#WE DEPEND ON YOU. / ic

[agalychnisspranneusroseus]

Pre-Andrias amphibian history is so mysterious and goes so far back... so Valeriana is the last of her order but also, she invented the music box. Her order used to study the stones and temples, and the temples are used to extract the power from the users and store them back in the gems. This implies there were several previous users, and that Valeriana interrupted the cycle, discovered interdimensional travel and began the age of conquest. It's unclear whether of not this happened during the Leviathan dynasty. BUT ALSO: if Valeriana's order studied the temples, it must mean they were already there long before they came to be, and that they have mysterious origins too. There's so much obscure lore, you wouldn't even know the stones and the temples go so far back if you didn't know from the Journal that Valeriana invented the box and that she's actually an undead ghost.

And I don't even remember how the olms fit into this! Both the temples and Valeriana's gear have olm motifs so they were probably venerated and respected. I'll update when I rewatch S3.

So in order of how old things are and when the events happen...

Guardian > Stones > Stone users > Temples > Valeriana's order > Music Box > Age of Conquest > Box going missing (ca. 1020 CE in northern europe, in the """viking age""") > Technological and economic decline. Bunch of wars took place during this time. Written records lost. Instauration of the caste system > Some little lesbian alien mad her parents are making her move away or something idk

What I can't place yet is: the rise of the Leviathans to power, the origin of the prophecy, when the Core was first created and anything and everything to do with the olms. Might update later.

[thetimelordbatgirl]

New school attendance rules (that are stupid as fuck) being published has me learning people didn't even know that the UK fines people for their kids not being in school unauthorized???

[plasticross]

work is not happy with me.

[neganium]

eugh it's so fuckin hot in here. I hate living in the south. it's gotten especially bad the last couple of years and I'm tired of it. I want my spring and my fall back; this is fucking untenable.

[nightingeal]

❝ let's just admire this piece of the world we happen to have in front of us, eh? ❞ @zoanthropiic 🔆 disco elysium: the final cut – accepting!

to say elinor was accustomed to frenzied incidents would be an understatement, and one few could understand how much it missed the mark. busy nights in the emergency room were one thing, spiralling moods and emotions toiling in her mind another, and for what it's worth, they did give the other things a run for their money. but when the supernatural start to interfere with his routine, elinor knows he's in for a world of exhaustion, confusion, pain, that can't be explained to... well, most of her social circle. 

she didn't know how much anton knew about the last few hours, or the role elinor had been thrust into, but she knew enough about herself to know that she looked like shit. and he's never going to turn down an invitation to slow down, especially once the danger had passed and it was safe to do so. well, safe enough, at least. 

"this feels like the kind of moment i should offer you a cigarette." she muses, thinking about the movies he'd seen. "i don't have any. i don't smoke. well, not tobacco, anyway." the nurse feels words beginning to get away from her, rambling to hide nervousness only revealing it. she didn't even know if the man smoked! with a sigh and a light flush of embarrassment on his cheeks, she let blue eyes drift to the sky and do as prompted, the sun almost completely hidden by the horizon now, revealing the stars against a deep blue canvas. 

[marshmellowtea]

if we've never interacted before and you're tagging me in a donation post you're getting blocked and reported for spam lmao

[cappurrccino]

I was not sure I'd be able to actually keep up with this challenge when I joined it, but look at me!! I did!! Some amount of reading done every day (even on the 19th which looks like 0 but is actually 3 jskdlfjkl)

One month into the year, kept to a habit, got through 13 books/graphic novels! I suspect my reading rate will taper off slightly going forward because I do have some other stuff I need to fit into my days as well, but this was still a very nice exercise!

[mzminola]

#I read OP’s tags and this ISN’T about#the silmarillion#??! [tags via tanoraqui]

XD I'd read a bunch of ASoIaF fics and hang out in Batcest circles, but I party made it because I knew there had to be other fandoms it fit too. I haven't read the Silmarillion but I honestly love how many people have been tagging it with that!

Fandom wank over what constitutes incest is OUT fandom wank over what constitutes kinslaying is IN.

[beneaththebloodylake]

ive been reading too much ace attorney fanfic and its sort of pissing me off, apparently im a bit of a snob. if i had more time id be very tempted to write a case fic which goes uncharacteristically into legal details and technical stuff, but make it actually accurrate to the correct system

[doctor-disc0]

I want to make an Elder Scrolls character based on my last D&D character but it's. Very hard. Because she was such a unique and weird character that it is hard to translate that into an in-game character (info on her and my thoughts about how I could adapt her into an es character below the cut).

Her name was Eva "Halfblood" Akannathi, and she was a half-orc, half-goliath 18 year old bard (college of valor). But she was kind of an unconventional bard. She hated lying and dishonesty. Like, really loathed it. This girl has not lied once in the 18 years she's been alive and does not plan on ever doing it. She also considers illusions to be a form of lying.

This made playing through the campaign very interesting. At certain points of the campaign, she had to roll wisdom saving throws whenever her party had to lie to someone. If she succeeded, she managed to keep quiet. If she failed, she would blurt out the truth. She also disliked whenever her party members lied about anything. It didn't matter if it was for the greater good. She would rather die than tell a lie, and she wishes others felt the same.

Now, adapting her into a playable Elder Scrolls character is a bit tricky. You would think going with the Bard class would be the obvious choice. However, one of their major skills is Illusion, and given Eva's stubborn dislike of illusion, that's not exactly going to work. I could, of course, make a custom class, but I have so much anxiety about getting custom classes exactly right that it ends up just stressing me out whenever I try to create a custom class. But, maybe I'll try a custom class. That would probably be the best.

The race is a little less tricky, but there's still that "damn, I wish I could choose two races." Her in-game race would probably be orc, since that's the race she looks the most like. In my head, though, I'm thinking she would be half-orc, half-nord. I mean, D&D goliaths are resistant to cold damage and are tall, and Nords are basically the same, even if their coloration is different (goliaths have greyish skin and markings on their face, whereas Nords have white skin and no natural markings). What I really wish I could do is just take the cold resistance from Nords and just replace the Orc berserk thing with it because going berserk isn't really Eva's style lol (she's no barbarian!). But whatever, I suppose she can survive without her cold resistance.

It just really sucks because I loved playing her so much in D&D, and now that that campaign is over, I kinda miss her. But she's such a weird character that she's hard to play in any other setting.

[gravesung-moving]

» LAYLA, the burned portrait.

@ruinswandered ( lachlan fletcher. )

SHE'S STARING. IT TAKES HER A MOMENT TO REALIZE THIS. layla sits alone at a windowside table, late afternoon light threading through the loose red waves around her head and shoulders. THE OWLERY is a relatively new coffee shop, so the business has been fast and steady in its first month. she has made it a frequent haunt for the thrill of observing an ever-shifting tide of new faces. this is always how it starts: she skims the periphery, searching for interesting faces and the promise of layered hearts to intercept, pick apart, and ultimately break.

one among the bustling crowd stands out from the droll and predictable rest. calloused hands, a half-hidden scar upon the skull, and perhaps most interestingly, the body language of a warrior. in all of her decades—running on one hundred and fifty years now, though her appearance and mental maturity barely crest twenty-five—layla has not seen someone carry themselves like that in a very long time. consequently, she catches herself staring.

when the stranger's eyes find hers, she holds his gaze for a very long moment. steam rises from her untouched coffee cup. if lachlan's ability to sense supernatural creatures extends as far as her table, then he may be able to pick up on the presence of a selkie.

[glitteringdepths]

i get why neuvillette is such a water fan, i get him. i love water it is the beverage of all time... its my go to drink most of the time, theres nothing like a cold glass of water

i would love to water taste with neuvillette honestly, i think it would be interesting to taste water from each region of teyvat and see how different they are. idk. water enjoyer to water enjoyer conversation

[redbuddi]

I think we as a society need to be reminded how good the original Powerpuff Girls was. Here's some of my favorite things about it:

the fight scenes had a level of punchiness and impact that was rare for cartoons of the nineties, and fight scenes that were way better than what one would expect from a comedy

The character writing is so good that a large portion of the show's most iconic episodes consist of just showing how the girls' personalities react to different scenarios, for example in one episode the girls take turns recapping a fight that had just happened, and the tone and art style of the flashback changes depending on whose telling the story

One of the recurring extras is a talking dog that goes about it's day like a normal human

Each girl has mostly the same powers with one special ability that sets them apart. Blossom has ice breath. Bubbles can speak to squirrels and is also fluent in Spanish. Buttercup can curl her tongue.

while the majority of the show is lighthearted comedy sometimes it'll just decide to be nightmareworld for an episode and i think thats pretty cool

The show utilizes a blend of classic upa linework and sixties art deco shapism to create a visual style that is utterly timeless. If the majority of the show wasn't cell animated you would not be able to guess when it came out

The main villain's speaking patterns were directly inspired by The Super Dictionary. AKA, the same book that brought us this:

You can tell.

In the season one finale, the girls fight a giant monster using a mech suit. During the fight, there is a sequence that is literally just 20 uninterrupted seconds of an absurd amount of missiles coming out of every possible orifice of the robot. And then they miss.

There was an anime adaptation made in the 2000's and its actually pretty good, like it does take a lot of creative liberties but its clear that the people making it understood the spirit of the original show and were just adapting it to reflect japanese pop culture in the same way the og show reflected american pop culture.

The show had an insanely kickass soundtrack consisting of early techno so clean it's kind of shocking that it was made in the late nineties and not the early 2010's pre-dubstep era

satan is there and he serves cunt

[peachesofteal]

Raspberry Girl Previous + masterlist + AO3 Simon Riley/female reader CW: 18+ daddy kink, corruption kink, size kink, talks you through it, spanking.

The fever broke the next day.

You ran hot and cold all night and into the morning, sweating and shivering until the sun came up, pushed him away when your skin was slick with sweat, pulled him back when your fingers turned to ice. 

His poor baby girl. He did everything he could to ease you, settle you, keep you comfortable. You were barely conscious when he gave you water and more meds, hardly aware as he stripped you bare and wrapped you in your duvet, giving up on keeping your shirt dry and clean. 

Dawn came, and he called you out of work for the rest of the week, assured Mara you were fine, promised you’d text her when you were feeling up to it. You need a break, he explained, and she agreed, said she’d handle it. 

He’d take care of the rest. 

Your feet slap against the hard wood floor towards the living room where he’s settled on your couch, laptop open, last email responded to, headache blooming behind his eyes. John mentioned there was a lot of admin work when it came to being a captain, but he undersold it. By a lot. 

Doesn’t matter right now, he has more important things to focus on. “Hi sweet girl.” 

“I- you’re- did you… did you call me out of work?” Your color is healthy, along with your voice, and overall you look a lot better, back to normal, even with your shoulders high and tight, coiled with anxiety. 

“You’re not going back until Monday.” A string is pulled, releasing the tension of your uncertainty, confidence in his decisions, in him, growing a bit more day by day. “Come here baby.” You settle between some cushions and his side, but before you can lay your head on his arm, he shifts to face you. “How are you feeling?” 

“Better.” You’re still only in a shirt and panties, legs exposed from where you slump into the couch. “Thank you,” you whisper, giving him your eyes, a long look, dripping with trust, “for being here… for taking care of me.” He cups your cheek.

“I’m always going to take care of you, sweetheart. I’m always going to be here.” Building the belief you can depend on him or anything, go to him for everything, takes time. Just because he tells you, doesn’t mean it’s automatically instinctive, but the other side of the coin needs to be addressed. “We need to discuss a few things.” You watch him apprehensively.  

“Okay.” 

“You had multiple opportunities to tell you weren’t feeling well on Tuesday, but chose not to. Do you want to tell me why?” Your breath catches, stutters your diaphragm in quick succession. 

“I didn’t want to bother you. I thought… I figured I’d just go home and sleep it off and then I’d feel fine and there’d be no reason to even give it a second thought, I didn't... I wasn't sure if you were busy at work and I didn’t want to be an inconvenience, I-” His hand curves around your skull, fingers at your nape, thumb pressed to your lips, stopping the stream of worry before it builds into a rollercoaster.

“You’re not an inconvenience, you’re mine. You’re mine to take care of, and you don’t make the decisions about what’s bothersome to me. There isn’t a single thing about you that could ever bother me. Do you understand?” You nod, lips warm beneath the pad of his thumb. “Words, baby girl.” 

“Yes daddy, I understand.” 

“I know this is a big transition and a lot to learn, you’re going to make mistakes, and so will I. I’ve already made one by not introducing your rules sooner, and we’re going to fix that now.” A rod of steel supports his words, and you straighten. His little solider at attention.

“Rules…” you trail off, a little perplexed, a little curious, too fucking cute. 

“Rules. You’re my priority, and it’s important you’re safe, happy, and healthy. The rules are easy to follow, but if they’re broken, there will be consequences. Are you ready to hear them?” You nod nervously, and he takes your hand, squeezes it. “You’ll always listen to daddy. You’ll be in bed, at bedtime, unless you’re told otherwise. You’ll eat three meals a day, which includes an actual breakfast and instead of your usual half gallon of coffee, you'll drink water instead.” 

“B-but-” He raises an eyebrow, and you press your lips together. “Sorry daddy.” 

“That’s okay, but you’re just listening now, okay?” 

“Okay.” 

“Good girl. You can have two cups, but no more. When you’re at work, you’ll check in after each meal, even if you don’t get a response. I don't always have my phone, but the rules still apply. If I’m away,” it's acid in his throat, squeezing his windpipe, trying to choke him, but he’ll cross that bridge when he comes to it, “you’ll still send your messages. You will always consider your safety before doing anything, like walking ten blocks home with a fever.” Your face twists up with guilt. “You’ll tell me whenever you're scared, or anxious, or overwhelmed, whether it’s face to face, or through a text or phone call." He gives you a second, waits and watches, analyzes all the flickers and flutters in your expression. The moment it hits, your relief, your realization, a weight lifts from his shoulders. "That’s all we have for now, sweet girl. We're starting pretty basic and will adjust as things change. I’ll write them down so it’s easier to keep track of, but these are your rules, and I’m very serious about them, because I’m very serious about you.” He pulls you into his arms, settles you against his chest and rubs your back. Now for the hard part. "Okay?"

"Okay."

"And if you had known them, would you have walked home on Tuesday?"

"No, I wouldn't have."

“It’s okay baby,” he skims his nose across the top of your head, dots a kiss at your hairline. “You didn’t know, but we’re going to use it as a learning opportunity.” 

“We are?” He tightens his hold. 

“I’m going to give you a punishment, so you have an idea what to expect for the future. Stand up.” You untangle yourself from his arms, rising in front of him, trembling. You're standing on the edge of a cliff, the roof of a building, and the only thing below is him, waiting to catch you. It's a test of trust, of progress, one he believes you won't fail. “It’s okay to be nervous. New things can be scary and there will a lot of them. D'you trust me to take care of you?” 

“Yes daddy.” It eases an ache in his heart, the one that hates seeing you unsettled, and he shifts his legs into a ninety degree angle, patting his thigh. “What… what are we doing?” 

“Daddy’s going to spank you.” Your eyes go wider than saucers. 

“Y-you’re going to spank me?” You squeak, taking a half step away towards the coffee table as he pulls your wrists together and then holds them with one hand, pushing you down over his knees. 

“You’re only getting five spanks, and if you’re very good, you’ll get a reward.” 

“I d-don’t know, can’t I um…” Your shirt comes up over your bottom, but he leaves your underwear in place. “I c-can do something else. Maybe… make my bed? Or do the dishes?” He laughs, enjoying the way you shiver as he rubs his palm over your cheeks, warming the flesh. 

“You’re getting a spanking, little girl. I want you to count after each one, and when we get to five, we’ll stop. Ready?” Five. It's nothing, but not to you. It's alien, it's scary, it's an unknown world you're brand new to.

This place was made for you, this home he built in his heart, this world he crafted with his bare hands, all of it, is for you. Only for you, forever.

But it's still new.

He gives you some time, your needed space, and when your lungs expand with a deep breath, he draws back- 

And swings. 

The sound of his palm making contact with your flesh is music, your little shocked howl combined with the ripple of your cheek, all of it coming together in perfect harmony-

but something is missing. "Are you going to count, or do I need to start over?"

"O-one," you warble, sucking in a big breath.

"Good girl." The second is the same and you clench, even though these are the softest slaps he’s ever dealt. “Relax your bottom baby girl, that’s it.” You groan out your third with your feet kicking, pant your fourth, and on the fifth, you shiver and shriek. 

But you don’t cry. You don’t break.

He didn’t think you would. You have a soft strength to you, one that comes from navigating a world that doesn't understand you.

He kisses your trembling lower lip as he hauls you up, evaluates your expression, checking for true fear, panic, satisfied when he doesn’t find it. 

“My brave girl, I'm so proud of you.” he murmurs, urging you onto your back beside him on the couch, thighs slung over his. You grunt at the contact, raw ass meeting the cushion, but don’t complain. “You took that so well.” 

“I d-did?” 

“You did.” He’s good at this now, giving enough but not too much, honoring your need for slower steps. They’re the only way the mission will result in success. He rubs your feet, presses his thumbs into an arch as you whimper. You’re still slightly tense so he keeps going until you turn boneless, limp, taking his time, indulging in the quiet passing of time, a long moment spent with you. “Feel good?” 

“Mmm, yeah…” 

“Do you remember when I said you’d get a reward?” He keeps going, up your calves to your knees, working slow patterns around to the backside of your thighs before revisiting your feet, up and down, again and again until your relaxation starts to become something else, something that has you squirming. 

“Y-yeah,” your exhale is shaky. You’re so responsive, already on edge just by some simple pressure, a light massage, and there’s a wet spot darkening your light blue panties. 

“Are you a little sensitive?” He skates up toward your hip and across, dragging his fingertips under your shirt across your belly. You giggle. “Ticklish?” 

“Um, y-yes.” He keeps going, squeezing, stroking your skin, dipping below the hem of your underwear carefully, testing your resistance. When there’s none, he goes further, and you buck into his touch, inadvertently sliding his fingers down to your pussy. “Oh.” Slick is seeping out between your folds, sticking to your underwear. You’re not just wet, you’re soaked, to the point where if he spanked your little cunt it’d splash. 

“Oh baby, you’ve made a mess,” he grazes your seam and you grab his wrist, holding on tight, mouth moving with no sound coming out. He wants to see, wants to inspect, wants to memorize every inch of you, but he’s not sure if you’re ready, and you’ve never said it outright, but he knows you’re self conscious. 

Still- 

He splays his hand across your stomach. “Daddy wants to see your pussy sweet girl, can I look?” You shift nervously, but stare up into his eyes with so much trust it nearly kills him, finally nodding with your fingers gripping the couch cushions. “Words, sweetheart.” 

“Yes daddy.” 

“Such a good girl.” He rolls your underwear down to mid-thigh, mouth watering when dewy drops of slick web from the your lips to the cotton, curly hair soaking wet. Christ. Like this, he can’t spread you open, but just the smell of you alone has him leaking in his pants. “You’re so pretty baby, what a perfect, precious pussy.” He could tell you all the things you have to look forward to right now, break your brain a bit if he wanted. How he’s going to inspect you, train you, shave you, stretch you out, fill you up, plug you up, teach you about toys and edging and forced orgasms. Show you how perfect, how beautiful you are every single day, make sure you know it, all the way to your soul. 

He can’t do any of that now, but he needs to go farther, a fiend for a fix. You’re already half laid over his lap, so it’s easy to grab your calves. “I’m going to fold your legs up a bit. Be still for me, there we go,” he bends you at the waist, flexing your knees outward to expose you, your hole, your bottom, cheeks glossy all the way to the couch. “Doin’ so well. Do you touch yourself?” 

“Sometimes b-but I can’t always… finish.” Poor baby. He’s sure you get caught up in your head over it, trip yourself into losing the edge. 

“That’s okay, daddy’s going to make sure you have plenty of orgasms from now on. Can you clench for me? Show daddy what your little hole looks like when it squeezes?” You choke on a breath but your pussy pulses. You’re tight enough he could hurt you, and even with all the prep, he knows the first time won’t be easy. “Has anyone ever been inside you?” 

“Fingers. I’ve h-had two boyfriends, and they’ve… fingered me. And gone down but I didn’t really like it.” You whisper, and the possessive, obsessed monster in his heart comes alive. Fuck. You lock up. “Is that… is that bad?” 

“No, baby, no.” He let the silence linger for too long and it ate at you, twisted your thoughts until they turned sour. His mistake. “I’m just thinking about how my cock is going to be the first one you ever take, and that makes daddy really happy.” First… and last. You suck in a sharp breath.

“Oh.” If he doesn’t put a pin in this immediately, he’s going to end up fucking you right here on the couch, far before you’re ready for him. 

“You’ve been so good for me, are you ready for your reward?” You nod enthusiastically. So fucking cute. “That sounds good, doesn’t it?” He drags your panties back up to your hips and then sits you up as you blink, confused. 

“What-” 

“It’s okay, c’mere.” He leads you over his thigh, planting your knees on either side, encouraging you down until you’re sitting directly on his leg, vibrating. His little leaf in the wind. 

“I d-don’t know… what to do.” He gently places his hands on your hips. 

“I know, but you don’t have to worry, I'm going to teach you. I’m going to take away all that stuff in your head that makes it hard for you to orgasm sometimes.” You jerk, eyes rivaling a full moon, lips parted and panting already. “You’re wet, which means,” he slides you forward and you moan, “your little clit is swollen, your pussy wants to come.” You twitch in his hold, seeking friction. “When you touch yourself at home, do you feel how hard it is?” You nod, sinking down, looking for the relief. “That’s your clit poking its head out from its hood, looking for something to touch it, rub it, but you don’t always have to use your hands.” He leads you into a rhythm, grazing your neck with his teeth at the same time. “All you need to do is ride.” You follow his guidance, gliding against his jeans, wide eyes turning half lidded, picking up speed as sparks fly between your legs. You’re a drug, you’re his drug, a precious, rare, one in a million thing he’d burn the earth for. “Good girl, look at you, rubbing your pussy all over daddy’s thigh. Does it feel good?” 

“Yes- ah,” you whimper, and he shakes his head. 

“Yes who, baby.” 

“Yes d-daddy, it feels so good, fu-” you bump the wide crown of his cock, hard and leaking down his pant leg, and screech to a stop. “I-is that…” He can’t resist taking your hand and spreading your palm over the length, soaking up your shocked expression. 

“Yeah sweet girl. That’s daddy’s cock.” You’re still his little fawn, exploring on trembling legs, staring at him with your mouth hanging open, and he chuckles as he sticks his thumb in it. “Don’t worry. We’ll build up to it.” He pulls out of your mouth and slips his hand under your shirt, pinching your nipple. You hiss. 

“Ow-” Leaning back with an arm behind his head, leg shoving upward, throwing you off balance just enough you have to hold onto his shoulders. 

“Want me to show you what it’ll be like when I bounce you on my cock?” 

“Um, uh... I’ll... I'll fall?” your brow furrows as you try to find a rhythm again.

“I’d never let you fall baby, I promise.” It’s a solemn vow. Wouldn’t let you fall here, or anywhere, ever, something you’ll learn in time. 

He stabilizes you, hands back on your hips, and then picks up a steady pace, your fingernails digging into his forearms, clinging to him for dear life. 

Just the way he likes it. 

It doesn’t take long for your eyes to glaze over, the effort of frantically trying to keep up with being bounced on his leg slowly turning into clumsy, desperate movements, shoving yourself down against him again and again, trying to find that sweet spot, the release you need. 

The only correction you need is when your lashes flutter. “Keep your eyes open when you come for me. Always on me.” You nod, looking up at the last second as you go rigid, thighs trying to snap shut around his, and he keeps you in place as chase your orgasm. “There it is, what a good girl, coming on daddy,” your breath hitches, half moan, half twisted scream and he pets you soothingly, “That's it, ride it baby, ride it out for me.” You do until you’re in tatters, shuddering in his hold, wet cheeks pressed to his neck as he rocks you. “My perfect, sweet girl.” He lays you down, kisses the inside of your wrist when you refuse to let go. Tears are still flowing down your temples and into your hair, but he shoves away the side of him that wants to spread you wide and fuck you until there’s more. 

You need something else now. He suspects this is the first time you've experienced something like this, an emotional release after an orgasm, emotions, tension, all of those things in your head, cut free and running rampant, spilling out of you to him, and it's his job to take them, carry them, life them from your shoulders.

He never gave aftercare a second thought when he was younger. Fuck and leave, that’s all it ever was until he realized how fulfilling it was to take something apart and put it back together, to give someone everything they need, control every aspect to ensure they were safe and happy and warm, comfortable all the way to their bones. He’s glad he discovered it before, all the trial and error long over, a methodical approach and understanding left in its place, just so he can give it all to you. 

There’s a wet spot on his jeans from where you soaked all the way through, and he grabs a blanket over the back of the couch, tucking it in around your sides. When he tries to stand, you track him without breaking focus, still clinging to his shirt. "Shhh, easy. You're alright." he curls around you, blocks out the light, holds you tight to him and murmurs in your ear gently. "My sweet little berry girl, daddy's got you. I'm here."

You settle after a while, your cheeks drying, muscles relaxing, and he's finally able pull away. "I’m going to get you some water, and then when you’re ready, we’ll go get you in a bath and into some clean clothes.” He kisses your temple, breathing in the sex and sweat, tasting your tears. “Stay still, I'll be right back.” You nod sleepily. He’ll need to feed you too, and get some cream on your ass, but it’s one step at a time right now. 

And he’s going to enjoy every single second of it. 

[yeah-thats-probably-it]

Once again tumblr is silencing my voice by not letting me add more than 30 tags. Okay the rest of what I was going to say is that if you gave him an assignment that was simple and out of the way enough, even upstairs, he might be able to stick it out for a couple hours. Another factor that determines how long that might be is where this is happening. Is he at Brinkley Court? Then Aunt Dahlia and the other servants (whom he seems to be on good terms with) will cover for him. No matter what he screws up, “oh, that’s Barry! He’s just new here!” Jeeves might be able to work something similar at a different manor house (presuming Bertie’s face isn’t already known there) if he’s on good terms with any of the servants there. They might agree to take Bertie under their wing as a favor to Jeeves. It also depends on whether Jeeves himself is there to help him, whether they’re working in the same area of the house, and if they’re able to inconspicuously pull each other aside to confer.

In conclusion: can’t answer question, too many variables

[inkandapex]

like lando norris

Lando Norris x Y/N

Summary : Lando Norris and his girlfriend invite viewers into their everyday life, sharing candid and funny moments as they go about their day.

Words : 2.5k

Warnings : swearing, suggestive talk

Lando and Y/N sat on the sofa, waiting for Morgan and Ethan to arrive to film the second part of the "I Ate and Trained Like Lando Norris" Quadrant video. Fans had loved the first one—especially catching glimpses of Y/N in the background, offering a rare peek into their domestic life.

The two exchanged a knowing look as the doorbell rang. Lando got up, heading for the door, only to be immediately greeted by a camera in his face and the two boys standing there with their bags.

"Good morning," Morgan greeted, stepping inside with a smirk. "I'm hoping for a better meal this time, Lando. I’m not having any of that mush for breakfast and that cold-ass salad for lunch again."

Lando laughed, hugging him briefly before turning to Ethan for the same. "We’re supposed to be healthy! You guys are living like me for a day, aren’t you?" he teased, waving at the camera before shutting the door behind them.

"Actually..." Ethan trailed off, making Lando raise a brow.

Morgan smirked. "The concept’s a little different today."

"We’re just gonna do what you do on a regular day off. No training, no ice chamber—just regular little Lando," Ethan added.

Lando scoffed. "I still train on my days off."

"Bullshit," Morgan shot back immediately.

"I do!"

"Oh, stop showing off for the camera, mate," Morgan rolled his eyes. "You probably just lie in bed all day and eat McDonald's."

Ethan burst into laughter as Lando shook his head with an amused grin.

"Right, where’s the missus?" Morgan dropped his bag onto the floor, casually looking around as if he owned the place.

"She was just on the sofa, mate. You probably scared her off," Lando joked, walking further into the apartment.

From a distance, Y/N’s voice called out, "I’m in the kitchen!"

The trio made their way toward the kitchen, where Y/N stood at the stove, containers of food neatly arranged beside her.

"This feels so scripted," Ethan teased. "You guys totally rehearsed this, didn’t you?"

Lando laughed. "No mate, this is all raw footage." He walked over, peering over Y/N’s shoulder to see what she was doing.

"Heard you complaining about having to eat cold meals," Y/N smiled, motioning for the camera to come closer. "So I’m reheating your breakfast."

Morgan stepped forward, relief washing over his face. "Thank fuck we don’t have to eat mush again. You’re an absolute angel," he said, eyeing the food. "You made this?"

She shook her head. "Still part of the meal plan, just reheating it. It’s banana pancakes."

Ethan glanced at his watch before looking between Lando and Y/N. "Are you guys usually up this early? Even on your free days?"

The couple exchanged a smile, shaking their heads.

"Depends," Lando shrugged.

"On?" Ethan prompted.

"On how we’re feeling, I guess," Y/N added.

Morgan smirked. "Depends on how wild they were the night before—dirty bastards."

Lando and Y/N both turned red, bursting into laughter.

Y/N plated the pancakes, topping them with yogurt and fresh fruit, while the three watched in focused anticipation—Lando even helping her place a few berries on each plate.

"Is he usually this helpful in the kitchen?" Ethan asked, eyeing Lando.

Y/N scoffed, immediately shaking her head. "Absolutely not."

Lando gasped, feigning offense. "Excuse me?"

"When I moved in, he barely knew how to use the microwave," she teased.

"Baby, I knew how to use the microwave," Lando defended himself.

Y/N smirked. "He never touched the oven, either. The protective plastic and stickers were still on—"

"Alright, enough from you," Lando cut her off, popping a berry into her mouth before leaning in to plant a quick kiss on her lips.

Morgan groaned. "Ugh, get a room."

Ethan laughed. "I think we are in their room."

Lando just grinned, grabbing his plate. "Well, since you guys wanna be me for the day, you better start eating like me too."

And with that, they all sat down to dig in, ready for whatever the rest of the video had in store.

"This is so much better than last time," Morgan said through a mouthful of food, letting out a satisfied sigh.

Beside him, Ethan nodded in agreement, grunting as he took another bite.

Y/N stood nearby, sipping on a smoothie instead of joining them in eating.

"You're not having some, Y/N?" Ethan asked, glancing over at her.

She shook her head and lifted her smoothie slightly in response.

Lando, ever the gentleman, cut a small piece from his plate and held his fork out toward her. Y/N smiled softly before leaning in to take the bite.

Morgan made a face. "Look at them. So sweet it makes me sick."

"Jealous?" Lando smirked at him.

Morgan scoffed, while Ethan shook his head. "It's all fake anyway. No way you pulled her, mate. Look at her."

Y/N let out a laugh as Lando turned to glare at them playfully.

Morgan leaned against the counter, intrigued. "Alright then, who messaged who first?"

Lando glanced at Y/N before answering. "Uhmm... I technically made the first move, but we were friends for a while before that."

Morgan barely hesitated before dropping his next question. "Is he as good in bed as he is on track, Y/N?"

Y/N choked on her drink, coughing as she tried to recover.

"Mate, try not to kill our host thirty minutes into the video," Ethan laughed, patting her back as Lando groaned, running a hand down his face.

Morgan simply grinned. "What? The people want to know."

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The four of them were now in Lando’s car—Lando at the wheel, Y/N riding shotgun, and Ethan and Morgan lounging in the back.

“So, where are we off to now?” Ethan asked, leaning forward slightly to peek into the camera mounted on the dashboard.

Lando kept his eyes on the road as he navigated through the city. “Since it’s technically our regular day, we’re gonna run some errands.”

“You two actually do your own grocery shopping?” Morgan asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

Y/N chuckled, nodding. “Yeah, of course.”

Lando glanced at her with a grin. “What did you think we did?”

Morgan shrugged, looking out the window. “I don’t know… had a personal shopper or something?”

“Nah, we still do normal stuff,” Lando said with a small smile. “Honestly, I kinda like it. Feels… regular.”

Y/N snorted, not looking up from her phone. “He just likes sneaking junk food into the cart while I’m actually trying to buy things we need.”

Ethan laughed. “Don’t you get, like, mobbed when you go out?”

Lando nodded. “Not mobbed… but filmed, yeah. People ask for photos. You just get used to it after a while.”

“Yeah, well, I saw a pap shot of you two making out in your Ferrari the other day,” Morgan teased, shooting Lando a knowing look. “Cheeky bastard—couldn’t even wait ‘til you got home?”

Y/N groaned, covering her face with her hands as Lando laughed. “Oh my god, why does the whole world have to see that?”

Inside the grocery store, Y/N was pushing the cart while the three of them trailed behind her like ducklings. As expected, Lando’s presence earned them a few lingering stares—some people even sneaking their phones up to record.

“I feel like a celebrity,” Ethan whispered dramatically.

Morgan rolled his eyes. “You idiot, you are with a celebrity.”

Lando chuckled at that, but he and Y/N had already drifted ahead, casually chatting as they browsed the shelves, momentarily forgetting about the camera filming them.

Morgan smirked, turning to the lens and zooming in on the couple. “Gotta admit, they’re pretty damn cute.”

A few meters away, Y/N and Lando had paused in front of a shelf, seemingly in the middle of a heated debate.

“Ohhh,” Ethan grinned, watching them from afar. “The parents are fighting.”

Before Morgan could respond, Ethan jogged over to investigate.

"— we already have like sixty of these at home."

"But Lan...this one’s ocean breeze," Y/N insists, shoving the candle under Lando’s nose like it’s the most important purchase of their lives.

Lando sighs dramatically, giving her a look. "And what, the other sixty are not breezy enough for you?"

Y/N bats their lashes innocently. "Nope. This one speaks to my soul."

With a groan that’s more for show than actual protest, Lando grabs the candle and tosses it into the cart. "Fine. But if our house starts smelling like a tropical resort, I’m blaming you."

"I take it the missus is always right?" Ethan teases, watching the exchange with an amused grin.

Lando huffs, but when he looks over at Y/N, who’s beaming like they just won the lottery, he just shakes his head with a smile. "Unfortunately… yes."

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By lunchtime, they were back at the apartment. The boys had gathered around the kitchen, watching as Y/N effortlessly whipped up a quick pasta dish while Lando stood to the side, assisting.

"Mate, you're literally just standing there holding a cheese grater," Morgan chuckled, shaking his head. "You don’t have to keep pretending in front of the cameras."

Y/N let out a laugh, sneaking a glance at Lando, who was hovering near her with all the enthusiasm of a kitchen decoration. "He always does this. He'll ask if I need help and then just stand there like a lost puppy."

"Why am I being targeted?!" Lando exclaimed, throwing his hands up, the cheese grater still in one of them.

Ethan smirked. "Has Lando ever actually cooked for you, Y/N? Considering he doesn't even use the oven"

Y/N paused, thinking for a moment before nodding. "He has, actually."

"Was it edible?"

"Wow," Lando scoffed, scandalized.

Y/N giggled, nudging him with her elbow. "It was! He made that TikTok pasta recipe. It was pretty good, actually." She shot Lando a playful grin before adding, "He did use nearly every single pot and pan we own, though."

Morgan and Ethan burst out laughing as Lando rolled his eyes. Y/N, still grinning, reached up and gave his cheek a gentle teasing pinch before handing out the plates. "But hey, at least he tried."

They sat around the dining table, eating, chatting, and answering a few lighthearted questions—all while playing a passive game of UNO.

"What do you typically do when Lando’s away during race weekends? I take it you don’t attend every race?" Ethan asked, casually dropping a Draw Two card onto the pile.

"Yeah, I only go to a handful of races," Y/N nodded, picking up her new cards. "I usually stay here and work. Try to get stuff done with Quadrant every now and then too."

Morgan smirked. "Does he get needy when he's gone for too long?"

Lando let out a chuckle, shaking his head, but Y/N grinned knowingly. "I wouldn’t say needy… but he does get a bit pouty when he’s tired."

"Pouty?!" Morgan repeated, dramatically scandalized. He turned to Lando, pointing his fork at him in mock disappointment. "At your big age of 26? Lando, mate—really?"

Lando groaned, throwing down an UNO Reverse card aggressively. "Okay, first of all, rude. Second of all, I don’t pout."

"Oh, you definitely do," Y/N countered, nudging him playfully. "FaceTime calls at like 2 AM, all sulky, saying 'I'm so tired' , 'I miss you', 'Wish you were here', in the whiniest voice."

Ethan burst out laughing. "Oh, that’s fantastic. Please tell me you have screenshots."

Y/N smirked. "Oh, I have videos."

Lando's eyes widened as he dropped his fork. "You traitor!"

"It's cute!" Y/N argues, crossing her arms as Lando groans dramatically.

Ethan chuckles before shifting the topic. "And your favorite race on the calendar that you attend?"

"Oh... it depends, really," Y/N muses, twirling her fork in her pasta. "I love Japan—it’s such a beautiful country. But maybe Silverstone is high up there? Since it’s his home race and I get to spend time with his family for pretty much the whole week. And honestly, any race that Cisca attends. She's a sweetheart."

"Lando’s mum, right?" Ethan clarifies.

Y/N nods. "Yep!"

Lando scoffs, leaning back in his chair. "More like her mum now."

Morgan smirks. "Has she taken over your family too?"

"Oh, absolutely," Lando groans. "Whenever I have time off and tell them I’m coming home to visit, they always ask if she’s tagging along."

"They don’t even try to hide it anymore," he continues, shaking his head. "Always catch her on FaceTime with my sisters or my mum, like I'm the guest in my own family."

Y/N grins proudly. "They have good taste."

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A couple more hours had passed, and now it was later in the day. The four of them were back in the car, but this time, the city was bathed in a glow of streetlights, making for a much different vibe compared to earlier. The camera captured them in their seats as they navigated through the illuminated streets, casual conversation filling the car.

It was dinner time, and Lando had officially declared it a cheat day, deciding they’d grab something quick for dinner.

"Please tell me we're getting McDonald's," Morgan groaned from the back seat. "I've been craving those mozzarella sticks since we got here."

The rest of them laughed, and Lando smirked as he kept his eyes on the road. "We actually are."

"Be honest," Morgan pressed, leaning forward slightly. "How often do you just say ‘fuck it’ and grab takeout?"

Lando chuckled, rubbing his jaw. "More than I’d like to admit."

"Cheeky bastard. Bet they know your usual by now."

Lando laughed, shaking his head. "I literally beg Y/N not to tell me when she’s ordering takeout," he admitted. "That McFlurry is just too damn good."

Y/N grinned, glancing at him from the passenger seat. "Yeah, and then the second I get it, he’s suddenly all 'Oh, let me just have a bite.'"

Morgan and Ethan burst out laughing.

"One bite turns into half," Ethan added knowingly.

"EXACTLY!" Y/N exclaimed, pointing at Lando.

Lando huffed, gripping the wheel. "Okay, in my defense, you always order the best stuff. It’s not my fault you have impeccable taste."

Y/N smirked. "Yeah, yeah. Keep sweet-talking me all you want, but you’re still buying your own McFlurry this time."

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"Thank you for today. I’m sure the viewers will love seeing this side of you two," Ethan says, giving both Lando and Y/N a hug as they say their goodbyes.

"Oh, it’s a pleasure having you guys here. Thank you," Y/N replies warmly.

"Don’t miss us too much," Morgan teases, pulling them into a hug as well—only to cheekily pat Lando’s bum on the way out.

Lando gasps, feigning offense. "You wish you could handle all this."

Morgan cackles as he grabs his bag, while Ethan keeps the camera rolling as they head toward the door, still filming.

The lens zooms in on Lando and Y/N, who stand by their doorway, watching their friends leave.

"So, how are you two ending your night?" Ethan asks, turning back toward them.

Lando, with a soft smile, casually wraps an arm around Y/N’s waist and pulls her closer. "Probably a movie night."

Morgan chuckles, shaking his head as he presses the elevator button. "More like sexy time—dirty bastard." He gestures toward Lando with a knowing smirk. "Look at him. Couldn’t be happier to finally get rid of us and have Y/N all to himself."

Lando, completely unbothered, just grins. "And what about it?"