#SIP strategy guide

[curiousquill1]

Discover effective SIP planning strategies for investing in good equity mutual funds. Learn how to optimize returns with disciplined investing, professional guidance, and portfolio diversification.

[jungwnies]

f1 grid | comforting them

୨ৎ : featuring : all drivers on the grid ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested by anon) : comforting your driver boyfriend after they had a bad race </3

୨ৎ : genre : romance & fluff (angsty if you SQUINT) ୨ৎ : tws : some are suggestive ୨ৎ : word count : 3902

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : a monday post cus.. why tf NOT

ʚ・red bull

max verstappen

acts like everything is fine, but you can tell by how quiet he is.

you guide him past media without a word, shielding him physically and emotionally.

cuts everyone off with a clipped “it’s fine,” but lets you stay close.

doesn’t speak much until you’re alone—just sits beside you, jaw clenched.

eventually murmurs, “it was shit today,” without looking at you.

you just nod and take his hand, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles.

you order food, dim the lights, and make him lay down while you run your fingers through his hair.

he melts slowly, letting the tension fall out of his body.

“you’re like my therapist,” he mutters.

“you’re like my emotional tax return,” you shoot back, and he actually laughs.

yuki tsunoda

starts off convincing himself it’s fine. “it’s okay, just racing. it happens.”

tries to brush it off with humor, but his eyes are a little too glossy.

sits stiffly, arms crossed, forcing himself not to cry in front of anyone.

when you ask if he’s alright, he shakes his head and says, “i don’t wanna talk about it,” voice tight.

but as soon as you wrap your arms around him, he lets out a breath like he’s been holding it for hours.

“i tried so hard today,” he mumbles into your shoulder, and that’s when the tears come.

buries his face in your chest, completely silent except for the way his arms tighten around your waist.

you stroke his back and whisper, “i know. i saw. you did everything you could.”

he doesn’t let go for a long time, just holds you like he needs you to hold the world together.

later, sniffling into your hoodie, he mutters, “don’t tell anyone i cried. but don’t go anywhere either.”

ʚ・mercedes

george russell

“well, that was a masterclass in how not to have a race,” he says, throwing his gloves on the table like he’s commentating his own downfall.

acts unbothered, sipping his water like it’s champagne. “at least i didn’t crash into a wall. small victories.”

makes a passive-aggressive joke about his strategy call, then follows it with “but it’s fine. i love character development.”

when you ask how he really feels, he smirks. “emotionally bankrupt, but thanks for checking.”

keeps pretending he’s over it, but you catch him zoning out mid-shower, forehead against the tile, just breathing.

when you hand him a towel and a soft “you don’t have to keep it together right now,” he just shrugs. “if i let go, i might not get back up.”

you sit with him on the couch, and he rests his head on your lap, finally letting you card your fingers through his hair.

“you make this day slightly less shit,” he mutters, then adds with a cheeky grin, “wanna really take my mind off it?”

you raise a brow. “that subtle, huh?”

he just smirks, pulling you down for a kiss. “come on. don’t make me beg. i’ve had a really bad day.”

kimi antonelli

throws his helmet a little too hard, then immediately panics like "oh shit did i just break it," while storming into the motorhome.

tries to act cool but ends up rage-snacking on chips mid-rant. "why the f—why do i even try?! i’m literally doing everything and the car’s like, ‘no ❤️’"

paces back and forth while voice-cracking through sentences like, "no, it’s fine. it’s cool. it’s just… my whole career. no big deal."

you sit there trying not to laugh because he’s got one sock halfway off and crumbs on his shirt but is fully spiraling like it’s the end of the world.

“am i washed at 18?! is that even possible?”

you calmly hand him a juice box and say, “you’re not washed. you’re dramatic.”

he glares, sucks on the straw aggressively, then slumps down next to you with a loud sigh.

“i hate being a prodigy. too much pressure. should’ve been mediocre and mysterious.”

you rub his back and say, “you’re allowed to have a bad day, baby genius.”

he blinks up at you, lip jutted out. “if i win next weekend can we get matching crocs?”

you nod. he grins. “sick. emotional support footwear incoming.”

ʚ・ferrari

charles leclerc

comes home way too quiet. keys in the bowl, shoes off, straight to the bathroom without a word.

you find him staring at the sink, toothbrush in hand, not even brushing—just zoning out.

“i don’t know what i’m doing wrong,” he says, voice low. “i keep trying and i still mess it up.”

you hug him from behind and rest your chin on his shoulder. he doesn’t flinch, just leans into it with a sigh.

“maybe i’m not good enough anymore,” he mumbles. “maybe they’re right.”

you turn him around gently. “you are good enough. more than enough. stop speaking to yourself like that.”

he blinks fast like he’s trying not to cry, then rests his forehead against yours.

“i just… hate letting you down. even if you say you’re not disappointed.”

you guide him to bed, tug off his hoodie, pull the sheets over both of you. he curls into you instantly like a kid.

“you’re the only part of the day that feels good,” he whispers against your skin.

then, quietly, a little mischievously, “maybe we can end it with something else that feels good?”

you laugh into his hair. “if you’re asking me to kiss it better, just say that.”

“i am. in a poetic way.”

lewis hamilton

he doesn’t storm in. he’s not loud. he just walks through the door a little slower, like the weight of the day is still sitting on his shoulders.

takes his time taking off his shoes, hangs up his coat carefully—like staying in control might keep the emotions at bay.

sits on the edge of the couch with his hands clasped between his knees, eyes distant. “you ever give everything and still feel like it’s not enough?”

you sit beside him without saying a word, letting him talk when he’s ready.

“i don’t mind the criticism. i’ve been through worse. but sometimes it’s like… no one lets you just be human anymore.”

he looks at you with tired eyes, soft but heavy. “i’m not asking to win all the time. i just want to feel like i did something right.”

you lace your fingers with his and lean your head against his shoulder. “you do so much right. more than most ever could.”

he hums low in his chest, squeezes your hand. “you always know what to say.”

eventually pulls you into his lap, buries his face in the crook of your neck like he’s finally letting himself rest.

“just stay close tonight,” he whispers, kissing your shoulder. “you’re the one thing that still feels steady.”

“you’re the one thing that feels like peace.”

ʚ・mclaren

lando norris

kicks his shoes off a little too aggressively when he gets home. “don’t ask,” he mutters before you even say hi.

slumps on the couch, arms crossed, hoodie up, eyes on the ceiling. “today was great. crashed my hopes, ran over my self-esteem, 10/10.”

you offer to talk and he just grumbles, “nope. don’t wanna. gonna repress it. very healthy coping strategy.”

pretends he's fine, scrolls on his phone like he’s not one second away from crumbling. keeps sighing dramatically every five minutes for attention.

refuses to cuddle at first. “i’m mad at the world. leave me in my hoodie cave.” but then two seconds later: “okay but like… you can sit near me. just not touching. but like… close.”

eventually ends up curled into your side, face hidden in your neck. mumbles, “today sucked. i sucked. everything sucked.”

you stroke his hair and he softens immediately. “you don’t suck. you’re just tired. burnt out. you need rest, not punishment.”

“you’re being all soft and wise, it’s disgusting,” he grumbles—but his hand’s gripping your shirt like you might float away.

you kiss his temple. “still want me to leave you in your hoodie cave?”

he pulls the blanket over both of you and whispers, “shut up. you live here now.”

oscar piastri

walks into the room and doesn’t say much. just nods once, drops his bag, and disappears into the bathroom.

you hear the water running—ice cold. he always showers when he’s overwhelmed. said it helps him “reset.”

when he comes out, hair wet, hoodie half-zipped, eyes tired—he looks a little more like himself again. still quiet. still distant. but thawing.

sits next to you on the bed without saying anything, just slowly reaches for your hand and starts tracing circles on your palm.

“i didn’t know how to talk about it without getting angry,” he admits softly. “so i didn’t.”

you nod and lean your head on his shoulder. “you don’t need to explain everything right away. i’ll wait.”

he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “thanks for not pushing me. i just… hate not being enough.”

turns to you with red-tinted eyes. “it’s stupid. it’s just racing. but when it goes wrong, it feels like i’m failing you too.”

you hold his face and say, “you never have to earn being loved. not from me.”

he presses his forehead to yours and whispers, “can i just stay here with you for a while?”

then, a small smile. “also i might’ve left my sanity in the ice bath, but at least you’re here.”

ʚ・aston martin

fernando alonso

he comes home calm, like always. keys on the counter, jacket folded neatly. but there’s a tightness in his smile when he kisses your cheek.

“today was… different,” he says. not dramatic, not upset. just honest. “did everything right. still fell short.”

you know when it hits him—it’s in the way he lingers at the window, watching the sky like it has answers.

“some days you feel time catching up with you,” he says quietly. “not just in racing. in everything.”

he doesn’t need you to fix it. he doesn’t even need a pep talk. just presence.

you sit beside him on the couch, thigh to thigh, and rest your hand on his. he doesn’t speak for a while.

then, softly, “i think it just hurts more when you still want it this badly.”

you turn to face him. “it’s not weakness to want. it means you’re still alive in it.”

he smiles a little, shakes his head. “you’re too poetic for me.” but he leans in, rests his head against yours anyway.

“you help me breathe on days like this,” he murmurs. “even if i don’t say it.”

then after a pause, he smirks. “also… i might require some very specific stress relief later. for mental health reasons.”

you laugh. “is that what we’re calling it now?”

“doctor’s orders.”

lance stroll

walks in without a word, drops his stuff, and immediately faceplants onto the bed—fully dressed, shoes still on.

groans into the mattress. “everything sucks. i suck. the car sucks. media sucks. people suck.”

doesn’t want to talk at first, just grunts when you ask if he’s hungry. “no. actually, yes. but i don’t wanna move.”

you bring him snacks and he eats them off your plate like a sleepy gremlin, mumbling, “you’re the only good thing today.”

flops his head into your lap and finally breathes properly for the first time all day. “i hate how drained i get. everyone wants something. i just wanna be here.”

you run your fingers through his hair and he closes his eyes, murmuring, “i think i used my entire personality quota at the track.”

“can we just stay in here forever? like… disappear? change our names? move to a mountain town?”

you smile and nod. “sure. i’ll pack the stuff.”

he grins sleepily, then pulls your hand to his chest. “you make everything feel less loud.”

then, quietly: “you’re my safe place.”

five minutes later, fully under the blanket, eyes half-closed: “also. i’d like to make out now. for comfort purposes.”

ʚ・williams

alex albon

walks in already scrolling tiktok, earbuds in, nodding like he’s totally unbothered.

plops onto the couch, legs across your lap, and shows you cat videos like he didn’t just get roasted by strategy and a five-place penalty.

laughs too loud at dumb memes. “this is healing. this is therapy.”

you let him vibe, let him chill, until you see that slight pause mid-scroll. his thumb hovers. brows knit. he doesn’t show you this one.

“people are brutal today,” he mutters, still staring at the screen. “like… i know i joke about it, but sometimes i wonder if they’re actually right.”

you take his phone gently, set it down, and crawl into his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. “hey. you know they’re not.”

he exhales slowly, voice quieter now. “i wish it didn’t get to me, but some days it does. just a little more than i’d like to admit.”

you press your forehead to his. “you don’t have to be funny about everything. you’re allowed to feel it too.”

he nods, lips pressed together. then, soft as ever: “can you just… hold me for a bit? like properly?”

“always,” you whisper. and he lets himself be still. no jokes. just you.

carlos sainz

he comes in with that tired-but-trying smile, tossing his bag down gently like even that feels heavy.

“it wasn’t… great. but i learned something. that’s always the takeaway, no?” he says, already slipping off his jacket.

he talks himself through it out loud, mostly to you but partly to himself. “maybe i pushed too hard. maybe the strategy wasn’t perfect. but i didn’t give up. that matters.”

you nod and hum and let him vent until he runs out of words and just stares at the wall in thoughtful silence.

“can i have a hug now?” he asks suddenly, already walking over like he knows the answer.

wraps his arms around your waist and buries his face in your shoulder. “you’re the only place i feel like i can breathe after a day like this.”

you guide him to the couch and he pulls you into his lap, burying his face into your neck like it recharges him.

“even if i’m okay… i still need this. i think everyone does, sometimes.”

he starts to drift off mid-cuddle, fingers tracing your spine lazily, voice getting slower.

“i should just speak spanish. english is too much work when i’m tired,” he mumbles against your skin.

then whispers, “gracias por amarme incluso cuando me siento roto.” (thank you for loving me even when i feel broken.)

you press a kiss to his forehead. “always.”

“te juro que voy a mejorar. para ti. para mí.” (i swear i’m going to get better. for you. for me.)

ʚ・haas

ollie bearman

bursts into the room like he just won the race. “alright! that was a trainwreck. who wants to start the post-race roast?”

keeps making jokes like, “honestly, i think i invented new ways to mess up today. f1 history books: written by me.”

you raise an eyebrow and say nothing, just letting him go off while he rants about strategy, traffic, “and my stupid left foot that forgot how to brake.”

finally crashes onto the couch, staring at the ceiling with a dramatic sigh. “do you think i peaked at 17?”

you crawl into his lap and cup his face gently. “no. i think you haven’t even scratched the surface of what you’re capable of.”

he blinks up at you, smile faltering for just a second. “yeah? even after… whatever that was today?”

“especially after that,” you say, brushing a thumb over his cheek. “you care. you fight for it. that’s what makes you special.”

he exhales, the tension leaving his body all at once as he buries his face in your chest. “okay, now i’m gonna cry like a little baby, hope you’re ready.”

you kiss the top of his head. “already holding you. already proud.”

he peeks up with a grin. “can you say that again but like, with sparkles and dramatic background music?”

you laugh. “ollie bearman, you are a legend in the making.”

“that’s the energy. now kiss me before i start doing self-deprecating tiktoks.”

esteban ocon

comes home calm, too calm, like he’s holding everything in with white knuckles and discipline.

doesn’t speak until he’s showered, changed, and had a full 20 minutes of silence. then sits beside you and says softly, “he was better today. i saw it.”

you know he means another driver—someone younger, someone faster today—and you can hear the frustration in his restraint.

“maybe i’m not doing enough,” he mutters, barely above a whisper. “maybe i’m the weak point.”

you try to stop him, but he just shakes his head. “i’m not fishing. i just… feel it. and i hate it.”

he’s not angry. he’s just disappointed in himself. his brows stay pinched even when you’re stroking his hand.

“i’m scared that if i don’t prove it now, no one will believe in me later.”

you climb into his lap and hold his face gently, forcing him to look you in the eye. “you don’t need to prove anything to be worthy of love. or respect.”

he leans into your touch, eyes closed. “i want to believe that. i do.”

you kiss his cheek. “then start here. start with me. i’ve always believed in you.”

he lets out a shaky breath and whispers, “merci…” then rests his forehead against yours like he’s anchoring himself back to solid ground.

ʚ・racing bulls

liam lawson

walks in tossing his hat onto the kitchen counter and mutters, “well that was a steaming pile of absolute crap.”

jokes about it in that dry way. “should’ve just driven a shopping trolley. might’ve gotten better results.”

he’s pacing while he talks, voice calm but clipped. “not even mad at anyone specifically. just… the whole bloody universe.”

you lean on the doorframe, arms crossed. “want me to fight the universe?”

he smirks, shaking his head. “nah. that’s my job. but i appreciate the backup.”

doesn’t take it out on you at all—in fact, he’s more affectionate. keeps reaching for your hand while he vents.

“i know it’s just one race. i do. but it builds up, y’know? starts to feel like you’re yelling into a void and it’s all echo.”

you guide him to the couch and let him rest his head in your lap. “you’re allowed to yell. i’ll hear it. even if the world doesn’t.”

he sighs and looks up at you with that soft, slightly crooked smile. “you’re dangerously good at this, you know that?” “at what?”

“loving me out of a bad mood.”

then he tilts his head and adds, completely casual, “might need a little… extra cheering up later though.”

you roll your eyes. “that what you’re calling it now?”

he grins. “what can i say? i’m a man of simple needs.”

isack hadjar

bursts through the door like a tornado. “I AM RETIRING. I’M QUITTING. I’M GOING TO OPEN A BAKERY. OR JOIN A CULT. SOMETHING PEACEFUL.”

flings his bag across the room, misses the couch, and nearly knocks over a lamp. doesn’t even blink.

“do you know how humiliating it is to be passed like that? i was driving my heart out and the car was like, ‘no...NOPE..NOOOO.’”

keeps fake-dramatizing it like a one-man soap opera. “isack hadjar: the fall from grace – coming soon to a streaming platform near you.”

you play along for a bit until he finally plops onto the floor at your feet and just… sits. quietly.

“i was actually trying today,” he mumbles, not looking at you. “like properly trying. and it still went to shit.”

you sit down beside him, shoulder to shoulder, and he leans into you slowly like he’s deflating.

“sometimes i feel like people are just waiting for me to fail so they can say they knew it.”

you turn to him gently. “they’re not. and even if they were… you’ve already proven them wrong just by showing up the way you do.”

he rests his head on your shoulder with a sigh. “you’re annoyingly good at this whole ‘being nice to me’ thing.”

you grin. “want me to stop?”

“no,” he mutters, snuggling closer. “never. might need it tattooed on me actually. in comic sans.”

ʚ・alpine

pierre gasly

slams the door just a little too hard. doesn't say anything at first—just kicks off his shoes, throws his phone on the table, and heads straight to the kitchen for water like it personally wronged him.

“they don’t listen. doesn’t matter what i say. it’s like talking to a fucking wall,” he mutters, pacing like he’s ready to punch a pillow.

you try to say something gentle and he snaps a little too fast—“i’m fine, okay?” but it’s not sharp. it’s exhausted.

he keeps moving around the room, hands on his hips, jaw clenched. “maybe i should stop caring. maybe that’s the trick.”

you don’t respond—you just walk over and wrap your arms around him from behind. he tenses for half a second. then sighs.

“you always do that,” he mumbles, not pulling away. “just… hug me until i stop being mad.”

you press your cheek to his back. “because i know you’re not really mad. you’re tired. and hurt.”

he turns around and buries his face in your neck like it’s the only safe place he knows. “i hate that they make me feel like this. like i’m not enough.”

you kiss his hair. “you are. always have been.”

he holds you tighter, breath shaky. “i don’t say it enough, but… i need you. especially on days like this.”

then, muffled: “also if you kiss me again i’ll probably forget what i was mad about. just sayin’.”

jack doohan

in front of the team? stone-faced. cool. collected. “yeah, not the best day. we’ll move on. it’s fine.”

comes home? immediately sighs the second the door closes. rests his forehead against the wall for a solid ten seconds before moving.

tries to act chill around you too. “it’s just one of those days. happens. i’m fine.”

he is not fine. but he’s doing that thing where he says he’s okay while avoiding eye contact and changing the subject every 3.2 seconds.

“you hungry?” he asks, even though he’s barely eaten since breakfast. “we could order something. or not. i don’t care.”

you eventually pull him onto the couch, and he lets himself flop next to you, arms crossed like a sulky cat.

he won’t say it outright, but his knee is bouncing, his fingers are twitching, and he keeps glancing at you like he wants permission to crack.

“i just hate looking like i don’t belong here,” he finally mumbles, voice low. “like i’ve got something to prove every second.”

you crawl into his lap and cup his jaw, making him look at you. “you belong. you’re not failing. you’re learning. that’s what makes you good.”

his lips part like he wants to argue, but then he just exhales and wraps his arms around you like you’re the only thing holding him up.

“it’s stupid,” he whispers. “i didn’t want to need comfort today. but here i am.”

you smile. “i don’t mind. i like being the person you let your guard down with.”

he looks at you with soft eyes and the tiniest grin. “well… if i’m already emotionally vulnerable and pathetic… might as well make out about it?”

2021-2025 © jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[soleauclub]

The Wellness Girl’s Guide to Not Hating the Gym

You’re not at the gym to punish your body. You’re there to romance it.

Working out is not about shrinking yourself. It’s about stepping into your hot, strong, glowy energy. Period.

So if you're currently in your “I’ll just do Pilates at home and pray for results” era, babe... this one's for you.

Step 1: Rewire Your Gym Mindset with Main Character Energy

You’re not dragging yourself to the gym. You’re showing up like the main character in a glow-up montage.

Instead of saying “I have to work out,” start saying:

“I get to move my body like a woman who lives in St. Barth’s.”

“I’m not working out—I’m becoming art.”

“This is my pre-beach-date body sculpting ritual, not bootcamp.”

You're not surviving the gym, you're curating your next level self.

Step 2: Dress Like You’re Filming a Workout Collab with Alo Yoga

Hot girl rule: If you look cute, you’ll want to move cute.

Throw out the old sorority T-shirt. We’re going matching set, lip gloss, slick bun, and a tiny tote bag energy. Add a spritz of fragrance mist and watch your entire vibe shift.

Try this:

Matching seamless set (neutrals or pastels only)

Gold jewelry you can sweat in

Tinted SPF and lip balm with shine

Cute headphones that double as a vibe

When you look like the gym is your runway, the workouts hit different.

Step 3: Romanticize the Workout Like You Romanticize Your Matcha

Don’t just go to the gym—create an experience.

Curate a playlist called “Walking Away From My Ex Energy”

Stretch like you're in a moody French film

Do your glute bridges like you’re prepping for yacht season

Take slo-mo mirror selfies, sip water like it’s prosecco, and remind yourself: this is your show

Step 4: Find Your Hot Girl Movement

Spoiler: not every wellness girly loves lifting heavy or running miles—and that’s valid.

What matters is that it feels fun, feminine, and flowy AF.

Try these gym-friendly glow-up workouts:

Pilates with ankle weights (builds long, lean lines + that snatched waist vibe)

Cable machine glute days (booty pump without gym bro energy)

Incline walking on the treadmill while watching “Selling Sunset” (10/10 vibes)

Dance-based cardio for your main character moment

Stretching + breathwork in a corner like a zen heiress

This isn’t about what burns the most calories—it’s about what you’ll actually show up for.

Step 5: Post-Workout Glow Ritual = Non-Negotiable

You didn’t suffer through 45 minutes of sweaty goddess energy just to go home and scroll TikTok.

Make your post-workout feel like a spa day:

Shower with eucalyptus steam or a luxe body wash

Moisturize with shimmer oil or body butter that smells like your dream vacation

Ice roll your face, gua sha, or sip a collagen smoothie

Tell your reflection, “We crushed it, angel. You’re glowing.”

Here's the Wellness Girl Manifesto for Loving the Gym:

Workout = worship, not punishment

Looking hot makes you feel hot. Dress accordingly.

Music is your motivator, not reps. Build a vibe.

Move in ways that make your body feel expensive.

Romanticize recovery like a skincare commercial.

You don’t have to be a “gym girl” to feel strong, sexy, and powerful in your body. You just need a new mindset, a fire playlist, and a wellness-first glow-up strategy that feels so you.

xx,

Soleau Club

[mortic2n]

CHECKMATE. • S.REID

─── IN WHICH Spencer has always been a strategist, whether in the field or over a game of chess. But when the game takes an unexpected turn, he finds himself flustered by an entirely different kind of move.

Spencer Reid 𝓍 𝑔𝓃!reader 1.6K ⋆ fluff ⋆ established relationship ⋆ awkward Spencer ⋆ soft moments ⋆ innocent make out

Spencer Reid doesn’t usually let himself lose at chess.

He’s too used to calculating every move, to knowing the exact number of steps it will take to win. But when you walk into his apartment, bright-eyed and smiling, holding a pizza box in one hand and a soda in the other, his mind suddenly feels... a little too cluttered for strategy.

You're the kind of presence that doesn't need to be analyzed. He can feel the pull of your energy before you even say a word, a gravitational force that brings him a quiet kind of peace. It makes the chessboard between you seem small, insignificant in comparison.

“You ready to lose?” you tease as you sit down across from him at the small coffee table, the board between you both. The game has barely begun, but you’re already looking at him with that playful smile that’s just too good for his sanity.

Spencer, of course, doesn’t answer the challenge outright. Instead, he adjusts his glasses and squints at the board, his mind quickly picking apart the different combinations. But as his fingers hover over the pieces, he realizes he hasn’t moved in what feels like ages, his focus drifting to the way the sunlight hits your hair, the soft laugh that escapes you when you take a casual sip of soda.

You, however, notice.

“You’re stalling,” you observe with a knowing smile, leaning forward just a little, catching his eye. You know exactly how he works.

He’s blushing before he can help it, but he shrugs it off, moving his queen to the center of the board with an exaggerated gesture. “Just contemplating my options,” he says, his voice a little too steady for the warmth spreading through his chest.

A few more moves pass, but the tension between the pieces only grows. It's not that Spencer minds—no, he’s lost in the rhythm of the game, but also in the rhythm of you.

And then, with a gentle, teasing smile, you make your move, carefully nudging your bishop forward, putting his king in check. The game isn’t over, not yet, but his mind seems to stop entirely. The move is so simple, so easy, and yet Spencer can’t help but notice the softness in the way you move—your fingers delicate, the way your eyes soften when you glance up at him.

Before he can even think about his next move, you’re standing up, slipping around the edge of the table, and without a word, you gently push him back onto the couch, your hand on his chest.

He lets out a soft laugh, startled by the sudden movement. "What are you doing?" he asks, his voice quiet, but amused, unsure whether this is part of the game or something else entirely.

But you only smile, your touch warm against his shirt as you guide him back into the pillows. “Just giving you a break,” you say, your voice soft, and for a moment, everything else disappears.

You climb onto the couch beside him, close enough that Spencer can feel the heat of your skin near his, but not close enough to make any real move. You don’t rush him. You never do. Instead, you lean against the couch and watch him, your gaze steady, filled with something warm and trusting.

Spencer finds his breath catching in his throat. It’s like time slows down around you, the moment lingering, sweet and soft. His mind isn’t thinking about the chessboard anymore, or the game he’s losing. He’s thinking about you—how your hand rests lightly on his knee, how you haven’t pulled away, how his pulse seems to beat in time with yours.

And then, without thinking, his hand moves to the back of your neck, gently guiding you closer. It’s slow, deliberate, a question. And when your lips brush against his, it’s everything. Soft. Languid. No rush.

The kiss is sweet at first, a quiet touch of warmth and tenderness. Spencer feels his pulse race, his mind slipping into the moment entirely. His glasses fog up instantly from the proximity, and he smiles against your lips, the warmth of your kiss too much for his senses to process all at once.

You pull away slightly, just enough to catch your breath, and Spencer laughs softly, his voice low and a little embarrassed. “I... I can’t see you,” he admits, his glasses so fogged up he can’t make out your features.

You chuckle, brushing his hair back with your fingers. “I guess that’s one way to win the game.”

Spencer grins, his heart fluttering at the way your fingers feel in his hair. "I’m not sure I’m winning anything right now."

But then you kiss him again, slower this time, your lips gentle and languid against his, and Spencer’s world narrows down to the warmth of you, the softness of your touch, the quiet hum of contentment between you both.

His hands move instinctively, resting lightly on your waist, pulling you just a little closer, but still with no rush. He’s content, lost in the peacefulness of the moment—no moves to calculate, no moves to make, just this.

The kiss lingers. The world outside Spencer’s apartment fades into nothing. You’re here, in his arms, and nothing else matters. Not the game, not the strategies, not even the foggy glasses that sit crookedly on his face.

“You’re distracting me,” he murmurs when you finally pull away, his voice thick with a contented smile.

You smile, that same mischievous look in your eyes, but there’s a softness to it now—something warmer. “I’m not sorry,” you say, your fingers brushing the side of his glasses, gently moving them back up his nose.

And Spencer, without thinking, pulls you back into him, his lips finding yours once more. This time, the kiss is lazy, a slow, tender thing that speaks of nothing but the quiet affection that’s settled between you both.

The game doesn’t matter anymore. Not when this is what he wants. Not when you’re right here, with him.

And as you finally pull away for good, both of you a little breathless, Spencer laughs softly, a deep, content sound that fills the space. ���I think we both lost.”

You grin, your eyes sparkling. “We can always start a new game later.”

Spencer smiles, leaning back into the pillows, his hand still resting lightly on yours. “Yeah. Later sounds good.”

And for once, the game doesn’t matter.

All that matters is the way you fit perfectly next to him, the way your touch makes everything in the world feel a little more at ease. The way you’ve already won, without even trying.

[scudevils]

it’s beginning to look a lot like christmas — QH43

pairing: quinn hughes x fem!reader

warnings: fluff, bit of a rushed ending sorry, not proofread!!

inspired by: “it’s beginning to look a lot like christmas” by bing crosby [1.2k]

a/n: a quick one for boyfriend quinn appreciation

it was a rare quiet day in the middle of the season, quinn who was usually surrounded by the hustle and bustle of hockey life, found himself sitting beside you in the warm glow of holiday lights, the smells of cinnamon, nutmeg, and ginger filled the air, mixing with the sound of soft christmas music playing in the background.

you'd been to the store earlier in the week, a gingerbread house kit lay spread out on the kitchen table to welcome him home from the road game in carolina, your niece's expectant eyes looking up at the pair of you as the pieces game in their own neatly placed bags, you and quinn shared a look of hesitation.

"this is way more complicated than it looks," was the first thing he said, peering at the instruction booklet with a playful grimace, eyeing up your niece's miniature house which was going a lot better than yours. his hair, slightly messier than usual, hinted at the fact that he had been running his hands through it in frustration, dark strands falling in front of his face. you laughed softly, enjoying the moment of calm in an otherwise busy season, and even off the ice he was just as competitive. (even if it was against a 9 year old)

"i thought you were good at building things," you teased, taking a sip from one of the hot chocolate you'd made for the three of you, choosing to take a step back from the building business as it was getting a big heated. "you're an athlete, you know... strategy, precision, focus?" you gave him a wink.

quinn grinned, his eyes lighting up in that characteristic way that always made you smile. "i play hockey, not architect. but i'm willing to try. you're the one with all the crafting experience, right?"

you raised an eyebrow at his suggestion, the most building you'd ever done in your life was a science fair project when you were 11, and even then your dad had built the majority of it. "crafting experience? skylar's got more crafting experience with me, she still does homework."

"alright, alright, I'll admit it," he said, grinning, the little girl beside them too busy already decorating her gingerbread house to care about what you had been saying. "maybe I need your help after all."

he reached for the frosting bag with a dramatic sigh, and you couldn't help but laugh as skylar's first order of business was to take the icing out of his hands. "read the instructions first," she said, flipping the booklet open and starting to explain the steps.

quinn looked at the pieces in front of him, tempted to give up and just eat the gingerbread, but that wasn't his nature, squinting like he was trying to figure out the lines on a hockey rink for the first time again. "wait, do you put the roof on first, or the walls?"

"okay, we need to build the base first. that's the most important part," you said, guiding him through it, looking to skylar for approval and she nodded, adding sweets onto her own now. "if the walls don't stay up, it's game over."

with a bit of teamwork, and an insane amount of luck that neither of you bumped into the table, you two managed to assemble the walls, and quinn was about to put the roof on before an idea struck him.

"so, are we going for traditional?" he asked, his tone suggesting he had something else in mind as he eyed the candy decorations, almost as if he was a real interior designer planning the layout for their house. "or... are we going for something a little more creative? like... a hockey rink gingerbread house?"

you raised an eyebrow at the suggestion, of course he would say that, you loved the man but sometimes you swore hockey was the only thing on his mind. "hockey rink? you've got to be kidding. i’m surprised you aren’t dying to get away from your job."

but quinn was already pointing out ideas, his mind running with possibilities, the coloured icing they could use to represent the teams, the different positions they should put in. "what if we add little gingerbread players with tiny sticks? and like, a frosting rink with icing lines?" he was grinning now, clearly enjoying the process way more than he'd let on, enjoying the design park much more than he had the building part.

"you're impossible," you spoke through a laugh, his enthusiasm something you loved about him and couldn't help but let you get in the spirit too.

together, you piped out a frosting rink on the base of the house decorated little gingerbread men with icing and tiny candies, making them into the most chaotic-looking hockey players you'd ever seen, some with more lopsided faces than the others. quinn insisted on adding mini pucks made of chocolate chips.

skylar had also finished her house, adding the final touches the one you and quinn had made too, her a candyland inspired design with sweets lining the road and covering the house.

as the arena started to take shape, you felt a warmth that wasn't just from the hot chocolate on the counter. it was from the way his eyes lit up with every silly detail he added, down to the numbers on the jerseys that his teammates wore.

by the time you were both done, the gingerbread house hockey arena—although a little uneven and very unconventional—was something to be proud of. it was uniquely yours, and in that moment, it was perfect. beside it sat the little actual gingerbread house your niece has made, edible glitter covering the icing and pieces of sweets missing from where she'd eaten them.

quinn stepped back, inspecting your creation with an exaggerated squint. "i think we nailed it," he said, a satisfied smile spreading across his face.

you leaned back in your chair, your head falling to rest his shoulder, admiring the gingerbread arena too. "honestly, it might be a little off-center..." noticing how the roof sloped down on one side while the other held up, "but it sure can't be called basic."

quinn chuckled, sitting next to you. "i think that's what matters most."

[hammersys]

✦　˚BPD resources

All of the links below are either resources, research, and/or tips/help for people with BPD.

Found any outdated links, or any links that include misinformation? Please let me know!

✦ Resources/Miscellaneous

Basic info about BPD

(Book)  Stronger than BPD by Debbie Corso

What is splitting?

Positive BPD traits

The DBT Travel Guide app - Apple / Google Play

Ways to rephrase your sentences

Your disorder does not make you evil (positivity!)

(Podcast) How I saved my own life

✦ About BPD

The DSM-5 criteria for BPD

BPD glossary; Terms and more

Types of BPD

What is BPD?

What does FP (favourite person) mean?

What exactly is splitting?

Safety and Rapid attachment in BPD

Basics of BPD

Understanding Borderlines by @clusterrune

Help to soothe Paranoia found in BPD

✦ Recovery Resources

The Emotion wheel

Setting Boundaries

Getting through feelings of rage

Challenging irrational thoughts

If you feel like you're about to be unwanted or rejected

An AMAZING list of self-help strategies; The HELP method, types of therapy for BPD, identifying triggers, and more!

Steele's notes on BPD; symptoms, skills to improve, and more

About DBT; Guide and basics to learning about DBT

Early Morning Barking; A (very fun!) YouTube channel about a man named Rich who struggles with both BPD and NPD. He talks about personal experiences and tips.

TIPP; A method for when you struggle with overwhelming emotions and/or urges to self-injure

✦ BPD safe blogs/Informational Blogs

@bpd-culture-is

@bpdsafespace

@epick-cluster-b-blog

@a-sip-of-milo

@cluster-b-culture

@clusterb-besties

@clusterb-itch

Is this list missing something? Please let me know in the comments, or send an ask!

BEFORE YOU COMMENT:

Everybody can use my resources, but keep discourse/syscourse out of our comments. Our anti-endo tag exists for personal interaction. Asks are anti-endo, etc, but as I've said, resources are for all.

[covid-safer-hotties]

Also preserved on our archive

An astonishingly simple and comprehensive guide to avoiding airborne illness while traveling. Many of these tips work for trips to the pharmacy or grocery store too. Stay safe out there!

By Korin Miller

Whether you’re traveling domestically or heading abroad, feeling your best at your destination means you’ll get the most out of your trip. Unfortunately, COVID-19 is still out there, and cases are expected to climb again as we head into the winter months. By now you’re likely aware of basic COVID prevention strategies, but air travel presents unique challenges that can be tricky to navigate.

Luckily, you can take steps to lower the odds of picking up the illness on your next flight. To help you do just that, we asked doctors and health policy researchers how they lower their COVID risk while flying. Here’s what they recommend.

Wear a mask—before you’re even on the plane Many of us know this already, but it’s worth recalling: Research has found that wearing a well-fitting, high-quality mask like an N95 or KN95 lowers your chances of picking up COVID-19 by 83%, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. But when you wear a mask during your travels matters, says William Schaffner, MD, an infectious disease specialist and professor at the Vanderbilt University School of Medicine.

“You really want to use your mask consistently around others, whether you’re in the airport or on that plane,” he says. Thomas A. Russo, MD, professor and chief of the Division of Infectious Diseases at the University at Buffalo’s medical school, agrees. “Think about the whole process when you fly—going through the airport, checking in, boarding the plane, and being on the plane—you’re going to interact with people from all parts of the world… There’s a risk you might get COVID,” he says.

You can help protect yourself by always keeping your mask on—and wearing a relatively new one. Compared to a mask that’s gotten a lot of use, a fresh one will fit more snugly around the nose, cheeks, and chin and, in turn, catch particles more effectively.

Put the air vent to good use If you prefer not to wear a mask, you should take steps to protect yourself in other ways. For example, after you get to your seat, adjust the vent so the air blows over your face, suggests Sheldon H. Jacobson, PhD, a University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign professor and researcher whose work includes using data-driven risk assessments to inform public health policy.

Dr. Jacobson says most airplanes use high-efficiency particulate air (HEPA) filters that catch microbes. Plus, cabin air is refreshed every few minutes, and a good portion comes from outside the aircraft. As a result, what blows out of the vents is pretty fresh. This strategy also keeps the air around you moving faster, meaning there’s less time for you to inhale any possible germs in the cabin, according to Dr. Jacobson. Still, if the person sitting next to you is coughing and sneezing, it’s best to wear a mask if you have one, he says. The filtration system can only do so much in that instance—and it’s not always on before takeoff and after landing.

Be mindful about how you eat and drink If you can, Dr. Russo suggests eating before you get to the airport to lessen the number of times you’ll need to remove your mask when you’re around other people. If you need to dine at the airport, Dr. Schaffner recommends looking for seating away from crowded areas.

When masks were still required for air travel, the suggested strategy for eating and drinking on board was to wait until your fellow fliers finished their snacks and refreshments. But now, Dr. Russo points out, the people around you may not mask up at all. Instead, he suggests dropping your mask, taking a sip or bite, and immediately pulling it back up. This lowers the odds you’ll breathe in viral particles that may be floating around, he explains.

Plan your vaccine around your trip Dr. Schaffner and Dr. Russo recommend getting the updated COVID-19 vaccine about two weeks before your trip. “It’s a good strategy,” Dr. Russo says. It usually takes 14 days or so for your body to build up immunity to COVID after getting vaccinated, according to the World Health Organization. This means your body should be ready to fight the virus by the time you fly, Dr. Russo says. Immunity also fades over time, making the timing of your shot important, he says.

Wash your hands…a lot Experts say you’re more likely to get COVID-19 from breathing in infectious droplets and particles than from touching things. But there’s still a chance you could get sick if you happen to touch a contaminated surface and then your eyes, nose, or mouth.

“What we’ve learned is that transmission from this virus from inanimate objects is very low, but it’s not zero,” Dr. Russo says. That’s why he recommends good hand hygiene while flying. You should wash your hands with soap and water, making sure to scrub for at least 20 seconds, and do so often: before and after security, whenever you use the bathroom, and before eating or touching your face. Hand sanitizer is also a good option in a pinch, Dr. Russo says. But he stresses that keeping your hands clean shouldn’t replace masking up. “It’s much, much less helpful than wearing a mask,” he says.

[thegreymarveljedi]

Disobedient Girl

(Captain Rex x Reader)

Pulled from another previous draft, this is just straight porn. MINOR DNI! 18+ only.

Figured I’d do a little Rex appreciation post cause he’s my favourite Captain. I think he’s pretty hot.

(Divider by @pinkiemme )

Warnings: SMUTTTT, voyeurism, Captain! kink, sex toys (vibrator, butt plug, dildo), pet names, f! Masturbation, gagging, bondage, punishment, oral sex (f! And m! receiving), dirty talk, p in v sex, multiple orgasms, over stimulation, cream pie, cumplay, Rex is kinky af, aftercare, cuddles, FLUFFY

Words: 5.8K+

Today was a training and evaluation day. A very long, tiring, boring day of target practice, hand to hand combat evaluations and physicals for most of the 501st. Anakin had made sure that the 501st had a few extra days between missions especially after the last one that took a toll on the men.

In return, they had a day dedicated to training and physical examinations to ensure they were still in peek performance condition. Rex was walking around the training deck of the Resolute, watching as his brothers completed exercises and evaluations one after the other.

By the time their evaluations were over and training was finished for the day, the men were ready to hit the showers, all of them eager to wash off the sweat from their bodies. Rex stood with Anakin for a few minutes, going over a few charts and strategies before the Jedi bid Rex a farewell, congratulating him on a great session. Rex gave a nod in thanks, finishing off one more document before hooking his data pad to his hip, making his way over to where a handful of the torrent company were laughing.

"Where's (Y/N)?" Fives asked Jesse, wiping the sweat from his face and bringing his canter of water to his lips for a sip as Rex came toward the company. Rex tilted his head in slight confusion before his eyes darted about the training room, watching as his brothers began to make there way out. However, Rex couldn't see their civilian medic anywhere, your absence slightly concerning.

"I don't know," Jesse asked, his eyes also surveying the room before they settled on Rex, eyeing his elder brother with curiosity eyes, "Do you know where she is?"

Rex looked back to the group as all eyes now turned to him, each of his brothers having a different expression on their face. Fives looked smug as ever, knowing that the good captain and their medic had something going on. Jesse looked a little confused, genuinely wondering if she was okay. Hardcase was trying his best to conceal his laughter, seeming to know something that Rex and the rest of the company didn't. Tup and Dogma were quiet, just observing the tomfoolery of the company, neither of them fully understanding the dynamics yet as the two newest members.

"I don't know, she was here an hour ago," Rex said with a slight tilt of his head, voice smooth even as he began to slowly piece together what probably happened. You had seemed a little on edge this morning, stressed over the amount of work today would bring but Anakin had reassured you that he and Rex would both help out. There was one thing he could think of but Rex knew that you wouldn't disobey a direct order from him unless absolutely necessary...or were you going to be a bad girl today?

He was snapped out of thoughts by a firm grip on his shoulder, turning his gaze to Hardcase who smirked at the good captain, "I'm sure she just hiding from you, or she just got tired and went for a nap," he said, squeezing Rex's shoulder before hooking his arm around Fives, guiding the arc out the door.

The rest of the group shrugged, getting up to follow Fives and Jesse as left the training room to go and shower and get something to eat. Rex pondered on those thoughts for another moment before a sigh left his lips, walking back towards the barracks, taking a left turn instead of right to make his way to your room.

As Rex got closer, he could hear the faintest sounds of pleasure through the door even a few doors down the hall. He walked a little faster, a smirk playing in his lips as he came to a stop outside your door, the moaning becoming only slightly louder, but still muffled through the durasteel.

His smirk grew wider, his head handing down as her shook his head, 'I knew she wouldn't be able to wait," He chucked a bit at the thought, turning to make sure the coast was entirely clear before he lunched in the code for you door, watching it slide open quickly and quietly so that you werent alerted of his presence. The door slid closed behind him, the lock engaging with a small push of a button as Rex stood against it to watch you.

He finally concluded that you had left training early because you were feeling frustrated, in need of a release that he had promised to grant you after evaluation were over. However, it seemed as though you were too impatient to wait for him and instead, decided to pleasure yourself. It was something Rex had told you not to do but it seemed today that you wanted to be a disobedient girl which made the captain twitch almost happily.

He told you that after training and evaluations, he wanted you to go get all of your toys and put on your favourite lingerie, all under the guys of following one rule, 'Don't touch yourself till your captain gets there.'

By the look of things, you had obeyed him for the most part, gotten all your toys out including you vibratior, butt plug, and your favourite dildo. You had put on your favourite blue lingerie, the set that drove Rex wild, seeing you in his colours sending his blood pumping straight to his cock. But, you had failed to follow his number 1 rule and instead, chose to touch yourself. Now you were on your back in your bed, eyes closed and fingers playing with your clit while, -still unknown to you- Rex was leaning against the door watching. He waited to see if you'd notice him, his cock getting harder under his codpiece the more he watched.

You continued to moan Rex's name -while occasionally moaning his title, captain, something that had him, removing his codpiece the second it left your lips- as you played with yourself. Finally, after another couple minutes of watching you bring yourself close to the edge, he decided it was time to make his presence know.

"Well, well, well," Rex tsked, watching as your eyes shot open like saucer before quickly removing your hand from your clit. You looked at him in shock, not having heard him enter the room at all but soon, your expression turned to one of regret, knowing that you had gone against him.

You knew you were going to get punished for this and part of you was excited but nervous, "What did Captain say ad'ika?" He asked you in a low, husky voice walking over to the bed.

"Captain said not to touch myself," You said quietly, head hung and eyes downcast as you looked at your slick hands in your lap.

"And what did you do?" He asked, leaning over you and tilting your chin up so that your eyes meant.

"I touched myself," You said shyly, eyes remorseful as Rex nodded at you with a smirked adorning his lips, "Am I going to get punished captain?" You asked, even if you already knew the answer to that simple question.

He smirked at you, nodding his head agains as you looked at your hands once more, "Of course you're going to get punished baby girl, you disobey your captain," Rex said, moving away from you slightly, "Get your gag and the rope mesh'la," he instructed as he pick up the plug and vibrator you had bought on your last shore leave on Coruscant.

You nodded obediently, reaching over to the night stand and pulling out what he had asked for. The rope was standard with hints of silk to make sure there was no rope burn afterward. The gag was simple yes affective, a black ball with blue straps to secure it around your head.

"On your stomach baby," Rex ordered, as he picked up the ball gag, placing it in your mouth and securing it to the back of your head. He then proceeded to tie your arms behind your back, being gentle while still making sure the rope was tight enough. When the rope were secure, he slowly and teasingly slid two fingers down your spine, running them both between your asscheek before sliding them inside of your slick opening, pumping them in and out a few times. When rex removed his fingered, he refrained from licking them clean, instead, using them as lube for the butt plug in his other hand.

"Ass up mesh'la," He instructed devilishly, a groan falling from his lips as you followed orders like a good girl. Rex took a moment to tease the tight ring of muscle before you felt the plug make it's way inside, moaning at the mixed feelings of pain and pleasure.

He watched as your ass greedily swallow the plug, the royal blue jewel sitting snuggly between your cheeks once the plug was all the way inside you. Rex took his time admiring his handy work before taking hold of the vibrator, teasing it over your clit lightly before holding it your pussy lips.

"Now, I'm going to put this in that tight little pussy of yours, but you're not allowed to cum till I get back, understand?" Rex said as he teased your entrance with the vibrator a little more, putting the smallest amount more pressure on it, drawing a whimper from your throat.

You only nodded as Rex pushed the vibratior inside you, turning it on the lowest setting and using his fingers to move it around slightly. You moaned from behind the gag as the vibrator found its home inside you, the low vibrations teasing you and making you think of what's to come.

Rex stepped back a little, admiring the view of you tied up, ass in the air with a butt plug in your ass and a vibrator in your weeping pussy. He moved his hand down to stroke himself through his blacks, groaning at the thought that you were all his to enjoy. Rex moved back to the bed and sat down, manoeuvring you across his lap to give you your second punishment, "Count baby girl. Count how many times I smack your ass."

He barely gave you a chase to nod as his hand made contact with your behind firmly, feeling the heat blossoming from where his hand landed. You moaned lowly, counting muffled from behind the gag as Rex landed another one.

This continued till Rex had spanked you 15 times, your butt now red and heated but only added to the pleasure of the plug and the vibratior inside you.

"That's a good girl. You look so pretty with that in your pussy," Rex's cooed, moving back to your previous position on the bed, "Now remember no cumming till I get back. I'll bring you some food ok?"

You nodded slightly eyes closing to bask in the little simulation the vibrator offered, though those thoughts were interrupted as you moaned louder, feeling the vibrations spike. Rex had turned up the speed of the toy before he shoved your ass back down so you lay flat on the bed, legs already beginning to twitch. With that, Rex left you alone on your bed with the plug and vibratior inside you, simulating your body in a delicious way.

~Time Skip~

It had been half an hour since Rex had left the room, leaving you alone with your punishment. It was becoming harder by the second to refrain from cumming, the over sensitivity of your core growing with every passing moment. Between the vibratior and the plug it was hard, the sensations mounting into a flurry of pleasure almost bordering on pain. You were sweating, panting, moaning, and shaking all together, legs almost numb from the amount of will power you were exuding.

That's when the door opened to reveal Rex with a tray of food and a glass of canteen of water from the mess, a cheek smile on his face and his gaze fell upon your taut form. 

"Hey baby girl." he walked over and set the tray and water on the nights stand, eyes almost never leaving yours, "You doing okay?" He asked, running a hand up your leg then giving your ass a smack.

"Sis-seen!" You said from behind the gag, drool slipping out from the sides of your mouth. Rex chuckled at your continued count of spanks watching as your eyes were blown wide, legs clenched tightly to refrain from cumming undone and from letting the vibrator slip out.

"That's my good girl," He praised, scratching your scalp gently, sending a full body shiver coursing through you. He trailed his hand down your head to the strap of the gag, quickly undoing the strap and tossing it toward the fresher. Once it was off you gasped, drawing in the fresh air and licking your now semi dry lips. You were panting as you looked up a Rex with clouded (E/C) eyes, desperate to cum now that he had returned.

"C-captain, Please," you begged weakly, as the vibratior continued to simulate you, the feeling intense and almost unbearable.

"Please what ad'ika," Rex said teasingly. He clearly knew what you wanted but was being a little shit about. He wanted to hear you beg for it.

"PLEASE! Please sir let me cum I wanna cum so bad daddy, please!" You begged again, closing your eyes to try and hold on to what little control you had left.

"Okay mesh'la, since you asked so nicely," Rex said, moving onto the bed before manoeuvring you onto his lap just like he had done earlier.

"Ass up baby," Rex said and you obeyed, lift your butt in the air as much as you could in your position. Rex ever so slowly took hold the plug, slowly pulling it out and watching as your hole puckered and clenched around nothing. You whimpered at the loss of fullness, feeling somewhat empty now that the plug was gone.

"It's ok cyare," Rex cooed as he placed the plug on the night stand, running a soft hand along your ass before moving to the vibrator. Rex took hold of it but instead of pulling it out, he turned the speed up even higher and began thrusting it in and out of you, drawing a scream from your lips

"FUCK! Fuck that feels so good sir! PLEASE can I cum CAPTAIN please?" You cried out as Rex thrusted the vibratior deeper into you, pushing it as far as your body would take it.

Rex continued this for a bit till he leaned down to your ear and whispered your words of saving grace, "Cum for me."

You screamed as your orgasm ripped through you, Rex quickly pulling the vibratior out of you and watching as your juices coated, the sheets, his thighs and yours, your core convulsing as a second orgasm ripped through you simultaneously. Your cunt fluttered around nothing, trying and failing to take something in to fill the void once more. Rex then put the vibratior down on the nights stand and untied your hand from behind your back, carefully rolling you around and pulling you to sit in his lap properly.

"That was so good mesh'la, you came some much," Rex praised you even more his arms circling you body as he began to massage your back and your arms. You smiled weakly and moved your arms to stretch above your head, feeling your shoulders pop slightly.

"Thank you sir," you said, eyes locking with Rex's as he continued to loosen your upper body, hands finding every knot and tense muscle he could. He smiled and gave your ass another light smack,  moving his hand away after to begin removing his vambraces.

"Seventeen," You said breathlessly making Rex chuckle, bringing his hand up to run his fingers through your hair, "That's my girl."

You smiled, sighing pleasantly as Rex continued to give you a massage to help you relax and recover from your punishment. You two stayed there for another few minutes, just basking in each other's presence. By now you had tucked your head Rex's neck as much as you could with his armour still on, hand gripping the lip of his chest plate.

"Captain?" You asked, tracing circles over Rex's chest where his heart rested beneath his armour and blacks. 

"Yes cyar'ika?" He replied, planting a sweet kiss to the top of your head, looking down at you with a smile.

"Can I pleasure you now?" You asked innocently, eyes meeting his as you moved away from his neck.

"Of course you can ad'ika," Rex said as he cupped your cheek. You leaned into his touch, turning to kiss his palm before your eyes met once more. You nodded and slid from his lap, carefully lowering yourself onto the floor to begin removing his leg armour. Rex watched as you meticulously removed his armour, placing it next to the bed in the order you knew he liked, being respectful of the plastoid used to protect the men.

Rex offered his assistance by removing his vambraces, gloves and rerebraces, moving up his arm until they were left covered by his blacks. He passed each piece to you, admiring how you took such good care of each piece. Once his legs were bare, you stood up, sliding your hands up his chest and finding the latches on his shoulders to remove his cuirass. Rex closed his eyes as you worked, enjoying being taken care of even if today was supposed to be about you.

Soon his armour had been removed, placed neatly in an orderly pile next to the bed. You moved back to him and hooked your thumbs wordlessly into the hem of his shirt, tugging the fabric up and off of his body to reveal his muscular torso. Your eyes stayed gazing at his chest for a moment before you moved onto Rex's bottom's, eyes locking with his as you silently asked for permission to remove them. The captain lifted his hips off the bed to give you room, pulling his black bottoms and standard issue boxers off in one smooth motion.

You took the time to fold his blacks and place them on top of his armour before turning back to Rex on your knees. You ran your hands up and down his powerful thighs, feeling how the muscles contracted under your touch. You kissed along his legs, making your way up to his throbbing cock, watching as it bobbed with his restraint not to pick you up and fuck you.

You smiled up at your captain before taking hold of his dick, giving it a few experimental pumps before licking from the base to the tip, taking him into your mouth slowly. You took your time swallowing him, eyes flickering up to his face to gage his expression.

Rex sat there in pure bliss, hand coming up to stroke your hair as you continued to suck him off, "That's feel so good ad'ika," he praised, threading his fingers in your hair as you took him deeper.

You sucked a little harder, pulling off only slightly to focus on his tip, lapping at the sensitive head. Rex threw his head back, grunting at how good it felt to have your mouth on him. His grip on your hair tightened, urging you to take more of him in your mouth once more. Soon you were deepthroating him, thanking the maker that you had no gag reflex to hinder your ability to bring Rex pleasure. You felt Rex's cock twitch inside your throat, prompting you to hollow your cheeks and suck a little harder.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum cyare," He moaned, both of his hand finding purchase in your hair as he flooded your mouth and throat with his cum. You took a deep breath through your nose, eyes closing as you sat on your knees and took his load.

"Such a good girl for me," he said huskily, pulling his dick from your mouth, watching as you quickly shut your mouth, eyeing him in a wordless gesture.

"Open," He ordered, groaning as you opened your mouth and showed him his juices that coated your mouth and throat. It was a filthy thing to enjoy the sight but Rex couldn't get enough of it, knowing that you were his and only his.

"Swallow," He growled, watching as you obeyed him, swallowing him cum and opening your mouth to show him that you did. Rex let pleased growl simmer in his throat, leaning down and planting a bruising kiss to your lips.

"Good girl," Rex praised as he brought you back onto his lap, arms circling you somewhat possessively even if he knew you were going anywhere. He began kissing, biting, sucking and licking your neck while grabbing your ass firmly in his hands, needing the soft yet muscular flesh in his large, warm palms.

You moaned as he took one of your breasts in his mouth, suck vigorously on your nipple like a hungry man. He moved his hands from your supple behind, running them up and down your back soothingly. Rex took a moment to bask in the feeling of you in his arms, mouth wrapped around one of your breasts and hands roaming your body as if you commit everything to memory once more.

He pulled away from your chest, gently laying you down on your back as he kissed down your body, worshipping your every curve and dip, every little scar or beauty mark he found. He kissed his way down until he reached your clit, looking up at you to take in your features. Sweat gleamed on your forehead, cheeks red and eyes shining and blown wide with lust, your lips caught between your teeth in anticipation for his next move. Rex licked his lips, taking one last moment to admire your beautiful body before abruptly leaning down, licking a long strip up you folds, sucking your lips into his mouth before moving on to your clit, a sharp, breathy, moan leaving your body.

"Mmmm, you taste so good ad'ika, so sweet," Rex said as he sucked harshly at your clit. All you could do was moan and buck your hips into his mouth, feeling over sensitive from his earlier punishment. Rex moved his mouth down to your abused hole, watching as it fluttered just from his hot breathe. He stuck his tongue out, licking from your entrance to your clit and back before dipping inside of you, a loud drawn out moan falling from your lips. He brought one of his hands up to rub rough circles on your clit.

"C-captain, I-I'm close," You moaned, stuttering as you bucked your hips into his mouth and hand, feeling your orgasm coming quickly.

"That's it cyar'ika, you like it when I devour your pussy don't you? You like when I play with your clit? You like when I shove my fingers inside you and pump them till you cum?" Rex said as he moved his fingers and tongue faster on your clit, moving his other hand down to your pussy lips and entering 3 fingers inside you making you scream. You threw your head back, neck strained slightly as your hands came down to Rex's wrist, trying to push him away from your over sensitive lips.

"Can I cum captain! Please captain can I!" You begged, panting and writhing about as his fingers even moved faster. His pace on your clit was blindingly fast as his fingers inside you moved with a speed akin to hyperspace, bringing stars to the front of your vision.

"Cum for your captain ad'ika, cover my fingers and tongue in your sweet juices," Rex said, pressing his fingers against your g-spot, tongue lapping at your clit aggressively. The action had you screaming as you came on his fingers and tongue, legs shaking and pussy clenching around his digits.

Rex pulled away from your lower half, chin covered in your sweet nectar as he brought his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean of your juices before moving back up your body, leaning down and kissing your lips. He hungrily nipped at your lips, giving you a taste of yourself which made your breath hitch. He pulled away all too soon, hand reaching down to give himself a few pumps, a deep groan leaving his lips.

"You taste so good mesh'la," Rex said as he lined himself up with your dripping core, cock weeping with the need to finally feel your warmth around him.

You laid there panting beneath him, staring into those amber eyes that you had seen on thousands of men. But Rex's were somehow different, with a touch more brown along the bottom of his iris and more depth to get lost in. You brought your hand up to his face, your thumb brushing against his cheek softly as you admired him. You moved down his body next, tracing the scars on his chest and his arms, many of which had long since healed and faded though a few new ones took there place, nothing major but still added to his collection of what you had dubbed his trophies of war. Your eyes trailed back up to Rex's, smiling up at the man you so luckily called your own.

"Even with all these scars you're still the most handsome man I've ever known. These scars just mean you're a warrior, someone who does whatever he can to protect his brothers, his family," You said as you looked up at him, bringing your hand back up to his face. You cupped his cheek again, just holding him there, the trance of lustful need broken for a moment in favour of soft blissful intimacy shared between soulmates.

Rex looked down at you with eyes to innocent for someone who had just dragged two powerful orgasms out of you. But soon his lips morphed into a gentle smile, not a smirk, or a cocky grin, but a really genuine smile. He leaned down, lips meeting yours in a gentle, loving kiss, lips soft as they fit together like puzzle pieces.

"Thank you," Rex said quietly, taking a moment to relish in the calm, intimate atmosphere that you two had created, greatful to have you in his arms. As he pulled away. You just smiled up at his and wrapped your arms around his neck.

"You ready mesh'la?" Rex asked, his voice low and lustful, sending a tingle up your spine. All you could do was nod, hands coming up to grasp at what little hair his blonde buzz cut offered as your eyes rolled back, head fall back toward the mattress as Rex pushed inside of your awaiting walls.

"Mmm, Fuck captain, you're so big," You moaned at the pleasurable sensation, feeling entirely filled by the man above you. This wasn't your first time with Rex and it most certainly wouldn't be the last, but even after having the vibrator and Rex's finger give you two orgasms to stretch you open, he was still quite big.

"You like the feeling of my cock inside your pussy ad'ika, like how it's stretching you so much, you like it when fuck you," Rex spoke huskily to you, continuing to whisper dirty things as his hips finally rested flush against yours.

"Yes sir," you said breathlessly, feeling the air leave your lungs. It was then an idea popped into your head, a risky idea and could get you punished again but you wanted to push Rex, wanted to rile him up.

"Does my tight little pussy feel good around your cock captain? Does it milk your big cock well," you said confidently, wiggling your hips to emphasize, clenching your core to draw him in.

Rex was about to start thrusting though he stopped abruptly when he heard you say such vulgar things. Your actions coupled with your words drew a slight grunt from the captain, not having expected such display.  He looked up at you with dark, lustful eyes and for a moment, the confidence drained from your system, replaced by fear and doubt about your words.

Rex smirked, pulling almost all the way out of you, leaving just a sliver of his tip in to tease you. He stayed there for a moment, taking his time and letting you squirm, anticipating his next move just by looking in his eyes. You went to open your mouth, a snarky quip on the tip of your tongue, though before it could see the light of hyperspace, Rex slammed back into you, electing a scream from your lips instead.

"That's it baby girl, scream for your captain.  Scream my name as I pound into your pussy," Rex said as he drove his cock into you with quick, forceful thrusts, his filthy words making your hips buck and his name fall from your lips in a loud yell.

He thrusted into you without hesitation, hips slapping against your forcefully. You could feel your asscheeks bounce with every one of his thrusts, skin slapping against skin, heat blooming over your behind with how hard Rex pounded into you. You could feel your legs shake as Rex gripped your tights, pushing your legs into your chest for an even deeper angle.

The position had you keening, back arched in the heated pleasure you were receiving. Your hands gripped the sheet below you as Rex leaned over your body, nipping at your neck and listing to every moan and whimper you released. He groaned in your ear, thrusts never faltering in their haste to bring you to orgasm, his rhythm remain ing consistent and steadfast.

"Faster captain, Please!" You begged. You were a panting, moaning mess as Rex flipped you over onto your hands and knees, someone how maneuvering you so well that he didn't need to pull out. That realization flooded you with even more arousal, knowing that there must have been a part of him that didn't want to come out even to change positions.

"As you wish mesh'la," Rex said lowly, speeding up his pace as his grip on your hips tightened, using your love handles to his advantage. He leaned down and kissed your neck then moved to kiss your shoulder blades and down your back.

He moved his hands around your body till one was on your breasts, needing your mounds and pinching your nipples between his fingers as the other went down you pinch and rub your clit. You screamed at the over simulation of your body hips stuttering ever so slightly before you began to thrust your hips back to met Rex's brutal pace.

"I'm so close Rex," you moaned as you felt him pick up the pace, hips slammed into your ass with force that would surely leave bruises in their wake.

"Me too cyar'ika," Rex whispered in your ear as he sped up the movements of his hands, furiously rubbing your abused clit. You moaned loudly at the continued simulation, feeling your orgasm begin to run down you legs. Rex could feel it in the way you clenched around him, gripping his cock like vice as his thrusts became sloppy. He leaned down as best he could, lips finding your ear as he gave a teasing nip and a few words that took the breath right out of you.

"Cum for me." You screamed as your orgasm ripped through your body, arms shaking as they gave out beneath you. The movement caused your ass to hike up further, the new angle allowing Rex to thrust even further into your warmth.

You heard grunting from behind you, knowing that he was close to his end just from the way his breathing chanced. At that moment, you wanted to feel him cum, needed him to fill you, so you decided to push him over the edge.

"Please cum inside me with your big cock Captain, want you to fill me with your sweet cum, please," you begged desperately, wanting to feel every inch of him fill every crevice of your pussy. You looked back at him over your shoulder, forehead gleaming with sweat and eyes dilated almost beyond recognition. Rex stared at you before listening to the very low whimpered plea that left your lips.

"Please Captain."

Rex let out a loud grunt turned groan, hips stuttering as he released his seed deep within you, coating your inner wall in a creamy white. You moaned loudly, back arching at the sensation of being filled by your captain before collapsing on the bed, exhausted and ready to sleep.

Rex pulled out of you slowly, arms twitching with the sensation of just how tight you were even after your orgasm. He fell almost unceremoniously onto the bed next to you, a smirk pulling at his lips at your blissed out expression, pulling the covers over top of both of you, to rest just above your chest.

He wrapped his arm around your waist, gently pulling you into his chest, with a blissful smile on his face. He placed kisses to the top of your head and forehead, whispering sweet words in your ears and praising you for being such a good girl as you came down from cloud nine.

"Thank you, Rex," You said as you relaxed into his strong arms, feeling his chest rumble with a chuckle. His smooth, warm skin was a comfort to you would never tire of, feeling him beneath you a treat in it own regard.

Rex smiled at your thanks, reaching one arm behind to grab the careen of water on the night stand. He brought it to your lips tentatively, encouraging you to sip slowly but drink as much as you could because of how much you'd exerted yourself. Once the water was finished her placed it back on the night stand in favour for a ration bar, following the same pattern and encouraging you to eat something. You did so without fuss, grateful for the nourishment after such events. Once the ration bar was gone, you snuggled up to Rex once more, kissing his chest just above his heart as your eyes fluttered closed.

"Sleep well ner Baar'ur'ika, you did so well for me," Rex said as he kissed the crown of your head. You smiled at the praise, feeling a full body shiver rack your shoulders, and not from the cold. Rex however, went the extra mile and pulled the blanket right up to your chin, bundling you in a cocoon of warmth from the blanket and himself.

All too soon, you were lulled to sleep by the steady rise and fall of Rex's chest, his breathing patterns even and his heart beat steady. Your heart beat a one, a perfect match fitting together.

Alrighty peeps, let me know what you think of this one! Any requests can be dropped in my ASK section or pm me! (Next story is scheduled for March 14th, 2025 drop a thumbs up if you would like to be tagged when it comes out!)

[curiousquill1]

SIP Planning Strategies for Investing in Good Equity Mutual Funds

Good equity mutual funds have continuously verified their capacity to generate extensive returns over prolonged durations. When you invest through SIPs, you're making regular contributions regardless of market conditions, permitting you to take advantage of rupee-value averaging. This method guarantees you buy more devices while charges are low and fewer when costs are high, successfully reducing your common purchase value.

For example, a month-to-month SIP of ₹5,000 in a precise equity mutual price range over 15–20 years can potentially grow into a big corpus because of the dual blessings of disciplined investing and compounding returns. This approach removes emotional decision-making from your funding adventure, which often ends in higher long-term results.

Crafting an Effective SIP Strategy

The most successful SIP traders comply with these realistic strategies:

Start early and live committed: Even small quantities invested often in suitable fairness mutual price range can develop appreciably through the years. A decade-long commitment to SIPs regularly outperforms large quantities invested for shorter intervals.

Align investments with financial dreams: SIPs ought to connect without delay to precise objectives like retirement, children's schooling, or domestic buying. This alignment allows determining suitable investment horizons and fund selection.

Diversify throughout fund categories: Spreading investments across massive-cap, mid-cap, and small-cap right fairness mutual budgets affords balanced publicity to different marketplace segments. Each category offers precise risk-return traits appropriate for different economic dreams.

Enhancing Returns with Professional Guidance

While direct SIPs are reachable to anyone, portfolio management offerings can extensively beautify investment consequences. Professional portfolio managers continuously compare marketplace situations, modify allocations, and pick funds primarily based on quantitative and qualitative research.

A reputable wealth management company offers more than basic funding recommendations. Their professionals conduct thorough fund studies, analyzing management, consistency of overall performance, and risk-adjusted returns before recommending suitable fairness mutual funds. This expertise facilitates investors navigating complicated marketplace situations while keeping awareness of long-term targets.

Portfolio control offerings turn out to be mainly valuable throughout market volatility, assisting buyers in preserving discipline when feelings would possibly, in any other case, pressure poor decisions. The customized guidance from a wealth management company ensures your SIP strategy remains aligned with changing lifestyles, occasions, and financial desires.

Optimizing SIP Performance

To maximize SIP blessings, recollect these tested strategies:

SIP top-ups: Increasing your SIP amount annually (even by 5–10%) accelerates wealth introduction dramatically. As income grows, proportionally increasing investments in a good, fair, mutual budget compounds your returns more efficiently.

SIP step-up: This strategy involves making large investments during market corrections, permitting you to acquire extra units when costs are attractive. Portfolio control offerings frequently help discover those possibilities.

SIPs for tax efficiency: Equity Linked Savings Schemes (ELSS) offer tax deductions under Section 80C even as they supply fairness exposure. A professional wealth control organization can assist in structuring tax-efficient SIP portfolios.

The actual gain of SIP investing is mental—reworking market volatility from a risk into a possibility. When markets decline, your fixed funding amount purchases greater units, potentially improving long-time-period returns.

Conclusion

The journey to constructing wealth via a proper, fair, mutual price range is a marathon, no longer a sprint. With disciplined SIP investments, suitable fund choices, and steerage from nice portfolio management offerings, investors can navigate marketplace fluctuations with a bit of luck at the same time as running closer to monetary freedom.

Regular portfolio critiques are critical for long-term fulfillment. Market situations evolve, fund performances change, and private circumstances shift over time. Scheduling quarterly reviews with a wealth management firm guarantees your SIP allocations continue to be optimized. Remember that the maximum success fairness buyers are people who maintain consistency via marketplace cycles, rebalance periodically, and live dedicated to their financial roadmap irrespective of quick-time period market noise.

[norrisleclercf1]

Day 22 of 25 Days of Christmas: Scavenger Hunt

Pairing: Kevin Magnussen x Reader

Rating: PG

Words: 869

You and your husband, Kevin, are on a much-needed trip home to Denmark. The sun beams down as you stroll through the picturesque streets of Copenhagen, hand-in-hand, ready to explore the charming city. But today, you’ve decided to crank up the fun with a competitive scavenger hunt! Armed with a list of quirky items and a mischievous spirit, the two of you brace yourselves for a delightful day filled with laughter, adventure, and maybe a little mischief.

You pull out your scavenger hunt list as you sip your morning coffee at one of those adorable little cafes. The first item is a classic: "Find a statue of a beloved figure." Kevin smirks; he’s already got a strategy brewing. “I’ll race you to the Little Mermaid!” he declares, his eyes twinkling with playful determination.

With a quick glance at one another, you know this will be a friendly (and perhaps slightly competitive) challenge. You both sprint toward the iconic statue, giggling as you dodge tourists and small bikes whizzing by. After a few minutes, you arrive at the Little Mermaid, sculpted in all her glory.

Snap! You both take pictures with the statue, giving your best mermaid poses. Kevin strikes a goofy and serious pose, causing you to laugh.

Placing the first item on your list aside, you move to find the following target: “Capture a picture of the most unique Danish pastry!” Kevin eyes a nearby bakery with croissants that look out of this world. “I bet they have something funky inside,” he says.

Inside the cozy shop, you’re greeted with the mouthwatering scent of fresh pastries. With a friendly wager on the line, you both opt for the strangest-looking item: a custard-filled pastry shaped like a swan. As you take your photos, you can’t resist taking a ridiculous live-action video of you trying to eat your swan pastries without getting custard everywhere. Laughter fills the air, and you’re convinced you must look silly.

Next, the list calls for “A flower crown on a random street performer.” Walking along Nyhavn, the vibrant waterfront, you spot a jovial musician playing the accordion. “I’ll distract him; you make the crown!” Kevin whispers, plotting his distraction with a mischievous grin.

You nod, gathering daisies and miniature violets from nearby planters—don’t worry, you’ll replace them! As Kevin begins swaying dramatically to the music, imitating a dance that can only be described as 'the lobster,' you create a floral masterpiece. When you present it to him, laughter erupts from the small crowd around you.

Kevin wears the flower crown proudly, posing with the accordion player. At the same time, you snap a fierce guarding-a-sea-creature kind of photo. Now, that’s a crown worthy of royalty!

Continuing the hunt, your next item: “Find a cat and take a photo with it.” Both of you feel determined—Copenhagen is full of adorable felines! You wander into the nearby Kastellet Park, peeking into flower gardens and small cafés, looking for the perfect feline.

Suddenly, Kevin spots a fluffy orange tabby lounging lazily on a bench. “Look! There’s Mr. Whiskers!” he proclaims exaggeratedly, clearly enamored with the cat’s majestic lounging.

You approach gently, using your best cat-whispering skills, and to your delight, the cat rolls over and invites you for some scratches. Capturing the moment, you both snuggle close, crafting captions in your minds that rival even the funniest memes you’ve seen online.

You glance down the list and see the challenge: “Locate a Viking helmet on display!” Off you sprint to the nearby National Museum, which has a fantastic collection of Viking history. As you both race up the steps, Senior Citizens becoming your unintentional navigational guides, you begin searching every corner for that elusive helmet.

You finally spot them! As you get excited, you start to brainstorm silly Viking names. “Kevin the Conqueror,” you declare. “And you, my lady, are now: Enlightened She Who Knows the Corners!”

With your Viking names set, you strike victorious poses while wearing replicas of the helmets. As you both model for a picture, your eyes lock in laughter—this day just keeps improving!

Your scavenger hunt is winding down, and you notice the final challenge on the list: “Take a group selfie with a tourist family.” You scan the bustling scene, hopeful about finding just the right group to match your energy.

You spot a cheerful family of four with matching t-shirts and big smiles. You enthusiastically approach them and ask if they wouldn’t mind helping you. They’re happy to oblige, and before you know it, you’re all squeezed together, faces beaming for the camera!

Kevin, ever the jokester, pretends he’s lost a shoe in the crowd, producing the perfect candid. The family laughs, and your day of whimsical competition ends with a treasure trove of memories to cherish forever.

As the sun sets on your scavenger adventure, you and Kevin reflect on how much fun you’ve had. Winning or losing? Who cares? With hearts full of laughter and a handful of silly snapshots, you both know this will be a day you’ll talk about for years to come.

You leave daunting cities and serious landmarks behind, knowing that the best adventures are built on love, laughter, and a little dash of competition!

[thetwelfthcrow]

i know you have spoken about what if lewis and max had been in the same car but have we considered what if they only had one car and max had to squish into a car with all the podium sitters?? i can see max looking in the car to see the seats are full and just sitting himself down on lewis' lap . perhaps

oh!!!!! oh!!!!!!!!!!!!! oh hello!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

max isn't really looking where he's going, there's people around him guiding him in directions and he follows. his ears are ringing with pride and joy. there's a rolls royce on the track and he's guided in, doors opened. he looks where to sit and three pairs of eyes are looking at him. "Huh!" Max smiles, looking around for personnel around him to provide a solution. he's just won his fourth title, he's not thinking about anything else. there's no one around him, as he looks a little hopeless. lewis smiles up at him, "Come on then," He pats his thighs, "Got to get to that interview somehow." beside him, george squeals.

"You are kidding," Max states, but when Lewis shakes his head he just goes, "Alright then." He crawls onto Lewis' lap and Lewis' lap find his hips easily. max tries to sit more toward lewis' knees as to not cover him from head to toe, but lewis inches him closer, muttering something about age-old knees.

carlos is looking at them with a bit of an uncomfortable giggle, george seems to light brighter than he did when he stepped out of his race-winning car. max takes a sip from his bottle and looks around. he sees the little plate in the back of the driver's car and puts it there. proudly, he looks back to see if anyone caught his genius. lewis has apparently also been looking around the car and with a gentle what's this? he opens the mirror. max moves out of the way so lewis can look at himself for a second before he closes it again. max points at the stars "This is cute." lewis nods.

max goes into debrief mode the way he does in regular cooldown rooms, to get a conversation started. he turns his shoulders toward lewis a bit so he can see lewis' face. lewis' grip on max's back is a steady backrest. "you did well today, from p10, right?"

"yeah, twice," lewis chuckles, "with the strategy"

"Oh that sucks, but that's cool," max nods, he honestly hadn't paid any attention to the other drivers and was just focusing on finishing ahead of lando. he'd like to have that big screen with replays right now.

"how does it feel," lewis says, pinching max's back softly and grinning, "your fourth?"

"Oh i'm so happy. i think if it was not for brazil, this would have been harder. but this is really good." Max nods to himself.

"any party plans?" George joins.

"Yeah! martijn is here too and he's got some places he can play at so i'm just going with him wherever." he looks at lewis then, "do you want to join?" he swiftly turns back to george, eyebrow still raised as if the question was to him. lewis pinches his back again and max thinks that's his answer. george says something along the lines of absolutely, i won tonight! and it's vegas! but all max can feel is lewis' hands on his back and how they're touching each other so much. the car comes to a halt and carlos leaves first. max watches him and george get out, and before he crawls off of lewis' lap he goes, 'i'll text you, okay?'

lewis raises his eyebrow but doesn't say anything. his eyes flick to the camera.

max smiles, 'for the club of course!' and he grabs his bottle off the little plate and heads out of the car.

[classyblen]

Helloww !

Title: The Ghost Protocol: A classy's Guide to Uncovering True Loyalty

🌹 𝙷𝚎𝚢 𝙱𝚎𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚂𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚜! 🌹

--Today, I want to delve into a concept that might seem a bit unconventional but holds profound meaning in our rapidly changing world: ghosting. Not in the petty or immature way we often hear about, but rather as a thoughtful strategy to discern true friends from mere acquaintances.

Yeah, you heard me right. I ghost everyone even my closest friends. Why? Because truth doesn't come served on a silver platter; it often hides behind the shadows, waiting for the moment to reveal itself.

🚦The Master Plan:

Picture this: I turn off my phone, and the notifications go silent. No texts, no DMs, no Facetime calls just me, myself, and the echo of my own thoughts. I sit in my cozy space, sipping on my favorite drink, and I wait. It’s a test of loyalty, of love, and most importantly, of authenticity. Whose footsteps will I hear approaching my door? Who’s going to care enough to check on me when I turn the lights off?

📍Why This Method?

In a world where everyone is glued to their screens, it’s easy to feel overwhelmed by the noise. Social media showcases a facade everyone’s living their best lives, but how many are genuinely there for you when the glam fades? Ghosting gives me clarity. It shrouds my connections in mystery and separates the ride-or-die friends from the mere acquaintances.

When you remove yourself from the chatter, you allow the genuine souls to shine.

Real friends will be the ones who not only notice your absence but actively seek you out.🥀 They’re the ones who won’t hesitate to knock on that door, even if it’s a bit of a trek. And let’s be honest, those who don’t show up? Well, babe, it’s time to reconsider their place in your life.

🪴❤️ But Wait, Why Is This Classy AF?

Listen, this isn’t just about testing friendship; it’s about self-discovery too. In these moments of solitude, I can reflect on what I want, who I am, and what kind of energy I’m bringing into my life. It's empowering to take that step back and evaluate my circle, to cleanse my energy of backstabbers and fair-weather friends. By ghosting, I reclaim my time and my peace. 🌷

The Beautiful Part:✨

When the doorbell finally rings, and I see the faces of those who genuinely care, it’s magic. It’s a reminder of the beauty of human connection, and it reinforces the bonds that matter. Those moments of reconnection are pure gold, reminding me that I am loved, cherished, and seen for who I truly am.I urge you to consider this approach in your own life. Take a break from the constant connectivity and allow yourself to observe with intention. You might just be surprised by who cares enough to seek you out.

💬 Join the Conversation!💋

I’d love to hear your thoughts on this.

Have you ever tried ghosting to test your friendships?

What were your experiences like?

💌write below and let’s connect!

And if you enjoy this kind of content, don’t forget to follow me for more insights into navigating friendships and meaningful relationships.

So here’s your challenge, lovely souls: Ghost for a bit and see who comes looking for you. Let the knocks at your door reveal the truth. Because in the end, life’s too short to be surrounded by those who don’t value your energy.

I LOVE YOU ALL!!🎀

[thedrunkenreadersreviews]

Alastor's Villain Era ...

EDIT: It has been confirmed on Alastor's official Hazbin Hotel Wiki page that he was, indeed, having a panic attack.

Fireball seemed fitting.

*Long sip, sip*

Okay, I have had some time to calm down and think about things. I rewatched it all and thought long and hard.

*Sip, sip*

What the heck was going on with Alastor in the finale? Well, I think it is tremendously complicated.

To be honest, I know the popular theory is that via his deal he HAS to be at the hotel probably to defend it. While I want to agree with this theory, I can't put my full faith in it. It is a good theory, a great one, one that I held onto for most of season one. Now I'm not saying I'm dismissing it, rather, I am having doubts.

Because he left after he was hit. And who in their right mind would send Alastor, a deal-making demon, to where Charlie is?

But for the sake of this post, I'm going with the popular theory that he is there because of the deal he made.

*Sip, sip*

But let's look at episode 7 and episode 8 as sort of a package. Viv is the most detailed animator I have ever seen. She puts the smallest details in everything; from the news crawls to Vox's blue screen, Alastor's coffee mug, Adam eating ribs, the pictures in the background of everyone's rooms, like there are so many things that give you more information than what the characters could give you themselves. Nothing is in there just to be there; it is all connected.

*Sip, sip*

Alastor's microphone is an extension of himself and that is made exceptionally clear in episode 8.

In episode 7, he gives Charlie his microphone.

He's slipping. And by that "fuck" moment in episode 8, he knows he is slipping.

I am of the mind that Alastor made that deal with Charlie for future plans regarding breaking his contract. He didn't ask for her soul (not entirely sure, but I have some theories as to why), and then took her to see Rosie.

Rosie, who he considers to be one of his only few friends. And while Charlie, who is going through a rough spot that Alastor is completely aware of, is trying to speak to the crowd, Alastor offers her his microphone---an extension of himself. He gives her a small thumbs up (such a dad move), and builds her up throughout the number.

And when he is alone with Rosie, watching Charlie sing about her stepping up to be the Princess of Hell, this is what they tell each other:

Rosie: They're marching along. They're singing her song!

Alastor: Surprised? Why, I knew she could do it all along!

Both: She's bound to pass the test as Princess of Hell! Like her daddy, she is madly powerful!

Alastor: She's filled with potential that I could guide.

Rosie: I concur!

Both: Stick with her and you'll be on the winning side!

Now let's look at episode 8 and what he says to Niffty, his other close friend:

Alastor: It's been a surprising thrill to witness these wayward souls find connection. It almost makes one sentimental, ay, Niffty?

Niffty: I really like them, Alastor. They let me put on roach puppet shows without booing.

Alastor: Ah, an enjoyable collective to be around. I admit, one could become accustomed.

It should be noted, that he is looking at them from above with his face in his hands, leaning on the rail of a balcony, as if he doesn't feel like he belongs among them ... but almost wants to be.

*Sip, sip*

While I think his verse with Rosie is more about being on Charlie's side for power, he didn't need to give her his microphone. And he was alone with Niffty, he didn't have to put on a front or say anything like that but he did.

*Sip, sip*

It is obvious that they talked battle strategy prior to the fight. Charlie, without question, is the strongest person in the hotel. Even Alastor knows this as he also knows Charlie does not know how to use her powers in such circumstances. So it is decided that he, the second strongest who knows how to use his powers in a battle-way, would go onto the roof of the hotel. It is decided that Alastor will cast the forcefield.

But more than that. After the "fuck" moment, when Charlie sees Adam return to the main melee, she says, "But Alastor was supposed to ..."

Meaning they agreed that Alastor was going to SOLO fight ADAM! That was the arrangement. And Alastor seemed all too happy to agree to it. But this is how he handles beings he knows have superior powers to him.

With Lucifer, he finds something he knows will get under Lucifer's skin.

With Adam, he openly mocks him and for a while, he may think that Adam is too sloppy to really do any damage.

*Sip, sip*

And then ... "ffffffuuck."

And he nearly dies. That wound is not small. Alastor is cut. Bad. And in that moment, when he is on the ground, looking around, manic eyes, that is pure prey behavior. That is pure terror.

Alastor is terrified. Because he got hit. Bad. And he is on the threshold of death.

In the stream before the premier, Amir refused to answer the question of what scares Alastor, saying it would be too much of a spoiler and Viv agreed with him.

Alastor is terrified of dying. He retreats to heal up; granted, after a blow like that, I am not sure he would have been any help should he have lingered. Was it cowardly? Yes. Did it make sense? Absolutely. He is terrified and too badly wounded to push on after that.

*Sip, sip*

And then we hear his verse in the song. And these lyrics, coupled with Amir's fantastic ability to convey so much emotion into Alastor's voice (who needs it the most on account of his permanent grin), and the eyes, the hand placements, his body language, even his smile is off.

Alastor is having a mental breakdown. He is having the mother of all panic attacks. He is on the brink of foaming at the mouth in madness.

Because he knows he is slipping, and this deal is going to get him killed.

He defended that hotel (probably because he was forced to) but also in part because he cares to some extent for the hazbins. At least, he is rather fond of them, as we see when he speaks to Niffty.

And the thought that he is slipping, starting to have emotions, is forced to be there (possibly), and cannot access all of his powers (as is implied in the lyrics of his verse) because of the deal he made, he cannot fathom it. He cannot accept it. It is mentally destroying him.

I got hurt. I got hurt bad. I almost died. I barely escaped. All because of this damn hotel and my damn deal!

The visuals of that scene, from the background and the accompanying music---which is much darker for Alastor's than any of the other character's verses---compounded spectacularly by Alastor's movements show us that he is slipping into madness. He is becoming desperate to be free of his deal, he wants not power per se but security. If enough people are afraid of him, if he has enough power and influence (which is where I think Charlie comes in) then others won't try to hurt him.

*sip, sip*

Alastor's verse starts off somber, him reflecting on the fact that he almost got killed. And then it is shifts into his own mocking.

I do not think he sings, "Great Alastor, altruist, died for his friends," seriously. He says it like it is a headline in a newspaper. And his expression! His eyes are wide and wild, his smile large and somber, his brows are furrowed, he's dragging a hand down his face. He is distraught at the thought of this. Me? Dying for them? No! Not going to happen! I won't let that happen!

And he immediately corrects us and himself for thinking that that is the case. "Sorry to disappoint [us, those watching]. That is not where this ends!" Here, he is angry. He slams his fist into the control panel, draws his claws through it, and emphasizes that not. He is telling us as much as himself that he will not die for such a noble reason. And he is certainly not done in Hell yet, as obvious by his very next line.

"I'm hungry for freedom like never before." His hands are around him---around where he got cut---before spreading outwards. His eyes, the whole time, are on his hands. This deal is suppressing his powers. And this deal probably put him into the hotel. He is looking at his hands as if willing his freedom and his power to come back to him, because if he had them, he wouldn't have nearly gotten killed.

*Sip, sip*

Now is where we truly start to see him slipping into madness.

This deal, this oppression of my powers, and the people I have met because of those two things nearly got me killed! No way in Hell can I accept that.

Alastor is now more desperate than ever.

"The constraints of my deal surely have a back door."

The animators zoom in on his face. His eyes are going all over the place, his hands are approximately covering his ears, his smile is more clenched teeth than anything. It is the purest expression of a panic attack I have ever seen (and as someone who has suffered from panic attacks so severe I had to be hospitalized on numerous occasions), it is spot on. Everything just seems so loud when you are in that bout of excessive worry. You look all over the place for possible dangers, it is difficult to stand up straight (Alastor has been slouching this entire scene when he usually has perfect posture) and you hunt for an answer with such eagerness that your mind runs a million miles a minute trying to find one while also sifting through every possibility of what could go wrong. That is Alastor's expression at that moment. I have seen myself having attacks. It looks exactly like that.

"Once I figure out how to unclip my wings ..."

You don't even see his face anymore. It's a back shot and he's walking toward an ominous green light, the color of his power when it is manifesting. And he is still slouched slightly, still unsteady.

*Sip, sip*

Now here is the tumble.

"Guess [his "ears" are down in airplane mode, guess who is tormenting me right now] who will [now his ears go up and he fully turns around to face us, but I won't be leashed to them for long] be pulling all the strings!"

This is when we see his face again, back to its more calm appearance. That is him telling himself that he will never be put in such a situation again. He is going to be the one moving the pieces, not the other way around. And he slowly comes out of that slouching position as this line progresses. And he lifts his arms up while emerging from the green light is his shadow---his powers---rising with his voice, his body, his eyes too.

*sip, sip*

And what seals it for me is that laugh. That is not the laugh we have heard from Alastor all season. Alastor starts with like a giggle in his throat that bubbles up into something louder and more sadistic. The laugh that we hear at the end of episode 2 is very similar to the one in episode 5 just before he goes on his rampage.

This laugh is manic. It doesn't start as a low giggle in the throat. It is in full volume from the get-go. The only way I can describe it is sort of like a Joker laugh. He is gone.

*Sip, sip*

It is a treat, a true treasure, to see an evil character again. Every time Alastor is on the screen, you really don't know what he is going to do next. Even though he said he is at the hotel to see people fail, I call BS as I think most people do. Sure, that may be just a perk to him, but that is not the main reason. At the end of season 1, we still do not know for sure what Alastor's motivation is. We still don't know beyond getting himself free what is his goal.

That is why he is so incredible to watch. He can go anywhere, he could do anything, and it will surprise us.

I don't think he is leashed to Lilith but there is certainly something there. As for being gone for 7 years, I have a few theories. Lilith apparently made a deal with Adam or Lute or someone, as when Lute tells her that Adam is dead she mentions that their deal is off now. I want to think more on my theories before I post them but the main one is, for whatever reason, I think Alastor was in purgatory for 7 years.

"How to unclip my wings." That's a very interesting choice of lyric and if there is one thing we know for sure about this show, every lyrical line is chosen very carefully.

*Sip, sip*

Well, I think this post is long enough. I see Alastor soon going into a manic rampage. What I wanted most since the trailer for season 1 dropped (based on some of the scenes that were in it) was for Adam and Alastor to fight on the roof of the hotel. And man, even though Alastor lost, I still loved it! It showed us so much about Alastor's character and why he thought he could handle Adam alone. Going into season 2, I want to see Alastor unleashed. Fully unhinged, manic out of his mind, unleashed.

And please, let me know what you guys think! I love reading your comments. It helps me develop new theories too.

As the King Roach himself said in the Pilot:

Stay tuned!

*Sip, sip*

[sleekervae]

Monarchs of a Crystal World ♚ (Coriolanus x Sable) 5

Masterlist

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x socialite!fem!reader

Summary: The Bachelor Party

Warnings: alcohol consumptions, nudity, smut

Word Count: 4,969

The hotel suite was nothing short of opulent, its high-arched ceilings adorned with gold filigree, the walls draped in deep emerald and navy fabrics, evoking the richness of old Capitol grandeur. Crystal glasses clinked as waitstaff in crisp uniforms moved through the room, pouring aged whiskey and champagne. A warm, golden glow bathed the gathering, but to Coriolanus, it felt almost artificial—like the flickering light of a candle too far gone to be rekindled.

Garrison, in a silk brocade jacket, exuded the ease of a man who had seen everything and regretted nothing. He lounged in a velvet armchair, swirling the liquor in his glass as he regarded Coriolanus with a knowing smirk. “Enjoying yourself?”

Coriolanus lifted his own drink to his lips, taking a measured sip. “That depends,” he mused, letting the smoky burn of the whiskey ground him. “Is this supposed to be a celebration, or a lesson in inevitability?”

Garrison chuckled. “A bit of both, I imagine.” He leaned forward, his voice dipping just enough to draw Coriolanus in. “Marriage, my friend, is not just about love—it’s about strategy. A ruler without a solid foundation crumbles, and a ruler without a partner, well…” His eyes gleamed. “Let’s just say history hasn’t been kind to lonely men.”

Coriolanus scoffed, but the weight of the words settled over him. He had always known Sable was an asset—sharp, calculated, ambitious in her own right—but she was also something else. A tether. A promise that he wouldn’t drift so far into the abyss that he lost sight of himself entirely.

And yet, as he sat among men who had won and lost power through cunning and conquest, his mind wandered elsewhere—down corridors he preferred to keep locked. His mother, who had been stripped from his life far too soon, who would never see him ascend to his rightful place. His father, whose presence had always been more of a specter than a guiding hand. Coriolanus had spent his whole life living in the shadow of what had been—the once-glorious Snow name, the expectations, the grandeur of a legacy that now rested solely on his shoulders.

And then there was Lucy Gray, whose laughter haunted the edges of his mind, light and airy, just out of reach. Sejanus, naive and reckless, still staring at him with that mix of hope and betrayal in his eyes. Luxe, vain and materialistic, and discarded like street trash.

He gripped his glass tighter. Their faces blurred together, not quite memories, not quite dreams—just remnants of another life, another Coriolanus.

He swirled the amber liquid in his glass, watching it catch the low light, before bringing it to his lips.

"You’re brooding," Garrison noted, sliding into the seat beside him. His voice was laced with amusement, but his eyes—ever sharp, ever knowing—betrayed his understanding.

Coriolanus let out a short breath through his nose, feigning indifference. "Is that not allowed at one’s own bachelor gathering?"

"It’s expected," Garrison admitted. "But there’s brooding, and then there’s sulking. And you, my friend, are too clever to indulge in the latter."

Coriolanus huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "I was just thinking."

"About?"

"About how I got here. About what they would think." The words left him before he could stop them. He didn't have to clarify who they were—Garrison understood.

There was a beat of silence before Garrison leaned back, exhaling slowly. "Your father was a brilliant man. But he was also a man who thought power would always bow to him simply because he bore the right name. That was his flaw." He gestured vaguely around the room, to the men circling like sharks in silk suits. "You, on the other hand, know better. You don’t just wield power—you mold it, shape it to fit your needs. You’re not your father, Coriolanus. That’s why you’re still standing."

Coriolanus stared down into his drink, his grip tightening slightly around the glass.

"And your mother?" Garrison continued, his voice gentler now. "She would have been proud of you. You know that."

He did. And yet, the ache of her absence never faded.

Garrison let the moment settle before shifting the subject, his tone lightening. "Which brings me to a bit of advice, since you seem in the mood for it. You’re marrying a woman who is just as ambitious, just as cunning as you are. Love, in a marriage like yours, is a weapon—wield it wisely, or risk being cut by it."

Coriolanus smirked, finally meeting Garrison’s gaze. "I thought this was supposed to be a celebration, not a lecture."

Garrison chuckled, raising his own glass. "Consider it both. Now, drink up. The night’s still young, and tomorrow, the game changes entirely."

Coriolanus clinked his glass against Garrison’s, the weight of the night settling over him. His wedding was mere hours away, and with it, the next move in a game he had been playing all his life.

The estate was alive with the quiet hum of conversation, the soft clinking of champagne glasses, and the rustle of silk gowns as Sable’s closest confidantes surrounded her in a cocoon of warmth. Unlike Coriolanus’s bachelor gathering, which she imagined was filled with hushed political maneuvering and thinly veiled power plays, this evening was intimate—just her sister, her friends, and Tigris, the only one among them who truly understood what it meant to be a Snow bride.

Sable sat by the grand window, her champagne glass untouched, gaze drifting over the shimmering lights of the Capitol below. It was a breathtaking view, one that once would have made her feel untouchable. Now, on the eve of her wedding, it felt strangely small.

“So,” Seline drawled, leaning forward with a knowing smirk, “how does it feel to be hours away from being Sable Snow?”

The name curled in the air like a wisp of smoke—light, teasing, but heavy with meaning. Sable only arched a brow. “Presumptuous of you to assume I’m taking his name.”

Gamma laughed into her drink. “Please. The Capitol has already decided for you.”

Poppy hummed in agreement. “A Snow wedding is more than a marriage. It’s history. A legacy. You might as well be crowned.”

Sable let out a soft exhale, rolling the stem of her glass between her fingers. “It’s ironic, isn’t it?” she murmured, almost to herself.

Tigris, ever perceptive, tilted her head. “What is?”

“That I never wanted this,” Sable admitted, her voice quiet but firm. “When my parents tried to marry me off to one of their choosing, I swore I’d never let them dictate my future. I ran, I played my own game, I built my own power—and yet, here I am. Engaged to the most ambitious man in the Capitol.” A dry smile touched her lips. “Almost poetic.”

Seline scoffed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Except this time, it was your choice.”

Was it? Sable didn’t say it aloud. Because it was true—at least, in part. What had begun as a carefully crafted con, a game of intrigue and deception, had spiraled into something else entirely. Coriolanus was supposed to be a mark, a means to an end. She hadn’t planned on the late-night conversations, the rare moments of sincerity, the way his mind worked in ways that both infuriated and fascinated her. She hadn’t planned on him.

And now, she was to be his wife.

Tigris, ever the observer, reached over and squeezed Sable’s hand. “You’re not just marrying Coriolanus,” she said softly. “You’re forging something new. This isn’t about your parents. It isn’t even about the Capitol. It’s about you.”

Sable met her gaze, something unreadable flickering in her expression.

Her friends continued their chatter, filling the room with warmth and laughter, but Sable remained quiet, lost in thought.

Tomorrow, she would stand beside Coriolanus before the entire Capitol. Tomorrow, she would become part of something larger than herself.

And the strangest part of all?

She wanted to.

The evening had swelled into a livelier affair, the kind of gathering where power and indulgence blended seamlessly. The men around Coriolanus were in high spirits, their laughter rich with whiskey and self-satisfaction. To them, this was all a game—a final, wicked night of freedom before he stepped into the gilded cage of matrimony.

Coriolanus had been expecting something—a toast too bold, a wager too dangerous—but he had not been expecting the cake.

It was enormous, wheeled into the center of the room with all the subtlety of a spectacle designed purely for amusement. The men erupted into cheers as the top burst open, revealing a woman wrapped in glimmering gold fabric that barely qualified as a dress. Her hair cascaded in polished waves, her lips curved into a knowing smile as she stretched, exaggerating the movement to the delight of the onlookers.

She locked eyes with Coriolanus, slinking forward in a way that suggested she was well-practiced in seduction. “For the groom-to-be,” she purred, voice smooth as silk. “A final taste of temptation.”

Laughter rang out around him. A few men clapped him on the back, urging him to enjoy himself.

But Coriolanus felt nothing.

Not amusement. Not interest. Not even flattery.

His stomach curled in on itself, his pulse tightening for all the wrong reasons. The idea of touching another woman, of letting someone who wasn’t Sable lay a hand on him, felt wrong in a way he couldn’t articulate.

He had always been strategic, always known how to play a part—but for the first time in his life, there was no performance here. He simply did not want her.

Coriolanus forced a polite smile, stepping back as she drew closer. “A generous gesture,” he said smoothly, his voice betraying none of the unease rolling through him. “But unnecessary.”

There were groans, laughter, a few teasing remarks about how he was already a man shackled.

“She won’t know,” someone goaded.

Coriolanus turned his gaze to the man, the smile never leaving his face, but his eyes had turned cold. She would.

The girl pouted, clearly used to more enthusiastic reactions, but Coriolanus had already dismissed her, turning back to his drink as if she were no more than another decoration in the room.

Garrison chuckled, watching the exchange with sharp amusement. “Gentlemen, I do believe our groom is whipped before the wedding has even begun.”

Coriolanus didn’t deny it. He merely smirked, lifting his glass. “Or perhaps I simply have no need for lesser distractions.”

The men roared in laughter, but Coriolanus barely heard them. His mind was already elsewhere, already tracing the shape of Sable’s absence like an ache beneath his ribs.

It was ridiculous, really. They’d been apart for only a few hours, and yet he had never felt so unmoored.

The thought of seeing her tomorrow—of her walking toward him, of the moment where they would be bound together before the entire Capitol—settled something deep within him.

Sable was his.

And no painted girl from a cake could ever compare.

The bedroom was cast in shadows, illuminated only by the soft glow of the city beyond the towering windows. Sable lay on her back, staring at the intricate ceiling, her mind restless despite the exhaustion pressing down on her. The palace was vast, grand, and impossibly quiet without Coriolanus beside her. It was tradition, after all, that they spend the night apart before the wedding. An antiquated superstition. A meaningless rule.

And yet, she felt his absence like a phantom limb.

She exhaled, shifting beneath the silk sheets, willing herself to sleep. But then—

Click.

Her ears sharpened at the faint sound of the door latch turning. Her body tensed, every nerve alert, until the door cracked open, just enough for a familiar face to appear.

Coriolanus.

His expression mirrored her own surprise, as if he hadn’t expected to find her still awake.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then, with the ghost of a smirk, he murmured, “I thought you’d be asleep.”

Sable arched a brow, propping herself on her elbow. “And I thought you were at the hotel.”

“I was.” He lingered in the doorway, as if waiting for her to send him away. But she didn’t.

Instead, she shifted onto her side, watching him with an amused glint in her eye. “Miss me already?”

He huffed, stepping inside and carefully shutting the door behind him. “Don’t sound so smug.”

But she could see it—the faint, almost begrudging admission in the way he ran a hand through his hair, in the way his shoulders relaxed as he took in the sight of her.

“You’re breaking tradition,” she pointed out.

“I prefer to think of it as bending tradition,” he corrected, making his way toward the bed. “And besides, it’s also my wedding. Who’s going to stop me?”

She bit back a smile as he sat at the edge of the mattress, his fingers grazing the sheets absentmindedly. A flicker of hesitation crossed his face, as though he was still debating whether or not he should have come at all.

Sable reached for his wrist, her touch light but sure. “Stay,” she murmured.

Coriolanus barely hesitated before shifting onto the bed fully, his body moving over hers with the fluid confidence that always made her pulse quicken. His hands found the sheets on either side of her, caging her in, and he lowered himself just enough that she could feel the warmth of him, the faint brush of his breath against her lips.

“Does Garrison know you bailed?” she teased, her fingers already tangling in his collar, tugging him closer.

“Garrison doesn't need to know shit,” he murmured, pressing a lingering kiss to the corner of her mouth.

Sable hummed, tilting her head just slightly to guide his next kiss to where she wanted it. His lips found the spot beneath her ear, his weight sinking against her in a way that made her toes curl.

Between kisses, she managed, “How was your bachelor party?”

He huffed against her skin, his mouth still trailing lower. “Boring.”

Sable let out a quiet laugh, only to have it dissolve into a breathy sigh when his teeth grazed her collarbone. “Boring?” she repeated, amusement laced in her voice. “Your friends throw a high-class affair and all you have to say is boring?”

Coriolanus pulled back just enough to look at her, his lips curling into something dangerously close to a smirk. “I can think of much better ways to spend my last night before marriage.”

Sable let out a breathless laugh, her hands slipping beneath his jacket to push it from his shoulders. “The girls will have your head if they find you here.”

Coriolanus only smirked against her skin, his voice rich with amusement. “Then you’d better keep quiet, my love.”

She huffed, though the sound was lost in a gasp as he dipped lower, his lips grazing the hollow of her throat. Sable's breathing hitched, and her eyelids fluttered shut as his hot breath teased the sensitive skin there. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer still. She moaned softly, arching into the sensation.

As Coriolanus' lips trailed lower, Sable's eyes fluttered shut and her body arched into his touch. The gentle tug of his hair spurred him on, and he couldn't help but deepen the kiss, his tongue dancing along her neck as he nuzzled against her collarbone. His free hand slipped under her dress, tracing light circles on her silky-smooth thigh, eliciting a soft whimper from her throat. The sound sent shivers down his spine, making him even bolder in his advances.

Coriolanus pulled back slightly to capture Sable's plump bottom lip between his own, sucking gently before trailing them down to her jawline. She tasted sweet and addictive, like sugar and sin mixed together. Her breath came out in short gasps that mingled with his own ragged pants as he pressed closer. Their hearts beat in rhythm against each other's chests, almost drowning out the sound of their shallow breaths.

"Happy?" he murmured against her skin when he pulled back again, a devilish grin spreading across his face. Sable let out a shaky nod, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. The dim horizon light flickered across their faces, casting shadows on the wall as they moved closer together on the couch.

"I thought so," he muttered before claiming her mouth once more, his tongue teasing its way in. His other hand found its way under her night dress, tracing light circles on her thigh as he deepened the kiss. Sable moaned softly into his mouth, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pushed him closer still. The scent of their arousal mingled in the air, thick and heady.

He moved down her body, his breath hot and ragged, his fingers twitching with the need to touch, to claim. “Look at you,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous, like velvet wrapped around a fucking blade. “Dripping for me already, aren’t you? Couldn’t last the night without me?”

Sable whimpered, her hips lifting involuntarily, desperate for even the barest hint of contact. But Coriolanus wasn’t in a hurry—no, he was going to make her beg. He trailed a single fingertip along the edge of her panties, the silk so thin he could feel the heat of her pussy radiating through it. “Such a pretty cunt,” he murmured, his voice dripping with malice and arousal. “All plump and swollen, just begging to be ruined.”

He hooked a finger under the waistband of her panties, tugging them to the side just enough to expose her glistening pussy lips. They were slick with her juices, glistening like a fucking feast, and the sight made his cock throb painfully in his pants. He traced a lazy circle around her clit, the touch so light it was almost cruel, and Sable let out a choked moan, her hands clawing at the sheets beneath her.

“Please,” she gasped, her voice breaking. “Please, Coriolanus, I need—”

“You need what?” he interrupted, his smirk sharp enough to cut glass. “Use your words, Sable. Tell me what your greedy little cunt wants.”

She whined, her face flushed, her thighs shaking as she tried to press herself against his hand. “I need you to touch me,” she pleaded, her voice a desperate whimper. “Please, just—just fuck me already.”

Coriolanus chuckled darkly, his fingers finally, finally dipping into the wet heat of her pussy. “That’s my girl,” he purred, his voice like sin itself. “Remember — don’t make a sound.”

And with that, he dove in, his tongue lapping at her slick folds, his fingers fucking into her with a roughness that had her seeing stars. Sable's stifled moans echoed through the room, her body twisting and turning under Coriolanus' relentless hold. He showed no mercy, his depraved desires consuming him as he ravaged her. And he wouldn't stop until she was pleading for mercy, until she was reduced to a sobbing mess in his grasp.

God, he was going to ruin her, and she was going to fucking love every second of it.

The sounds of their heavy breathing and whispered words filled the air as he continued to feast on her pussy, his fingers working in tandem with his tongue, driving her wild with pleasure. Her fingers raked through his hair, pulling him closer still, begging for more as she moaned his name into the sheets beneath her. The taste of her was intoxicating, sweet and salty all at once, and he couldn't get enough.

Coriolanus shifted his weight slightly, propping himself up on one arm while using his other hand to spread her wide open. She couldn't see what he was doing, but she didn't need to...she could feel it. His fingers tracing along the sensitive skin of her entrance before dipping lower, teasing at her tight little hole. He growled low in his throat, driving Sable to the brink of madness with anticipation.

Without warning, he pressed a single finger inside her, stretching and filling her inch by excruciating inch. Sable threw her head back with a gasp that turned into a moan as he finally breached her tight entrance. She squirmed beneath him, arching into his touch as he slowly began to thrust in and out of her fucking mouthwatering cunt.

"Goddess," he muttered against her folds, "Your body is made for me." His free hand found its way between them once more, this time sliding over her clit in a slow circle that had her gasping for air. She was so fucking close—he could feel it—and he wasn't about to let it go that easily.

He increased the pace of his finger-fucking even as he dove back in with his tongue, lapping at her sweet pussy juices, savoring the taste of his lover's desire. His fingers moved with a rhythm that matched the pounding of his heart, each thrust bringing him closer to satisfaction.

“After tomorrow,” Coriolanus murmured against her ear, his lips brushing the shell of it, “I get to ruin you every night.”

A whimper escaped her, and he chuckled, savoring the way she melted against him. “And you’ll love every second of it.”

Sable's body writhed beneath him, her hips bucking in time with his finger-fucking, her juices now flowing freely from her swollen pussy. Her moans grew louder, more desperate as she moaned over and over.

"Yes!" she gaped, "Please -- yes! I'm yours --ah! Forever! All yours!"

And then, just when she thought she couldn't take any more, he finally gave her what she craved. With a fierce thrust of his fingers and a deep suck on her clit, he sent her over the edge. Sable bit down on her lip as the orgasm ravaged her body, quelling her sounds as waves of pleasure washed over her.

Coriolanus revelled in the sounds of her ecstasy, his cock throbbing with need as he watched her come undone beneath him. He knew his release was close, too—he could feel it building in his groin, the tension coiling like a viper, ready to strike.

With one last thrust of his fingers and a long, slow lick, he drew out the last gasping moments of her orgasm before pulling away entirely. Sable whimpered in protest, but Coriolanus merely smiled down at her, relishing the sight of her flushed and sated.

He moved with purpose, his hands danced across her body, tugging at the delicate fabric of her nightdress. It came over her head and fell away, exposing the supple contours of her skin. Every move was deliberate, punctuated by the sharp sound of falling fabric. The silence between them turned electric with anticipation and desire

Sable’s breath caught, her heart racing, and as the night air pooled around her, she felt an overwhelming sense of vulnerability mixed with anticipation. Coriolanus’s gaze was intense, devouring every inch of her, his lips curling into a wicked smile.

“You’re so perfect,” he whispered, his hands tracing the outline of her body as if memorizing it.

She looked up at him, a mischievous gleam in her eyes despite the rush of emotions swirling inside her. “And you’re insufferable.”

His laugh was low and filled with dark amusement as he leaned in, his fingers lightly grazing her side before quickly digging into the soft spot near her ribs, catching her off guard with a teasing tickle. "How dare you."

Sable’s eyes widened, and she let out a startled giggle, squirming beneath him. “Hey!” she gasped, trying to wriggle free, but his grip only tightened as he smirked down at her.

He moved to claim her lips once more, silencing her protest with the heat of his kiss. His lips lingered against hers for a moment, savoring the taste of her defiance, the challenge in her eyes. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving nothing but the two of them, tangled in desire. Sable’s breath came in quick, uneven gasps, her body responding to him without hesitation.

He pulled back just enough to glance down at her, his eyes dark with a mix of adoration and raw hunger. With a sudden shift, he moved off of her, his hand gently urging her to turn.

“Open your legs.” he commanded, his voice low and rough with desire.

Sable complied without hesitation, her body still trembling from her recent release. Coriolanus positioned himself between her thighs, his cock throbbing and leaking pre-cum as he lined up the head with her entrance.

The sensation of him filling her was a mixture of pain and pleasure, but she welcomed both as he slid in to the hilt. It was like coming home, like being wrapped up in the warmth of his embrace. Sable moaned, arching into him as he began to move, each thrust sending shivers down her spine.

Coriolanus continued to move inside her, his hips grinding against hers with a primal rhythm that threatened to drive her over the edge. His hands roamed over her body possessively, as if claiming her in every way possible.

Sable’s moans grew louder and more desperate, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through her body. She ran her hands over his back, digging her nails into his skin as she urged him on.

He leaned down to silence her with another kiss, his tongue dancing with hers as he fucked her with a roughness that had her begging for more. God, she was his, and he was going to make sure she never forgot it.

Their bodies moved together in perfect harmony, their gasps and cries filling the air around them. Sable could feel the heat building within her, the pleasure becoming almost unbearable.

As if sensing this, Coriolanus reached between them and began to rub circles against her clit. The sensation was intense and pushed Sable closer to the edge. Her nails dug into his strong shoulders as he picked up the pace, each thrust hitting deeper and harder, igniting a fire within her that threatened to consume her.

Every muscle in her body tensed and released with each thrust until finally, the overwhelming climax crashed over her. She was soon followed by his own release, searing hot and sharp within her. The sounds of their muffled cries filled the room, mingling together in a passionate symphony that left them both breathless and sated.

The quiet of the room settled around them, a stillness that felt both peaceful and heavy with anticipation. Sable’s mind drifted, thoughts tumbling like the quiet rustle of the sheets around them. She had always known this day would come, but now that it was so close, it felt surreal.

She lifted her head from his chest, propping herself up on her elbow to look down at him. Her fingers traced the lines of his jaw, the familiar comfort of his features mingling with a nervous flutter in her stomach.

"Are you happy?" she asked softly, her voice uncertain despite her best effort to sound casual. "Truly happy to do this?"

Coriolanus met her gaze, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then, he reached up to cup her face gently, his thumb brushing over her cheek. There was something in his eyes—a depth, a truth—that made her heart skip.

“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t,” he said quietly, his voice steady but tinged with something sincere. “You think I don’t know the stakes? I know what this means, Sable. It’s not just a marriage. It’s us, building something. And I’m not walking into it blindly.”

She studied him for a moment, the weight of his words sinking in. Part of her had feared the answer would be more complex—less certain. But he was being honest, and in that, she found a strange sense of reassurance.

Sable took a deep breath, her body relaxing against his once more as she nestled her head against his chest. She could hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, a steady reminder of how quickly the world could change around them.

“Do you think we’ll be happy together?” she asked, her gaze searching his, looking for something—anything—that would reassure her. “I mean… after tomorrow, the pressure’s only going to get worse. There’ll be eyes on us at all times. It’s already hard enough to manage what we have now.”

She felt his body tense beneath her, his fingers lightly brushing through her hair as he absorbed her words. She could see it in his eyes—the calculation, the brief flicker of concern before it was masked with that familiar confidence he always carried. But this time, it felt different, less assured.

“We’ve always managed, haven’t we?” Coriolanus replied, his voice quiet but firm. His hand gently cupped her cheek, turning her face up to meet his. “We’ve handled everything that’s come our way—this is just another challenge. One we’ll face together.”

Sable didn’t respond right away. Her thoughts swirled around her mind, not quite settling, as she considered his words. The truth was, the idea of being under constant scrutiny was daunting. Even now, there were moments when she felt the weight of their every action being observed, analyzed. But with Coriolanus by her side, she couldn’t deny that some of that weight felt a little less heavy.

“I suppose we’ll have to, won’t we?” she said finally, her voice a mixture of resolve and quiet uncertainty. “I just hope we don’t lose ourselves in all of it.”

Coriolanus gave her a small, reassuring smile, his thumb brushing over her lips as if to quiet her worries. “We won’t. As long as we’re in this together, nothing else matters. Not the expectations, not the pressure—just us.”

His words were comforting, though Sable knew deep down that the road ahead wouldn’t be easy. But she had made her choice. And now, she would face whatever came next, with him by her side.

[pumpkin-the-girlie-girl-vixen]

Reassuring Your Nervous System: A Comedic Guide to Calm Your Inner Prey

Hey there, fellow humans! So, you've found yourself in a bit of a pickle—your nervous system is in full-on "Fight or Flight" mode, convinced that a pack of saber-toothed tigers is prowling outside your door. Spoiler alert: it’s just your neighbor's overly enthusiastic dog. But how do we calm that wild nervous system down and let it know you’re not on the menu? Let’s dive into some hilariously factual strategies to give your body the memo it so desperately needs.

Step 1: Talk It Out—Seriously

First things first, communication is key! Sit down in a comfortable space (preferably not a corner with suspicious shadows) and have a heart-to-heart with your nervous system. Say something like, “Hey there, buddy! I know you’re feeling jumpy, but I assure you, no one is hunting me for sport. They only want to play fetch. Talk about a misunderstanding!”

Step 2: Breathing Techniques—Because Hyperventilating Isn’t Cool

Did you know that deep breathing can signal your brain that it’s safe to chill out? Instead of taking short, panicky breaths that make you feel like you’re about to faint, try the "5-7-8" technique: Inhale for 5 seconds, hold for 7, and exhale for 8. This technique is so effective, you might even convince your nervous system that the worst case scenario involves your laundry piling up instead of being chased by ancient predators.

Step 3: Visualization—The Power of Imagination

Next, let’s engage your imagination. Picture yourself lounging on a beach, sipping on a coconut drink, while seagulls serenade you with soft melodies. If you can’t handle the pressure of seagulls, imagine a room full of puppies playing with yarn. Your nervous system might perk up and think, “Wow, this doesn’t feel like a predator’s den at all!”

Step 4: Get Moving—But Not from Danger!

Exercise is another great way to tell your nervous system, “Chill out; we’re not being hunted!” Engage in some physical activity, whether it's a brisk walk or an impromptu dance party in your living room. Remember, running away from your problems is not the goal here. Instead, think of it as giving your nervous system a metaphorical high-five, saying, “Look, I’m alive and well!”

Step 5: Laughter—The Best Medicine (And Distraction)

Finally, laughter! Nothing calms a jittery nervous system like a good dose of humor. Watch a funny movie, read a hilarious blog (wink, wink), or listen to a stand-up comedy routine. Your nervous system will be so busy laughing, it won’t even remember that it thought you were a target for a friendly game of “Survival of the Fittest.”

Bonus Tip: Consult the Experts

If your nervous system remains convinced you’re still being hunted (maybe it’s just a paranoid nervous system), consider consulting a professional. Therapists can help you untangle those anxious thoughts, and they promise they’re not trying to hunt you either!

Conclusion: It's All in Your Head (Literally)

At the end of the day, remember that your nervous system is just doing its job, albeit a bit too well. By employing communication, deep breathing, visualization, movement, and laughter, you can reassure your body that you’re safe and sound. So go ahead, take a deep breath, and remind your nervous system that there are no hunters here—just you, a comfy couch, and a good old-fashioned Netflix binge. Happy calming!

So there you have it, folks! Your guide to telling your nervous system to take a well-deserved break. Now go out there, stay calm, and remember: the only thing you’re hunting for is your next snack! 🥨🍿

[darkenedroses-world]

Unforgettable Chemistry — Blarg x Reader

f!reader, passionate first meeting, intense sexual tension, ballroom setting, dress appreciation, request 🦋

The ballroom was nothing short of a dream—a gilded wonderland of flowing champagne, delicate laughter, and music that thrummed through the polished marble floors. The charity gala was in full swing, and despite the sophistication surrounding you, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t quite your scene. Draped in a deep burgundy gown that hugged your curves just right, you sipped on a flute of champagne and scanned the room, your mind wandering.

That’s when you saw him.

Matt stood by the bar, his dark suit fitting like it was tailored just for him, his hair slightly tousled in a way that made him look effortlessly charming. He had a drink in his hand and a mischievous smile on his lips as he leaned casually against the counter, observing the room with an amused glint in his eyes. Your gaze lingered a little too long, and when he caught you staring, his smirk deepened. He raised his glass in a silent toast, and you felt heat creep up your neck as you turned away, pretending to be utterly engrossed in your drink. You barely had time to gather your composure before a warm voice interrupted your thoughts. “You know, you’re not exactly subtle.” Looking up, you found Matt standing right in front of you, his smirk even more devastating up close. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you said, feigning innocence as you sipped your champagne. “Sure you don’t,” he teased, leaning in slightly. “But I don’t blame you. I look pretty damn good tonight, don’t I?” You couldn’t help but laugh at his audacity, the sound surprising even you. “Confident, aren’t we?” “Confident? Nah,” he said, shrugging playfully.

“I’m just stating the facts. Besides,”—his eyes flicked over you, lingering just enough to make your heart race—“you’re one to talk. That dress? It’s not fair to the rest of us.” Your cheeks burned, but you refused to let him see you flustered. “Is this your strategy? Charm your way through the room until someone falls for it?” “Not at all,” he said smoothly. “I only need one person to fall for it.” The air between you crackled, the playful banter laced with undeniable tension. Before you could come up with a retort, the music shifted, a slow, romantic melody filling the air. Matt extended his hand, his expression softening. “Dance with me?” You hesitated for a split second before placing your hand in his. “Lead the way.” The dance floor was a swirl of elegance, but all you could focus on was Matt. His hand rested firmly on your waist, guiding you effortlessly as you moved together in perfect harmony. “You’re a natural,” he said, his voice low as his thumb brushed against your hip. “I could say the same about you,” you replied, meeting his gaze. He grinned, his blue eyes locking onto yours. “You know, I was right about one thing.” You raised a brow, leaning in slightly to match his teasing tone.

“Just one thing?” “That dress,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a soft, velvety pitch. “It’s definitely unfair… because now I can’t focus on anything else.” The warmth of his words sent a shiver down your spine, and you barely managed to keep your composure as he pulled you just a little closer. The scent of his cologne mingled with the faint aroma of champagne in the air, intoxicating in its own way “And here I thought you were supposed to be the charming one,” you quipped, though your voice wavered slightly. “Oh, I am,” he said, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “But I’m also honest. And right now, all I can think about is how damn good you look in that dress—and how much I want to see you out of it.” Your breath hitched, and for a moment, the world around you disappeared. The elegant chatter of the room, the soft music, even the feel of the marble floor beneath your feet—all of it faded until there was only Matt and the unspoken tension crackling between you. “Is that so?” you managed to whisper, your pulse racing. His smirk deepened, his hand pressing just slightly harder against your waist. “Come with me.” Matt led you through a set of gilded doors that opened into a quiet, dimly lit hallway. The noise from the ballroom faded as the doors clicked shut, leaving only the sound of your footsteps echoing softly against the polished floor. “Matt,” you began, your voice laced with both curiosity and anticipation.

“Where are we—” Before you could finish, he turned to face you, his hands finding your waist as he backed you gently against the wall. His dark eyes bore into yours, his expression a mix of desire and restraint. “Tell me to stop,” he murmured, his lips hovering just inches from yours. “And I will.” You didn’t answer with words. Instead, you reached up, your fingers threading through his hair as you closed the distance between you. His lips crashed against yours in a kiss that was as intense as it was electric, months of unspoken tension finally spilling over. Matt’s hands roamed your body, his touch firm yet tender as he pulled you closer. Your back pressed against the cool wall, a sharp contrast to the heat radiating from his body. His lips moved from yours to your neck, trailing kisses that sent shivers down your spine. “You drive me crazy,” he murmured against your skin, his voice thick with desire. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?” “Show me,” you whispered, your breath hitching as his teeth grazed your collarbone. His response was immediate. He lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you to a nearby room.

The door clicked shut behind you, and before you knew it, he had you on the edge of a velvet settee, his hands working quickly to rid you of the dress that had driven him wild all night.

“God, you’re perfect,” he said, his voice low and reverent as his eyes roamed your body. “Less talking,” you teased, your hands tugging at his tie. “More showing.” Matt’s grin was wicked as he obliged, his movements deliberate and confident as he showed you exactly how much you’d been driving him crazy. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word sent you spiraling, the night stretching into something unforgettable. And as the hours passed, it became clear that the magic of the evening wasn’t just in the ballroom—it was in the connection that sparked between you, igniting a fire neither of you would soon forget.