#extradirty
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
Janaina Medeiros
JBB: An Artblog!
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
styofa doing anything
taylor price
Origami Around
Cosimo Galluzzi
Three Goblin Art
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
祝日 / Permanent Vacation
One Nice Bug Per Day
$LAYYYTER
🪼
Not today Justin
todays bird
will byers stan first human second
No title available
Sade Olutola
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Italy
seen from United States
seen from Ecuador
seen from Ecuador
seen from Ecuador
seen from Spain
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Singapore
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
@everyfuckinwhere
this is an incredibly lazy rp blog for roy kent of ted lasso. set post-s2 by default and canon-compliant for the most part, but always open to canon divergence and other timelines. writer is 21+. wiki link here.
rules are under the cut. image credit to this person.
Despite how much Roy holding his hand shook him, Ted found that he missed it immediately when Roy had pulled his hand away. Still, he shook off the displeasure at the loss of contact and grabbed his own kebab.
"Well, that’s just about the best song to get moving to,” Ted acknowledged before he took a mouthful of his own food.
With an appreciative hum, Ted peaked his head up to offer a thumbs up towards Hus, offering a fond, “Delicious as always, Hus! You sure know how to make ‘em.”
Though, just as quickly, he leaned in to utter under his breath to Roy, “I don’t actually know if that’s true. I only ever had a kebab for the first time when I was trying to convince you to coach with us. Wasn’t exactly accessible where I’m from.”
It was easy enough to just eat and exist with Roy. It always had been, but knowing that Roy had made the effort to ask a personal question about himself, Ted knew he needed to do the same.
After all, this was a date.
“What’s your favorite movie?”
Sure, it’s a cliché question, but he realized he didn’t even really know the basics of Roy’s likes.
“It’s fucking delicious, you twat,” Roy said, chuckling even as he shook his head.
A few months ago, if he’d known that Ted Lasso could so easily get him to smile like this, Roy might have bashed his own head in. Back then, the thought of having to be in the same room as him already pissed him off; now, though, Ted was one of the few people whose opinion Roy genuinely valued. Nate was a genius, and Beard was wise beyond his years, but Roy already had all the know-how and experience he could get being a footballer for almost twenty years.
Ted introduced something human to the whole thing. In any professional sport, it was a wonder how quickly stuff like that faded away.
Songs, movies—anyone else would get a swift “fuck off” if they asked him about it. Ted only got a shrug and a: “My favourite movie changes all the time.
“Right now it’s Roman Holiday. Maybe a month or two ago it was Shrek 2—Phoebe and I did a marathon and I’d forgotten how fucking good it was.”
In place of their connected hands, Roy allowed his legs to spread ever so casually, brushing the side of his knee against Ted’s.
“Tell me yours.” A beat. “And tell me why.”
Harmony's giggle worsened when Roy moved closer. She slid her arm back and pressed her palm to his shoulder, as if to shove him playfully — but then came the rest of his commentary regarding their imaginary children. At that, what left her lips turned into a true laugh : too stunted and loud to be nice to listen to but so uniquely hers that it was impossible not to love it. Harmony shook her blonde hair out and sighed when she was finished ( or almost finished, as the little hiccups she issued would argue ).
❝That is an ... airtight argument, Roy,❞ she said. The hand against his shoulder moved to rest on the side of his neck. ❝We would have great kids — the best ones around, even.❞ Her thumb nail grazed over his skin, scratching at it fondly.
❝There's just one small problem.❞ Harmony's boots tapped the ground for emphasis. ❝Now, we have two boys — what if I want a little girl ?❞ She leaned in, torso briefly to his, and stole a kiss. The words she spoke were softer, this close to his lips, and breathy. Damn, she was light - headed. Harmony couldn't tell if it was giddiness from their discussion ( and this loving future ) or anxiety about what she hadn't said. ❝I suppose that means we'll be trying to find a larger house in South London. With three, we'll need the room.❞
Roy huffed, faintly amused. “That’s a problem?”
And it wasn’t arrogance as much as it was genuine confusion. The paycheck he’d been earning since he turned sixteen and joined Sunderland FC was no joke, and it wasn’t like he had anything significant to spend it on other than an occasional suit when his usual one was no good (he was quite satisfied with the car he purchased at seventeen—a used Ford Escort in the same red as the one his grandfather used to drive—and supposed he wouldn’t be getting a new one until he hit his thirties).
“Leave finding a house to me, eh?” Roy’s head tilted, lips pressing soft kisses down Harmony’s cheek and along the curve of her neck. “We’ll get one big enough for our three kids” – the number went up easily – “but not big enough they turn into spoiled little twats.
“And a garden so they don’t spend all fucking day rotting their little brains on the telly.”
Having stamped what he thought was enough kisses on Harmony’s neck, Roy pulled back to look at her.
“You know if there’s a way to make sure we get a girl?” One of his arms slipped from Harmony’s middle, idly teasing at her belly over her dress. “Or am I just going to have to keep spilling in you until we get one, you think?”
Roy detailed his future ( their future ) so casually that it took a moment for Harmony's shock to hit her. She pulled her head away, brow furrowed and lips hovering open. Glittering eyes looked up at him, full of hope, and heart - twisting grief, and something like love — as much as she could understand of it, anyway, given her world.
Suddenly, she moved. Harmony rose up just enough to place herself in front of Roy. She then sat squarely in his lap, facing him, with a bent leg to either side of his body. Harmony's long, layered blue dress spilled across Roy's legs. The bottoms of her beloved hiking boots, with their worn treads, dug into the soft ground they sat on.
❝Roy,❞ she said first. Harmony's arms slid over his shoulders as she looked at him. ❝I dare say you've thought about this before now ...❞ Her tone was not accusatory, merely curious. After all, she had just outed her own casual dreaming regarding the matter ; the initials carved behind her were, frankly, damning. ❝— and a baby or two ? What if they're boys ? Could the world handle having two miniature Roy Kents in it — ?❞ That she found comical, and her giggle betrayed her amusement.
Roy looked satisfied as Harmony took her place atop his lap—proud, even, as if she’d just done something to applaud over (but wasn’t it worth praise, having Harmony attach herself to him? Wasn’t it behaviour worth encouraging?). Despite the way she stared at him, Roy was unfazed; his hands bracketed Harmony’s waist, and his thumbs rubbed idly over the fabric of her pretty dress, as comfortable as ever.
“Why’ve they got to be like me?” was the question he threw back, sincere but non-answering. Roy’s nose scrunched up. “Just ‘cause they’re boys don’t mean they’d be footballers. We might have a scientist, like you. Or a doctor. Or maybe someone who paints like fucking Dalí, which makes no sense but I’d be proud all the same.”
He leaned in then—not to kiss Harmony, but to nuzzle her nose playfully. Roy quite liked encouraging her laughter.
“They’d have you around to keep them good, babe.”
His hands slid closer together, moving to loop around Harmony’s middle. As rough around the edges as Roy was, Harmony’s insane ability for delicateness would balance him out nicely as a parent. Roy was convinced of this.
“We’d make amazing babies. And they’d be better than everyone else’s babies ‘cause you’re a fucking genius and I don’t take shit from anyone.”
The answer to Roy's unasked question was a simple, rather straightforward yes - Melissa's breathing hitched when his teeth playfully grazed the sensitive flesh of her neck, and her hands tightened their hold in response. These same digits then received much more room to explore when the footballer removed the shirt off his torso, gifting the secretary with something that would have undoubtedly been a sight for sore eyes if she hadn't been so busy... Looking elsewhere.
Namely, his face - it was difficult to find anything as attractive as his visage when Roy kissed her with stamina for days, and somehow made sure that he had her completely enveloped by his presence. The athlete was taller and stronger - but unexpectedly nimble, focused on tracing, touching and holding with a proficiency that Melissa was starting to wonder if he wasn't in the wrong sport (a shame to let that talent with his fingers be wasted).
As Roy knelt on the floor, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses over her body in his wake, Melissa felt her body grow weaker. The secretary welcomed the extra incentive in the form of his palms generously feeling her up and keeping her close, but made no secret of how grateful she was for the wall at her back. Meanwhile, Melissa's hands moved to his head, one staying atop his cropped hair while the other traced the strong jawline and the texture of the stubble, thumb gliding over the contours of his face and grinning mischievously at the man's (very correct) supposition.
(Melissa had scoured the internet after interviews where Roy Kent confirmed something as innocuous as his favorite color; a harder exercise than most would perceive it to be given how private he was and quite monosyllabic when not really instigated by the opposite party.)
Melissa's breathing only turned faster and shallower; ever since they kissed outside, very little had been done to restore it to normalcy, but she didn't care - or about the hair that had began to grow messier, or the evident blush blooming on her cheeks. Eyes glowing with unbridled desire, the brunette kept watching Roy worshipping her body while making way to simple answer of that little dare, biting her lower lip and then allowing a proud grin to form when he finally got there.
"Good boy," the compliment came in that unexpected way, the hand resting over Roy's head working to give him an affectionate pat that was both playful and a tease. It wasn't as if it was a very smart move to taunt someone with much more stamina than she possessed, but Melissa had never been known for making sensible choices - emotions often took hold of her. The secretary moaned softly with Roy's hands moving over lace and flesh, then genuinely squirmed when he kissed her over there - oh fuck. He was good - and she was still (mostly) clothed.
It was time for the girl to provide assistance then - and just as Roy had removed his shirt so generously before, Melissa raised her arms and swayed hips just enough to get the black piece off her frame. And as predicted, there it was - a matching set of perfectly new underwear, complete with a garter belt for the stockings. The brassiere was a strapless model to fit the proper neckline of the dress, pushing up the breasts to make it more enticing, decorated with delicate flower patterns that were replicated on the bottom piece as well.
It was nothing absurdly expensive or unique - but they were brand-new, selected for Roy Kent only... And frankly she would be very much okay if he just ripped it off her figure.
"Your invite took me by surprise - no time to find a dress in this color, but underwear I could do," the woman grinned at him, obviously enjoying the reaction from the footballer. Roy was not one to mince words when he meant it - or to feign passiveness when he was the entire opposite. It was hard for a girl not to feel like a goddess when admired by his dark eyes drinking up every single inch of skin and lace, and Melissa felt herself growing hot, wet and needy by the minute.
Realizing she was still in heels, she stepped out of both shoes with practiced ease, requiring no support from either hand - instead, they went to him, maneuvering to find the belt buckle and to work on the footballer's pants with thinly veiled intent. Rather than kissing Roy on the lips - particularly without heels and the extra bump in height - Melissa settled for doing that to his chest, leaving a wet trail as her mouth pressed against a shoulder and then moved down, sampling Roy's own flavor and breathing in his scent with delight.
Seeing a woman in particularly fancy lingerie wasn’t new, per se, but the fact it was on Melissa made all the difference. She’d never bared herself to him like this before—had joked about things like her panties and bra not matching, certainly, but comments like that hardly made a dent in his thoughts. Despite the familiarity of Melissa’s grin, the shape of her body was new. The sight of it was as overwhelming as the brand new context; Roy’s lips parted, his chest swelled on an inhale, and in the desire that twisted his stomach he found himself caught in nothing short of awe.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he uttered, wanting as his eyes swept over her figure. “Look at you.”
The lingerie covered enough of Melissa’s flesh to leave her most intimate parts up to his imagination, but it also brought out the curves of her breasts and the way her waist looked perfect for picking her up. Roy’s palm curved over the side of her neck, and with a thumb brushing the corner of her jaw, the other squeezed one of Melissa’s breasts before it was moving down to hook into one of her stocking garters and hear it snap against her skin.
“You look fucking incredible, Melissa.”
She was like a present: all wrapped up in pretty colour for him, ripe for the taking. Roy almost kissed her again, but Melissa’s lips stilled him as they began to explore his body. Roy didn’t mind it, in the end—feeling her appreciation in each kiss she pressed to his skin was enough to tide him over.
With his belt loosened and his suit trousers undone, Roy was quick to step out of them. Standing there in his underwear (nothing to write home about in comparison; Roy wore dark blue boxer briefs, but they did leave little to the imagination), the intimacy of being exposed in the same way Melissa was coaxed a smile. The whole thing was terribly intimate, never mind the fact her lingerie was far prettier, and felt even more so when Roy took Melissa’s waist in both hands and pinned her to the wall.
His touch was guiding, drawing her arms up so that she could wrap them around his neck. Crowding Melissa against such a solid surface made Roy growl in low satisfaction, but instead of kissing her he nipped at her bottom lip.
“I almost don’t want to take these off of you.” With one hand on Melissa’s side, Roy’s thumb teased along the hem of her brassiere. The other was stroking down her belly, over her panties, and then twisting at the wrist to feel the warmth of her cunt against four of his fingers. The light fabric of the lingerie was terribly helpful in this regard; Roy could feel how warm she was here, both in his index and pinky and in the slide of his middle and ring fingers over the line of her lower lips.
“You’re just too fucking pretty. I can’t help it.”
The idea of ruining Melissa in something so gorgeous sent a shiver down his spine. Roy’s fingers toyed with her sex through her underwear, parting her lips ever so slightly and sliding up and down the valley it created. All the while his head remained bowed, watching Melissa’s expression; the want in his eyes was clearer here than ever.
When she was sufficiently damp his hand dipped into Melissa’s panties, causing them to mould around him as his touch slid low once more. Again, two of Roy’s fingers slid deftly between her folds, catching moisture that made it terribly easy to play with her clit.
“You’d let me fuck you like this, yeah? Panties to the side and my cock in your cunt?”
Just like that, Roy’s middle finger slipped into her slowly.
Harmony leaned back, satisfied. She smiled, that slightly too - big smile, and glanced over at Roy. There were wood shavings in her lap from the tree, but she didn't mind. The twenty - year - old leaned into Roy's shoulder, stabbed the little knife they had used to carve the heart and initials into the dirt, and sighed. Somewhat dreamingly, somewhat teasingly.
( HK. )
"Harmony Kent," she murmured. Harmony's eyes closed. She wanted to disappear into this moment -- the rest of their future was not certain, but they had this. The letter in her bag, a curt summons back to her old life, was a ticking time bomb that she hasn't told him about yet.
"It has a nice ring to it, hm ??" // @thisiamowed
The thought that he was too young to be married did not at all occur in Roy Kent’s head. Hearing Harmony say it—and looking at how her initials matched his on the bark of this tree—felt right, and to him that was all that really mattered.
“It sounds beautiful.” There wasn’t much Roy called “beautiful”, either, but it felt right with her. Harmony was different—not just from other girls, but from other people, too. There was no bullshit, no attempts to be anything other than herself; she was strange and she had this barking laugh and she was the smartest person alive.
He grinned, shifting slightly to kiss the top of Harmony’s head. “So you’d be my fucking wife, then? Move to South London with me” – it was no secret Roy wanted to come home despite how well Sunderland treated him – “have a nice house, maybe a baby or two?
“Be nice to know now so I can start putting money away. There’s not much else to use it on, anyway.”
The reinforced commentary in relation to her speed had Melissa huffing with mock offense, complete with a free hand splaying over her chest when there was enough room between the two of them - not that it remained available for too long, because as soon as Roy reclaimed his jacket, the girl turned around to open the door (keys were surprisingly fast to locate, for once), then taking him up two flights of stairs to her place proper and clearing the way inside.
There was something uniquely sexy in how Roy took it upon himself to lock everything (no distractions, no interruptions) and then proceeded to throw the jacket to the floor as if it didn't have a ridiculous price tag and merited that destination. But honestly, fashion designer labels took a backseat in Melissa's mind when she found herself pressed against the nearest wall, kissed again by Roy Kent as if she was air and he was a drowning man.
Fuck - it felt even better when they were not mildly concerned about a stray reporter or a curious fan with a cellphone, or whatever happened to be a celebrity's biggest enemy in the era of social media.
Melissa's hands were now fully occupied with him - feeling up his torso, sensing the body hiding underneath the thinner fabric (comparatively to the jacket) and raking nails over the exposed areas at the back and sides of his neck. The secretary let go when Roy moved to kiss her ear, his palms traveling down and holding her steady against the wall (and the girl was ever grateful for the support), smirking when the footballer highlighted his appreciation for the overall outfit.
"I didn't know we were going to a charity thing with Ed Sheeran," she chuckled lightly, the sound distorted by a light moan when Roy's facial hair brushed against skin and made her squirm in a way that was not at all unpleasant, "But even if you had taken me to a kebab place I'd have dressed nicely, you know. Because you are worth the effort," Melissa breathed in response, and it was surprisingly sincere when the two of them mostly teased and bickered like an old married couple.
It was true, however - Melissa often joked about their initial meeting and the accident, as well as everything that it entailed (including the fact she was taken to the hospital with underwear that did not match; she was just going to work on that day, and never expected to wake up on the pavement of a somewhat busy street with Roy fucking Kent looking down at her). But as they spent more and more time together, the brunette felt her chest growing tight at the sight of him, not to mention the stupid smiles and the butterflies. There was a crush alright - and maybe more.
And the way his mouth teased an earlobe and his hands found the right places to squeeze was positively not making her regret anything about the invitation to come inside.
"It all matches tonight - the underwear," Melissa murmured in a slightly breathless way, lowering her own palms to find the hem of his shirt and fighting to get it out of the pants. Once the fabric came loose, it allowed for some curious exploration of paths of skin that had been seen only in television and magazines so far, touching the steel-like abs almost with reverence. The girl gasped softly at the feeling, increased tenfold by Roy's caresses over her neck.
"Do you want to guess the color?"
Shameless fucking--
Roy's nose stroked at Melissa's jaw to tilt her head away from him, and he dipped his head to kiss the line of neck it exposed. "Do I have to guess if I'm peeling this dress off of you anyway?"
But he knew the answer, if only because he knew Melissa loved when he played along with her games. His teeth scraped her throat, testing those waters (would she like it? Would she pull away?), and with a soft kiss Roy pulled away. He wasn't gone for long, simply moving to undo another one of his shirt buttons for Melissa's benefit. Both his arms lifted over his head after, and once it was pulled off of him, he dipped his head to kiss Melissa again, hands sliding down her back, squeezing her ass, and then seeking purchase on her hips to hold her in place.
"You said I was 'worth the effort'," Roy breathed, giving one suck to Melissa's bottom lip before his knees began to bend. He sank lower, kissing between her collarbones, kissing her belly through her dress, and then kissing the tops of her thighs once he was knelt on the floor. His hands travelled down the curves of her legs, then shamelessly came around to cup her ass and draw her closer.
"So I'm going to guess you picked something for me. Favourite fucking colour, maybe?"
With both hands sliding around, the tips of his fingers crept up the hem of Melissa's dress. His eyes still on her, he turned his head to kiss the inside of Melissa's right knee, then trailed them higher along her thigh until his nose brushed the end of her clothing.
From there, the dress went higher alongside him, up and up and up. In the end, Melissa's dress rode up her hips, and Roy pulled back just enough to admire the present she'd left him.
"Fuck." Roy exhaled on a laugh, pushing the dress higher until his hands were resting on her bare hips. His thumbs stroked the garter of her underwear, moving up and down to find skin then lace then skin again.
"You fucking fox."
Without hesitation, Roy's lips pressed a kiss to Melissa's mound, affectionate even through the sheer fabric of her deep green panties.
"Let's get this fucking dress off."
So as Roy rose to his feet, he did just that, eager to see her matching brassiere.
Ted couldn’t remember the last time he’d ever held hands with the object of his romantic desires, but feeling Roy’s hand take hold of his, it was surprisingly overwhelming. Ted liked Roy a good deal- truthfully, it was why it was so easy to default to Rom-Com references with him- but for Ted wasn’t prepared to find out that Roy had actually reciprocated his feelings.
Still, he did his best to keep his cool. It might have been mostly in vain, but the effort was there. As nerve-wracking as it all may be, Roy had reciprocated feelings that Ted had been too scared to confess, and he’d be damned if he didn’t give it his best effort.
And, as awkward as he might have been initially, when Roy started asking him about the Spice Girls, Ted couldn’t help the relieved huff that puffed out of his lungs.
“You mean outside of the fact that it’s the Spice Girls?” the older coach couldn’t help but tease. “I was in college when Wannabe came out. It was kind of everywhere, but my friend really liked it. She was going through a rough patch with guys, and it kind of made her feel better. Whenever she had a bad date, we’d just throw it on and dance around her dorm like an idiot.
"Fortunately, she ended up finding Mr. Right, in the end. I even got ordained to wed them.”
Ted licked his lips as he looked back at Roy, and pretended that this was just a normal conversation they were sharing, despite their hands still being connected.
At the end of the day, that’s what dating was? Having the normal conversations you’d have with someone, keeping that friendship going and building on that?
“Do you have a song or band or something that got to you like that?”
Uncertainty was unbecoming on Ted, so when he lit up and began talking about something as fucking inconsequential as pop groups, it was like an invisible weight lifted itself from Roy's chest. There was nothing else he knew except going out and fucking getting things-- for a moment, he'd been terrified he pushed Ted too far too quickly.
But like many of his stories, this was easy to listen to. Though he tried his best to come up with an image of a younger Ted and screwed his face up in response-- all he could think of was a slightly thinner, longer-haired boy with a pathetic scraggle of a moustache-- it was the message that mattered. That picture of Ted dancing like an idiot was clear; he was still like that, even now. Roy was sure he'd already seen Ted dancing just to make Rebecca or Keeley smile.
"You're fucking crazy if you think I'm a dancer," was the first thing Roy said in all this. Of course, Hus took this moment to serve them their kebabs and ask weren't you in the Sun for dancing wasted right outside Nelson Road a couple years back?, so Roy spat out a "fuck off", got a smile and a shrug, and then glared at Hus' retreating back as he left.
All the while, his hand stayed in Ted's, and only let go so that he could pick his kebab up, but not without giving a reassuring squeeze first.
"...fine. You're asking about music that makes me move?"
Roy sucked a breath in through his teeth.
"Everybody, Backstreet Boys, Backstreet's Back record, 1997."
And just to give himself a reason not to see Ted's face at that confession, Roy dipped his head to take his first huge bite of kebab.
Roy’s Diamond Dog Arc TED LASSO 2020 - 2023
The initial verbal response from Roy had her grinning even more (if that was at all possible) - it was probably caused by the way he said the word 'kids', mixed with his eyebrows going so high that they transformed his handsome face into an epic look of disbelief. Well, the fact he hadn't said 'no' helped, just as much as the way the athlete maneuvered to get them closer to the door, a little less out of public sight.
For a man with his height and impressive body muscle, he could be very agile (no matter what these guys on TV said about his performance on match days; fuck these dudes, honestly). And even though Roy had been a gentleman in not downright throwing her against things given the very frequent episodes of insolence during that evening, Melissa did that willingly.
Because from the moment Roy kissed her first, the brunette was positive she would need extra help in staying upright. Whatever clever retort (or unfunny joke) the secretary had as a comeback died on her lips, swallowed by the culmination of a desire she had been harboring for a while.
After all, it was only normal to feel like kissing (and bringing inside) a man like Roy Kent, who just happened to tick all the boxes for her. It had nothing to do with the figures in his bank account, or the premium access to so many places in the city - but rather the bleeding heart hiding under so many protective layers of someone who fought hard to make their dreams come true.
There was no doubt that the brunette was responsive - emboldened a bit by the good champagne, Melissa not only returned the kiss but pulled him closer, a free arm looping around the footballer's neck where the other remained joined with his, holding the jacket that served no other purpose now. She brought them back to the door, a soft thud denouncing the impact but one that failed to hurt considering how the girl had preemptively sought that support. As lips parted, Melissa welcomed his tongue into her mouth while fingers tightened their hold, seeking to pull at anything they could find purchase on.
Roy tasted addictive - there was the lingering alcohol from the party, of course, but also a hunger that was fundamentally his. Melissa hadn't met someone that harbored that intensity before, and ending up out of breath with a simple kiss somehow didn't surprise her. Fuck - she did have it bad, didn't she?
"I'm not slow, I was trying to be a lady," Melissa protested when they parted, although the way she clung to him and trusted the door to remain closed and prevent a fall was anything but ladylike. Eyes locked onto his face, the woman inhaled sharply and focused on the notes of his cologne, then licking lips as if trying to savor him a bit more.
"Since my efforts were clearly unappreciated, I'm done pretending - do you want to come inside?" she asked him, holding Roy's intense gaze unflinchingly, "Not necessarily for tea, mind you."
Melissa drew him close and Roy smiled into the kiss, lips parted and his tongue bold as he tasted the mouth she offered so willingly. The hand on Melissa's arm shifted, drifting down to take her waist and press her firm against the wooden door with a dull thud. His feet spaced apart a few centimetres more to keep himself upright, and Roy kissed with fervour without verging into hurry, satisfied with the swells of their tongues and how sweet Melissa tasted when he sucked on hers.
Then the kiss broke, and Melissa was talking again (of course she was talking again), and with a gentle nudge to her nose Roy pulled back enough to meet her gaze with a raised brow.
"Ladies can be forward," he said plainly. "You were slow, Melissa."
And sexy, and confident, and unbearably charming even with that exhausting sense of humour (it was the way she wielded it so shamelessly that really did him in, truth be told-- Melissa Drysdell was certainly no-one else besides herself, and Roy found the lack of bullshit as refreshing as he did attractive).
So when Melissa's request came, the light twitch of his lips in response might even be mistaken for pride. Roy dipped his head to press one more kiss to her lips in some silent declaration of intention, just so she'd know he still wanted her even if he behaved on the way indoors.
"Yeah, I'd like that." Finally, he took his jacket from her, if only to give Melissa both her hands to do whatever had to be done. "And I'd like it more if you made me some fucking tea, but...
"Maybe after."
Because I intend to stay.
So Roy followed her, jacket thrown over his shoulder and held steady with his index finger as a hook. He was good until they were finally in the safety of her quarters and the door had made that satisfying click behind him; Roy locked everything after, dropped his jacket on the floor, and wasted no time catching Melissa's waist again.
If she was facing him, then Roy was crowding her against the nearest wall. If she wasn't, then he was lifting her enough and setting her down on the nearest surface-- the kitchen counter would do nicely-- before taking up space in front of her. Either way, it wasn't long before Roy was kissing her breathless once more.
"I wasn't joking," he murmured after, a soft sound between them as their mouths separated, "when I said you looked fit in that dress.
"It mattered to me that you made yourself pretty." Roy's head tilted, lips skirting Melissa's ear. Kissing it. "I liked that you put all that effort in, Melissa."
In hindsight, Melissa should have seen that entire situation coming - Roy Kent was nothing if absolutely chill in relation to most things that would send people into a frenzy, trying to be on their best behavior or just nail every moment in front of others. That was how she ended at AFC Richmond's annual benefit in a dress from frigging Zara (from three or four years prior, no less), with her make-up done at home and heels that lacked the glamour of a pair of louboutins.
The brunette had almost turned Roy's (very solid) chest into a punching bag when she realized just what happened to be the 'dinner invitation' she had accepted and how severely undressed Melissa was for the occasion - and yet, after he placed his jacket over her shoulders, no one seemed to care the lack of a designer label attached to her outfit.
All eyes were on him, after all.
The evening had been interesting, to put it mildly - the bidding wars were entertaining, the top shelf alcohol got tongues loose and the music number was pretty damn good. If that was how the club enticed donors for a good cause, then she would be happy to be along next year (if there was a next time...), provided her not-date warned her in advance of the proper dress code.
Roy was now right at her side, with both of them standing in front the entrance to her building - Melissa had yet to return his jacket and find her keys, looking at him with a gaze full of wonder. They did have fun, didn't they? He was a celebrity, but he was so very... Human. Just a guy with a mean scowl but the gentlest heart she had yet to seen in another. His language was no matter - Roy's actions were everything one needed to know anything about him.
"I had a really, really good time tonight," she said, smiling at him before slipping the jacket off her shoulders and already missing the warmth it provided, "Can I ask you something really personal, though?" Melissa mentioned, inhaling sharply and taking another step closer, almost as if she was trying to claim back some of that body heat, "If I steal a kiss from you despite not having won the bidding war - will it harm the children? I can't be mean to little kids, after all." // @stingslikeabee
Half-pissed from all the alcohol he drank to survive the night, Roy had opted to take Melissa home with her hand on his arm and their shoes tapping in time on the pavement. By some fucking miracle, her place was only about twenty minutes away from the event on foot, which felt like the right amount of time to allow him the benefit of hearing her ramble on and on and on.
It was an experience that simply couldn't be replicated through text. Despite the existence of emoji (God knew Roy didn't know the first fucking thing about them), no cartoon smile could capture the way Melissa's eyes glittered, or her lips curved when she was smug, or just how alive she became when she spoke.
And, God, did she speak. But this time, having invited her as a companion instead of as a product of his own guilt, Roy found himself smiling just a little bit more. A lot, even, when it was just the two of them, and he could tell her she was a fuck whenever she tried to tease him, and she could grin that bright grin and make his chest feel fucking weird.
He didn't mind it, though. Didn't mind, either, when Melissa spoke up again instead of opening the bloody door, because he expected no less from the woman who never shut her god damn mouth. Roy was happy, and that wasn't something he felt often off the pitch; the only logical thing to do would be to chase it.
And that meant raising both his brows at her as if he was surprised and saying, "So kids are where you draw the fucking line.
"Or is it because they're bloody orphans or some shit?"
Roy moved as if he were taking his jacket back, but instead curved his hand over Melissa's forearm where the fabric was folded over. He met her step with one of his own, guiding her backwards until she was a hair's breadth from being pressed against the front door of her building.
Like this, no-one else could see her, save for where her legs might peek between Roy's. Like this, there was some modicum of privacy, and Roy ducked down with a thoughtful rumble in his throat.
"You can kiss me e-thi-cal-ly, Melissa," he said, emphasising each syllable. "In fact, since you were too fucking slow--"
Riding that high, Roy leaned in and kissed her: simple at first, then firm, then tilting his head to fit their mouths better as his other hand cupped Melissa's cheek to keep her in place. In the same way hesitation had no place in his life, Roy was steadfast here-- and should Melissa be responsive to it, would take any opportunity to part her lips and kiss her deeper.
1x01 | 2x05
The threat for Melissa did not work as intended - instead, the curve of her lips actually grew a bit more when he accepted the peace offering, the secretary going for the sweet pastry before the actual lunch meal just because she could. There was a very childish feeling of freedom in reversing the order one was supposed to be doing that, ending up with a sigh that could have been mistaken as appreciation for the scones (which were also very good).
...And perhaps the effusive attention that Roy kept showering her with - not even her mother would have been that fussy over her own daughter in a similar case, considering how things turned out.
"None of them are being assholes, if that is what you're asking," the brunette clarified, voice muffled as she took generous bites of the food, taking her time to sample the luxury and then swallow delicately, slurping some of the water through the straw (she didn't fully understand why there was one when she hadn't issues in relation to eating and drinking, but she would take every single perk of the fancy hospital experience. Wiping her mouth off the sugar with the back of a hand, the personal assistant eyed Roy next with an amused glint in her gaze.
"It does help two of them are Richmond fans and one is a Chelsea supporter. The other one doesn't care for any local teams - he's Danish," the girl remarked, and the fact she knew their teams was hardly surprising - Melissa had learned early on to plan their schedule around game days after an incident as soon as she had started. "So if you happen to feel terribly sorry for the inconvenience you have caused them, I am sure some autographs will do wonders."
Another nurse came in then - flipchart in hand and an anxious smile on her face, the girl mumbled something about checking vitals and moved around the brunette to look at the screen, but kept glancing at the footballer all the time instead. Melissa pretended not to notice, waiting until they were alone again to use her thumb to point at the room's entrance door.
"Is it like this everywhere for you? Grocery shop, bank lines, the cable company when they send their maintenance guy over?" the girl picked another scone, licking off her fingers as if her age had not yet surpassed the dreaded barrier of the thirties, "From a scale of zero to the infinite, how much do you hate it?"
Roy mouthed a quick "autographs" at Melissa's suggestion, already making a mental note to find some shop to purchase board paper and a marker. When a nurse entered the room, however (and he was given a reason to allow his attention to wander), he pulled his phone out simply to type that memo down.
Get autographs for car woman's bosses, it read.
And to Roy, that was good enough.
Only when the door shut once more did his head lift from his screen, an unfinished Sudoku puzzle swiftly turning black as he hit the lock button.
Perhaps too quickly, he grumbled, "I don't hate it.
"You get used to fucks staring at you or you fucking move away. And I'd rather die than live anywhere but SW14, so I live with it."
And, indeed, as the nurse returned because she seemed to have "forgotten something", and Roy returned to his Sudoku for another minute or two, it was clear that this strategy was working so far.
For a moment, the corner of his mouth ticked upward as one of many sets of 9 was completed. But then the nurse was gone, and it was time for him to look at Melissa again.
"I imagine you're having some fun," he said, shoving his phone into his pocket and sitting with his legs lazily spread. "Eating your scone before lunch and all." She was like a child, almost, but Roy kept that knowledge to himself. If a scone made her feel better (and, Christ, he hoped she felt better-- he still felt like rubbish for having hit her at all), then it wasn't any of his fucking business.
"You can keep the flowers after." Roy's nostrils flared slightly, arms crossing over his chest. "I'll send them home for you in a car once you've been checked out."
The thought that Melissa's flat might not be able to fit all the bouquets didn't even occur to him.
"The... nurses told me you'd probably be off later this evening, so" -- he frowned slightly, as if pained to admit it -- "I took the rest of the day to take you home myself.
"I'll be better about driving today. I owe you that much."
“Owe me things? Do I have the Roy Kent in my debt?” Ted couldn’t help but jesting. “Wow, I wonder how I’m gonna collect. Maybe a duet to Summer Lovin’ next time the team goes karaokeing? Ooh, but I also might need to repaint my bedroom soon. Probably would’ve done it sooner, but, well, I hate painting. It’s monotonous and boring and the paint smells and, you know what? I hate that I can’t even use the room until it’s done drying! It’s nothing but a nuisance!
"Ooh, or maybe I could get you to give me a ride every day for a week. Not because I need it, just forces you to spend more quality time with me.”
It was almost too easy to come up with different things he knew would playfully annoy Roy, but he knew that even if he’d do any of those things, Ted wouldn’t collect.
Even if it was fun to list all of the little things he could ask of his fellow coach, that’s all it would ever be.
“You don’t owe me anything, Roy. Just thought you’d like the tea set, and kids are easy, yet so dang complicated. Just glad I could help.”
Of course Ted fucking Lasso was just glad he could help. Roy growled at every suggestion he presented as far as repaying him for the favour went, but if they really were as repulsive as Roy was making it seem, he would have kicked the man out of his home as soon as he started teasing him.
Instead, Roy walked to his fridge, wordlessly pulling out a bottle of chocolate syrup and setting it down at the table in front of where Ted was situated. There was no fucking world where chocolate syrup could possibly encompass the debt Roy was sure he owed the man in his kitchen, but Ted Lasso was enough of a wanker to probably say something like oh, Roy, this hits the ol' sweet tooth just right, yes sir.
"I'll pay you back when you least expect it," he said, taking his place across Ted's position with a slightly disdainful curl of the lip. "But for now, I'll let you have my chocolate."
And though Roy's expression didn't shift from its standard state of really fucking unimpressed, by now Ted probably already knew just how important sweets were to him. Roy didn't often give that shit away, but try as he might to deny it, Ted deserved it simply for being kind. (And for changing Roy's life along the way.)
@everyfuckinwhere sent: [ REST ]: the sender places a gentle but firm hand on a weakened/sick/injured receiver's shoulder to push them back into their bed to rest more.
[ from Non-sexual Acts of Dominance . accepting ]
There were flowers everywhere in Melissa's room, probably more than the last wedding reception she had been to. The bouquets kept coming for the better part of her first morning at the hospital, brought inside by confused nurses and workers, up to the point where they started running out of places to leave them. The extravagance was later explained by none other than Roy Kent, in person:
'I didn't know which one you liked so I bought them all.'
It was still a bit surreal - the woman was positive she hadn't hit her head that badly, but for some reason, the celebrated footballer saw fit to stand guard over her as if she was the heir to the throne and he had inherited James Bond's mantle. It had been an honest accident, really - she had been too distracted while balancing some gifts and he had been less attentive than normal while driving, unfortunately running over Melissa.
It could have been much worse if not for the speed limits within the city - it was more the way the girl fell to the ground in a rather awkward fashion, breaking the left wrist, earning some nasty bruises and a potential concussion. The scanning that was being done of her insides was the reason for the hospital stay, really - the injured arm was nothing she couldn't have nursed at home, backed by a leave of absence from work.
Frankly, Melissa was okay - she even joked about never playing tennis again because of the broken wrist (not that she had ever played the sport, to begin with) but her endeavor to make light of the dramatic situation appeared to further upset Roy. Sighing, the brunette ceased all attempts at humor, deciding instead to e-mail her bosses about everything and explaining that she was not going to be doing much typing anytime soon.
(Not very useful for a personal assistant to a few finance executives at a private equity fund.)
Lunch arrived then - organized on a beautiful tray, actually smelling good and even garnished with a little flower arrangement (that last part had Melissa giggling, and it was not thanks to the sedatives from earlier - had the kitchen personnel not been told about the flower shop running out of her room?). The meal looked inviting for once, a miracle given the setting - a hospital.
Was that how every rich person lived? Luxury even during trying times while recovering their health?
A couple nurses came and went to check on her following the delivery of the food - and the secretary realized they were more curious about the celebrity guest rather than the patient. Roy Kent was legendary - even she happened to know who he was, and Melissa had not been a huge football fan. The fact that Roy insisted to linger and keep her company was oddly adorable - who knew he was such a gentle soul when he sported that mean scowl.
Reaching forward for the glass of water, Melissa winced - she had tried to use the bad arm out of habit, and suddenly found herself pressed back, a firm but steady hand over the opposite shoulder steering her back into the fluffy pillows. Blinking, the woman looked up at Roy's face, twisted by a judgmental move of his eyebrows, followed by a light growling before he picked up the glass and handed it to her (to the good hand).
"Jesus, Roy," she said - the entire 'Mr. Kent' speech had been dropped during the first hour when he seemed to get aggravated by the respectful tone, probably believing he merited punishment for his deeds, "It was just water. I'm not running away from this perfectly comfortable room anytime soon. I enjoy being smothered by flowers," Melissa added with a grin, sipping some of the water and gesturing with her head to the seat at the side of the bed.
If Roy Kent was staying, he could do it from a place she didn't need to crane her neck to look at him.
"They sent me some scones! Do you want one?" Melissa offered earnestly, absolutely surprised by the quality of the food, "Damn, this place is nice. You could hit me again if you'd like."
Roy wasn't entirely daft. He knew that Melissa Drysdell was going to heal just fine, and he knew that she didn't even really have the worst injury in the world. But knowing and not feeling like shit about it were two separate things-- Roy was the former, and it did not guarantee the latter.
Though Melissa attempted to lighten the mood with one of her many unfunny jokes, all Roy could do was offer a light twist of the lip in response. Whether she liked it or not-- and he was sure if Melissa truly hated this arrangement, she'd certainly be annoying enough to say so aloud-- he was going to oversee her until all the medical professionals reassured him there was not, in fact, anything left for them to monitor.
Melissa's teasing made him scowl. "Don't even joke about that."
The day she got hit by his car was the day Roy swore he would never drive home even a little bit tipsy again. Even if the walk from the pub took him two hours, it'd be worth the reassurance no-one else would have to get hurt for dumbfuck reasons on his account. How juvenile was it to be involved in an accident because of alcohol, anyway? And what if he'd been going quickly instead of slowly around a corner?
The thought of being that out of control made him sick to his stomach.
"I'll take a bloody scone," he started, pulling on the chair by Melissa's bed and plopping unceremoniously onto it, "if you'll stop wearing that stupid fucking smile."
And take a scone Roy did; out of the goodness of his heart, he didn't even complain about the lack of tea to go with it.
Once that first bite was swallowed, he afforded Melissa a furrowed brow look. "Your boss hasn't been giving you shit for being away, yeah? You wrote 'em proper?
"I'll give 'em hell if they don't, mind. Medical leave's not meant to be a whole fucking ordeal."
Roy Kent’s curls in 2x06 appreciation post (˶◕‿◕˶✿)
“Ooh, keep talking like that and I’ll think you actually like me,” Ted teased easily, as if Roy hadn’t just kissed him just moments prior. In a sense, it was easier to joke like that-like how he would before there was any acknowledgment for how they feel about one another.
“Alright, then, but don’t say I didn’t give you a shot to stop me.”
And without word, he put on 90’s-2000’s Pop Divas and began to sing along with the Spice Girls telling their prospective love interests to shape up or get out and how Ms. Aguilera was so much stronger because of her hardships as Roy drove them to their lunch date.
Ted couldn’t dwell too much on the date part without worry he’d manage to mess it all up somehow. He managed to mess up his whole marriage, and he still didn’t really know where he went wrong. Hell, that was the only relationship he ever really knew.
Even as they arrived and they headed inside, Ted had to just think of it as just grabbing kebab with Roy. It was the only way he knew he wouldn’t ruin what he did have with him already
"Insecure" wasn't a word that had a place in Roy Kent's life. As he parked on the street, walked out, and then remained in step by Ted's side (instead of leading, as was the usual), what he felt wasn't necessarily insecurity.
When they walked in, he knew exactly who he was and exactly what he was doing. Ted liked him, Roy liked him back, and as far as formula for dates went, it was the perfect set-up.
But there was a funny feeling that welled in his chest as he reached down and took Ted's hand in his. Roy didn't look at him when he did it-- he didn't fucking get insecure-- but the emotion that bloomed in his chest was something he'd never quite felt with Keeley. Things felt as they should have when he pursued her, like that was the natural way they ought to have developed, but with Ted...
Well, when Hus greeted him with a surprised look and an amused little smile and asked what they wanted, the back of Roy's neck prickled in a way that might be misconstrued as shy.
He grunted his order out, though, and led Ted to his favourite table once all was said and done.
"Sit," he said, and when Ted did so, Roy took the seat beside him instead of across from him.
And held his hand once more, finally turning to look at him now that it was safe.
This is nice, Roy could say, which would be bullshit because it was small talk. You look nice was equally as stupid-- Ted was wearing what he always wore, with the only difference being his lips gone slightly pink from kissing.
So Roy doubled down on getting to know him instead, lacing their fingers as he demanded, "Tell me what got you into the Spice Girls."
I was serious, and I want to know.
