturbation, mentions of sex toys, edging, blowjob, car sex, clitoral stimulation, spanking, some spit play, breeding kink, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, pet names (sweetie, sweetheart, honey, princess, baby, good girl/boy), slight degradation kink

Summary: You record a naughty voicemail for your husband while he works overtime, leaving him yearning for more. Author’s Note: Hiya friends! Breaking my tumblr hiatus temporarily to post this. Consider this a sequel/part 2 to my other fic inspired by more NSFW audio. Someone gave me the idea to do a fic with the roles reversed, so here it is! Had a blast writing this, so I hope you enjoy! Bonus: here are some NSFW audios that inspired it (of course, they’re AugustInTheWinter): Link 1, Link 2 (reddit links, 18+). Likes, comments, and/or reblogs are always appreciated, thanks so much for reading! Header image from the manga On Doorstep (it's BL and the MC looks like Nanami, I highly recommend). MDNI banner created by @/mikeykuns.

It’s past eleven when Nanami steps out of the conference room with the rest of his colleagues, having just finished the last team meeting of the day. He was asked to work overtime to help fix any remaining issues before the end of the fiscal year, which is in a few days. Normally, he’d never agree to this, but with your wedding anniversary approaching in a month, he wants the extra income to buy you that gold chain bracelet you’ve had an eye on. 

With all his tasks complete for the day, he can finally leave. He gathers his belongings, checking his phone to see the missed call and voicemail you left him about an hour ago. She must be asleep already, he thinks, not bothering to call you back. When he gets in his car, he props his phone to the mount, ready to listen to your voicemail on Bluetooth while he drives home. He presses play as soon as he pulls out from his parking spot.

“Kento.” Your voice is hushed and breathy. “I miss you.”

Nanami clenches his jaw, already aroused by your sultry tone. He grips the steering wheel tighter, glancing at the phone screen to check the length of the voicemail: three minutes. That’s the limit before it cuts you off. And while the ride home is a mere ten, he has a feeling it will be excruciatingly long by the way this message is already playing. 

You sigh. “I miss you so much, Kento.” There’s rustling in the background; Nanami imagines that you’re turning over in bed, under the covers. What are you wearing right now? The cute flannel pajamas he bought you two years ago for Valentine’s Day? Or the lingerie set you purchased yourself to surprise him for your most recent anniversary? At this rate, for his own sanity, he’s not sure which one he prefers. 

“I can’t wait till you get home, honey. I’m so…” Your voice is heavy with lust; he can see the provocative face you’re making as you squeeze the phone to your ear, reaching between your legs to that throbbing pussy. “I’m so horny right now. I wish you were here.” If he listens closely, he can hear the squelch of fingers flicking your clit rapidly. “But since you’re not, is it okay if I touch myself?”

He’s tempted to slam on the gas and fly through the city to get to you in record time. Break all driving violations and his own personal morals to watch you play with yourself. It’s torture, sitting behind this red light, following the rules, listening to you moan into the phone, so needy and desperate for his cock. What’s worse is that you’re ovulating this week; he knows how pent up you must be from his absence tonight. Fertile and in heat, that wet sloppy cunt begging to be filled with his seed. He promised he’d make it up to you tomorrow morning, but why waste this perfectly good opportunity? Especially when you’re practically begging for it. 

“Remember how good you fucked me last night? How you pinned me down by the wrists? How tightly I squeezed my legs around you as you pumped me full of cum?” It’s all Nanami thought about when he wasn’t focused on work today. Enough to force him into the men’s room to jerk himself off, fantasizing about it. Replaying your wanton moans ringing in his ears, the way your body convulsed around him, that adorably dumb expression on your face while you were getting fucked into oblivion. Normally, he’d be ashamed of himself at how lewd he was being in a work setting, but the memory of you was too irresistible, even for him. 

He’s not usually perverse like this, but something about you drives him crazy. His hands are typically at 10-and-2, the correct position to steer the wheel. But just this once, he deems it necessary to lose his prim and proper attitude. He drops one into his lap to unbuckle his belt, unzip his pants, and reach down to palm his cock through his briefs. It’s enough to gain a bit of relief from this torment, at least until he’s safely home. Nanami wipes the sweat beading on his brow, accelerating too hard when the light finally switches to green, keeping his grip steady as he strokes his cock, listening intently to your voice surrounding him in the car. 

“Are you hard right now, Kento?” There’s more movement in the background, as if you’re opening and shutting a drawer. Blood rushes into his cheeks, predicting exactly what you’re about to do. “Do you like listening to me touch myself?” There’s a familiar hum now, and he visualizes the pink vibrator buzzing in your hand, the fluttering tip teasing your swollen clit. He’d do anything to teleport directly into the bedroom and have his way with you.  

“I’m so lonely in this bed without you. I’m fucking myself, thinking about you. Wishing it’s you instead of this stupid toy. Can you hear it, sweetie?”

“Yes,” he answers to no one, shoving his underwear down to release his erection, stroking himself faster with his right fist. He’s forced to stop again; how many fucking streetlights does this goddamn city need anyways?! It’s excruciating. 

“My pussy is aching for your big cock.” The buzzing intensifies; you’ve increased the setting one level, on the verge of an orgasm. Typical behavior of his obedient slut of a wife. He loves sliding his fingers inside while you press the vibrator deeper into your clit. He’s obsessed with the way you gush around him, clenching him tighter, addicted to how it tastes on his tongue when he slides those cum-coated digits into his mouth. 

“Hurry home, honey. I’m waiting for you. This pussy is already so wet for you. I’m going to use you as my sex toy tonight.”

“Fuck, I want that. I really want that,” Nanami moans in response, releasing his cock from his grasp, thighs fidgeting from arousal. 

“You love it when I use you, huh? Love it when I fuck you silly until you’re milked dry.”

He groans, bucking his hips into nothing in the seat, briefly losing control of the wheel, causing the car to swerve. “Fuck, I love it, sweetie. I love it. Please.” He’s not sure what he’s begging for. All he knows is that if he doesn’t get home soon, he’ll combust, taking the car down with him. 

“Fuck, Kento. I’m thinking about how deep you hit it from behind. Slapping my ass, treating me like a bad girl, pounding your hips into me like a fucking animal. I get so fucking cock drunk off you. Makes me want to come just talking about it.”

“Then come for me, baby,” he blurts out, fully aware he’s talking to a recording. He’s completely lost it now. 

“Ah, I’m close. I – ” you interrupt yourself with your own whimpers. Nanami listens as he cruises past the speed limit now, wiping the bead of precum at the tip of his cock with his thumb,  edging himself. It’d be a shame for him to waste his load onto his lap. He’s going to give you every fucking drop he has. Build it up so that your pussy is flooding with his hot, sticky mess. 

You whine loudly, “I’m coming, Kento. Ah, I’m coming for you.” You moan into the phone, and Nanami has to release himself to prevent from orgasming too, Then, there’s silence on your end, except for your staggered breaths and occasionally rustling of the sheets beneath you. Eventually, the voicemail ends without another word, and he assumes that you’ve fallen asleep. He smiles to himself, imagining you, his gorgeous wife, with your legs splayed out, vibrator loosely gripped, completely knocked out on the bed. 

He replays the voicemail, continuing to edge himself until he finally pulls into their driveway, opening the garage. He parks, shutting off the ignition, then searches the backseat for the box of tissues, wanting to clean up whatever mess he’s made. Before he gets the chance to, the door leading inside swings open, and it’s you, standing in the door frame in a sheer lingerie nightgown. The same one he expected you’d be wearing tonight. 

He swallows hard, cock still out, stiffer than ever, watching you step towards the driver’s side, bright face peering through the window. You glance to his lap, noticing the lewd sight. 

You tap on the glass, feigning innocence. “Kento?”

He opens the door slowly, face flushed, eyes half-lidded in a daze. “Sweetheart, please.” 

His slacks have been shoved off haphazardly down his legs, engorged cock sprung against his abdomen, precum leaking out the tip. His cheeks are pink, hair tousled, forehead dewy with sweat. You smirk at him, pleased to see that he’s listened to your voicemail. “Oh, honey. Look at you. Have you been a bad boy?” You surround him with your fingers, jerking him slowly. He twitches at your touch, sensitive and aching in your fist. 

He shakes his head, shutting his eyes closed as you stroke him. “No,” he stutters, “I’ve been very good.”

You inspect the car, realizing what he’s trying to convey to you; he hasn’t come yet. “Oh, baby,” you coo, squeezing his cock in your fist. “You’ve been very, very good. My good boy.”

He nods this time, leaning forward for a kiss. “Yes, I’m a good boy for you. I’m your good boy,” he huffs through gritted teeth. Nanami isn’t normally like this, so submissive and needy. But tonight, he has zero hesitation; he’s begging to be dominated, to be used and toyed with. 

You lick into his mouth, nipping at his bottom lip. “Do you want your reward now? Or should we go inside first?”

He won’t last much longer, so he spits out, “Now. Please.”

You smirk, kissing him messily, tongues swirling, swapping spit while his dick pulsates in your palm. “Fuck,” he groans, rocking his hips into you. “I’m going to come if you keep – ” he chokes on his saliva, unable to finish his sentence. 

You giggle, nibbling at his ear lobe. “If I do what, baby?” You want to tease him a bit more, so you bend over his lap, kneeling on the bottom frame of the car, sinking down on him with your mouth. He throws his head back against the headrest, swearing loudly. You blow him until his cock is lubricated with your spit and he’s squirming above you, ready to burst. 

He pulls you off him abruptly, tugging you towards him. “I can’t,” he urges, completely red now, all frenzied and flustered. “Please, I can’t take it anymore.”

Giggling, you swing your leg over him, straddling his lap and smooching his forehead. “Alright, honey. I tormented you enough.” You’re not wearing any panties beneath your nightgown, so when you start to rub yourself on his shaft, his eyes widen in surprise, staring at you, sputtering a mix of curses and nonsense.

You grin, kissing him softly, rocking yourself along his length. “I told you, didn’t I? This pussy is so wet for you. I’ve been prepping myself all night, thinking about you.”

“Fuck, I’m going to come. Put it in, sweetheart. Hurry.”

You guide him in you easily until he bottoms out, sitting on him without moving, licking into his mouth. His hands slide around your hips, holding you tenderly, staying still, melting into your kiss. Before you can start bouncing on him, he squeezes you, huffing, “I’m coming.” 

His dick pulsates, spurting his hot seed deep inside you. You continue to kiss him, smiling against his lips, pleased and satisfied. When he’s finished, you graze his ear. “Good boy.”

“Fuck,” he mutters, brows knit together, eyes shut tight. He opens one to peek at you, embarrassed. “This is your fault.” The blush on his face cascades along his neck. “You knew this would happen when you left me that voicemail.”

Laughing, you give him a smooch on his cheek. “You’re right. I was being bad tonight. Are you going to punish me for it?” You tug at his tie, loosening it on his collar, trailing his chest to unbutton his dress shirt. 

He relaxes, smirking as he slaps your ass with his palm, cupping the flesh immediately after. You whine his name at the contact, nuzzling into his neck. “Ah, Kento.”

“Bad girls deserve to be punished,” he growls, low and wicked, delivering a fresh smack to the other side. His cock is erect again inside you, stuffing you full once more. “You’re going to take this cock until I can’t get hard anymore. Understand?” He rocks you back and forth on him, thumb pressed at your clit, rubbing small circles. “Until this slutty little cunt is so full of my cum.”

You nod silently, clinging to his shoulders, body trembling with arousal. The switch in demeanor, from him begging you for sweet release to now being domineering and cocky, has you titillating for more. He chuckles, wrapping you in snug embrace, kissing the top of your head. “Look at you, darling. You’re shaking. Let’s go to the bedroom, okay princess?” And his ability to turn on this sweet charm has you softening in his arms, pliant and ready to be played with. 

Soon, you’re inside your bedroom, legs spread wide, some residual cum trickling down the inside of your thighs. He strips his remaining clothes off, cock unbelievable rigid in his fist, jerking himself off to the sight of you in your transparent lingerie, his load leaking from your slit. 

“You’re a fucking slut for getting me worked up like this,” he grunts, hovering over you, tapping the tip of his dick on your swollen clit. “I edged myself the entire drive, saving all this cum for you.”

You bite your lip, holding back the guttural, animalistic moan escaping from within your throat. His confession has you quaking, eager to be filled even more to the brim with his seed, eager to be bred. You can blame it on the fact that you’re currently in heat, or that you’re just this much in love with your husband that you can’t think of anything else you want more in this moment than to be connected with him. You grip the sheets below you, fanning your thighs impatiently, waiting for his cock. “Breed me, honey. Fuck all your cum inside me. I want all of it, every single drop. Hurry.”

Oh how quickly do the roles reverse. 

He slides his cock inside you, his own cum coating it as he pulls out slightly, observing the lewd scene. “Look at how full you are, and it’s still not enough. Such a greedy cum slut.” He spits a frothy wad of his saliva onto your clit, smearing it with his thumb. “You’re going to come on this cock before I give you anything. Got it?”

You nod, closing your eyes, turning your head to the side, losing yourself to the pleasure rippling through your body as he pounds into your pussy, the sensation so intense it resonates all the way down to your toes. He’s so mean, so unlike his usual doting self when he’s in this mood, and you can’t help but succumb to it. He tips your chin back towards him. “Look at it,” he demands. You open your eyes, his expression wild, fucking you faster, his thumb working your clit ruthlessly. “Watch me fuck this messy cunt.” He grips you behind the legs, hoisting you so that your knees are towards your chest, holding you into a mating press. Unable to contain it any longer, you moan loudly, grabbing at your own ankles to keep yourself spread wide for him as he thrusts in and out of you relentlessly. 

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it sweetheart? To be fucked and pounded by me instead of that silly toy. To use me and milk me dry of every last drop. You asked for this. This is what you get for being so fucking naughty.” He rests one of your legs onto his shoulder, turning to smooch the side of your knee, sucking on your skin. 

You continue to moan his name until it’s reduced into a blubber of incoherent cries as you’re pushed over the edge, reaching your climax. “That’s it, come on my cock, princess. That’s a good girl.” Still, he doesn’t ease up; in fact, he fucks you harder, spurred by your orgasm, intent on chasing another. “Just keep taking it, okay beautiful? I know you can do it.” He pounds you into the mattress, the bed creaking noisily beneath you with each solid thrust, perspiration dripping from his body onto yours. You’re no longer thinking clearly; everything is in a haze, blissful and euphoric, only your husband on your brain. He’s fucked all other thoughts out of you. Has you obsessed with his cock, hungry for his cum, keen on him to breed your fertile womb.

“Fuck, Kento, right there! Right there!” you cry out, grasping his hair between your fingers, pulling him in for a sloppy kiss. 

“Right there, huh?” he teases, slowing his pace to thrust deep into your G-spot, nails digging into the flesh of your hips. “Always taking me so fucking deep.” He grabs your wrist, placing your hand at your clit. “Touch yourself while I fuck you. Squirt on my cock like a good little slut.”

You obey him, flicking your sensitive bud with your middle finger while he watches intently, another orgasm fast approaching. You twitch around him, pleasure overtaking your entire body, sending a rush of ecstasy that has you seeing stars. 

Of course, it still isn’t enough for him. Not after what you put him through earlier. “Turn over,” he mutters, pulling out, cum spilling onto the sheets. “You know what to do.”

He’s right; it’s second nature to you now, to throw your ass back and fuck yourself with his cock. All he has to do is kneel behind you with his hard dick out while you swallow him whole, pumping it in and out of your pussy. It doesn’t matter how pliant you feel, or how fucked out you are, tongue lolling out of your mouth, drool leaking from the sides of your lips. You know exactly what to do to get what you want out of him. 

You can feign innocence all you want, pretend to be shocked when he manhandles you like a fucking rag doll, slamming his hips into you, wet slaps bouncing off the walls of your bedroom. Shrieking when he presses his rough fingers to your swollen clit. Burying your face into the pillow, muffling your shameless moans and shrieks of, “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!” This is what you intended when you spread your legs earlier, phone in your hand, ready to leave that filthy voicemail for him, knowing he’d listen on his way home. Knowing he’d save all his cum for you because you’re ovulating, and he wants more than anything to get you pregnant. Knowing he’d want to fuck you into a frenzy regardless, always desperate to empty his load inside you. It’s what you want because you know he wants it too. That’s what makes it even better, knowing your husband is as feral for you as you are for him. 

“Fuck, I’m close,” he whispers, voice wavering.

Craning your neck to face him, you murmur, “Want to see you.”

He smiles, pulling out, your pussy fluttering around the emptiness, already eager to be filled again. “I want to see you too, my love.” He flips you over, pushing your knees towards your ears into a deeper mating press, kissing you sweetly on the lips. You wrap your arms around him, whining his name into his ear as he fucks you rough, the bed frame precariously shifting with each plunge of his cock. 

“Fuck, I’m coming,” he groans, cock twitching and spurting every hot pulse inside you. “Take all of my cum, sweetheart. All of it,” he mutters, forehead pressed to yours. “I love you. I love you so much.”

When he finishes, he lowers your legs slowly, rolling beside you to cradle you in his arms. You nestle into his chest, listening to his steadying heartbeat. “Are you okay, sweetie?” he asks, massaging small circles into your back.

You nod against him, remaining silent, too drained to even respond with words. He lets you rest like this for a moment before hopping off the bed, stepping into the bathroom, rummaging through the cupboards. Shortly after, he returns to you with a container of baby wipes in hand and a glass of water in the other. 

You’re a mess down there, sleek, wet, and gushing with slick. He kneels beside you, wiping your forehead first from sweat. You peer up at him, smiling, cupping his cheek. “Thank you,” you mouth to him. With another, he cleans your hands, then your legs, always glancing at you to make sure you’re still doing fine. You’re truly grateful for having a spouse as attentive and as caring as your husband, who, despite his typically stoic disposition, always dotes on you so sweetly. 

Done cleaning you up, he traces the outline of your lips with his thumb, saying, “Drink water, honey.”

You grumble at him, pretending to be asleep. He chuckles, leaning in closer for a kiss. “And go pee.”

You peek at him with one eye open, nuzzling your nose to his. “Okay, fine. But after you hold me for one more minute.”

He smiles, sliding his arms around you. “Anything you want, sweetheart. Anything you want.”

[hischierswhore]

i can see you

Pairing: Lando Norris x Assistant!Reader

TW: suggestive content

A/N: this is based on my favorite song from Speak Now (Taylor’s Version) so in honor of that, here’s my first Lando fic 🧡

ALSO CONGRATS TO LANDO ON P2 TODAY AT THE BRITISH GP. SO PROUD

also i highly recommend listening to the song as you read for the full experience

You were leaning against a wall in the hallway of McLaren Headquarters, waiting for Lando to come out of his meeting with Zak Brown. You were his assistant & lifelong best friend, hired as the former just after he signed with McLaren all those years ago.

You were there when times got tough and in the happiest moments of his life. After spending so much time with him, you’d gotten comfortable with his presence, maybe a little bit too comfortable.

You’d always known that Lando was handsome, everyone and their mother knew it. Over time you had developed a small crush on him, and by some miracle, you were able to push those feelings aside out of respect for both your job & his, but not for long.

Recently, those feelings became more powerful. More overwhelming. They were so strong that you often felt butterflies in the pit of your stomach while you were with him.

And not the cute & dainty butterfly-like feeling. More along the lines of… you wanted him, and you wanted him bad.

You were pulled from thoughts as you heard a door open. Your head turned in the direction of the sound and you saw Lando exiting the conference room. God, he looked so good. You watched as he brushed past you, a small smile on his face as his eyes met yours.

That damn smile of his nearly melted you at the sight. The look he gave you confirmed the rumors that had been circulating. Rumor was that Lando had a crush on you, but never acted on it because of both your & his jobs, and he didn’t want to get either of you in trouble.

Just after he had passed you, you heard him mutter something and turn back to you. He grabbed your hand and dragged you down the hall to the nearest empty office.

Once inside, he locked the door and pushed you against the wall. He placed both hands on the sides of your face and pulled you in for a deep & passionate kiss.

His lips remained on yours while he removed his hands from your face to take his coat off. He threw it aimlessly on the floor, not caring if it got dirty. You were more important.

“Y/n” He moaned against your lips before pulling away to look you in the eyes.

“I want this. I want you, Lando” You whispered before pressing your lips back onto his. You felt his hands on your shoulders, gently tugging at the strap of your bra that was ever-so-slightly visible through your top.

Then you felt sudden tapping on your shoulder.

“Y/n”

You immediately came back to reality. You were back in the hallway, leaning against the wall like you were before

“You okay? You were kind of in Lala Land for a second” He giggled and you swore your heart nearly popped out of your chest.

“Please don’t tell me I said any of that out loud” You said, noticing his hand was still resting on your shoulder. Your cheeks began to burn and you never wanted to curl up and hide more in your life.

“It depends… what were you talking about?” He pulled his hand away from your shoulder, his face now turning a deeper shade of red than Rudolph’s nose.

“Nothing, just… daydreaming” You presented a fake smile and he looked at you suspiciously.

“I don’t believe you, but let’s go. We’ve got to get ready for the Grid Dinner” He held his arm out for you to lace yours through, which you graciously accepted and walked out of the building to his McLaren Senna.

~ a few hours later ~

You were finishing up your hair when you heard a knock at your front door. You spritzed the last of your hairspray before setting the can down and running across your flat to get to the door.

Upon opening the door, you were met with Lando in a suit, someone you’d seen a few times within your life, but seeing him in a suit now felt different.

You tried hard to keep any & all ideas of what you’d like to do with him in the back of your mind. His jaw dropped at the sight of you, dressed in a beautiful black gown, perfect for the theme of the dinner tonight. He was at a loss for words.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer” You teased and you noticed how Lando turned a light shade of pink at your words.

“I… uhm… You look stunning, love” He finally managed to get out.

“Thank you, Lan. You don’t look too bad yourself”

“Shall we get going?” He asked as he held his hand out for you, his gentlemanly way of guiding you to his car. You obviously took his hand and you were on your way.

The car ride was rather silent. A thick tension filled the air, a very thick sexual tension that had not been acknowledged by either parties, despite yours in the back of your mind.

Upon arriving at the dinner, you and Lando were escorted to a private dining area, reserved for rather large gatherings such as the Grid Dinner.

You saw Kika talking to Carmen and immediately made your way to talk to them while Lando spoke to the rest of his mates.

“You look beautiful, Y/n” Carmen gasped as she brought you in for a hug.

“You might actually be the best dressed here” Kika added.

“Girls stopppp. Have you seen yourselves? You’re both literal perfection” You always blushed at compliments, but Kika’s next words turned you from pink to red… tomato red.

“Lando’s one lucky man”

“Oh me & Lando aren’t-” You tried to add but we’re cut off

“Don’t even start. We all see that there’s something there. Maybe not officially, but there’s definitely a connection between the two of you”

“Oh what’s that, Oscar? You need help with your tie? On my way!” You exclaimed as you held a half to your ear, pretending to be mid-conversation with Oscar as a way to excuse yourself from the conversation Kika & Carmen were about to have with you.

~ later on ~

You had gotten to your designated seat as you waited for the dinner to commence. Lando was say next to you, with Carlos, Charles, Pierre, Kika, George & Carmen sat around the rest of the table.

You all indulged in conversation when you felt a hand on your thigh. You looked down to see Lando’s hand rested there. Your gaze followed up to his face, seeing him in the middle of a slightly heated discussion with Carlos about the pronunciation of Mariah Carey.

You looked back down at his hand as saw that he was holding a small piece of paper in his palm. You grabbed it from him and slowly opened it underneath the table.

“Meet me near the bathrooms in 10

- LN”

You folded the note back up and put it in your small clutch.

Ten minutes later, you excused yourself from the table and went to the bathroom. You waited there for approximately 5 minutes before Lando finally came over.

“Sorry for being a bit late, love. Had to come up with an excuse to come back here” He was slightly out of breath from practically running back here to meet with you.

“What was the note for?” You asked as you attempted to keep your balance. The heels you had chosen were not made for standing for extended amounts of time.

“Do you trust me?” He asked, completely ignoring your question. You nodded and just as you opened your mouth to speak, Lando pressed his lips to yours, one hand holding your face and the other on your hip.

He was able to gently kick the bathroom door open and guided you inside. He pulled away to lock the door, and just as he turned back around, you smashed your lips onto his, reciprocating his sudden action from earlier.

You’d wanted this for so long, and you were finally getting it. But how could you be so sure that it was real? You thought it was real earlier, but it wasn’t; it was all in your head.

“Lando wait” You pulled yourself off of him, a look of confusion on his face.

“I’m not just imagining this, right?”

“No, Y/n, this is very real. I heard what you said back the headquarters when you were daydreaming. Now tell me, what were you thinking about?”

“You…”

“I’m gonna need more than that, love”

“Us hiding in an empty room while we kiss…”

“Do you think about that often?” He asked, his voice more serious than you’d ever heard it before.

“You won't believe half the things I see inside my head that involve you & I. Wait 'til you see half the things that haven’t happened… yet”

“I’m making it my personal goal to make your dreams a reality” He muttered as he pulls you back in for another kiss.

“Then let’s start now”

“Not now, love. I want to take my time with you”

“if you only knew, that I can see you”

for all the delusion people (me)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

taglist

@swimmingismywholelife @chelseagirl98 @neverinadream

[ianduncankinnie]

I often post about Palestine but I'd like to take a moment to talk about what's happening in Bangladesh.

KEEP YOUR EYE ON BANGLADESH

TL;DR Students killed for protesting the government's quota system. Students are being arrested and murdered for speaking up about their deceased friends. Everyone is being threatened by the government and many social media platforms are being banned.

All I'm asking is to spread the word. Please. International pressure really works for our nation. We're dying here. UNICEF reports 34 children dead. There might be more. All reblogs and likes and shares are appreciated. Thank you. I guess I'll see you tomorrow.

Past

A movement protesting the government's quota system put forth by the father of our nation Sheikh Mujibur Rahman. This was placed in the first place to help the grandchildren of those who fought in the Liberation War of our country to get government jobs. We have a terrible job market here which is why many highly educated people leave the country. On 16th July, While protesting, a Student named Abu Sayed of Begum Rokeya University was killed by the police. This only stoked the feelings of injustice between the students.

During a press conference, the PM was asked about the quota for the grandchildren of veterans. Her response? "If we don't give jobs to the grandchildren of Veterans, will we give jobs to the grandchildren of Razakars?" Razakars are the people who collaborated with the Pakistani Forces to bring down the Bangladeshi freedom fighters. They betrayed the nation for their own gain.

Traitors.

Imagine calling the youth of your nation traitors.

Imagine calling almost 14 million young people who can't find a job despite their credentials betrayers.

Imagine cursing people who are protesting for job equality under a government with the all time highest corruption in the history of this nation.

On 17th July the broadband connection centre in Mohakhali was burned down. Mobile data services and communication were shut down by the PM. After 11 days the internet was properly restored.

On 19th July, A National Military Curfew was put in place by the Prime Minister to mitigate the unrest.

But that was last month. If you need details I highly recommend sources in Bangladesh like the Daily Star or reputable like Al Jazeera. The quota has since been lifted. Lives were lost. But it was for a good cause, right?

Right?

RIGHT?

Present

Well no. There's still a curfew in the capital. Several districts like Cumilla are still under attack. The government warns of not spreading misinformation yet still lie about the severity of the issue. The police are arresting those who protest as well as those who speak up. The students are demanding for the resignation of the PM. The PM obviously refuses to apologise or even acknowledge the deaths of some 147?

or is it 200?

They're not counting how many they're killing. They're not letting anyone else count either.

It is midnight here. This morning as in 4th August 2024, the students have called for a non cooperation movement. The Ruling Party Awami League will also be holding rallies across the nation tomorrow. I do not know what is going to happen to me. I do not want to think of what will happen to my family tomorrow. I don't really care. What I'm truly scared for is the future. As these protests do not end well here.

Future

Precedence says the PM will eventually resign. Every student protest of our nation has ended in momentary success.

Momentary

What comes after is usually a military regime. A caretaker government until a next government is chosen in a supposed election. Even then if they decide to hold an election. The caretaker government is usually run as a dictatorship. It was true for the 60s. It was true for the 90s. I don't doubt it will happen again.

I'm graduating next year. My niece is still new to the academic system. I wish her the best. My grandmas and grandpas are dead. Nobody left to pray for me. My aunts and uncles are growing old. My cousins can't speak up for fear. My mom is so tired. My dad is angry. I'm unsure if I will still be able to post the next couple of days.

All I'm asking is to spread the word. Please. International pressure really works for our nation. We're dying here. UNICEF reports 34 children dead. There might be more. All reblogs and likes and shares are appreciated. Thank you. I guess I'll see you tomorrow.

[oneforblu]

my thoughts on mob psycho 100

mob psycho is an anime i have seen the first season for but never got around to finishing the series. so, i finally decided to watch all 3 seasons and i am so glad i did!

it's a fun story with unforgettable characters, insane animation, and incredible writing. i've seen season 1 a few times so i already knew i was going to enjoy the series but seasons 2 & 3 made me fall in love even more with the story.

mob is an AMAZING protagonist who wishes to better himself without the help of his powers. he's so kind throughout the series. even when faced with a terrifying situation, he pushes through without changing who he is. he quickly became a favorite character of mine, and watching his development is the best thing ever. what makes me love mob so much is how his goals are so simple and realistic, but because of how well done the character writing is, it makes you attached to mob.

reigen is another one of my favorite characters!! at first, he's this funny guy who basically lies for a living, but he has a heart of gold that mob takes notice of. reigen's arc in s2 was so well done! the man who lies to everyone was face to face with the consequences of those lies, yet mob came in to save the day during the press conference. what i love most about reigen is when he realizes he's hurt someone, he always recognizes his wrongdoings and tries to fix the problem.

this series is a quirky, beautiful story full of incredible characters, and the finale was fantastic!! mob has finally accepted all parts of himself. it was such a fantastic journey of self-love and acceptance. ending the series with reigen telling the truth was just perfect!

i was smiling throughout the last moment in the final episode. mob has created an amazing life where his effort is seen, and he's surrounded by love. reigen's surprise birthday party made me so happy. it was so nice to see reigen no longer alone on his birthday, with all the people he's impacted happily celebrating him. a perfect end to a perfect series!!

mob psycho 100 is easily a 10/10 series for me!! a comforting watch that excites you and inspires you to be kinder. i highly recommend that everyone watch this at some point in their lives!! I LOVE MOB PSYCHO!!

[dxmxuse]

With how much misinformation is being spread I thought I’d leave this here.

Few notes to keep in mind:

As we all know by now, news sources are typically very biased. Please do not trust 100% of the things you see from any news outlets, I’ve already noticed a lot of issues with their reporting.

His lawyer had a press conference yesterday. I highly recommend watching it for information you can trust (it’s vague because it’s an ongoing legal matter). I would also encourage you to pay attention to all future communications from his lawyer and (if possible) to watch the trial yourself when the time comes.

IMO: this is not the work of someone irrational. This is factual and well thought out. Take that as you will.

I do not encourage violence against anyone. This is an important moment in US history, policy, law, etc. This is purely to aid in factual reporting

All credit to Ken Klippenstein via Bluesky

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

Something There (Chapter 9)

7.1k words Roy Kent x Reader Warnings: Language, moment of violence (yay!), one scene of angst, lots of fluff and buildup A/N: Okay now THIS is my favorite chapter! I listened to Taylor's 'Daylight' for most of this, highly recommend 😘

Series Masterlist

He wasn’t letting go of her. Not this time.

Roy squeezed her tight, letting his cheek rest on her hair, the hair that smelled like fucking lavender and vanilla and was just as soft as he remembered. She felt good, pressed close to his heart like this. Right. Like she belonged there. The way she clung to him, trembling ever so slightly, told him that she was thinking the same thing.

Saying something would break the spell. So, Roy kept his mouth shut, wishing they could stay here, in this little office with its humming air conditioning and fluorescent lights, and forget about reporters and tabloids and non-boyfriends and hell, even forget about football. All he wanted was right there, in his arms, clutching to him like he was a life preserver in a storm.

But of course, staying frozen like this forever wasn’t a real option.

The sound of someone walking through the Greyhounds office had them releasing each other, not quite stepping away, as if they couldn’t bear parting, not quite yet.

Ted stood in the doorway, mouth open and eyebrows raised, glancing from one manager to the other. “I, uh, just wanted to see how you’re doin’,” he finally said, nodding to Buck. “That was a hell of a press conference, Coach.”

“Thanks,” she murmured, wiping her damp face; Roy realized she’d been crying into his shoulder. “I’m, uh, pretty tired. Should be heading home.”

Ted nodded, his face telling Roy he was sorry for interrupting. “Yeah, you get some rest. You deserve a good night’s sleep.” He offered a small wave. “Goodnight, coaches.”

Both managers mumbled their goodbyes to Ted before turning back to each other.

“I should go home,” she finally repeated, taking a step backwards to her desk, where her things were waiting to be packed up.

Roy nodded, suddenly unsure about what to do with his hands if they weren’t holding her. “Yeah, yeah. But listen-” He cleared his throat, eyes on the ceiling. “You… deserve to celebrate. Taking first place, the press conference, surviving all the shit we’ve been through. Maybe next week, when you’re up for it, I could… buy you a beer or something?”

When he forced himself to look at her, the corners of her red lips were tugging upwards. “Yeah. I’d like that, Kent.”

Before he could say anything else, his mobile vibrated in his pocket, further breaking the spell. He pulled it out, only vaguely registering the name on the screen.

“Answer it,” she hummed, starting to pack up her bag. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

Roy nodded and started backing into his own office. “See you later.” He turned, answering his mobile as he walked through his office, into the changing room. “Hello?”

“Roy.” Trent’s voice was that serious tone he often used. “I, uh, got that information you asked for.”

Oh, shit. “Right, right. Anything… interesting?” he glanced over his shoulder as he entered the empty hallway, making sure he was alone.

Trent’s sigh sounded tired. “Oh, it’s interesting, alright,” he muttered dryly. “So, the photos were taken, but they weren’t going to be released. Keeley had done a good job convincing The Richmond Star to sit on them.”

“The fucking Richmond Star?” Roy’s chest tightened; he knew that paper.

“Yeah.” Trent paused. “They were going to just ignore them until… one of their reporters saw them. And gave them to another publication.”

Roy stopped in the middle of the hallway, ready to punch a wall. “Any idea who the reporter might’ve been?”

The hesitation on Trent’s end gave Roy his answer before the writer even spoke. “George Willows.”

“FUCK!”

Trent cleared his throat. “Figured you’d feel that way,” he hummed. He sighed. “I hate that it’s him. She’s… she’s lovely. She doesn’t deserve that.” The next pause was heavy. “Are you going to tell her?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Gotta… gotta think.” He let out a low, growling sigh. “Thanks, Trent. Really.”

“Good luck, Roy.”

~

Keeley had, thankfully, forgiven me for going off-script. On the contrary, she thought my rant was brilliant and long overdue. Rebecca, while concerned about the language and the reaction from shareholders, was proud of me.

After a the most light-hearted practice the Whippets had had in weeks, I found myself in my office, going over the report on our next opponent, determined to keep our first-place status.

“Hi there, Coach.” Ted Lasso stood in the doorway, smile on his face. “How was training today?”

“Good,” I chirped, waving him in. “Anything I can do for you, Ted?”

He shrugged and leaned on my desk. “Just didn’t get to chat last night.” His eyes searched my face curiously. “Sorry for, uh, interrupting.”

My face went warm. “It’s fine,” I murmured, looking down at my report. “We were just-”

“No need to explain,” he assured me, clearly trying not to grin goofily. “It was an emotional night for ya. For Roy too.” He raised his eyebrows. “The two of you… deserve something good. Some happiness.”

“The two of us,” I repeated with a little cough. “I mean-”

Ted placed his hand on top of mine, silencing me. “Lemme just say one thing. I know we’re practically strangers and it’s none of my business, but I dunno. I feel like I know a thing or two about a thing or two.”

My curiosity was piqued. “What’s up?”

After a quick glance around, Ted leaned in close. “Roy… he thinks you’re special. You know that right? Because it’s obvious to anyone with eyes. Heck, Helen Keller would be able to tell ya that Roy thinks the world of you.”

My heart stuttered as I looked at Ted. “I- you know, he-”

“But Roy’s pretty darn special too,” Ted continued. “He is so darn good. He’d do just about anything for the people he cares about. He’s got to be one of the most passionate people I have ever had the pleasure of knowin’. The man is a great coach and an incredible friend.” He cleared his throat. “Like I said, just a real special guy. And…” He shook his head. “I dunno. I think, and I’m sure a lot of other people think, that maybe you two… could be somethin’ special… together.” He threw his hands up as he hopped off my desk. “I said my piece. You can ignore me if you want, like I said it’s not really my place to talk.” He started towards the door, pausing halfway out of the office to look at me one more time. “But Roy… well if you let him, he’d care about you like no one’s business.” With a friendly nod, he was gone, leaving me alone with thoughts full of Roy Kent.

~

It was like Roy’s mind was at war with itself for a couple of days after the Whippets match. On the one hand, he was so angry with what he’d learned from Trent. Of course fucking Willows was behind this whole mess; the man was scum, after all. And the fact that her trust had been so fucking violated just crushed Roy. And now he had to figure out a way to tell her that didn’t look like he was just trying to break them up. Fucking hell.

But, even with all this inner turmoil, Roy couldn’t help feeling… happy. She was smiling at him, cracking jokes, and a couple of times he caught her gazing thoughtfully through the window from her office to his. Something had shifted, and Roy’s heart was soaring.

Still. How was he supposed to tell her who was behind their shared hell?

He was contemplating this when Rebecca bumped into him in the hallway.

“Oh, Roy, just who I was hoping to see.”

He quirked an eyebrow at her. “Really?”

She nodded, stepping closer. “I was wondering how you’re doing. We haven’t had a chance to talk since… well, the other night.” Her eyebrows flew up. “That press conference was interesting, wasn’t it?”

“Interesting,” Roy repeated, shifting his weight and his gaze. “Yeah, you could call it that.”

As if summoned by Roy’s discomfort, the Whippets’ coaches walked by, chattering quietly. The two managers locked eyes, and Roy was the recipient of the softest smile, the kind that made his breath hitch and his fingertips tingle. He nodded back, keeping his eyes on her as she continued down the hall; to his absolute delight, she glanced back at him before disappearing around a corner.

Rebecca’s face softened as she watched the manager squirm. “Roy Kent, when are you going to fucking tell her how you feel?”

He sighed, glancing around, praying no one could hear the two of them. “Rebecca-”

“No, don’t ‘Rebecca’ me,” she scolded in a low voice. “Come on, Roy, I’m sick of seeing you stumble around here in this little daze. There’s something between you two, we all know it. It’s so damn obvious. It’s been there for months. Hell, it’s probably been there since the day she arrived. So go fucking tell her that you have real feelings for her.”

“Rebecca,” he warned, face burning. “It’s not that fucking simple-”

She rolled her eyes. “How many times do I have to tell you? Stop getting in the way of your own happiness. Stop acting helpless, because you’re not. You’re Roy fucking Kent! You deserve to be happy.”

Roy felt his blood boil as he finally snapped at his boss. “And you’re Rebecca fucking Welton! So when are you going to stop pretending you don’t love Ted and let yourself be happy?”

The color draining from Rebecc’s face told Roy he was right on the money. It wasn’t as if it was some great secret; everyone knew there was more than friendship between the owner and former manager. Well, maybe everyone except the owner and manager in question.

“Exactly,” Roy went on, confident that he’d ended this particular conversation. “When you talk to Ted about your feelings, I’ll talk to Bucky about mine.” He nodded, more to himself, and began to turn to walk away; Rebecca’s hand on his wrist stopped him in his tracks.

“Fine.”

Before Roy could say another word, Rebecca dragged him down the halls of the Dog Track, ignoring the curious looks of the people they passed as her heels click, click, clicked against the tile. She didn’t stop her quick pace until they were in the Greyhounds office, where Ted was chatting pleasantly with Beard.

Ted’s eyes lit up at the sight of Rebecca. “Well, hey there-”

“Ted Lasso,” Rebecca commanded, releasing Roy’s wrist. “Are you ever going to kiss me?”

Roy had never seen Ted’s face so pale. “I-” the American choked, Beard wide-eyed next to him. “Well, gee- Becca, we-”

Rebecca took a step forward, raising a cool eyebrow at Ted. “Oklahoma.”

“Well, shoot.”

He cupped her face carefully and pulled her into a deep kiss; behind them, Beard’s arms were in the air as his mouth widened in a silent scream. Roy felt his ears go warm, his heart drumming with a mix of annoyance at Rebecca’s frankness and joy at seeing these two finally admit how they felt. He could also feel a twinge of envy in his chest; fuck, he wished he could be so honest.

Rebecca released Ted and turned to Roy, a goofy grin on her face. “There,” she hummed triumphantly. “Your turn, Kent. Off with you.” She looked back to Ted, fixing the collar on his polo shirt. “This one and I have some things to discuss.”

Blinking a few times, Roy turned his head towards the Whippets office, where Lucas stood with wide eyes. Realizing the answer to his current problem had been just through that door this whole time, Roy quickly ducked into the office, leaving the lovebirds behind.

“What in the world-?”

Roy shook his head and closed the door behind him. “Don’t fucking ask.” He glanced around. “She around?”

Lucas shook his head, clearly trying not to grin. “Want me to go get her for you?”

“No.” Roy cleared his throat, ignoring the heat on his face. “Lucas… I need your help with something.”

~

Today was the day, I decided. For a couple days now, I’d wondered if Roy was going to remind me about that beer he’d offered me. Even though we were on better terms than we’d ever been- saying hello when we passed one another, laughing, heck just smiling at each other- he hadn’t said anything else about grabbing a drink.

Of course, I didn’t mention a word about that to George. Things were icy since the press conference, with him insisting on going out to dinner the night after, which resulted in my picture going up on Twitter. But honestly, I didn’t care too much. Like I’d told everyone- I wanted to focus on my team.

Which I was admittedly struggling with since hugging Roy Kent.

Still, I did my best to get on with my day, running practice like I wasn’t wondering why Roy hadn’t asked me for a beer again. By the time Lucas and I made our way back to our office after most everyone else had left for the day, I was mentally composing a text to the Greyhound if he was free the next night. I threw my bag over my shoulder, mumbling something to Lucas about George picking me up for dinner. When I saw the sour look on his face, I sighed.

“What?”

He blinked at me. “What, what?”

“Luke,” I started slowly. “You’ve been weirdly quiet today. And the couple times I’ve mentioned George, you made these faces like you want to throw up. Is there something I should know?”

I had never seen such discomfort in my assistant coach’s expression; it had my stomach knotting up. “Bucky…” He ran his hands over his face. “Yesterday… I found out who leaked your photos.”

My heart nearly stopped in my chest. “You… you…” I clutched my bag, knuckles turning white as my voice lowered. “Who was it?”

Lucas closed his eyes, wincing. “George.”

It felt like all the wind was knocked out of me. “George?” I repeated, barely croaking it out. “As in my George?”

“Yeah.” Lucas rubbed the back of his neck, not quite looking me in the eye. “Trent Crimm, you know Trent, apparently he did some digging around… and found out that the Star had the original photos and… and George, well he passed them along to another publication.”

I sank into my chair, staring up at Brandi Chastain. “Why would he do that?” I whispered.

Lucas leaned on my desk, tenderly placing a hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Bucky. Really. I know I pushed you to go out with him, I know I-”

“No, Lukey,” I murmured, using the nickname I only called him when he was truly upset. “You didn’t know. Don’t you dare feel bad.”

He shook his head. “I’m gonna kill him,” he muttered, leaning back. “I swear, Bucky, when he walks through that door, I’m gonna-”

“You’re gonna go home,” I told him, standing up. “And you’re going to get some rest, and you’re going to come into work tomorrow like normal. And you’re going to go to tomorrow night’s Greyhound’s match with me. And we’re going to keep winning and leave all this shit behind us, alright?”

“What are you gonna-”

I shrugged. “Gonna tell him I know. Gonna give him exactly two seconds to explain himself. Then gonna have him permanently banned from Nelson Road.” I stood and offered Lucas my closed fist. “I’ll be fine.”

Lucas tapped his fist to mine. “Call me when you get home.”

After he left, I sat in my chair, not bothering to take off my bag, just staring at the hallway door. When George appeared, he was wearing that smile, that boyish, charming smile, the one that used to make my heart flutter.

“Hey, you,” he hummed, not noticing the stony expression I wore. “What d’you want for dinner? I heard about this great new restaurant-”

“Why the fuck did you do it?” I was on my feet, face burning. “Why the ever-loving fuck would you give those photos to someone to publish?”

He cleared his throat, shuffling his feet. “No, see, Buck-“

“Fucking explain it,” I interrupted, bringing my face to his. “Tell me why you would put me through absolute hell. Why you would do something that put my reputation, my job, my everything at risk.” I blinked, refusing to let this man see my tears. “Tell me, George.”

For the first time since we met, his face held no confidence, only panic. “See, this is what happens to women who-who sleep with Roy Kent,” he stammered. “Honestly, aren’t you glad you found out now and not later? That being with Roy Kent is the wrong thing for you?”

“Oh my fucking-” I felt like everything was spinning. “You absolute jackass,” I groaned. “You piece of absolute shit. Because you were jealous that I had sex with Roy Kent, you told the world I had sex with Roy Kent? And this was supposed to make me want to be with you? I should fucking-”

“Buck?” Roy stood in the doorway between our offices, eyes wide as he stared at me. “You alri-” His gaze landed on George. “Oh, you fucking twat.” He stormed across the office, putting himself between us, chest to chest with the reporter. “You have three seconds to get the fuck out of here, otherwise, I will cut off your-”

“Roy.” I pulled him back by the shoulder, shaking my head at him.

He immediately stepped back, eyes never leaving George’s face and fists staying clenched at his side.

I whirled back around on George. “You need to leave,” I said in my lowest voice. “And you need to never, ever fucking talk about me, think about me, or write about either of us ever again. Or I will hunt you down and show you why I led the NWSL in fouls in my first season.”

George scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Maybe the two of you deserve each other,” he grumbled, nodding towards Roy. “Two washed-up has-beens, coaching low-rate teams, trying to stay relevant. Apparently the only time you’re relevant is when you’re getting fucked by that broken old bastard. No wonder you want to keep him around.”

It had been a couple decades since the last time I punched a boy on the playground, probably after an insult much less vulgar than this one. But as I looked at the smug look on George Willows’s face, I definitely remembered how. My fist connected harshly with his jaw with a satisfying thump. He staggered backwards, clutching his face.

“Bitch,” he hissed, stumbling towards the door. “Fucking bitch.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I mumbled, cradling my fist in my other hand. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

We stood in silence as George trudged out, the sounds of his footsteps echoing through the otherwise empty halls. When I finally turned to look at Roy, he was already gazing at me with wide eyes, clutching his own jaw. The look of pure admiration in his eyes was almost enough to make me forget what I’d just learned.

“Fucking hell,” he breathed. “That might have been the coolest fucking shit I have ever seen.”

I blinked at him for a moment, ignoring the pain in my hand. “Did you know?” I asked softly, taking a step towards him.

He looked down at my hand, tentatively taking it and holding it up. “Let’s get you some fucking ice,” he murmured. His soft eyes met mine again. “And then I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

Roy kept my hand in his as he led me to the treatment room, only letting go so he could find an ice pack while I hopped up on the treatment table. He turned back to me, more confident now as he lifted my hand off my lap and pressed the ice pack to it, watching my face carefully as he continued to hold my hand. I scooched closer to the end of the table, letting my knees brush against the front of his thighs.

“I… asked Trent to do some digging,” he finally began. “And he called me after your press conference.”

“That was the phone call you got in the office.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Yeah.”

I tried to focus on his words instead of how incredibly close he was, close enough that I could feel his warm breath on my face. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Think about it,” he chuckled glancing down at our hands. “You know I fucking hate the guy. You know I wasn’t… excited about you being with him.” He shrugged. “It’d look like I was just trying to break you up or some shit, like I was… I dunno…”

Like he was jealous.

“No, I get that.” I ducked my head, willing him to look me in the eye again. “So you told Lucas?”

He glanced up through his eyelashes. “So I told Lucas,” he confirmed. “Told him he could even call Trent if he wanted to confirm. You… you could call him too if you want. If you need to confirm.”

“I don’t need to.”

The corner of his mouth tugged upwards. “Well, I’m not going to pretend that seeing you punch that twat wasn’t the most bad-ass thing I’ve ever seen.” He cleared his throat. “But I am sorry it happened this way.” His eyes were again on our hands, his thumb slowly stroking my skin. “I… would never want to see you hurt.”

“Thank you.” I followed his gaze, a warmth filling my chest as I realized how nice his hand felt in mine. “Can I ask…” I trailed off.

“Anything.”

I wrinkled my nose, thinking for a moment. “Why’d you hate him in the first place? The whole thing with throwing a chair at him?” I couldn’t help but grin. “Which I now realize was probably well-deserved.”

He gave a full smirk now. “Fucking ’course it was,” he hummed. “It’s… pretty shitty, honestly.” With a sigh, he threw his head back, as if wondering where to start. “See, he always had some shit to say about my private life when I was a player. And it was really fucking annoying.” He scowled as he looked back down. “And, see, there was this whole thing… with Keeley… and some fucking video of her… a private video…”

“Oh.” It suddenly made sense why Keeley had fought so hard for me and my photos; fuck, I wanted to hug her.

“Yeah. We were already broken up, and it had nothing to do with me, but, you know, fucking hurt like hell to see her go through that.” He cleared his throat. “And George fucking Willows decided to ask me if I’d seen the video and if I knew who it was for. So, I threw my fucking chair at him.” He shook his head. “That’s why I was so pissed seeing the two of you together, even without… the gala stuff. And I should have fucking said something. Should’ve told you exactly the kind of shit he was from the moment he started sniffing around you. It’s my fucking fault.”

I shook my head. “Come on, Roy. You know I wouldn’t have believed you back then. I wouldn’t have even let you finish one sentence about him.”

After a heavy pause, Roy offered me a small smile. “We’ve… come a long fucking way, haven’t we?”

“Yeah.”

My heart hammered as we gazed at each other, holding hands in the quiet treatment room. It felt just like the night of my press conference, when we hugged in my office and just held each other. Quiet, calm, natural. Good. Like we weren’t dealing with all the shit we were dealing with, like we were just frozen in this moment. Like we could finally have a moment of peace.

“Any chance I could drive you home?” His soft eyes were begging me to say yes.

But the realization of everything that had just happened tonight came crashing down around me; as tempted as I was to accept the ride home, maybe suggest a detour to a pub, I knew I needed to say-

“Some other time.” I cleared my throat and nodded down to my hand. “Kind of want to walk. Just take the evening to myself. Get some rest. Ice this thing some more.”

If he was disappointed, he wasn’t going to tell me. “Yeah, I get that.” He stepped back and helped me down from the table. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

I nodded. “Yeah.” I squeezed his hand before reluctantly letting go. “I’ll be at your match, by the way.”

“Well.” He smirked, flexing the hand I’d been holding. “Here’s hoping I can impress you as much as you impressed me the other night.”

My face warmed as I tried to figure out what to say; honestly, I just wanted to prolong our conversation, not say goodnight and walk out of this room and away from whatever moment we were having. Seeing Roy haloed in the fluorescent light, I wondered what would happen if I just leaned forward and-

“Oh.” Will stood in the doorway, holding a laundry basket. “Hello, coaches.”

Roy took a small step away from me, eyebrows raised. “Will.” His eyes shifted to me before returning to the kitman. “How much this did you hear this time?”

Will shrugged. “Walking home, going to the game, impressing each other.”

“Right.” Roy cleared his throat and turned back to me. “Goodnight, Coach. I’d shake your hand but…” He nodded to my hand, still red from the ice pack, and let out a little huff of a chuckle. “Anyways, goodnight.”

“Night,” I echoed, turning back to the door. “Goodnight, Will.”

He nodded to me, clearly trying not to grin. “Goodnight, Coach.”

As I walked out, I could hear Roy’s voice, rough and low.

“Will. Not a fucking word.”

“I know.”

~

Roy wasn’t sure the last time he’d been this nervous for a match. It had nothing to do with their opponent; he knew his team could beat Sheffield, that was no problem. But tonight she would be watching him, and that had him feeling a bit like he did when he was a young man and would have a girlfriend come watch him for the first time: giddy, excited, desperate to impress.

As he took his spot in the dugout, he found himself looking up into Rebecca’s box. Sure enough, there were both Whippets’ coaches, chattering with Rebecca and Ted and Keeley, laughter all around. His heart melted a little, seeing her so carefree, as if she hadn’t just been betrayed and wasn’t still being watched and judged. Ever since her press conference, she seemed to not care anymore; she ignored the papps who still wandered in the parking lot, she had told Keeley to not bother mentioning any Twitter trends, and she laughed at the cover of some magazine featuring an unflattering photo of her mid-sentence in that press conference.

Almost as if she could feel his gaze, she looked down at the dugout, locking eyes with Roy. Her red-lipped smile widened as she gave a little wave, one Roy found himself returning with a grin of his own. He ignored the clearly amused looks from his friends in the owner’s box, as well as the knowing chuckles from his fellow coaches. It was clear to everyone at Nelson Road that something had changed, and for once, Roy found that he didn’t care about people knowing his business.

Not when his business was her.

“I see we have some visitors,” Beard hummed, raising his eyebrows at Roy.

Roy shrugged, turning his attention to the pitch. “Yeah,” he murmured, wondering if his blush could be seen from the owner’s box. “Nice of them to come.”

The two assistant coaches exchanged grins, shaking their heads at the pleased expression Roy couldn’t quite hide.

To Roy’s delight, the Greyhounds outdid themselves, playing better than they had all season. It was almost as if the guys knew he was hoping to impress her; it wouldn’t completely surprise him if that was exactly the case. When the final whistle blew on a 4-1 win, Roy found his eyes gravitating to the owner’s box; she was already looking at him. She offered him a grin and a playful shrug, almost as if to say Yeah, you impressed me. He tapped his fingers to his temple, saluting up to her with a smirk.

He could get used to his, having her at his matches. He considered asking her to come again to bring him luck, because she clearly did tonight. He definitely felt damn lucky receiving that smile after a win.

His stride was uncharacteristically light as he entered the changing room, where he shouted compliments at his team, who were all wearing the most shit-eating grins he’d ever seen. Those grins only grew when the Whippet coaches popped in to offer their congratulations. As she went around giving hugs and high-fives to the team, Roy couldn’t help but notice the way her eyes kept shifting to find him; he was sure everyone else noticed too.

Finally, she approached him, offering her hand. “Good job out there, Coach.”

He gently shook her outstretched hand, melting a little at her wince. “Your hand alright?”

“Definitely bruised,” she mumbled, making a face. “But fucking worth it.”

Roy nodded. “Well, if you need some help icing it some more…”

“You’re my first call,” she assured him, smirking. They stayed there for a moment, exchanging smirks, fully aware of the eyes on them. It took Jamie asking if she saw his two goals to finally bring them back down to earth. After answering Jamie, she gave Roy a friendly little shove and turned to walk out.

“Oi.”

She stopped, looking back at him with a coolly raised eyebrow.

Roy shrugged, suddenly bashful. “So? Did I impress you?”

Her coy laugh had his heart stuttering. “I’ll let you know when you buy me that beer you owe me.” With a teasing wave, she linked arms with a smirking Lucas and strutted out, taking Roy’s gaze with her.

Shaking his head and chuckling to himself, Roy made his way to his office, where he found Ted, Beard, and Nate all waiting for him, expectation on their faces. He raised his eyebrows at them, closing the door behind him; he had a feeling he didn’t want the team to hear whatever this conversation was going to be.

“Yes?”

Ted spoke up. “Y’all are pretty darn cute together.”

Roy scoffed, pretending he didn’t love hearing the word together. “Fuck off,” he mumbled, not really meaning it as he took his seat.

Nate leaned on his desk dreamily. “You ask her out yet?”

“No.” He glanced down at his hands, thinking about holding hers. “Should I?”

“Yes,” all three men practically shouted.

Beard leaned back in his chair. “Roy, it’s pretty damn obvious the two of you like each other,” he pointed out. “You two’ve been very friendly, smiling at each other like you’re a couple of kids. And tonight she was like your own personal cheerleader. Please put us all out of our misery and ask that woman out.”

For once, Roy didn’t argue. Instead, he looked at his friends with something close to anxiety in his eyes. “How?” He cleared his throat. “Everything that’s happened… Don’t think I can just walk up and say ‘Hey let’s go to dinner and a fucking movie’, now can I?”

“That’s true,” Beard murmured, raising his eyebrows at Ted. “Sounds like what Roy needs is a…”

Ted snapped his fingers. “Grand gesture.”

Roy wrinkled his nose. “Excuse me?”

“Y’all are in the third act of your love story,” Ted explained, practically bouncing. “The rules of rom-communism state you need a grand gesture to show her how ya feel, somethin’ special and big, like- like runnin’ through the airport or holdin’ a boom box over your head or paying the dowry for her teenage sister to marry a slimy soldier.” He shrugged. “Show her how important and special she is to you.”

“Grand gesture,” Roy mumbled, tapping his fingers on his desk. “Grand fucking gesture.”

Sure. Roy could do that- right?

~

The following week was a blur of football, the announcement that Ted Lasso would be coming back onboard as a scout for both teams, continuing to field annoying questions from journalists, and, dare I say, flirting with Roy Kent. We had resumed running together in the evenings, time now filled with making fun of the reality tv playing in front of us as we pretended that we weren’t eyeing each other yearningly. Well, maybe I was the only one yearning; while I definitely caught his eyes leaving a burning trail down my body as I ran on the treadmill, he still hadn’t mentioned that freaking beer he promised me. Even after I took him up on his offer to drive me home a couple of times, he always stopped right in front of my building and wished me a good evening before I hopped out of the car.

Maybe we were friends. That was good, right? After all this time, being friends with Roy Kent was a relief to everyone at the Dog Track.

But damn, I thought as I sat at home on that late Friday afternoon, listening to the sounds of the rain that had us calling an early weekend, our first free one in a while- I didn’t want to be just friends with Roy Kent.

Underneath all the shit that had made me hate him for months, there was something special, as Ted as said. Roy was kind. Caring. Passionate. Almost funny. He loved his team and his friends and his adorable little niece. He completely understood my pain about retirement and the determination to stay close to the game. He’d been protective of me and supported me and, hell, even inspired me.

And the tabloids would be thrilled to hear that I thought he was fantastic in bed.

Fuck, I realized with a groan as I slumped further into my couch. My dumb ass loves Roy fucking Kent.

What the hell was I supposed to do with that?

The afternoon wore on, with the rain coming down progressively harder as I tried to distract myself with a movie and my playbook. But my mind kept wandering back to those brown eyes and that bearded smile, reevaluating every interaction we’d ever had, right back to that first night in the club. Clearly Roy was attracted to me; that had been pretty clear from the start, even when we were constantly arguing. But did he like me?

As I wondered about all the smiles and looks he’d been giving me lately, a timid knock at my door sent me jumping. Probably Lucas, I thought as I stood, adjusting my Richmond fleece sweater. We hadn’t said we wanted to hang out tonight, but he could always be counted on to randomly stop by with food and a movie.  

But when I opened the door, there was no one in front of me. I frowned, ready to turn around and close the door, but something at my feet caught my eye: a small box, darkened by the rain, with a folded note taped to the top. I bent down and opened the note; its sloppy writing read:

I hope you never play nice again. Except maybe with me.

“The fuck?” I breathed. I bent down again to open the box and stood up holding a black and white soccer ball. As I turned it over in my hands, I slowly began to realize it had writing all over it: autographs. The names were familiar to me: Julie Foudy. Kristine Lilly. April Heinrichs. Mia Hamm. Brandi Chastain.

The 1991 United States Women’s Team.

I looked back at the note, realizing I knew that handwriting.

Roy.

I quickly shoved the ball and note back into the box and tossed it inside, stepping in only to put on the sneakers I kept by the door. Not caring about putting on a coat or checking my hair, I ran outside as fast as my stupid ankle could carry me, immediately finding myself drenched in the rain. I looked both ways, my heart sinking when I realized how empty the street was. Finally, I saw that giant black car, the one that had brought me home earlier that afternoon. And walking towards it was someone in a black leather jacket.

“Kent!” I called out, breaking into a full sprint, ankle throbbing. “Fucking Kent!”

The figure stopped, tense and motionless. Roy turned around, brown eyes wide as I kept racing to him. He walked towards me until we stood face to face. He studied my face as I put my hands on my hips, breathing hard from the run, pretending that my ankle wasn’t killing me.

“You alright?”

I shook my head. “The fucking… the ball. You won it? Back at the gala?”

“No, actually.” He stuck his hands in his pockets, looking pitiful and beautiful with the rain dripping down his bearded face. “I did put a bid on it. But I got outbid.” He cleared his throat, bouncing slightly. “So I tracked down the wanker who won it. Had to pay twice as much as he did, and I’ve got to make an appearance at his idiot kid’s birthday party but…” He shrugged. “D’you like it?”

“Yeah.” I nodded feverishly, the nervousness in his eye making me desperate to assure him. “Fucking love it. But why…” I stared up at him, resisting the urge to wipe the rain off his cheeks. “Why would you do all that?”

His eyes roamed my face, as though searching for something. Finding whatever it was he was looking for, he took a miniscule step closer, our bodies nearly touching. “Because that team… it means something to you. And you… well, you mean something to me.”

I swallowed hard, not caring about how drenched I would be by the time I got back to my apartment, or that I hadn’t locked the door behind me, or the fact that anyone could walk by and see us. All I cared about was hearing whatever Roy Kent had to say. “I do?”

He nodded anxiously. “Yeah.” He put an uncertain hand on my arm, watching me carefully for a reaction. When all I did was continue to gaze up at him with what I knew were adoring eyes, he went on. “Right. Just… just let me say this, alright? And then you can tell me to fuck off and we- we can go back to ignoring each other, or this friendship thing, whatever you want, I honestly don’t-”

“Roy?” I raised my eyebrows, desperate for him to keep going.

“Right, right.” He took a deep breath, hand still on my arm. “I feel about you the same way I did the night of the charity gala. I just think you are the most incredible woman I have ever met. I fucking admire you, all that you’ve done and all that you are. And I care about you, so fucking much.” His hand left my shoulder to cup my cheek, his grip soft and warm and everything good. “I cared about you the night of the gala. Probably cared about you for a long fucking time before that, but I was too stupid and prideful to realize it until we were already in the middle of everything. And my biggest regret in all of this was not waking up before you so I could keep you in my bed and make you breakfast and assure you that you were never going to be a one-night stand. You never fucking could be.” He shook his head gently. “Not you, Buck.”

Roy ducked his head and brought his face to mine, moving slowly, almost as if he was trying to give me a chance to stop him. Instead, I grabbed him by his jacket and pulled him to me, crashing my mouth into his in the most desperate kiss I’d ever felt. My head turned light as my body remembered Roy and his hands and his mouth and his body, as if it had missed him even more than my heart had. Suddenly, I recalled what I’d thought the night of the gala, as he kissed me for the first time on his couch.

Roy Kent was everything I never knew I needed.

His other hand grabbed my hip, tugging me flush against himself, humming a little as my lips parted for him. The rain poured down on us, drops of water sliding between our faces, but neither of us seemed to notice; we were too wrapped up in finally, fucking finally, winning. When his tongue gently brushed against mine, I gave a soft groan; fuck, I’d forgotten the beautiful taste of Roy Kent.

I’d kissed plenty of men plenty of times. Hell, I’d kissed Roy plenty of times the night of the gala. But, as his fingertips dug into my hip, I realized how starved I’d been for this kiss, the one that held way too much heat and way too much affection. How long had I been waiting for it? Since the press conference? Since the gala? Since the first time I saw him shirtless on a treadmill? Or from that first time I spotted him at that club, leaning against the bar, miserable and rude as hell?

His hand slid from my hip to my back, trying to pull me closer, if that was even possible. Somewhere in the kiss, I lost track of whose heartbeat was whose; my entire body was pulsing and tingling. The rain sounded so faint and far away compared to the sound of Roy’s breathing and soft groans against my mouth. I wanted to swallow those groans, to rip off that leather jacket, to let myself have everything I’d been stupid enough to deny myself all these weeks.

Sensing that I probably couldn’t handle much more, lest we really give the paparazzi something to publish, Roy pulled back, face soaked and smiling. “Fucking hell,” he whispered, his thumb stroking my face. “I take it you don’t want to just be friends then?”

I laughed, probably the most real laugh I’d felt in a while, and gave his jacket a playful tug. “Fuck no. Who’d want to be friends with Roy Kent?”

He leaned down and kissed me again, slowly, tenderly this time, smile pressing against smile. “Play nice,” he mumbled against my mouth. “Or I’m taking my football home.”

“How about I play nice,” I murmured as I leaned back, smirking, “if you finally take me out for that beer you’ve been teasing me with? I believe you still owe me one, Kent.”

Roy smiled and let me go, taking my non-bruised hand and interlocking our fingers. “Fuck that,” he chuckled. “Everything we’ve been through, I’m buying you a whole damn bar.”

Taglist: @optimisticsandwichgladiator@reading-blogs@callmecasey81@ladygrey03@puckyou-forpuckssake@royalestrellas@shineforever19@rae4725@burnafter-reading@her-fandom-sanctum@infinetlyforgotten@giggling-sewer-ginger@whataloadofmalarkey@agentstarkid@kingleahhh@tortilla-maria1@geekgirl1996 @amatswimming @meg-ro@spicyraccoonlordking@spaghetti-dad187@needlesthreadandbuttons@elissaaa @imsoluckyeverythingworksoutforme @reverieisaway@djskakakaksjsj-blog@thatonedogwithablog@allthetroubleiveseen@sunderland-6 @netflix-addict @paranormal-is-my-life@jill2629-blog@itsbuzzfeedbitch@pretzelactivist@amieinghigh@kashee-h@beingalive1@mythicalbinicorn@needyomega@kno-way-home@janalustare@sssatorus@its-a-rich-mans-world@confessionsofatotaldramaslut@hesitant-alien33@katie-sheep-111 @bonesbonesetc @seacactusplant@thebookwormlife @dreamscape22 @rae4725@timelordhunterandmysterysolver@littleesilvia @anonurs @itswhateveripromise @chewymoustachio @gcidrvsh @katdahlali @ohwauwdoritos @lemoonandlestars @perfectwhispersvoid @seatbacksandtraytables @kingleahhh

[pleasespellchimerical]

Tuesdays are lobbying days when the NYS Legislature is in session. This is the first time I've ever been.

Groups book the stairwell for rallies, press conferences, etc. Then they'll split and make appointments with individual legislators to advocate for specific bills.

Had a fantastic turnout for a broad coalition on housing. Multiple bills are being advocated for, but being able to band all the housing advocates together for one big press conference - good stuff. Also really cool to see upstate and downstate represented in this coalition, since so often city issues and upstate issues are segregated in NYS politics.

Wasn't just us - there were a lot of groups today going all out for a number of excellent issues.

Learning about how the political machine of Albany works was very cool, and how ordinary folks can get involved - highly recommend!

[notyourprof]

F1 Explains – 9 November 2023 – Notes/Summary

When Em @powerful-owl first put out her call for primers (what feels like a hundred years ago now), I swore I had just recently listened to a description of what a race weekend was like for drivers on one of my podcasts, almost certainly F1 Explains. I listened back to the two episodes I thought it might be on, and figured I’d go ahead and take and share some notes on everything, in case there is some useful info in there for others. It turns out I had mis-remembered, because the discussion was about what a race weekend is like for media folks, not drivers, but I think it’s still useful because it does give information about what the drivers’ media obligations are.

In general, I highly recommend the F1 Explains podcast (previously called Formula Why), especially to new F1 fans who want to learn more details about the sport. Katie Osborne and Christian Hewgill co-host it, and on most episodes they pick a single topic (e.g. racing in the rain, street circuits, driver training regimens, etc.) and do a deep dive with a few different experts. But they also do semi-regular “quick-fire” episodes where they cover a bunch of questions that maybe don’t need a full episode to answer. Former Aston Martin strategist and current F1 + Sky Sports strategy analyst Bernie (Bernadette) Collins is a regular guest expert on the quick-fire episodes. (She’s also a regular in MY HEART, because she is amazing and wonderful and has the best Irish accent.) There are a few other rotating experts as well, usually from the F1/Sky Sports family.

Anyways, here is my write-up of the answer to the question about what a race weekend is like for media, which was on the episode from 9 November 2023:

Q: What are race weekends like for media and broadcasters? Are there dedicated times the media can speak to drivers? A: F1 is one of the sports where media actually get the most availability of drivers for the media. Thursday is Media Day. Each team puts out a list of times, usually a 5-20 minute window, where TV or print media can come along and ask questions. For TV it’s called a “scrum” where the media are in a sort of arc around the driver with all of their cameras pointed at the driver and they take turns asking questions. Written media is similar. If the driver misses that time for whatever reason, there usually aren’t any backup times. Media can also request one-to-one interviews at a separate time, but that is negotiated and set weeks and weeks in advance. Each team puts aside one hour for media time on a Thursday that includes the TV and written media scrums as well as any one-to-one interviews. Additionally, every weekend there are two press conferences held by the FIA on Media Day. Ten drivers do the press conference with written media where the drivers are all sat together at a desk or on couches answering questions. The other ten drivers do the TV pen, which is a U-shape with all of the TV crews standing around the outside and each driver works their way around the U talking to each TV crew. Each crew gets a maximum of two questions per driver. After each practice session, qualifying, and the race itself, the drivers will do the TV pen again and speak to written media. The top three finishers also do the post-race press conference.

So feel free to use this information when writing fic, but also remember that you don’t have to have all of your facts absolutely perfectly correct! It’s called fiction for a reason!

There were a lot of other interesting questions and answers in the episode, which I also took notes on, and I will put those below the cut. (Read on to find out which driver has Strong Feelings about the roundabouts near Milton Keynes, and which world champions have accidentally pulled into the wrong pit boxes before, LOL.)

Is this the kind of thing that is interesting and useful? I have a summary written up already for the 2 November 2023 episode, because I thought the "what is race weekend like" question might be in that one, but this is already super long. Should I post the notes on that episode in a different post? I can do notes/summaries for other episodes if that's something people are interested in, but I have a bad history of spending a lot of time documenting things in fandom that no one else ever uses or looks at, so I'm trying to...better allocate my limited spare time.

F1 Explains – 9 November 2023 Quick-fire questions with Bernie Collins & Lawrence Barretto

First, a sidenote: Daniel Ricciardo once did a shoey from one of Lawrence Baretto’s shoes. Daniel signed it and Lawrence has it on desk now.

Q: What construction and logistics have to go into a new street circuit, and how to teams prepare for a brand new track?

A: The streets used for the race track have to be re-laid with new tarmac, there has to be coordination with street opening and closing, hotels and other businesses around the circuit, etc. There is a full episode on racetrack design. To prepare for a new track, teams look closely at historical weather data (including temperatures and wind). They’ll load 2D and sometimes 3D scans of the track into their simulators, although often there isn’t full information yet because the final track hasn’t been finished. Lots of simulations and calculations in an attempt to get as much data as they can in advance. There’s also a full episode about how simulators work.

Q: How important is the engine manufacturer? Are they a glorified sponsor that provides an F1-approved generic engine or are there real technical differences between the engines from different suppliers?

A: There are differences between power units from different manufacturers. It also gives them a chance to really stretch themselves and bring in expertise from all around the company (e.g. if they also manufacture jet engines) and to hopefully get some good PR that will lead to more people buying their street cars. In 2023 for the first time, each engine manufacturer showed their engine off to the press to show the differences between each unit. 2023 engine manufacturers were Ferrari, Renault, Mercedes, and Honda. In 2026, Ford and Audi will join as new manufacturers.

Q: Why do drivers and engineers do track walks? Do all teams and drivers do this?

A: Not all drivers do it, some of them will do a run or go out on a scooter. Reasons to do it include looking for changes from last year (new bumps, changes to gravel or curbs (kerbs), etc.) as well as having a bit of uninterrupted time for drivers and their race engineers to talk to each other. Also can be helpful to the commentators/presenters. Helps everyone build/remember their muscle memory of the track if they’ve been there before.

Q: Is F1 using AI? Could it be used for race strategy?

A: Yes, most teams are already doing machine learning in calculations and simulations, but for now human input is still required (and probably always will be).

(Repeating this here because this is where it was in the episode) Q: What are race weekends like for media and broadcasters? Are there dedicated times the media can speak to drivers?

A: F1 is one of the sports where media actually get the most availability of drivers for the media. Thursday is Media Day. Each team puts out a list of times, usually a 5-20 minute window, where TV or print media can come along and ask questions. For TV it’s called a “scrum” where the media are in a sort of arc around the driver with all of their cameras pointed at the driver and they take turns asking questions. Written media is similar. If the driver misses that time for whatever reason, there usually aren’t any backup times. Media can also request one-to-one interviews at a separate time, but that is negotiated and set weeks and weeks in advance. Each team puts aside one hour for media time on a Thursday that includes the TV and written media scrums as well as any one-to-one interviews. Additionally, every weekend there are two press conferences held by the FIA on Media Day. Ten drivers do the press conference with written media where the drivers are all sat together at a desk or on couches answering questions. The other ten drivers do the TV pen, which is a U-shape with all of the TV crews standing around the outside and each driver works their way around the U talking to each TV crew. Each crew gets a maximum of two questions per driver. After each practice session, qualifying, and the race itself, the drivers will do the TV pen again and speak to written media. The top three finishers also do the post-race press conference.

Q: How much interaction is there between broadcasting teams from different countries?

A: A lot. They all see each other regularly so they get to know each other, and they often chat amongst themselves to communicate about what drivers have said to their home broadcasters, because they usually give longer/more detailed answers when they’re speaking in their native language.

Q: How does breaking news get shared with everyone?

A: Press releases used to be printed out on paper and handed out in the Media Center. Now each F1 team has a WhatsApp group specifically for media so they send info that way (e.g. about driver availability for interviews or problems with the cars) in addition to email and social media.

Q: Is there a dedicated space for journalists to write up their race reports?

A: Yes, it’s called the Media Center, there are desks, TV screens, food, and drinks (especially coffee!). The press conference room is in the Media Center as well, adjacent to the work area where journalists can sit and write.

Q: Has Bernie ever had a debrief delayed [when she was a team strategist] due to media interviews running long?

A: Many of the debriefs have been delayed by drivers, and blaming it on the media is an easy out when maybe it was actually the driver who stopped to get a coffee or whatever. Each F1 driver has their own press officer who helps them meet all of their press responsibilities. Often the drivers will talk longer than they are supposed to; Alex Albon and Oscar Piastri are specifically named as drivers who are very good at going off on tangents and talking to the media for too long. One time, Alex spent a good amount of time ranting about the roundabouts in Milton Keynes near the Red Bull factory is based.

Q: How is the order of the garages in the pit lane decided? Are there advantages to being in certain positions and does it play into race strategy?

A: At most tracks, the garages are in order based on how the teams finished in the constructor’s championship the previous year, so over a given season, the garages on either side of your teams don’t change. Sometimes the previous champions are right at the pit lane entry, sometimes near the exit, that depends on the track. If you’re right at the entry, it’s easier to come in and pit (i.e. there aren’t any other team’s mechanics in your way), but more difficult to get back out on track. Near the pit exit, the opposite is true (harder to get in, easier to get out). Depending on the track, it can be helpful to be right near the pit exit (e.g. if you want to get right out on track with clear air in front of you, Bernie mentions Monaco) or further back (e.g. if it’s better to have some other cars go first in qualifying, Bernie mentions Monza). The only exception to the rule of “garages are in order of last year’s championship standings” is Silverstone, where the pit lane is at about the same height as the track in the middle but at either end the pit lane is lower than the track so visibility is impaired. Because of this, the garages in the center (with a good view of the track) are considered most desirable and are thus taken by the top teams.

Christian Hewgill points out how surprising/impressive it is that drivers don’t pull into the wrong pit box more often. For example, at the 2011 Chinese Grand Prix, Jenson Button accidentally parked in the wrong garage and it cost him the lead in the race to Sebastian Vettel. Bernie points out that teams have done a lot of things to help drivers get to the correct pit lanes. It often happens when drivers switch teams (e.g. Lewis Hamilton once went into the McLaren pit when he had just moved to Mercedes, Sebastian Vettel went to the Ferrari pit once after he had switched to Aston Martin).

Q: What is parc fermé? What are the restrictions? How are they enforced?

A: Parc fermé is a period of time in which teams are not allowed to touch their cars or make any changes related to performance, however they can make changes related to safety. It promotes sustainability and rewards teams that do well in practice figuring out what works best for that track. During sprint weekends, teams only have one practice before the cars go into parc fermé, which makes it particularly difficult to adjust the cars to the track. Cars do often get taken apart and reassembled while in parc fermé to check components, clean things, etc., but the F1/FIA scrutineers will put stickers on the car parts to make sure the same parts are used when reassembling the car.

Q: What is an anti-stall? How is it different from a regular stall?

A: (Note that I am basically quoting Bernie verbatim here because I’ve never driven a manual/stick-shift car and don’t understand the details of how they work!) An anti-stall is very similar to a normal stall, but F1 have come up with clever ways to make sure the car engines don’t actually stall. In a regular manual car, if you were to let the clutch out too much or not give it enough throttle and the car stalled, the engine would cut out. At the starting grid, the driver might do the same thing (e.g. not give it enough throttle) and the car might stall, but the engine doesn’t actually cut out. (Another note: it’s not explicitly stated, but I think this is a safety thing so that even if the car stalls and doesn’t get a super fast start, the driver will be able to accelerate pretty quickly after, instead of sitting on the grid unable to move while the cars behind start crashing into the stalled car.)

Q: Why do F1 teams change names?

A: OK I started writing this in a way that makes sense beyond the short answers given on the podcast, but it really needs to be a separate post. The short answer to “why do teams change names?” is money. (Shocker!) 

Sometimes a team that also makes something else wants to promote one of their brands, e.g. Renault rebranding to Alpine, which is Renault’s sports car brand, or Toro Rosso rebranding to AlphaTauri, which is Red Bull’s clothing line. 

Sometimes a team will have a sponsor who pays enough money to be a title sponsor, e.g. Oracle Red Bull Racing or the Mercedes-AMG Petronas F1 Team, where Oracle and Petronas are completely separate companies that pay a lot of money in addition to providing relevant expertise to their teams. 

(In the other post, I’ll get into Sauber/Alfa Romeo/Stake/Kick, don’t worry. 😂)

Q: How is the number of laps in a Grand Prix determined?

A: The number of laps for a given circuit is however many laps are needed to get to a 305 km (~190 mi) race distance. The exception is Monaco where the distance is 260 km (~162 mi).

[magicalcreeks]

When does Kon rejoin the supers in Rebirth?/When does Kenan join them?

Hiii! So for Kenan I’m not too familiar with his character yet but there’s a bunch of reading guides floating around. He’s a reading order list for him! https://dcuguide.com/w/New_Super-Man_(Kong_Kenan)_(Prime_Earth)_Chronology

For Kon… it’s a fun little journey we could go on but my phone hates me…

So yeahhh Kon got erased from his current earth/timeline/reality while he was trapped in gem world bc a crisis occurred

In between that a lot of feels between Bart and Kon are exchanged but I don’t wanna get off topic,, young justice aids with clean up with the justice league and it’s then Clark finds Kon to take him to the fortress of solitude.

There’s another panel I wanted to include of neither clark nor lex recognizing him during Clark’s press conference but I don’t have it on me right now.

House of Kent Clark brings Kon back to the fortress to run a few tests to figure out who Kon is and they talk for a while,,, This Clark has no memory of Kon but he trusts Kon so honestly that’s all that matters.

Jon and brainiac 5 appear and then they all go to the Kent farm and it’s revealed that Martha and Johnathan remember who Kon is but how they received those memories aren’t really specified but who cares because Kon has Ma and Pa,,, Krypto remembers Kon too!!

Before that they went to the hall of justice to further investigate Kon’s appearance and at the end of this arc it was revealed that Kon may possibly lose his powers but I like to repress that because let him be happy ,,,

But yeah House of Kent is used as Kon’s reintroduction into the Superfam on this new earth/universe/timeline… whatever you want to call it.

There’s some arcs in between but imma skip to ‘Superboy: The Man of Tomorrow’ because it shows Kon feeling out of place because metropolis has like 20 (exaggeration) supers and it feels crowded. He goes on an adventure off world and it’s sooo good. Highly recommend.

Then at the end of his series he has a really heartwarming moment with Clark and Jon gifts him their new jacket.

[taylooraaye]

It'll Work Out - Chapter 1

Summary: When Gail Force, a producing duo, gets asked to join HYBE and work with a boy group under their company, they did not think that they would be meeting their Fated Mates. 

Pledis had been bought by HYBE, and Seventeen now needs more producers.

Disclaimers: Hi! Just a few disclaimers, this is a Seventeen A/B/O AU, and there will be smut at some point in the story. This is technically an OC fic but you are more than welcome to read as Y/N. This is something that I and my best friend are coming up with together. I don't have a set posting schedule yet so bear with me.

Hello Gail Force,

I am the Recruitment Liaison from HYBE labels. We are currently in the process of expanding our music production department.

Based on your previous work with BIGHIT and other Korean labels, we would love to invite you out to meet with us and discuss the opportunity of a permanent position on our music production staff.Your work comes highly recommended along with a positive reputation within the industry.

Below is attached a detailed description of the position, the standard production contract, and the company's health and safety promise. Please respond to this email or contact me at (xxx) xxx-xxxx with any questions or concerns as well as to schedule a formal interview and conference if you are interested in the position.

Kind Regards,

Recruitment Liaison

Music Production Department

HYBE Corp.

The email had come as a shock to both girls, while they had worked very well when they collabed with BTS, this was not the outcome that they had thought would happen. Vienna was the one that had opened the email in the first place, having called over Piper to make sure it was not a joke.

“Are you seeing this?” Vienna was still in disbelief, they had been in the industry for years now, and collabing with BTS had opened some opportunities for them with smaller companies but it was never permanent positions. Piper had sat there for about five minutes rereading the email making sure it was not fake before she had decided to say something.

“Call the number you whore!” she had begun to hit Vienna to try and get her to hurry up.

“Wait! What time is it in Korea?” The other girl had begun to look up what time it was. It was 4:00 PM in Atlanta so it was well into the early morning in Korea. Being that early in the morning the girls had no choice but to wait at least three more hours so it could be a reasonable 6:00 AM in Korea.

The waiting was the worst for the both of them, they were people who liked having the instant gratification of going and buying in the store instead of ordering online. Once it had hit 6:00 AM there was a fight to see who would not have to call, both girls having anxiety when having to make phone calls.

“It's technically your turn to make the call.You have the better customer service voice.” Piper had made a good point but if Vienna was being honesty, she was not giving up that easily.

“But I was the one that found the email, I saw it now you have to make the call.” Vienna had started to pout at Piper. Vienna was the younger of the two and really knew how to get her way with the older girl. All she had to do was bat her eyes at her and she would fold. Piper had given up at that point realizing that she had already lost.

“Hi, This is Piper, one half of Gail Force, I was giving you a call regarding the email that was sent.” She had sat down in their studio to give them a call and was now regretting everything as her anxiety started to rise. Vienne was waiting not as patiently, she had her ear pressed up against the phone that Piper was holding to try and hear what they were saying. It was not a comfortable position at all but she needed to be able to hear what was being said.

“So you want us to come to korea for a permanent position, Who are we going to be producing for?” The older girl was getting annoyed with the person on the phone. The email was real but they would not give them any more information besides that someone had recommended them for this position and that they would be working with a boy group.

~ a week later ~

The girls had decided that they were going to take the position after a lengthy call on what HYBE was prepared to offer them to get them to sign a contract. HYBE was going to set them up with an apartment since finding one at the last minute was not going to go over well, along with that each girl got their own production studio. While they were a producing duo, when producing they had different sounds when working.

They were hoping that once they got into korea that they could get to their new apartment and get some unpacking done but HYBE had wanted them to come in to the office to official sign the rest of the contract and meet part of the group that they were going to be working with. The plane ride was not that bad but being omegas in their own little “not pack” it was hard not being able to scent each other to calm down, and now having to go straight to HYBE ment that they would have to put off scenting each other ever more. Once at HYBE, they were meant to be meeting with Bang PD.

“So, we just want to get some more information for our Health and Wellness department, If you could just fill out these forms, that would be great.” Bang DP had explained while handing them to form.

“Are your heats regular?” Vienna had read the question before Bang PD could react. His face had turned a firey red before he could tell them to not read the question out loud. “Please dont read the questions off, I do not need to know what is being asked on them.” The girls having turned red themselves at his awkwardness,jsut continued with the questionnaire.

On the other side of the building, the Leader line of Seventeen was exiting their practire room when they were met with a few member of BTS.

“OH! Are you all headed to your meeting with Gail Force?” Namjoon had questioned them as they were passing. Seungcheol having realized what they were talking about had spoken up “yes, we are going for our initial meeting with them. You have work with them before right?”

“Yes, they worked with us on Map Of Seoul 7 after Jungkook had begged Bang PD to get them to work with us.” Jungkook started pouting at what Namjoon had reveled. “They are pretty intense when it comes to producing, it probably one of the only time that i have been intimated. “ Yoongi had added. Picking up on what Yoongi was up to, Jungkook decided to get in on the action.”They are like 6’6�� and really macho Alphas. They give Namjoon a run for his money.” Namjoon having to turn to conceal his amused face decided that they needed to head out. “Well, you all should be heading over, dont want to be late.”

As the leader line was heading to the meeting Hoshi decided to speak up. “ do you think they were telling the truth? Namjoon seemed to be laughing at the end there.”

“Well, they have worked with them before, there is not a reason for them to lie.” Woozi was already annoyed with the situation and Hoshi was not helping. Woozi was under the impression that Seventeen didnt need more producer, he was more than able to do it and now he was going to be made to work with more people.

The walk over to the meeting room was not long and as they got there, Hoshi had to ask another question. “What do we do?”

Seungcheol being the Pack Alpha decided to speak up “Hold our heads up and puff our chest out. We are also Alphas.”

Opening the door, they wre not met with the picture they BTS had painted for them, sitting in the room were two girl on the shorter side, one was stacking bottles atop one another and the other acting like she didnt know who she was.

“Um, are you both with Gail Force?” S. Coups was still holding the door handle incase they had entered the wrong room.

“Hi, yes we are Gail Force, Im Piper and this is Vienna. “ the older girl had introduce the both of them.

“Is it only you two?” S. Coups was in disbelief at the two girls that were in the room. “See i told you BTS Sunbeanim was joking with us!” Hoshi was now pouting at Woozi and S. Coups since they did not believe him. The two girls were giggling at Hoshis outburst.

“They tend to do that, they think its funny since we are both Omegas.” Vienna had explain after her giggles had died down. “ we are going to have to text them again.” she added on.

“Wait, You both are Omegas? we have been looking for Omegas.” Hoshi had sat down as he began to talk. S. Coups give him a bewildered look. “You can not just say that to people, Its not common for people to ask that is the states.” S. Coups had sat beside him while he was scolding him. Woozi was the last to sit but he had yet to say anything.

“I am very sorry about him, we are technically looking for an Omega for our pack but he should had no asked that especially since we all just met.” S. Coups apoligized to the girl on the behalf of Hoshi.

“Its okay, we understand that some things are done differently in Korea.” Vienna was trying to not laugh as she talked. Piper was still in shock at what Hoshi had said, her mouth still open with shock. Vienna had nudge her to get her back to earth.

“You do know that you both can take off your scent blockers right?” S. Coups was saying this for more of his sake, he did not like have part of his pack around people that he couldnt smell. While the only other two with him were Alphas as well, it didnt mean he liked it any less.

“We are okay keeping them on, we are still getting used to the scents here in HYBE.” Vienna was planning on sticking up for herself and Piper if she had to. They were unmated and in a foreign country they werent just going to go around without scent blockers on. “Bang PD told us that we did not have too as well, but until we are more comfortable her, we arent going to be taking them off.” She had added also.

“If anything, you all should be wearing one. Yall are stinking up the office.” Piper wasnt going to admit that she actual thought someone out of them smelled amazing but she also wasnt going to allow these alphas to think they were entitled to smell them just because it makes them uncomfortable.

Woozi having sensed that the girls were getting upset decided to step in before the other two could put their foot further in their mouths. “We were just making sure you both knew that we and the company value our omega workers and would not make them wear scent blockers.” Woozi having defused the situation moved onto a different topic. “You both have worked with BTS?”

“We have, about a year ago, we each produced a song with them. We are a duo but we have different sound when it comes to producing.” Piper had begun to explain the dynamic of their duo, “I work mainly on softer music and Vienna is usually the go to for harder sounds. “We look forward to working with you both.” S. Coups added in to the conversation.

Piper having realized the time decided it was time to cut the meeting short. “It has been great to meet y'all but we need to head out and get to our living arrangements.”

A/N: I hope y'all like this so far. it's my first time writing fanfic so it hope it's good.

[transmascreplica]

not to speculate just giving my two cents: it’s been going on for a while the rumor that craig is bisexual, way before he was casted as bond. and he’s never denied nor confirmed so when people say he’s straight they are just assuming (btw he’s also played a gay man in love is the devil, which i highly recommend, and infamous, also another great movie)

it would be really funny if they were just casting one straight guy as gay all the time. ok not all the time thats like 2 movies. roughly equal to michael imperioli's gay count (turns on my webcam (all queer questions are being sent to me through a zoom press conference) and you can see behind me a map of the gay count of every actor in every movie)

[lestappenforever]

To the anon about F1TV: if the plan is to buy it just for press conferences, I'd say it's not worth it for the maybe total of an hour of press conferences over a weekend, especially when the best bits are posted online anyway.

However, if you don't already have another way to watch the races, then I highly recommend F1TV because it gives you access to everything, the broadcast team is great, and honestly it's one of the best subscriptions I've ever bought. You can watch anything live or on demand. No issues with lagging or buffering. And (where I'm from anyway) it's a steal because even at full price it's only like $79 for the whole year. Whereas for other sports you'd have to pay over $100 per month.

I have no regrets buying F1TV. I don't use any other platform for F1. It has everything and more.

This.

Edit: Very important addition from @agentofchaos001

Just to add to this. You can have access to data and onboards. In addition to having access to multiview, that allows you to see a lot of things at the same time, which is something that’s very fun and different to normal watching. Also on demand at any time

[questionable-intimacies]

Whitley's meeting

Whitley had cleared his day to give this meeting his full attention. According to the grapevine in Whitley's club, speaking to Cinder Fall, the new CEO of Salem Inc., was profitable for its sake. The merger Cinder had proposed with the Schnee Dust Corporation was also remarkably lucrative for costs so manageable that slave labor had to be involved. As the cherry on the split, Cinder had offered Whitley the services of Emerald Sustrai, her secretary.

Whitely had, at first, wondered about that spicy-sweet scent the dark-skinned woman wore when she entered the conference room by Cinder’s side.

Now, as Whitley pressed his naked, sweat-slicked chest down on Emerald’s equally naked and sweat-slicked back and breathed out the urge to lose himself in the marshy riptide that dribbled sticky and free down the inside of Emerald’s thighs, Whitley could not resist burying his face into the steaming pit under Emerald’s arm and filling his brain to buzzing with the pungent, homely smell.

Whitley had only intended to satisfy his curiosity, scents being the one thing that Whitley noticed above all else during his moments of intimacy. However, when Emerald’s body kicked abruptly against Whitley’s, Whitley could have written down the composition of Emerald’s perfume by the time he bent the furiously clenching filly face-first over the long conference room table, and forced down her intense orgasm with both his cock throbbing hilt deep up Emerald’s cunt, and a series of softly insistent kisses along Emerald’s back up to her neck.

“My, my. Most men don’t last after one of Emerald’s orgasms.”

Cinder’s voice had the quality of making Whitley think twice about having his cock smothered in Emerald’s pussy while he talked business with Cinder. With a long, fierce kiss, Whitley pulled out of Emerald and left her bent over the conference room table, silently fuming about her deflated state before Cinder Fall.

Whitley, meanwhile, fell back into his seat at the head of the conference table just across from where Emerald was. Cinder was not far behind as she perched herself carefully on the armrest of Whitley’s chair and ran her nails up and down Whitley’s thigh.

“I’m sure now, Mr. Schnee, that we are on the same page regarding my proposal?”

Whitley leaned back in his chair and grunted approvingly at the feeling of Cinder’s fingers across his skin. He did not turn to look at Cinder directly because, from where Whitley sat, all he would see would be down Cinder’s open shirt and her cleavage, and it all felt to Whitley like an exercise in futility.

Whitley did, however, languidly raise his hand and, matching the pace of Cinder’s fingers on his thigh, traced the curve of Cinder’s breasts with his knuckles. Whitley then said.

“Honestly, Ms Fall, your proposal is as sound as it reasonably could be. But coming from a company with only months of operation? You came highly recommended, no doubt. However, agreeing to this deal would be …”

Whitley cast around for the best way to express himself and then found himself staring down Cinder’s shirt.

“… Would be diving headfirst into a pit of complications.”

Cinder stood up and walked around to face Whitley. Cinder then started to unzip her skirt.

“Mr. Schnee, your concerns are reasonable but unfounded. Salem Incorporated stock has held a steady increment since the last financial quarter. Not to mention the fact that I have come to meet you with naked sincerity.”

Cinder’s skirt was left on the floor, leaving her sincerity in Whitley’s full view. All Cinder wore were black garters, frilled stockings, and a dark patch of hair between her thighs trimmed into a diamond. Cinder then smiled, straddled Whitley’s lap, and tickled Whitley’s cock with the stiff patch of hair that covered the patch of flesh beneath Cinder’s toned belly.

Finally, Cinder guided Whitley’s hands onto her breasts and said.

“I’m sure you can see that the proposal is rich with opportunity for the both of us.”

Cinder’s words traced circles in Whitley’s mind while his thumbs traced circles around Cinder’s nipples through both her shirt and her bra. Cadolle, if Whitley was not mistaken.

“Your argument is truly heavy with reason and good sense,” Whitley mumbled softly as the heat from Cinder’s body focused Whitley’s attention down between his legs, “how could I say no?”

“Excellent!” Cinder said before she shot forward and kissed Whitley. Whitley was at full mast in an instant, and as Cinder’s kiss deepened, Whitley stripped Cinder’s shirt off her shoulder and reached around Cinder’s back to unclip Cinder’s bra.

Cinder slid her hips forward, and her pussy swallowed Whitley’s cock whole. A devastating wave of heat and soup-thick wetness flattened Whitley’s defenses, and before Whitley could pull himself together, Cinder pinned Whitley’s hands to the chair above his head.

“Apologies. I’m shy.”

Cinder then began to ride Whitley. More machine than any woman, pleasure coming recklessly fast from all sides at once together with the stamina of a generator. Whitley was helpless, and as he fought to resist Cinder, he caught glimpses of Emerald sitting on the table she was previously lying on, watching Cinder at work. At the same time, Emerald's dark hand plunged again and again into the wetness between her legs, and the pale tips of her darksome breasts were as painfully erect as Whitley, engulfed in Cinder's belly.

Whitley was soon at the edge, pinned by thighs that burned to the touch, and begging both himself and Cinder for another second, another moment, a miracle to turn the tables. Whitley managed to resist Cinder’s best efforts to tip him over. The stalemate dragged on for a few more minutes, and Cinder grew tired of the game; she stopped riding Whitley and leaned forward so that Whitley could see the gentle rise and fall of her breasts snug in her bra.

“You know something, boy?” Cinder whispered to Whitley, “I am waiting for the man who could make me cum, and shave me … down there.”

Whitley gasped as he stared down at Cinder’s pussy, then up into Cinder’s wicked gold eyes.

“Unfortunately, you are not that man.”

Whitley’s cock spasmed once more as he could no longer resist. Desperately, Whitley tried to bury himself as deep as he could into Cinder. Unfortunately, Cinder was too quick for Whitley's sex-dulled reflexes, and the warm tightness of Cinder’s body was replaced with the wholly less impressive pressure of Emerald’s breasts.

“No!” Whitley squealed, “please!”

White ropes of cum exploded out from between Emerald’s cleavage. Whitley bucked and bellowed helplessly while Cinder smiled indulgently at his side as she watched Emerald pay back Whitley for making her cum.

When Whitley was finally empty, Emerald stuck her tongue out at the whipped Schnee and spread her breasts so that the last thing Whitley would see was his cum oozing impotently down Emerald’s dark chest.

First mother, Whitley fumed to himself hours after Cinder and Emerald had left; now Cinder Fall. All this is getting out of hand!

At length, Whitley rolled his eyes and spoke into an intercom as he dressed.

“Ms Amitola, please get me the latest financials for Salem Incorporated.”

Whitley then looked down at his naked legs and added.

“Also, I’ll be needing you for an hour to help clean up this mess in the conference room."

[cleolinda]

Weekend links

My posts

Bad pain week. We do what we can. That's mostly posts about the strikes right now.

The strikes

Oh boy.

To keep this section manageable, I highly recommend looking (in terms of my own tags) at #wga strike (writers) and/or #sag aftra strike (actors), or #strikes if you would like to see everything in one place. (A variety of tags are being used sitewide.) There's also a UPS strike coming up.

The week started off with "The endgame is to allow things to drag on until [WGA] union members start losing their apartments and losing their houses." The week ended with Ron Perlman hearing about it.

Scabby the Rat reporting live from SPN News Network

Major points from the SAG-AFTRA press conference re: how shitty the studio/streaming side is

The effects we may see (awards shows, indie movies, reality TV, media unions outside the US continuing to work because they may be legally unable to join the strike)

The Oppenheimer cast timed it so they would be seen walking off the London premiere after the strike was called. Bear in mind that "the big actors who don't need more money" are needed to draw attention to the plight of the other 98% of the guild who need health insurance, the rights to their own likenesses, and fair wages

What I said: Always remember that the people hoarding the money can make the strike stop at any time. Get mad at the right people. And I'll reemphasize that here: You don't have to just sadly and patiently wait for your shows to come back. You can get mad. You can start asking why the FUCK Disney or Netflix or whoever is so CHEAP that they'd rather postpone or cancel their billion-dollar shit than PAY WORKERS.

Reblogs of interest

It's Disability Pride Month, and I need to reblog more about that. But I haven't been posting as much of anything this month as I did last month because: disability flare-up. Whee.

Evernote, don't you even think about shutting down

Never over what Sleepy Hollow did to Nicole Beharie

Video

I'm not really versed on what happened with the AO3 DDOS attack, but this poster and their grandmother were: "She took matters into her own hands. SHE FOUND AO3"

The BBC Bad News Banger

Thrashy-thrashy-thrash

The sacred texts

A tumblr glossary: blorbo, glup shitto, eeby deeby, plinko horse, scrimblo bimblo

The classic that started a SFF subgenre: Humans are space orcs

The Mushroom Post by way of Avatar: The Last Airbender

SATAN IS NOT A FUCKING POGO STICK

Personal tags of the week

Wet Beast Wednesday was particularly good this week

Kenergy