#journalist

[anakinstwinklebunny]

PAIRING: journalist!anakin x f!reader

SMUT ❦

PART TWO

"Proud of me, baby?"

ANAKIN SKYWALKER’s voice was soft like a velvet, his words barely audible between heated kisses, with those large hands roaming over your body as if he was trying to memorize every inch of you all.over.again.

"So proud," you whisper backed, nails running over his sides, making him shudder between trusts. Your fingers threaded through his curls, body melting under his touch.

He just got promoted. Head Anchor. The biggest position at the network. And of course he’s celebrating the only way he knows how—by making love to you, all slow and deep, right here in your shared bed. He rejected a big party his co-workers were throwing just to celebrate it in his own way.

"Mmm, you feel so good, sweetheart," he murmured against your lips, letting his tongue slip inside, curl against your inside cheeks. His hips rocked into you; steady, tortous.

It was not fast. It was not desperate. No, tonight, he was taking his time—savoring you, drinking in every whimper, every little gasp as he moves inside you with slow, torturous precision.

"Ani," you whimpered, fingers gripping the open collar of his dress shirt. He still had it on—half unbuttoned with sleeves rolled up, showing those delicious veiny forearms—but it was all so messy, so perfectly undone that you could cry just looking at him.

"Shh, I got you." His nose brushed against yours, lips ghosting over your cheek before pressing the sweetest kiss to the corner of your mouth. "Gonna take care of my girl, okay? My sweet, perfect little wife."

Your legs clenched around his waist, pulling him even deeper, making him let out a low groan at the deeper angle.

"Fuck, baby—" his movements slowed yet made sure to keep deepening and make your breath hitch as he filled you so perfectly you felt like you might just break.

"T-this is unfair," you gasped, hands tangling in his hair, tugging him forward.

"What is, sweetheart?" his lips connected to the exposed skin down your jaw, before trailing lower, lower, tongue warm and teasing.

"You’re—you're f-fucking me too good."

Anakin chuckled, a little low, more raspy and satisfied hum that vibrated through his chest. "Mmm. Just showing you what my promotion’s worth, baby."

You shuddered as he thrusted in even deeper, the head of his cock hitting that sweet spot in your core. His hands slide under your thighs, tilting your hips just right to keep this feeling last longer

"God, Ani—"

"Shh, sweetheart." He kissed you again but this time was a little harder. Hand came up to cup your cheek, thumb reached out to gently stroke against your flushed skin. "Just let me love you, hm?"

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[wearenotjustnumbers2]

Bisan's recent post. I think it's important for you to read it. Tonight 03.12.23, journalists in gaza share their last messages. There are no words to describe the horrors unfolding in gaza right now.

I no longer have any hope of survival like I had at the beginning of this genocide, and I am certain that I will die in the next few weeks or maybe days. I have been sick with severe viral infection for days and cannot move from the mattress!

I suffer from nightmares that are so closely resemble reality that I no longer differentiate between reality and dream.

I live in a world other than the one I claimed to be building! I am a community activist who lived on the fantasy that the world was free and just, and I sought to bring rights not only to my people, but to many men and women in third world countries!

I was shocked that I was not from the third world! Indeed, we are the most humane and moral! Yes, because the world approves, supports, and finances the genocide we are being subjected to, legislates it, and gives reasons for for 58 days! While we are a people who have been living on occupied land for 75 years and are still searching for our rights and communicating our voice to the world!

My message to the world: You are not innocent of what is happening to us, you as governments or peoples that support Israel’s annihilation of my people. We will not forgive you, we will not forgive you, humanity will not forgive you, we will not forget, even if we die, the history will never forget .

A Message to friends: Thank you and the supporters around the world. You have been compassionate and very strong. We ask you not to lose hope, even if the world seems completely unfair and your efforts have not yet resulted in a ceasefire.

[sayruq]

Over 100 journalists have been killed in Gaza since October 7th.

[rebel-girl-queen-of-my-world]

Follow Mariam Barghouti on all the things for reporting from the West Bank. Keep amplifying the voices of Palestinians.

[elinty]

Behind the Scenes | L.N

summary : ̗̀➛In the face of increasing tension, you and Lando have a deep and secret attraction.

pairing: ̗̀➛ Lando Norris x Journalist!reader

word count: ̗̀➛ 1,038

The paddock became a cold, dark mess as the rain continued to pour down. Desperate to get away from the storm, drivers and team members hurried between motor homes, heads down. However, you were forced to stand in the media pen with your microphone in hand and pretend that the rain wasn't getting inside your jacket.

It wasn't the worst part, though.

The worst part was him.

With his arms folded across his McLaren fireproofs, Lando stood a few steps away, adjusting himself. Even though his hair was wet and there were water drops running down his jaw, he looked calm and beautiful as usual, other than the glint of annoyance in his eyes.

That look was too familiar to you.

He had no intention to do this.

But neither did you.

because nobody was aware.

Nobody was aware that you were his, that every harsh comment made during a news conference was met with hushed regrets in hotel rooms, that every long look across the paddock resulted in tangled sheets and desperate kisses behind locked doors.

He had to act as though none of it was genuine at the moment.

The camera light went red, and you took a short breath, taming your facial features into something calm. It's showtime.

"Lando," you said in a firm voice. "P9 today. Not exactly where you expected to end."

He let out a breath and cocked his head. "fit analysis."

His tone was biting, but you overlooked it. "After the pit stop, it appeared that you were having trouble maintaining your hold.”

“Could you explain what happened ?”

Lando's mouth tightened. "I can. But you probably already have your own version of the story.”

You twisted the microphone in your fingers. He was pushing and testing. As he always did when he was angry. And with half the paddock acting as if they weren't listening, you couldn't react the way you wanted to.

You looked at him sharply. "I would prefer to hear it from you."

There was a flash in his eyes. Frustrated? Laughs? More than that?

With a sigh, he ran a hand through his damp curls.

“After the pitstop , the vehicle lacked speed. The undercut didn't operate as we had hoped. That's all.”

You raised an eyebrow. "That simple?"  

There was a faint twitch in his lips. "It can be that simple sometimes."

The wind whipped between you as the rain pummelled harder. Only you and Lando were aware of the tension, even if some of the other drivers had turned their heads.

How much he wanted to be near you.

How much you wanted to reach for him and break the rules.

You cleared your throat instead. “ Final question. On the radio, you sounded irritated. Was the team the target of that, or—

Lando shifted on his feet and sighed. "Is it fun to put me on the spot?"

You suppressed a grin.“It’s my job, Norris.”

His eyes darkened, but now something else was there, something that, regardless of the cold, made you feel hot.  

A few seconds later, he leaned in a little and spoke in a voice that only you could hear.

“Can’t wait for you to do your job later.”

Your breath caught. It was clear what he meant when he talked.

You were about to argue, scold him, or do something, but he was already backing off and smiling at the cameras as if nothing had happened.  

Lando Norris disappeared into the rain in a matter of seconds, leaving you breathless, nervous, and eager to see what would happen behind closed doors.

The rain had turned to a light drizzle by the time you finished your interviews and returned to the paddock. The cameras had stopped recording, the media pen had been cleared, and the majority of the drivers had gone to their garages

Lando, however, was waiting.

You saw him with his arms crossed and his hood up, leaning against the McLaren entrance .

He appeared to be just another driver dodging the rain to anyone else, but you knew better. His lips curved into something knowing and arrogant the instant your eyes met.

Despite rolling your eyes, you moved in his direction and slipped through the sliding doors. You walked as you got shivers down your spine from him following you.

"You were having fun with that, weren't you?" You mumbled without looking back.

"Having fun with what?" He teased in a quiet voice.

With a sigh, you let your bag fall onto a chair. "acting like an absolute ass in front of everybody."

A laugh. Then, his hands holding you waist just enough to cause you to let out a bit strongly.  

He said, his breath warm against your neck, "You like it when I push you."

You took a long breath, rolled your eyes, and turned to glare up at him." “I like it when you act professional for few minutes so I don’t have to work twice as hard to clean up your mess.”

Lando tilted his head and grinned. "You enjoy cleaning up my mess."

You were about to start an argument but as soon as you opened your mouth he pressed his lips to yours, closing the gap between you.

His hands moved up your sides and wrapped around your jacket as if he needed you closer during the slow but meaningful kiss.

The tension from earlier melted into something else, something powerful, and you melted into him  with your hands grabbing the fabric of his race suit.

"Are you still upset with me?" he whispered, stepping back just enough.

Your eyes narrowed. "You're crazy"

Lando smiled. "But here you are anyway."  

He simply laughed and grabbed your wrist before you could get away, despite your yelling and pulling at his chest.

"Stay," he said, his tone now softer and more serious.  

Your determination failed. You were supposed to return to the press room, edit interviews, and pretend that nothing was going on. However, here, in private, with Lando staring at you like this.

You let out a breath. "Only for a short time."

He smiled mischievously. "You said that the last time."

You already knew you weren't going anywhere, just like the last time.

a/n: if you have requests lemme know! Also im really excited for the first race of the season!!

[sainzsiren]

HE JUST COMES RUNNIN' OVER TO ME, LN4

fcs: lissie, luisa

liked by charles_leclerc, mercedesamgf1, francisca.cgomez, and others

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[tomi4i]

Journalism has a vital role in shedding light on what entities like Israel want to keep in the dark.

Israel killed over 100 journalists in 10 weeks.

[labbaik-ya-hussain-as]

[i-am-aprl]

When ALLAH sends you the hug you need 💗

[pratchettquotes]

"It's strange that they don't seem to mind you, Otto," he said, calming down a little.

"Vell, I am not official," said Otto. "I do not haf zer sword und zer badge. I do not threaten. I am just a vorking stiff. And I make zem laff."

Vimes stared at the man. He'd never thought about that before. But yes...little fussy Otto, in his red-lined black opera cloak with pockets for all his gear, his shiny black dress shoes, his carefully cut widow's peak and, not least, his ridiculous accent that grew thicker or thinner depending on whom he was talking to, did not look like a threat. He looked funny, a joke, a music-hall vampire. It had never previously occurred to Vimes that, just possibly, the joke was on other people. Make them laugh, and they're not afraid.

Terry Pratchett, Thud!

[political-us]

[notyourtoday]

Caption on post -

Interview with released prisoner and cancer patient Mohammad Aklouk, who had been detained since the start of the war. Mohammad describes the horrific conditions of his detainment, including the small, oppressive cell windows and the inability to see sunlight. The repression units frequently ordered prisoners to drop to the ground and brutally beat them. Mohammad emotionally recalls a fellow prisoner, Mohammad Al-Kahlout from Jabalia, who was struck in the head and died in his arms. Aklouk is one of 70 prisoners who were released on June 11th 2024 through the Zikim crossing west of Beit Lahia currently staying in Kamal Adwan Hospital.

By @translating_falasteen on Instagram.

Source: @mahmoud_awadia

Translation: @translating_falasteen

Link to post.

[wearenotjustnumbers2]

Motaz Azaiza, the most important voice of gaza, Palestine right now. He graduated as a journalist. He already lost some of his friends who graduated with him. Follow him on Instagram, make his voice heard. For the first time, motaz has been silent for one whole day. Pray for him and gaza 🙏

This is his life before and after the genocide started on gaza.

We are not numbers.

[ninten-draw]

Bugsnax? More like… gaysnax