#wea tower

[jav-animations]

Trix lore stuff and WEA TOWER concepts again :]!

Also feat. Trix's Dad and Puffy!

Also don't let Trix out of her house in September 11 for the sake of her sanity, please don't :"")

And we have ... Also lore from her past!

Manchita was Trix's comfort plushie and also one of her only material possesions gifted by her dad and only material possesions in general. Along with her cardigan/sweater.

And somehow, Peppino managed to find an abandoned pupper that is exactly like Manchita! And gifted her to Trix! ✨💕

More lore coming soon~!

[jav-animations]

Feliz 18 de Septiembre a todos los fans de Pizza Tower chilenos!! 💜✨

Happy 18!!

@eskariolis-con-salsa @jav-animations

Lucho Anticucho (Chilean Peppino) wishes you a happy 18 de Septiembre!!!

[never-ending-pizza-time]

Peppino wearing these

[allgoodnamesrgoneee]

i love your virgil smut so much, dominant and size kink 😫😫 wondering if you could write the one that is similar for jude too please ❤

I know this one took me forever to upload but I had to make sure it was perfect for you guys. After 3 rewrites, I present to you...

After Hours

Masterlist

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — the one where you are his only desire.

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — Jude Bellingham x you

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 — 10.5k.

Warnings! FLUFF! He's down badddd, NSFW! SMUT (18+), size kink, protected vaginal sex (stay safe), oral sex (f receiving), hot sex, multiple orgasms, dom!Jude, sub!reader.

The Penthouse was alive with energy. Trent's birthday had drawn out the kind of crowd that made it impossible to move without brushing shoulders with someone.

Laughter spills over the booming bass of the music, blending with the distinct smell of alcohol and food wafting throughout the house. A mix of conversations buzz in every corner of the house—loud, overlapping, and relentless.

Jude leans against the far wall of the living room, eyes half-lidded as he sips from a drink he barely cares for. He wasn’t really a fan of these gatherings; too many people, too much noise. But Trent was a friend, and bailing wasn't an option.

At least not yet.

He was giving the party until midnight before making his excuses and heading out. It's 11:57. Almost there.

His gaze flickers to the clock mounted over the TV, then around the room at the partygoers. He spots Trent across the room, laughing and hugging a group of people, and smiles. He's happy his friend is having a good time.

He checks his watch again, making a silent vow to himself to stay put for at least two more minutes. He exhales quietly, thinking of how easy it would be to slip out unnoticed. He's already halfway to deciding on an exit strategy when something—someone—catches his attention.

There you are.

Standing on your tiptoes, trying—and failing—to grab something from the top shelf in the kitchen. Your brows furrow in concentration, bottom lip caught between your teeth as you stretch as far as your short frame would allow, but it's no use.

The cup remains tantalizingly out of reach, and it looks like you'd been at it for a while, silently battling the shelf like it was some kind of cruel joke.

Amused, Jude can't help the smirk tugging at his lips. The scene is oddly endearing.

His gaze sweeps over you, lingering for a moment on your curvy figure before he sets his drink down, the thought of leaving slipping from his mind. His legs move before he can stop himself, carrying him across the room with an easy stride. It takes him a second to cross the living room, dodging a couple of people on his way before finally reaching the kitchen.

Jude pauses just behind you, his height towering over your small frame. You don't notice him at first, too focused on your mission to retrieve the elusive cup.

A grin plays at the corner of his mouth as he reaches up with ease, his long arm grabbing the cup that had been giving you such a hard time.

You finally notice him, head snapping around, eyes widening as you take in his presence. You're flushed, whether from the exertion or embarrassment, Jude isn't sure, but the sight made something warm bubble up in his chest.

“Need a hand?” His voice is low, teasing, his smirk not fading.

You blink at him, brows furrowing slightly before a small, sheepish smile pulls at your lips. "That obvious, huh?" you mutter, voice soft but laced with a hint of humor. Your cheeks are a little pink, but you don't seem angry, just mildly exasperated.

Jude raises an eyebrow, his smirk still firmly in place. “I don’t know, you were getting pretty close. Maybe another few inches and you would've nailed it.”

You roll your eyes at him, embarrassment fading into something lighter. “Oh, shut up. Are you going to give me the cup, or are you just here to gloat?”

He chuckles, lowering the cup to your level. “Maybe a bit of both.”

You snatch it from his hand with a dramatic sigh, but the small smile you wear tells him you aren’t really upset. “Thanks... I guess,” you say, tone playfully begrudging. You set the cup down and turn to him, raising your eyes to his face.

There's a pause between you both as you take him in. He can see it, the way your gaze drags down his chest, over his arms, and back up again. His body responds to the attention, a spark of attraction lighting up inside him as he watches you study him.

He likes that. The way you look at him like that. He wants to see it again.

“So...” he says, interrupting your stare. “What's the occasion?” His eyes flick to the cup on the counter. “Late night tea party for one? I didn't know those were a thing.” He's not sure why he says it, maybe just to keep the light banter going. It feels like he should say something.

He watches you raise an eyebrow at him, the corner of your lips curling into an amused smile. “I needed a drink. Thought it was better than bothering the bartender.” You shrug, picking up the cup and sauntering over to the fridge. He follows you with his eyes, taking in the sway of your hips, his heart rate picking up a little as he thinks of how much fun he could have with your curvy little body.

“I can make one for you if you want,” Jude offers, his voice still teasing, but there’s a new edge to it, something more playful, maybe even flirtatious. He leans against the kitchen counter, eyes following your movements as you reach into the fridge, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

You glance back over your shoulder at him, eyebrows raised in mild surprise. "You? Make a drink?" you ask, amusement dripping from your tone.

He chuckles softly, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’ve been known to make a decent one or two. What are you in the mood for?”

You pause at the fridge, considering his offer for a moment before shutting the door without grabbing anything. Turning to face him, you lean back against the counter, mirroring his stance. “Surprise me.”

Jude grins, pushing off the counter as he steps closer, now standing directly in front of you. The space between you narrows, not quite enough to be uncomfortable, but just enough for the tension to feel palpable. He reaches up to grab a couple of bottles from the liquor cabinet above the sink, and you watch him with a mix of curiosity and amusement.

“So, do you always rescue people from their beverage-related dilemmas?” you ask, your tone light and teasing, though you can’t help but admire the ease with which he moves. There’s something effortless about him.

Jude smirks, eyes flicking to yours as he pours the first drink. “Only when they look as helpless as you did.”

You gasp, feigning offense, and lightly swat his arm. “I wasn’t helpless! I was just… strategically challenged.”

He laughs, the sound low and warm, and for a moment, it drowns out the rest of the party’s noise. “Right. My mistake,” he says, handing you the drink with a smirk that makes it clear he’s not sorry at all.

You take the glass from his hand, your fingers brushing against his for a brief moment, and you feel the electric tingle of the contact. It’s subtle but undeniable, and you wonder if he felt it too.

“Thanks,” you say, bringing the glass to your lips. You take a sip, the cool liquid soothing as it slides down your throat. You meet his gaze over the rim of the cup, noting the way his eyes seem to darken slightly as they lock onto yours.

“No problem,” he replies, voice quieter now, almost intimate despite the noise surrounding you. His eyes don’t leave yours, and for a brief second, it feels like the rest of the party has faded into the background, leaving just the two of you standing there, locked in this moment.

The drink is strong, but surprisingly good. You raise your eyebrows, impressed despite yourself.

“Well?” he asks, crossing his arms and leaning back against the counter with a smug expression. “Do I pass?”

You roll your eyes but can’t suppress the smile that tugs at your lips. “Okay, fine. I’ll give you that one. It’s decent.”

"Decent, huh?" Jude’s grin widens, a flicker of something playful lighting up his face. "I'll take that as high praise."

You shake your head, laughing softly as the tension between you both begins to shift into something easier, more comfortable. “I didn’t mean that as praise,” you tease, taking another sip from your drink.

He chuckles at the light jab, the sound rumbling from his chest. “Of course not.” Jude glances at his watch, raising his brows slightly as he notices how late it is.

He hadn’t planned to stay for long, but he was having too much fun chatting with you to leave right now. It wasn’t like him to enjoy a conversation so much, especially at a party like this. There was something about you that drew him in, made him want to stay and learn more about you.

“Are you leaving?” you ask, seeming to notice his attention on his watch.

He raises his gaze to meet yours, blinking. He shrugs, crossing his arms loosely over his chest. “Was just about to leave, actually.”

Your smile falters slightly, just for a second. “Already? But the party’s just getting started.”

“Not really my scene,” Jude admits, glancing back toward the crowded living room.

You nod, gaze flicking back to the drink in your hand as you swirl it absentmindedly. “Well, glad you did. Otherwise, I’d probably still be standing here, struggling for that cup like a fool.”

His eyes glimmer with amusement. “It wasn’t that bad.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Oh, come on. You were laughing at me.”

“Not laughing,” he corrects, a teasing edge to his voice. “Just…observing.”

His gaze flicks to yours, lips twitching with a grin. You arch an eyebrow at the response, but the playful teasing has you smiling again.

“So,” Jude says, suddenly changing the topic. “How do you know Trent?”

“He’s my sister's boyfriend” you reply, “You?”

“Wait! You're Y/N?” He blinks at you, realization dawning as he takes in the information. “Right. I should’ve made the connection earlier.” He laughs softly at himself, shaking his head.

You look exactly like your sister, with people sometimes mistaking you for twins. Your height was the only way for people to distinguish you sometimes. With her being 5'5 and you being 5'2.

You smile at his confusion, seeming amused by his reaction. “Yeah, that’s me. How do you know her?”

“Trent brought her to my New Year's party.”

“Oh, yeah...” You frown at him, as though remembering something. “You’re Jude, right? I think my sister has mentioned you a few times.”

He smirks at the memory, feeling something warm in his chest at the mention of your sister talking to you about him. “That’s me.”

A small silence falls between you both, the tension growing less easy now, but not quite uncomfortable. He thinks of something to say, but before he can open his mouth, you beat him to it.

“Do you want to step outside with me for a minute?” you ask, already setting your drink down on the counter.

He blinks, slightly taken aback by the sudden shift in topic. He was about to ask you to grab another drink with him when you mentioned going outside.

“Sure,” he replies finally, picking his drink up from the counter. “Lead the way.” He follows you through the crowded house, almost losing you a couple of times as you seem to disappear into the crowd. Damn, you're short.

The balcony is quieter than the inside, a couple smoking in the corner, but otherwise, it's fairly empty. The sounds of the party are muted now, a muffled background noise. The cold air feels like a welcome relief after the heat of the crowded living room.

“Nice out here,” he says as you sit down at a lounge, nodding to the empty spot next to you as he lowers himself onto it.

You smile, settling into your seat as you pull your jacket a little tighter against the chill. "Yeah, it's nice to get some air. Gets a bit suffocating in there."

Jude nods, glancing back toward the house where the sounds of the party still hum faintly through the walls. He’s relieved to be out here, away from the chaos, but more than that, he's glad you're here too. Conversation feels... easy with you, even though you've only known each other for a few minutes.

"So, you do this often?" he asks, leaning back in the seat, watching the way you absentmindedly twirl a strand of hair between your fingers.

You raise an eyebrow at him. "What, escape to the balcony?"

"No, I meant..." He gestures vaguely with his drink, smirking a little. "Come to these kinds of parties."

You laugh, the sound light and genuine. "Not really. Trent's parties are... something, but my sister drags me along sometimes. I think she feels bad leaving me home alone." You roll your eyes, but there's no real annoyance in your tone, just affection.

Jude studies you for a moment, noticing the way your expression softens when you talk about your sister. There's a warmth in your eyes that he hadn't seen earlier, and it makes him curious, wishing you would look at him like that.

"Seems like she cares about you," he says, tone a little softer now.

You shrug, a small smile playing on your lips. "Yeah, she does. It's kind of nice, even if I act like it's annoying sometimes."

Jude nods, thinking about his own brother for a moment before turning the conversation back to you. "So, what do you do when you're not at parties you don't really want to be at?"

You snort softly, bringing your knees up to rest your feet on the edge of the lounge. "Oh, you know, just saving the world, one cup at a time."

He chuckles at your sarcasm, but there's a twinkle of genuine amusement in his eyes as he leans forward slightly. "Seriously though."

"Okay, okay," you relent, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "I'm a med student, so I guess you could say I'm learning how to save lives."

Jude's eyebrows lift, impressed. "Wow, that's... intense."

You shrug, though there's a flicker of pride in your expression. "It is, but I love it. Always wanted to be a doctor."

"That's cool," he replies, leaning back again. "I bet you're great at it."

You glance at him, something in his tone catching your attention. He sounded sincere, not like the typical empty flattery you sometimes got. It makes you smile.

A comfortable silence settles between you both as you sip your drinks, the night air crisp but not too cold.

Jude watches you for a moment, noting the way the moonlight casts a soft glow on your face, making your eyes seem brighter in the darkness. There’s something calming about being out here with you, something grounding. It’s not what he expected when he first spotted you struggling with that cup, but now that you’re here, he’s not in any rush to leave.

“You know,” he starts, his voice low but warm, “this isn’t a bad way to spend the night after all.”

You glance over at him, a soft smile playing on your lips. “Yeah, I guess it’s not.” You pause, meeting his gaze. “I’m glad you didn’t bail at midnight.”

Jude grins, feeling that familiar warmth bloom in his chest again. "Me too." He leans forward, resting his arm on the back of the lounge chair. "I mean, it would have been a bummer to leave right when I'm just getting to know a woman this beautiful." He smiles softly, his eyes sparkling in the faint light.

You flush, dropping your gaze to your drink as you fidget with the glass. “Um... thanks, I guess.” Your cheeks are hot, but you can't help the flutter in your chest at his words.

Jude notices your blush though, and it brings a smirk to his lips. He enjoys the way you fumble with your drink, clearly nervous at the compliment. He leans back again, sipping his drink quietly for a moment before looking over at you.

"You’re cute," he says, voice dropping down into something softer, lower, more intimate. “Especially when you're embarrassed.”

The flush deepens as you look away, your eyes skipping to the floor. "I'm not embarrassed," you say, but the fact that you're avoiding looking at him says otherwise.

"Sure you’re not," he replies with a chuckle, leaning forward again.

You fidget in your seat, eyes still down. Your cheeks burn, and you’re glad for the dim lighting out here that hopefully hides it. "Stop it," you mutter, but there's a hint of laughter in your voice.

Jude laughs softly, reaching out and sliding his hand into yours. His hand is warm, calloused, bigger than yours, and his fingers wrap easily around yours. "Can't help it," he says, squeezing your hand lightly. "You're too cute."

You swallow, mouth suddenly dry as your eyes dart to his hand in yours. He's holding it loosely, not gripping it tightly, but it's enough to feel possessive somehow, enough to make your heart race and your cheeks flush with heat. You can’t remember the last time someone touched you like this, let alone with such intention.

Your gaze snaps to Jude's, eyes wide and slightly nervous. His eyes are darker now, pupils dilated, his mouth curved in a low, satisfied smile. His thumb presses into the center of your palm, the pressure soft, light, sending goosebumps down your arm.

You swallow again, trying to form words, but coming up with nothing. The air between you feels heavy suddenly, thick with heat and tension, your heart pounding in your ears. You glance back at the house, wondering if anyone can see, if anyone notices, but the windows are empty, the party still going strong inside.

Jude chuckles, low and soft. "You good?" he asks, voice dropping into something lower, husky.

You swallow hard again. Your eyes dart back to his, finding his still locked on yours, his gaze intense.

"Yeah, I'm good," you finally manage to get out, though your voice comes out barely above a whisper.

Jude's smile widens, and he shifts closer, your thighs now touching. "Good." His hand tightens a little around yours, squeezing lightly. "Good," he repeats, his voice dipping into something even softer, more intimate before placing his now empty glass on a nearby table along with yours.

His eyes are still locked on yours, and the way he's watching you, it feels like he's looking right through the layers you’ve carefully built up. It makes you feel exposed, vulnerable, but not in a way that’s uncomfortable. In a way that feels… thrilling.

You bite your lip, the warmth of his hand grounding you even as your pulse races. There’s a tension now, something thick in the air that wasn’t there before. It crackles between you, electric, and you don’t know whether to pull away or lean into it.

"Jude…" you start, but your voice trails off. You’re not sure what you’re trying to say. You can’t even think straight.

He tilts his head, watching you carefully. "Yeah?"

You swallow, forcing yourself to hold his gaze, though your stomach twists in nervous anticipation. There’s a strange, fluttery feeling in your chest, like you’re standing at the edge of something new, something you can’t quite name. "What are we doing here?"

He smirks, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand in a slow, deliberate motion. "Just talking," he says, but the way he says it, the way his eyes darken, suggests that there’s a lot more simmering beneath the surface.

You laugh softly, a little breathless. "Is that what this is?"

His grin widens, and for a moment, he doesn’t respond. He just watches you, studying the way you shift nervously in your seat, the way your lip trembles slightly as you bite it. Finally, he leans in a little closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "What do you want it to be?"

Your breath catches in your throat, and for a long moment, you don’t say anything. You can feel the weight of the question hanging between you, his gaze heavy with something you can’t quite place. Something that makes your skin tingle, makes your heart beat faster.

"Jude..." you start again, but again, your voice dies off.

His grin softens. "Yeah?" His hand squeezes yours lightly, his fingers brushing over your wrist as his eyes dart to your mouth.

You feel your cheeks heat all over again, and there's a sudden ache between your legs that you can’t ignore. You fidget, trying not to think about it, trying to focus on the conversation instead. “This is a little... intense, isn't it?"

He chuckles softly, leaning in even closer, his lips just inches from yours now. "It doesn't have to be." His voice drops to a whisper as he looks at you. "I promise. Whatever you want."

For a moment, you don’t speak. You just look at him.

The dim light casts gentle shadows across his face—strong jawline, high cheekbones, and a slightly crooked smile that adds a touch of roguish charm to his otherwise serene expression. His lips are full, inviting. And his eyes. Oh, how beautiful they are. There’s a way he looks at you that makes you feel like the only person in the world. You want to stare into them forever.

He's beautiful.

Slowly, you reach out with your free hand, wrapping it around the back of his neck to pull him closer. Close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath on your mouth. Smell the subtle scent of his cologne—a hint of something warm and musky, with a touch of something fresh—mingling with the crisp night air.

Jude lets out a low exhale as he leans in the last few inches to meet you, pressing his lips softly against yours. They're warm and firm, gentle as they slide against yours, teasing a little with each movement. He doesn't rush it, just lets the kiss play out slowly as his hand squeezes around yours, pulling you closer.

You sigh against his mouth as he slides his tongue over your lower lip, a low noise of pleasure slipping from your throat. He groans softly at the sound, his hand shifting from yours to wrap around your side and pull you into his lap, your legs falling to either side of him on the lounge chair. You go willingly, letting him slide his arms around you, feeling him against you now.

Jude breaks the kiss after a moment, leaning back to look at you. "You taste good," he murmurs, his voice rougher now, deeper, his words sending heat flooding through you.

You flush, your cheeks warming again as your eyes drop to his mouth. "You too," you reply, barely above a whisper.

He hums softly, his fingers trailing along your side to brush against your waist. Your breath hitches at the light touch, and his hand moves again, his palm sliding down over your hips. "So fucking soft," he mutters, a smile playing on his lips. "I want to feel every inch of you."

A shiver runs through you at his words, desire burning inside of you at the promise in his voice. "Do it," you whisper, leaning in again to brush your mouth over his.

He groans, his hand pulling your crotch down to meet his. Jude's arms tighten around you, and you feel the hard length of him pressing against your core. You gasp against his mouth at the feel, your hips twitching slightly as he pushes you tighter against him. You both moan softly, your fingers tightening around the back of his head as you grind against him.

Jude pulls back with a chuckle, looking at you through his lashes. "Fuck, baby. You're going to kill me." He leans in again, pressing his mouth to yours as his hands slide underneath your skirt to cup your ass. He kneads your flesh gently, his hands rough against your skin as he squeezes. "Fuck. I knew you'd feel this good." He groans low in his throat, his tongue sliding over your lips once more.

You whimper into his mouth, heat burning in your lower belly as you rock against him. You're wet already, his touches, his words lighting you on fire. His hand shifts, one still cupping your ass as

the other slides between you to press against your clit through your panties.

A choked moan escapes you as you grind into his hand, your hips twisting against him. "Please," you breathe, breaking away from his kiss to lean against his shoulder. "Jude. Please." Your nails dig into his back at the pressure of his fingers through your underwear, his thumb sliding over your clit with each movement of your hips.

Jude lets out a harsh breath, his mouth running along your neck as his hands tighten around you. "God, baby," he groans. "I can't. There's too many people." He nips at your throat, his teeth sliding gently over your skin. "I don't want to share you. Not for one fucking second."

You cry out softly at his words, your hips bucking against his hand. "But I want you," you murmur, rolling your hips into his touch, your teeth sinking into his shoulder.

Jude's hands pull away from you, one cupping your jaw as you lean back against his arm, panting. "Look at me," he rasps, his eyes dark as they meet yours. "There's no way we're going to be able to do this right here." He trails his hand over your breasts, cupping them gently as he murmurs. "I need you too fucking bad, and there's not a chance in hell that I'm going to get you out of your pants before someone realizes what the fuck is going on."

He groans, leaning in to brush his lips over yours. "Come back to my place," he whispers against your mouth, his hand slipping over your hip once more. "Let me take care of you."

You flush at his words, his touch sending fire shooting through you. Your hand wraps around his arm, fingers digging into his skin. "Okay," you agree, your voice barely above a whisper, your eyes slipping closed.

"Jesus," Jude breathes out, pulling you against his chest as he leans his mouth against your forehead. "If I take you home like this," he says, his voice low in your ear, "I'm not going to let you leave my bed for the rest of the night."

You bite your lip, swallowing back a whimper. "That sounds good," you breathe out, heat flooding your body at his words.

Jude’s breath shudders against your forehead. The night air feels colder now, a stark contrast to the heat coursing through your veins. You can’t help but shiver slightly, but it’s not from the cold.

“Let’s go,” he murmurs, his voice low and urgent as he starts to stand, lifting you with him. His grip on you is firm but gentle, as if afraid you might disappear if he holds too tightly. You smile a little at the thought, letting him guide you back inside.

As you walk, his hand slides to your lower back, his arm still wrapped around you. Your smile deepens, and your breath hitches, catching in your throat as you notice the way he’s staring down at you. “What?” you ask, a giggle bubbling up in your throat.

He smiles, shaking his head. “Nothing,” he replies voice barely heard over the music. “I just like looking at you.”

You blush, biting your lip as you turn your gaze. A few of his friends glance at you, their gazes flicking to Jude’s hand wrapped around you before they turn back to their conversation.

He guides you through the crowd, his hand never leaving the small of your back, making sure you’re close to him. He stops by a group of friends, his mouth moving as he talks to them, but you don’t hear his words. You’re too busy looking up at him, taking in the hard planes of his face, the way his eyes flicker between you and his friends.

You don’t notice when he pulls out his phone, a smile on his lips as he types something out quickly. He slips it into his pocket, turning to wrap his arm back around you. His eyes flicker over your face, a grin playing on his lips as he leans down to whisper in your ear. “My driver is here,” he says softly. “Want to go?”

You nod quickly, heat burning inside of you. He doesn’t hesitate, pulling you through the crowd again as you make your way to the door.

Jude holds your hand as he opens the door, stepping back to let you exit first. You do, walking out of Trent's penthouse and into the cool night air. The Porsche is parked at the curb, its doors already open as you step out. A driver stands next to it, his hands clasped in front of him as he waits.

You get in first, feeling like royalty as you slide into the smooth leather seats. The door closes behind you, and Jude slides in beside you. You catch a glimpse of his smile as he slides his arm around you, pulling your legs over his lap as he leans against you.

The car glides smoothly from the curb, heading down the highway toward the city. You lean back against the seat, feeling Jude's hand slide up your leg, his fingertips ghosting under the hem of your skirt. You turn to face him, grinning as you play with the collar of his shirt.

His eyes flick to your hand, the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips as you tease the fabric. "What are you thinking?" Jude murmurs, his voice thick with that same low, gravelly tone that sends shivers down your spine.

You shrug, feigning innocence. "Just wondering if you always wear shirts this nice," you tease, brushing your fingertips against the fabric again, trailing lightly along the edge of his collar.

Jude chuckles, low and deep, leaning his head back against the seat as his fingers slide further up your thigh, sending a wave of heat crashing through you.

Your breath catches, and you can't help the way your body reacts to his touch. The closeness, the heat, the tension—all of it coils tight inside of you like a spring wound too tight, waiting to snap. You glance down, watching his hand inch further beneath the fabric of your skirt, teasing but never fully satisfying.

The city lights outside blur as the car speeds down the highway, a soft hum filling the silence between you. The world seems distant, fading away as you lose yourself in the moment, in him. Jude’s hand pauses, resting just at the top of your thigh, his thumb brushing back and forth lazily over your skin. It’s torture, slow and deliberate, making your body crave more.

"You have no idea what you’re in for, baby," he murmurs, his voice sending a shiver down your spine.

You grin, the anticipation coiling tighter in your belly as you press your mouth to his jaw, kissing along the sharp line there, tasting the faint hint of cologne on his skin. Jude’s hand shifts, sliding up to rest on your lower back, his fingers splayed wide as he presses you closer against him. His breath is ragged, his pulse quick under your lips, and you know he’s as affected by this as you are.

The car slows to a stop, and you glance out the window to see the entrance to a sleek high-rise building, all glass and steel, gleaming under the night sky. Jude doesn’t waste a second. He slides out of the car, his hand still gripping yours as he helps you out, pulling you close as he leads you toward the entrance.

The moment you step inside the building, the atmosphere shifts—quiet, intimate. The lobby is dimly lit, modern, and elegant, with polished floors and soft lighting. You barely register any of it, too focused on the way Jude’s fingers are laced with yours, the heat of his hand grounding you in the moment.

An elevator door opens, and Jude pulls you inside, pressing you up against the mirrored wall the second the doors close. His mouth is on yours in an instant, the kiss hot and urgent, all of the restraint from earlier gone in a flash. You gasp against his lips, your hands tangling in his hair as you kiss him back just as fiercely, your body arching into his.

His hands are everywhere—on your waist, sliding up your back, gripping your hips. He groans into your mouth, the sound vibrating through you, making you weak at the knees. "I’ve been waiting all night for this," he murmurs between kisses, his voice low and full of need.

You pull back just enough to look at him, your breaths coming fast, your heart pounding in your chest. "So have me," you whisper, your voice breathless, your fingers tugging at the collar of his shirt.

Jude's eyes darken, his grip on you tightening as the elevator dings softly, signaling that you've reached his floor. He doesn't say another word. Instead, he grabs your hand again, pulling you down the hall toward his apartment, his pace quick and purposeful. Your pulse quickens with every step, the anticipation thrumming through your veins.

The door to his apartment swings open, and before you can even take in your surroundings, Jude pulls you inside, his hands already sliding under your jacket, pushing it off your shoulders as he backs you up against the nearest wall.

His mouth crashes down on yours again, the kiss rough and demanding, full of the same need that's been building inside you all night.

You arch against him, your arms looping around his neck as you pull him closer, kissing him back with just as much passion. His hands slide down your sides, gripping your waist tight as he presses you harder into the wall, his hips grinding against yours.

You can feel the hard length of him through his jeans, his cock straining against the fabric, sending a jolt of arousal through you. A whimper slips from your lips, and Jude growls low in his throat, his teeth grazing your jaw, your throat, making your skin prickle with goosebumps.

"Fuck," he groans, his voice rough with desire. "You're so fucking sexy." His hands shift, sliding up under your skirt to grip your ass, his fingers kneading the flesh as he lifts you up, his hard cock pressing right where you need it most.

You cry out, your head falling back against the wall, your breath catching as he grinds his cock against your pussy through the fabric of his jeans, the friction making your body clench tight with anticipation. His mouth is relentless, licking, sucking, and biting its way down your neck, sending waves of heat through you.

"Jude," you gasp, his name slipping from your lips on a moan.

He makes a rough sound, deep in his throat, and lifts you higher against him, his hands rough on your skin, his grip bruising. "Your ass is perfect," he mutters, his mouth traveling back to yours as he presses your hips harder into the wall, the thrusts of his cock against you almost enough to send you over the edge.

You're panting, gasping, your body trembling as the tension winds tighter and tighter inside you. Jude's hands are everywhere, groping and teasing as he devours your mouth, his tongue thrusting in and out in a rhythm that matches the thrusts of his hips.

The pleasure is almost too much, the anticipation threatening to boil over at any second. But then Jude suddenly stops, pulling back just a bit to look at you. His eyes are dark, his pupils blown wide with lust as his chest heaves with heavy breaths.

"Are you sure you want this?" he asks, his voice still low and rough, but his eyes locked intently on yours.

You nod, breathless. "more than anything" you answer honestly.

He nods once, then presses your body flat against the wall again. "Good," he murmurs, leaning in to kiss you again. It's hard and fast, almost brutal. Then, before you even know what's happening, he lifts you away from the wall and carries you away.

Jude’s grip is steady, firm as he carries you effortlessly through the spacious apartment. You barely notice the surroundings, too consumed by the fire between you, by the way his touch sets your skin ablaze. His lips find yours again, devouring, urgent, as he moves with purpose down the hallway.

You don't care where he's taking you as long as he keeps going. The feel of his hard cock against you is addictive. You arch your hips, pressing closer against him as he walks.

The next thing you know, your back hits the soft surface of his bed, and you land with a bounce, your skirt riding up your thighs. Jude stops at the foot of the bed, his eyes raking you from head to toe as he begins to pull off his shirt. The fabric ripples down his torso, revealing a chiseled chest and abs, taut muscles flexing beneath his skin.

You swallow hard, your heart pounding harder in your chest, anticipation burning through you like fire.

He’s bigger than you in every way. His hands are twice the size of yours, his biceps thicker than your thighs. He’s not a huge man, not overly muscled, but there’s a raw power in his body that’s undeniable. And you’re so tiny compared to him — so small that your head only comes up to his shoulder.

It’s not something he usually thinks about, but in the moment, it becomes a living thing. The size difference between the two of you is so apparent, so obvious, it’s hard to ignore. And for some reason, it makes Jude’s cock even harder.

Your eyes are locked on him, dark and dilated, as if you want nothing more than his hands on you. He steps closer, reaching for the fly of his pants. Your gaze tracks his every movement, your breathing quickening as he unbuttons his jeans.

You wet your lips, sitting up to lean forward on the bed. Your eyes are wide, your cheeks flushed with heat as Jude’s pants fall to his feet, revealing his boxers, the shape of his cock straining thickly against the fabric.

You lick your lips again, your eyes drifting up to his as he kicks his pants away, standing at the foot of his bed in only his boxers. The room seems to grow hotter.

"I'm going to fuck you so good," he promises, his voice low, husky, making you whimper with need.

The way he says it makes you want to agree, to give him whatever he wants, whenever he wants it. You bite your lip, your pulse throbbing in your ears as he steps closer to you, his hand wrapping around the back of your neck.

He hauls you close, your thighs parting automatically as his knees hit the mattress and he comes down on top of you. His mouth finds yours, his lips coaxing yours open as he slides his tongue into your mouth. His kiss is hot and wet and everything you want in this moment.

He kisses you deep and slow, his weight pressing you down into his mattress. You moan into the kiss, your tongue moving against his as you roll your hips against him. He groans into the kiss, his cock twitching against you where you're grinding against it.

His hand slides down your body, his palm smoothing up to cup your breast. You squeak as he grabs it and squeezes. He smiles against your mouth, thrusting his hips against you as you mewl and squirm beneath him.

"Fuck," he grunts, kissing down your neck, his tongue tracing the curve of your throat. He nips at your skin, sucking a mark on the skin above your collarbone.

You whine, clutching at his shoulders and he bites harder, making you gasp. The sound turns him on, his hips jutting against you like he can't stop himself.

He pulls back to look at you, a smile twisting his lips. You're flushed pink, your pupils blown wide, lips plump from kissing him.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," he murmurs, his expression tender as he looks at you, his hands moving over you in a slow caress. He tugs your skirt down your hips, tossing it aside, leaving you in just your lingerie. His hands come back up to you, running down the sides of your thighs, his thumbs brushing the waistband of your panties.

You moan as he touches you, your back arching. You're desperate for more. He laughs, his touch teasing, light as he rubs his thumbs along the edges.

"Please," you whimper, reaching for his shoulders. His hands slide up, his thumbs hooking into the straps of your bra and tugging it down your arms. He pulls it off, his gaze falling on the curves of your naked breasts. He groans as he takes you in, his eyes hot as they look at you.

He drops his head to suck a nipple into his mouth, flicking his tongue against it, making you cry out. His hand finds your other breast, kneading it in his palm, squeezing. You gasp, your hips jolting up at the feel of his mouth on you.

He sucks harder, his teeth raking over your sensitive flesh. You moan, your nails digging into his back as he draws on your breast.

A shiver runs through your body as his hand falls to the waistband of your underwear. He tugs them down your legs and you raise your hips automatically, letting him pull them all the way off.

You're naked now, exposed and trembling with need as he looks down at you, sprawled out on his bed. Fuck.

You look so hot. So tiny and small compared to him, it’s impossible not to feel that urge to use you, to bend you to his will. It’s been there since the balcony, his desire to own you, to take care of you, but right now, it’s almost overwhelming.

"Spread your legs," he murmurs as he runs a finger up the inside of your thigh. You part your knees automatically for him and his hand moves straight up to your pussy. He presses his palm flat against your mound, his fingers slipping through your folds to feel your heat.

"Fuck," he groans, "look at you." You can't help but look. Your body is so much smaller than his, his hands spanning half the length of your thigh.

You gasp at the touch, your head falling back against the bed as he teases your clit. His fingers slide between your folds, rubbing, parting you open to find the entrance to your cunt. He circles it, his finger dipping inside, and you gasp.

You try to roll your hips and he moves his hand, using his palm to press you still.

"Let me play with you," he murmurs. You whimper, your body shivering with the touch. His mouth comes down over your breast again as he thrusts his finger into you with a squelch. "Shit, baby you're so wet." You moan at the stretch of his finger inside you, arching up against him. His teeth graze your nipple, his lips sucking it in his mouth.

You whine at the feel of him sucking on your nipple while his finger is inside you. The dual sensations make you gasp for breath as he thrusts into you, deep, making you clench around him.

His mouth moves to your other breast and he slides a second finger inside you as he sucks on your skin. You cry out, your back bowing as he uses his hand to hold you in place.

He finger fucks you, working your body with his touch as he nips at the curve of your breast, his teeth scraping your skin. He's careful not to hurt you, but you want him to go further.

He seems to realize that as he kisses his way back up your body. He holds his weight off you on one arm, his other hand still buried between your thighs as he works your cunt with his fingers.

You gasp as he curls his fingers inside you, stroking over your g-spot as he kisses your lips. You feel the build of your orgasm in the tightening of your belly, in the way your toes curl and your thighs clench. He rubs you faster, his mouth eating at yours as he drives you higher and higher.

The orgasm hits you like a wave, rolling through your body and leaving you trembling in his hold. You cry out against his mouth as he rides you through it, his fingers working your pussy until it's spent.

He kisses your lips softly as he pulls his hand from you, his cock still hard against your leg. He shifts his hips to the side, sliding between your legs as you lay there, flushed and panting.

His hands move to his boxers, tugging them down his hips as you watch. Your eyes grow wide at the sight of his cock, thick and long and hot. He's so big. Unlike anyone you've had before. You have no idea how he’s going to fit.

Your thoughts are interrupted by Jude’s mouth moving over your stomach, kissing his way down your body. His kisses are slow, sweet and you let him, relaxing against the bed with a moan.

His lips move over your hipbones, his tongue licking the skin and you can't help the giggle that escapes. He pauses to look up at you, his eyebrow arched in amusement.

"You ticklish?" he asks. You nod and he chuckles as he moves closer. His mouth drops to your mound and you gasp as his lips place a gentle kiss on it.

"Jude," you whisper, your fingers sliding into his hair.

He moans, his lips moving over your pussy. He kisses your folds as he pushes them apart with his fingers and you arch under the touch. Your thighs part, falling open to let him have his way and he takes it, kissing along your slit, his tongue flicking out to tease you. You shiver at the feel of it on your clit and he repeats it, circling your little nub in a teasing caress.

He growls against you as he licks you open. Your cunt is wet and pink and fucking perfect. His tongue is long and rough against your sensitive skin and you gasp, clutching at the bedding as he goes to town. He sucks on you, his tongue pushing inside, licking your taste on his lips as he drinks you in.

His hands come down on either side of your thighs, pressing them open as his mouth finds your clit and sucks. Your body jolts at the feel of his lips, his tongue flicking at you in a quick caress that has you gasping in shock.

You whimper, your toes curling as he eats at you. You've never felt anything like this before. It's incredible, the way his mouth feels on you, his tongue stroking you in long swipes.

"Jude, fuck," you gasp and his growl vibrates against your clit as he works you towards another orgasm.

It doesn't take long. You're so sensitive, so worked up already. His tongue flicks over your clit in quick circles and you burst in a rush, your whole body trembling with the force of it. Your thighs clamp down around his head as he holds you steady, his tongue still stroking your clit through it.

You’re sensitive to the point of pain by the time he eases off, licking slowly as he lets you come down from the orgasm. You whine, your legs still clamped around his head and he gently works you open, his hands soft on your thighs.

His face is wet with your taste as he comes up over you, kissing you deep and filthy, making you taste yourself on his lips.

He's hard as hell against your thigh, his cock pressing into you and you roll your hips up in instinctive need. He groans, grinding his cock against you, rutting you like he needs it.

"I need you," you pant, kissing him, your hands running down his back. "Please, I need it."

His groan is thick and guttural. "Yeah, baby, need that big cock in that tight little pussy? Want me to fuck it? Hm?" He thrusts his hips against you to punctuate his words and you moan. You gasp, your eyes going wide at the way he talks, but fuck, you like it. It makes you hot, his dirty words making you need more.

You nod, your fingers sliding down to his ass, holding his hips tighter to your body. "Yes," you agree, "please, I want it."

"Fuck, you are so fucking hot," he whispers as he leans to the side to reach for a drawer in the bed, pulling out a condom. He tears it open and slides it over his cock, his hands slick with lube as he fists himself, working his shaft. Never taking his eyes off you. Fuck. This is going to be so good.

He drops on top of you, his weight heavy on you as he braces his elbows beside your head. his hands running up your thighs and hooking underneath your knees. He pushes them up towards your chest, opening you wide and you feel vulnerable in his hold, tiny and exposed as he lines his cock up with your cunt.

"You ready for me, baby? Gonna fill you up," he growls, his eyes dark and serious as he watches your reaction.

You can only moan, unable to talk as you feel his cock at the entrance to your body, hot and hard against you.

He stops, his eyes locked on yours as he checks on you. "You okay?" he whispers.

Your breath hitches, and your eyes flicker to his. There’s a tenderness in his gaze, cutting through the thick haze of lust that surrounds you both. The way his voice softens when he asks—it's a moment of clarity, and it grounds you.

You nod, feeling the pressure of him right there, so close to entering. "Yeah," you murmur, your voice breathy, lost in the pleasure he's giving you. "I'm okay."

Jude's lips curve into a small smile, one that only deepens the wetness between your legs. His hands squeeze your thighs gently, reassuring you. "Good. I'll take care of you," he promises, and then his eyes drop to where he's pressed against you.

You moan, your mouth dropping open as you feel him press into you.

"Ah," you gasp, looking up at him in shock. Your fingers curl into the sheets, your body not yet adjusted to his size. He's huge inside you, thick, your walls stretching to accommodate him. The burn of his penetration is almost painful and you clench around his cock instinctively.

His breath shudders, and you can hear the restraint in his groan as he fights to keep it slow. "Fuck, you’re so tight," he mutters, forehead resting against yours as your gummy walls squeeze his cock.

You can feel him everywhere. His breath hot on your neck, his hands firm on your legs, his cock stretching you in ways you’ve never felt before.

You're fucking ruined for life. Ruined for anyone else.

You gasp, your body taut and trembling, and he moans as he settles deep inside your body. His eyes flutter closed, his head tipping back as he gasps.

For a moment, neither of you move. His hips stay locked against yours, the both of you catching your breath. Jude’s hands caress your thighs, thumbs brushing the sensitive skin there as if to ease you into this. His lips ghost over your cheek, whispering soft words you can barely make out, but you know they’re for you. Only for you.

And then he moves.

It’s a slow, gentle pull out, almost torturous in its pace, followed by a deep thrust back in. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan, your back arching as you take him.

"Fuck, you're tight, baby," he pants. "Oh shit, I knew you'd feel good." He drops his forehead to yours with a groan. "But this," he thrusts, his cock moving inside you in a slow, deep stroke, "this is better than I imagined." He looks down at you, watching you as he fucks you, your cunt clenching tight around him as he moves in you. His cock fills you full, so full, and you're hot and tight and wet as hell around him, and he fucking loves it. You can see it in his eyes.

"Jude," his name is a moan as he drives deep inside you, hitting you with a thrust that makes you gasp in shock.

"That feel good, baby?" he pants, his hands sliding down to grab at your ass, holding you still as he fucks into you. You clutch at him, your arms wrapping around him. He kisses you deep, his mouth dropping to yours as his cock thrusts into your cunt. "Love you around my cock," he grunts against your lips. "It's so fucking perfect." Your whimpers make him growl.

Your nails dig into his back, leaving crescent-shaped marks in his skin as he fucks you harder, faster, pounding into you. The bed creaks beneath you, the air heavy with the sounds of skin against skin, of gasps and moans. You’re lost in it, in him—completely undone by the way he makes you feel.

It’s like nothing else matters. Nothing. Right now, all that exists is Jude, his body moving against yours, his cock filling you over and over until you can’t think straight.

"Look at you," he pants, "taking it so well." You can feel his words vibrate in his chest, and it only drives you higher.

It’s too much. Too much sensation, too much pleasure, and you cry out, the sound high-pitched and desperate as you clench down around him. "Fuck, fuck, baby," he growls against your lips as he feels it. "That feels so fucking good. Look at me. Look at me when I make you cum." His fingers move down to rub your clit, your pussy clenching tighter around him and he groans, thrusting into you with a growl as he tips you over the edge.

"Jude, Jude," you pant his name like a prayer, your nails digging into his shoulders, holding him closer. "Oh shit!" You feel your pussy clench and ripple around him, milking his cock for everything.

Your eyes flutter, your head tipping back with a gasp as your body trembles through the orgasm. Your cunt pulses tight around his cock and he groans as he takes you through it. His thrusts become unsteady, deep and hard and fast as he pounds into your little cunt and you take it.

"Oh yeah," he murmurs against your neck. "There you go. Cum on my cock, baby. That's a good girl." His mouth moves to your shoulder, his teeth sinking into you as he grunts, his body shuddering with pleasure.

He’s close. You feel it in the way he holds himself against you, in the way his breaths become short and heavy against your skin. "Fuck, I'm going to cum, baby," he gasps.

You clench down on his cock with a moan, squeezing his length inside you, and his mouth drops to yours in a hot and filthy kiss.

He fucks into you with a grunt, his thrusts quick and hard as he seeks his release. His body moves against yours in rough jerks, his cock thick inside you, filling you. He growls as he fucks, his lips dropping to your neck.

"Baby," he gasps, "fuck," he moans again, his voice so deep it’s almost a whine. You feel him shudder against you, his whole body trembling as he thrusts into you.

"You want my cum?" he growls against your shoulder and you moan at the words, your body already clenching in response.

"Yes," you gasp. "In me, please." He thrusts deep inside you at your words, his groan loud in your ear.

"I’m gonna fill you so full of it," he pants, grinding deep inside you. "So full," he grunts, face buried in the crook of your neck "gonna fill you up and then it's going to drip out of your tight little pussy."

His lips are hot on your skin as he gasps your name, his body jerking into you. "Fuck," he breathes, his hips rolling against yours in a deep grind.

You wrap your arms around him, holding him close as he rides out the pleasure, cumming again for the fourth time that night. He groans, his hips jerking against yours, thrusting his cock deep inside you as he empties into the condom. His fingers curl into you, holding your body close as he fills you, and it’s so good.

The way he feels inside you, the way his cock throbs and pulses as he cums. You can feel it, even through the condom, and it makes you gasp. He thrusts again, groaning as he keeps going, wanting to fuck you through it as much as you do.

And then it’s over.

His body shudders through the aftershocks and he goes still on top of you. His head drops to your shoulder, his breath coming in ragged pants as he holds you close, riding out the aftershocks together.

His face moves back to yours, his lips pressing a kiss against your forehead. "Well, shit," he mutters against you. "You're amazing."

You giggle, your hands running over his back. His weight is comforting on top of you as you come down, your breaths slowing. You let him stay for a moment, enjoying the weight and heat of his body before he pulls out and rolls to the side, stripping off the condom and tossing it into a bin by his bed.

You follow him to the side, turning and pressing a kiss to his shoulder as you let the afterglow wash through you. He smiles, turning to look at you and lifting his arm.

"Come here," he murmurs.

You roll onto your side, pressing against him as he curls his arm around you, pulling you close. He nuzzles into your hair, his fingers running through it as he pulls your body into his. Your leg lifts, your thighs opening around one of his as you curl into him, the softness of the bed and pillows enveloping you.

"Mmmhmm," he mutters, running his hands down your back. "God, I don't want to move. You feel so good."

You smile against him, kissing his chest. "Me neither. I'm comfortable right here."

He laughs, his chest vibrating with it. He rolls a little closer to the edge of the bed, reaching down and pulling up the blanket. He wraps it around you both, tucking it in so that it covers you completely and you're nestled into him, warm and comfortable.

"Better?" he asks.

"Mmm, perfect."

He hums, his arms coming around you again. He snuggles into you, nuzzling your cheek.

"You are perfect," he tells you, his voice gentle as he lets the afterglow take him over. His lips move against your shoulder, his hands rubbing your back and hips. "Thank you for tonight."

You smile, turning your head so you can kiss him. He moves with you, meeting you in it as his hand cups your cheek. His lips are soft and sweet, his tongue teasing yours as he kisses you back.

When you break it, you both smile and snuggle in, holding each other close.

"Mmmm," he says. "I'm gonna want to do that a lot more." His arm curls around your body, holding you close as you snuggle deeper. "Are you alright?"

"I'm great," you tell him. "That was amazing."

He grins, his body relaxing as he holds onto you. His voice drops into a soft mumble, the last of the afterglow pulling him over. "Good. I can't wait to do it again. Best sex of my life." His hand runs up your side, his finger brushing against your breast. "Can't wait for more of that. You're perfect, baby girl." His lips press against the side of your head and he holds you close. "So perfect for me."

His words send a spark of happiness through you and you smile, dropping your head onto his chest. He holds you closer, his fingers rubbing up your back, his hands resting on your lower back and ass.

Then you feel his body pulling away from yours. You mumble a protest, reaching for him, and you can feel him chuckle.

"Shh, baby, I'll be right back," he tells you softly. His lips press a kiss to your forehead and then he's rolling away from you, moving to the side of the bed. "Just need to run to the bathroom for a minute."

You hum, stretching and letting your eyes flutter open. He's pulling on his boxer briefs, moving out of the bedroom. You watch him go with a little sigh, your body still buzzing from the afterglow. You roll over onto your back, running a hand through your hair and smiling up at the ceiling.

God, he's perfect.

He comes back a few minutes later, a warm towel in his hands. You turn your head to look at him as he moves back onto the bed, a soft smile on his face. He runs the towel up your thigh, leaning down to kiss your hip.

"Spread your legs for me," he murmurs.

Your thighs drop open, letting him clean you with the warm towel. His mouth moves against your skin, his tongue licking at your hip as he holds the towel against you. The warmth feels good against your pussy and you let out a soft sigh, tilting your hips into his touch.

"Does that feel better?" he asks. You nod, his eyes lifting to yours.

"Yeah, that feels really good." Your voice comes out breathy and soft as he cleans you again. "Mmmm."

He smiles, his lips brushing against your stomach. His tongue flicks out to lick at your skin as he moves his mouth lower. You shudder a little, wanting to push your hips up, and his mouth lifts to yours.

He crawls over you, bracing his arms on either side of you. His lips cover yours, kissing you slowly. His tongue slips between your lips, his teeth catching your lip as he moves his hips against you.

Your thighs lift up around his, holding him close between your legs. His cock is hard again, pressing against your stomach, and he groans as he feels it.

"Again?" he asks you.

You smile and nod, reaching up to kiss him again. He smiles too, his lips covering yours.

"Mmmm," you murmur against him. "Yes."

-Bianca🌻

[deartrent]

a valentine's exchange — taa

summary: when valentine's day comes to an end, it's your turn to give trent your own kind of treat

warnings: contains smut (18+, mdni)

pairing: trent alexander-arnold x fem!reader

notes: this was kind of rushed and a day too late sorry!

"thank you for today," you'd just come back from the most dreamy valentine dinner date, something you didn't even know trent was capable of coming up with, let alone organise.

"anything for you baby," you both crashed on the bed, one of trent's arms around you as you cuddled into his side. he looked extra fine today, you couldn't tell if it was the all black fit he'd picked for today, your favourite cologne dripping off of him or the fact he'd dedicated the entire day to spoiling and treating you. you couldn't have imagined a better first valentine's day with trent.

he insisted that valentine's day was all about you and as you'd been dating for a little under a year, you quickly realised his love language was gift giving, taking any opportunity to spoil you rotten, just to show you how much he loved you.

you still felt guilty though, not having any surprises in store for him, on a day that is all about showing love. just once you wished you could pay him back, but you also knew you had nowhere near the capacity to ever gift him the way he gifts you.

you had to get creative and while trent was getting ready for bed—or so he thought—you changed out of your dress and slipped into a black lingerie set you kept for special nights like these. trent didn't ask, but you knew from the looks, the kisses and the subtle touching that he wanted more, and you were going to give him just that.

trent walked out of the bathroom, unaware of your plans as he turned off the bathroom lights and looked up to see you standing in front of your shared bed, your hands on your waist. a smile formed on trent's lips at the sight of you, slowly walking your way as he took in your frame, "what's happening here?" trent towered over you, a smirk on his face. you smiled back at him proudly, looking at him through your lashes, "it's my turn to spoil you," you lifted your shoulders, placing your hands on his waist as you held onto his shirt.

trent simply watched, anticipating your next move. you had no idea what you were doing, you just knew you had to blow his mind to reward him for giving you a valentine's day you could have only dreamed of. you slowly lifted his shirt over his head, trent assisting you, "i loved your outfit, but i love this more," your warm hands traced over trent's abs, all the way down, as you lowered yourself until you were eye level with his growing bulge. trent stood confidently, chewing on his bottom lip, growing impatient from your teasing.

you struggled to pull trent's sweatpants down, freeing his cock from the tight space in his boxers. you stifled a laugh, excited about pleasuring the man in front of you, whose eyes turned dark with lust. his cock twitched in front of you, as though it was screaming to be touched. you rose from a crouch onto your knees, one of your hands wrapping around the base of his shaft, as you spat onto his tip, your hand moving up to spread the natural lubricant over his tip, trent groaning at the sensitivity.

you loved teasing trent, seeing him in distress and eager to feel your touch gave you a sense of power and dominance you craved every once in a while.

your tongue circled around trent's tip, leaving kisses every now and then to get him as riled up as possible. trent struggled to keep his eyes open, his lips parted as soft moans and groans escaped, occasional curses leaving his throat. you knew it wasn't going to be long until he would take over, his naturally dominant nature surfacing. you didn't mind though, you loved trent being in control, but for now, you just wanted to see how far you could really push him.

with a soft grip around his base, you repeatedly tapped his cock against your tongue, holding eye contact as you watched him get weak under your touch. one of his hands moved to the back of your head, while his other hand held his shaft. you knew he had hit his limit when he slowly pushed himself into your mouth, your lips wrapping around his cock as you tried to take as much of him in as you could. your muffled coughs were trent's sign to pull back, your eyes shimmering with tears, a silent response to the tightness gripping your throat.

you took over from trent once again, your hands holding onto the back of trent's thighs as you moved your head at a quicker pace, attempting to take all of trent with each suck. the wet sounds of his cock pumping in and out of your mouth echoed through the room, mixed with trent's grunts. you quickened your pace, feeling trent's legs tense up. the precum leaking from his tip gave away that he was close to release.

you took a minute to catch your breath, wiping away the hair stuck to your tear-stained cheeks, while trent started jerking off, planning to release his cum all over your pretty face, "fuck," he cursed, his breath coming out in deep pants, his head tipping back a little, before focusing on you once again, "open your mouth for me," you silently obeyed, your hands still on trent's thighs as you opened your mouth, sticking out your tongue to catch every drop spilled from the head of his cock.

his strokes became faster but irregular, his groans becoming louder as his cum spewed out, marking your face and chest. coming down from his climax, the lust in trent's eyes didn't disappear as he helped you up, before turning you around, your back facing him. pushing you onto the bed, he got rid of your lingerie, the panties made of silk drenched with your wetness. you felt trent's hand on your back, pushing you further down as you arched for him, exposing to him what he'd been waiting for, "good fucking girl," trent mumbled just loud enough for you to hear, his hands brushing over the skin of your bum.

the tip of his cock grazed against your slit, your clit swollen and throbbing at the slightest contact. placing both hands on your hips, trent inserted himself into you, making sure to bury all of him inside, and keeping it there as you sunk your nails into the bedsheets, your eyes closing, your walls tightening around him. the force and pace of his thrusts increased and so did the volume of your moans, throwing around curse words as you cried out his name, not knowing whether you begged for mercy or begged for more.

"keep going," you were breathless, the pleasure almost too much as trent's hands held your waist, pulling you in with every thrust, his hips clapping against your bum with every pump, neither of you caring about how loud you were being, "fuck, oh my god-" you cried out, the climax building up inside of you almost unbearable to hold as your eyes rolled back into your head, "i'm gonna- fuck" you continued, your moans sounding like melodies in trent's ears, who started losing his pace as he reached his own climax. the final thrust threw you forward and if it wasn't for trent's grip, holding you in place, you would've fallen onto the bed.

trent plunged his cock in and out a few times, his cum leaking out of your pussy as he dragged himself out slowly, "fucking hell," trent collapsed next to you on the bed, his arm held out for you to join him, "that was fucking hot," he chuckled, as you cuddled into his side once again, your favourite place to be, "that was some going cross-eyed type of sex," you joked, sharing a laugh with the love of your life.

"you know that was my way of thanking you for today," you added, your hand resting on trent's tummy as you both stared at the ceiling. you heard trent snort, "remember the previous dates i took you? i think you forgot to thank me for those," you rolled your eyes, slapping his chest, before pushing yourself up, "you're not getting more out of me today, i'm exhausted." you tore yourself away from trent's warm body as you walked towards the bathroom to get cleaned up. trent intertwined his fingers behind his head, watching your naked figure disappear into the bathroom, a satisfied smile on his face, a content warmth settling in, his mind clouded with you.

and only you.

[cherubispunk]

NEPHILIM - Jackson-era!Joel Miller x AFAB!Reader

summary: the disturbing comforts the disturbed.

a note from Lucy: I swear there is fluff! I swear, I swear, I swear! You just have to squint *reeeeaaaalllly* hard. Yes, I read the book of genesis and the book numbers along with some extensive Wikipedia deep diving for like…a paragraph of lore. But is it really ever enough?

playlist | moodboard

wc: 2498

Warnings: 18+ MDNI DARK CONTENT! no use of y/n, I tried to keep her body type as generic as possible but he might be slightly skinny coded so please let me know and I’ll change it in edits, reader is referred to as ‘Bambi’, verbally constipated Joel Miller, brief gore descriptions, heavy religious imagery and references to the bible, biblical lore, bombastic age gap!!! yahhhhh! (reader is in her 20’s/ Joel is in his late 50’s), smut, p in v sex, creampie, fingering, rough sex, possessive!joel, dom!joel/sub!reader dynamic, you know the drill with my writing, there’s probably some form of cannibalism as a metaphor, or brutal violence as a metaphor, religious imagery as a metaphor, etc. (aka, fancy word vomit)

series masterlist | m.list

Genesis 6:4 The Nephilim were in the earth in those days, and also after that, when the sons of God came in unto the daughters of men, and they bore children to them; the same were the mighty men that were of old, the men of renown.

The reality of it was, you and Joel were two people who lived in the same small town. Who’s paths crossed once to save your life, and the others when coincidence would grant you that small pleasure. He carried you to the care of an old man with blue eyes now milky in cataracts. Jude. Who nursed you to health in a metal framed bed of an old family home— now the town clinic. The knife that sliced open your side had been dirty, and sepsis soon spread in the bloody gash. Only with Joel finding you in the snow, and Jude delivering you antibiotics, did you recover back to health.

He wouldn’t visit you directly. He would visit Jude and glance at you through the doorway as he passed the hall to the elderly Man’s office. To distract from the man you read stories when bedridden. Parts of biblical scripture; Read the book of Genesis; Read the book of Numbers. Jude being a religious man who had the fortune of holding God in his heart, kept them among his medical journals and books. And the former was far more interesting than the later in your opinion. For in them were mentions of anthropomorphic creatures born of flesh, blood and divinity. Towering tall over common trees and temples built in the name of Lord God. You were no religious woman, but you found comfort in the fables of the Old Testament. And likened Joel to the Nephilim in all ways.

Joel Miller was something of a biblical figure to you. A small glimpse into the past of something archaic, untold, and harbouring on the dangerous. You liked to imagine him as one of the Nephilim. A son of god, offspring borne of a fallen angel and man. A giant of misunderstood nature. Who’s soul had been cast down on earth in punishment. His large hands had bloodshed on them, or so people had said. They whispered it quietly in the spaces between. The places he didn’t occupy often. But he was always on your mind…so there was no place for those whispers there. If he was all that bad…why did he save you? You saw his need to care, protect, understand. Not be understood. But just understand. You would let yourself dream of taking his rough edges to the smooth plane of a whetstone. People claimed you cannot buff brass into gold. That it will only be as such in your head. That it was a fools game, but the fool is rich in content, and poor in sorrow. For the fool has little to worry about while they live in ignorant bliss.

What wasn’t written in any of the books of the holy scripture was this; ‘The disturbing comforts the disturbed.’ But it might as well have been. It was practically the way god intended life to be. You are shaken, and you are weaned on being shaken, until stillness is a discomfort and your body begs to be rattled again. But harder.

—

You took a while to find your feet. Joel took it upon himself to wordlessly help you with any medial or manual task. You were given a house on the edge of town, up a hill in some remote street that was always quiet. It seemed the less social souls resided there. Not that you minded. It was jarring to say the least. Being cast out into the hostile wild. And then brought back into the warmth. Here you had clothes, food, a roof over your head, and community. It stung in the same way it does to run your hands under a scalding tap after labouring out in the cold. It made your fingers numb before they regained feeling. Stiff. And a trouble to flex them back and forth, closed fist, open palm; Closed fist, open palm.

It’s how you earned ‘Bambi’. A name only Joel would ever call you. Dear doe on her wobbly, spindly legs. He’d keep you upright. Despite being a good thirty year sicker than you. Dirty old man. Ditsy little girl.

Your time together was silent. And while he never said he cared, he showed it. By waiting for you each time you were in the stables. And he would walk through town with you a safe distance from his side, up to the top of the hill your house was on. The snow would crunch under his heavy boots and he wished he was lighter on his feet like you. Not a large bulk of a man with heavy feet and even heavier hand. Maybe Joel wasn't large by the world's standards, but he was still a giant to you- muscular, and broad shoulders. With hands that could engulf yours, or cradle the entire crown of your head with a single palm. His arms were strong, and large from manual labour, and tightly knotted with tendons and grizzly muscle like thick twisted ropes that held up sails. What you liked most, however, was his softer belly. Perhaps the only soft thing about him from what little you had seen, or heard, or assumed. You felt an intrinsic satisfaction in knowing he was well fed. And Joel didn't mind it either. It was a reminder to himself what he was in fact as safe as he could be. Anything to not go hungry again. He still kept his brawns either way. Kept his hands and mind busy with patrols and the odd job around town. Fixing roofs, garden sheds, building tables with spare lumber from the woodhouse, and chopping firewood for the colder months. At the beginning of winter he would spend most of his free time ensuring you had enough. He spent hours out in his backyard, swinging that axe down on log, after log of wood. Then carry it up the hill in a wheelbarrow to your front door. He did it for nothing. Nothing but the peace of mind that grew from the seed of knowing you were warm. But he was greeted with something you had baked, or sewn, or knitted, or grown in your empty hours alone. Apple and rhubarb pie, thick woollen gloves, sourdough bread with crunchy, thick crusts that crunched when he broke his bread.

“It’s nothin’.” He would say, and shrug, hands on his hips while he looked back at the finished product of whatever work he’d slaved over that entire afternoon. Be it a pile of firewood, raised garden beds, or a fixed gutter. “Just…do me a favour?” He asked.

“Yeah?”

“Keep that smile on y’face, Bambi. Don’t let anyone take it away from ya.” His face was stern. As if he was telling you, not asking you. But if you were to ever stop smiling he thought he’d keel over and die a little bit inside. Or part of him would anyway. The part of him you now had in your chest unwittingly.

You watched the mountain of a man, Big Bad Joel Miller, warm up. Day by slow day. He was on the threshold of it. Right there. But the toe of his thick winter boots never ventured onto floorboards. He stayed out in the cold. After a while you dared Joel to touch you. Tired of him only meeting halfway. He was a man of few words, but a man of so much action. And when you challenged him with your tongue, he countered with his touch. That night was hell under the guise of heaven for his restraint.

“Y’so bad for me, Bambi.” Joel grunted, his entire weight smothering you against the mattress of his bed. His cock dragging in and out of you slowly. “Old sinner like me ain’t made for you.” So slowly the anticipation ached in the joints of your toes that curled. His grip on your hips casting his handprint in a watercolour bloom. “That’s it, fuck– takin’ me so well.”

You whimpered, eyes fluttering shut, back arching in a deep curve off the bed while his hips altered their pace. Just a tad quicker as you bucked up into him. The two of you climbing in tandem to the high. “That's it,” He repeated in a hiss, followed by a growl into your neck, “Keep archin’ that back for me.” You did just that, holding onto his forearms for leverage as you curled your spine a little deeper. A word came to mind. One you’d heard once before. Only once. But I held such a comfort to be able to label it. Hiraeth. He was that. And what you felt was that. A longing for a home. He treated you like you wouldn't break. But spoke as if words would lacerate you. One punctuated thrust, aided by your own slick was all it took, a moan for him deeper. A tear slipped from your eye and you let gravity do its work, pulling it from you. It slipped from the corner of your eye, and down your temple. “Good girl, Bambi.” He crooned, splaying both of his palms over your hairline and sweeping the hair that stuck to your forehead in the sheen of sweat atop your skin. His large hands dragged over the top of your skull to the crown of your head, down the back of your neck, and gripped. That soft fleshy part at the base of your skull and the top of your still curved spine.

It hurt. It deeply hurt. His calloused fingers, textured by the trigger of a gun, or the handle of an axe, pressing into your malleable skin. But you’d let Joel drag you to hell if it meant he would hold your hand. You didn't care how he touched you– how he was inside you. He could be buried to hilt in your cunt, or knuckle deep in an open wound. As long as he was there. You'd give the heavens, and the earth, and rot in hell if it meant he stayed. Joel swore you had the space for his heart next to yours. But you didn't have the stomach.

You gripped the skin of Joel’s back. Searching for a part of him to hold that would turn off the cynic in him. Or at least try. You gave up on that idea. Because the man that fucked you— the man that loved you in action and not words— was not kind. He was not gentle. He was bold, and sharp as broken glass, and blunt all in the same being. You knew the crease of his brow. You had it memorised.

He hooked a leg over his shoulder, opened you up to his greedy eyes. They misted into dark hickory at the sight of you taking him so well inside of you. Messy little cunt for him to play with whenever he pleased. His nostrils flared as he pressed deeper. And your reaction was as he planned. A cry of his name. Your sex drenched and accommodating every inch. “A cunt made for me.” He gritted through his teeth, leaning forward to sink his teeth into your bottom lip and lick into the wet cavern of your mouth; Take the taste of you back with him when he retreated again; Righting his hips and the angle he fucked you in.

“Made for you.” You agreed in a garble and a slur. As if drunk off the last dregs of his kindness that lay at the bottom of the bottle. Licking it dry for all it was still worth.

“Say it again.” Joel grunted, demanded.

“Made for you.” You repeated.

“Good little Bambi.”

From there it was the crescendo. And it came broken in two halves of two separate waves. The first wave was one of numbing pleasure. The one that fizzled through your legs until you were nothing but a mere speck for a second. And the second was the one that broke you. Had you shattering. It tightened in your womb, behind the mouth of your cervix, and then released in slow flutter; Your walls relaxing and then contracting. And he came after with a groan and spilled inside of you.

He was no gentle lover. In fact, he wasn’t a lover at all. When he fucked you that night…it felt like he was trying to love you— but couldn’t. He was too conditioned to violence. It showed the ache he left behind. Nevertheless, you would take more than he was willing to offer. But what he dropped in your palm you stored away and hoarded like a greedy magpie with shiny little trinkets. He was warm. But not warm like a campfire. He was warm like hellflame. And you were okay with that. You would take your time with him, and slowly pry open a gap in his ribs to slip past. To love him to the marrow. Even the mangled parts. Find him at his very worst — The part humanity suffocated in. And love him there. Silently.

Joel ran a hand over the flank of your ribs and then curled around your navel to pull your back to his chest. Then kissed the crook of your neck in a silent apology to your skin for each mark or tender bruise he may have left. One that wasn't really needed, but you accepted it by reaching behind you and running your fingers through his thick greying curls. In times like these after it all, in the clot and space in between, you came to realise loving him was like loving being hungry. It felt good to want things. To feed yourself you swallowed your fear instead. You lay there, exhaustion heavy in your bones, a hand of his slipping between your legs to feel the evidence of him being there inside you. His spend sticky and thick and warm between your legs. You couldn't fight the impulsive twitch that jolted your spine when he pressed on your swollen, slick clit and drew lazy circles. “Mine now, Bambi.” He murmured into the skin of your shoulder. He didn't kiss the skin there, but rather trailed his chapped lips over your flesh in such a light touch it felt like it was hardly there. More a trick of the sex hazed, lust crazed mind. “Understand that?” And you nodded in silence with a small smile, watching out the frosted up window pane as the dawn stained the sky a burnt orange and angry red. It refracted and smeared in the crystallised ice. A thin sheet that obscured the image of the sycamore tree outside his bedroom window. The bare branches looked far more like the bones of skeletal fingers than a tree bare of leaves. Its bleach white bark only emphasised your image of it. Your vision. Nevertheless; The blackbird would sing, once again on its branch, a morning song you knew by heart.

[my-autism-adhd-blog]

Hello everyone,

If you haven’t heard, there’s going to be a nationwide test in United States. According to this article:

Nationwide Alert System Test on October 4, 2023

The Federal Emergency Management Agency and Federal Communications Commission will be conducting a nationwide test of the Emergency Alert System (EAS) and Wireless Emergency Alert (WEA) system on Wednesday, October 4th at 11:20 AM local time. The purpose of the test is to ensure that the systems continue to be effective means of warning the public about emergencies and disasters. The test messages will display in either English or Spanish depending on the language settings of the wireless device.

EAS messages are transmitted through radio and television with an alert tone or scrolling text across the bottom of the screen. The EAS message will say “This is a nationwide test of the Emergency Alert System, issued by the Federal Emergency Management Agency, covering the United States from 11:20 to 11:50 hours PST. This is only a test. No action is required by the public.”

WEA messages are transmitted to cell phones via cell towers and look like text messages that are accompanied by a distinct attention tone and vibration. The message will read "THIS IS A TEST of the National Wireless Emergency Alert System. No action is needed."

All local radio and T.V. stations will broadcast the EAS test, and all cell phones that are on, not on airplane mode, and within range of a cell tower will receive the WEA test.

In the event the test cannot be conducted on October 4, the back-up date is Wednesday, October 11.

The full article will be below:

[missameliep]

Bonds of Sea and Fire - Part 2 (Blades of Light and Shadow)

Book: Blades of Light and Shadow

Pairing: Tyril Starfury x Arwen (MC - F!Elf)

Summary: How can trust be forged? At the Wraith's deck, Arwen and Tyril have a conversation under the stars.

Word count: ~3.000

Rating: G

Notes:

* English is not my native language;

* Characters belong to PixelBerry;

* This takes place between chapters 6 and 7 from Blades of Light and Shadow - Book 1.

This is my submission to @choicesaugustchallenge hosted by the lovely @lilyoffandoms - Day 10: late night talking under the stars

At the deck of the ship, Imtura was on her natural environment. Not a member of the pirate crew would dare blink at one of the instructions the captain shouted.  

The Wraith’s sails, filled with a fair wind, spread like wings, taking them away from those cursed islands until they vanished. The sunrays peppered the waters with a shimmer that rivaled the fae fishes’ glow, and there was so much beauty in the world one could risk forgetting the dangers lurking not only in the shadows. 

The waves were like mischievous kids, crashing against the hull and spreading a salty misty all over the deck, heaving the ship high into the air just to let it fall and catch it once more.

The motion was harsher than she’d like, however Arwen was confident. Confident the ship would carry them to the shore no matter the weather. A confidence born from the faith on Imtura’s abilities and determination to find the missing shards and bring Kade back.  

The challenges faced were enough to seal the bond and she came to trust not only her, but all the companions – even if the feeling might not be mutual when it comes to one of them. Her gaze, like in so many occasions these past days, was instantly drawn to the other elf of the party, cleaning the blade of his sword at the opposite side of the deck.

With a heavy sigh, Arwen lets her head fall back on her crossed arms. Eyes on the blue sky and on the passing white clouds, she tries to relax, but her mind constantly drifts to the two shards inside her satchel. Two more to go. At least a week’s journey until Undermount after beaching.  

Hopefully, they’d find the next one there. 

Hopefully, she’d also find the answers to questions of a lifetime. Her heart races with the idea of finally be among her own people. Her people. What a change would it be! 

While the sun gently sinks on the horizon, its golden rays set the sky ablaze; the blue welcoming all shades of orange and red. 

The first star appears, and dusk announces the time of joyful songs, chatter and games. Bottles of the strong orcish ale are passed from hand to hand, while the sound of seagulls is replaced by extraordinary tales, laughter and music.   

The party of adventures eagerly joined the crew, except for Tyril, who does not seem to share the same enthusiasm or friendliness. The elf managed to keep himself the further away from the buzz without jumping ship. After days spent at the sea without a moment of quiet solitude, she supposes he’s reached some personal limit. 

While Threep was gnawing the third fish on a stick, Nia smiled listening to all sorts of anecdotes and jokes, blushing at the obscenities spilling from the sailors’ mouths and Mal’s as well. The man is not intimidated by the orcs towering over him and sat at the improvised table for a game of cards.  

Mal winked at Arwen when she caught a glimpse of one card tucked into his shirt, and she stifled a chuckle at his audacity or sheer recklessness before returning the gesture. Their flirtation, she notices, assumes more and more an air of camaraderie. 

Her contemplation is halted when the bench squeals with Imtura’s weight. The orc slumps beside Arwen with a smirk, gulps the ale and offers the bottle to the elf. 

“Enjoying the sail, landrat?” 

“I’ll be fine as long as there are no storm and no more grobtars,” Arwen quips.  

The orc let’s out a loud guffaw and with a massive hand pats her shoulder. “Worry not! Just good weather ahead. And trust me, if those grobtars know what’s best for them, they’ll avoid the Wraith for a long long time...” 

Besides them, the alcohol blushed Nia’s cheeks, and loosen Mal’s tongue, who shares the most passionate narratives about his deeds and conquers, who involves a lot of flirting his way out of trouble. 

“What’s wrong with that elf friend of yours?” Imtura asks, tilting her head in his direction. “Afraid of the sea, is he?” 

Arwen shrugs, unsure if the orc is concerned about Tyril or annoyed by his aloofness like the rest of the crew seems to be.  

Listening to the exchange, Nia suggests someone should invite him to join them for a cards game and cast a not-so-subtle look at Arwen. She wonders if Nia noticed the fleeting glances exchanged between the two or assumes she’s got a better chance at talking him into accepting the offer for being an elf herself. Either way, she accepts the challenge.  

Without a word, she takes the bottle, stands up and unconsciously rake her fingertips through her windblown hair, combing it back in place as much as possible. 

The wooden floor creaks beneath her feet when she approaches him, who glances over his shoulder acknowledging her presence. 

Tucking stray locks of his long hair behind an ear, his gaze follows her attentively, and by his expression and the absence of a scowl, she chooses to believe her company is a welcomed one.  

Tipping the bottle of ale at him, he purses his lips and shakes his head.  

“My senses must be sharp.” 

“Imtura says we can expect nothing but good weather,” she replies leaning against the railing beside him, but keeping some respectful distance. 

“The sea is untrustworthy,” Tyril confides.  

There’s bitterness when the elf utters the last word that is not missed by her keen senses. After the past days of companionship and fighting side by side, she hoped his opinion of the party would have changed for the better. Or mostly, his opinion of her.  

“Is it only the sea you do not trust?” she asks and grimaces after gulping the strong ale. 

Mulling at her words, he fixed his gaze at the starry sky. 

“Have you ever seen a swordsmith working?” 

Even though it was an unusual question, Arwen confirmed she had seen many times the blacksmith at Riverbend forging all sorts of objects. Closing her eyes, she could almost feel the heat in the air and hear the clang of metal on metal. 

“The craftmanship requires not only strength, but mostly diligence and a great dose of patience. The swordsmith cannot hurry the process otherwise the blade might flake and shatter… Trust, I’ve learnt, must be forged like a sword. And one cannot be certain it is perfected and will withstand until it’s drawn and tested. Peace is not a good test for a sword, like a smooth sea does not make a skilful sailor,” he concluded in his grave tone without meeting her eyes. 

“Trust, friendship and loyalty, I believe, can be forged by different and unexpected means.”  

Her statement is met by a quizzical stare that lingers far too long to be ignored.  

“You think I am naïve.” Her words break the heavy silence that fell upon them. 

Something crosses Tyril’s face, and he shakes his head to deny her assumption.  

“I do not, but...”  

There’s a long pause and she struggles to not fill the silence.  

His gaze flicks from her face to the infinite dark sea surrounding them, and she almost expects him not to complete the sentence. But he speaks again and when he does, his words are drowning in sorrow. “If you freely offer your trust to the undeserving of such gift, they’ll take it for granted and won’t hesitate before stabbing your back...” 

His body has become so rigid with tension that if not for his long raven strands blown by the salty breeze one could mistake him with a statue. While he stares at the sky, she wonders which kind of betrayal stole his faith in others. 

“What do you suggest then? Should I mistrust everyone including yourself?”  

Her questioning sound a lot like teasing, which partly is her intention to try and light the mood. However, judging by the seriousness of his expression contemplating the sky as if the answer could be hidden among the stars, he considers it worthy of a genuine answer. 

“Trust no one outside your house.” He pauses and his gaze turns away from the sky to meet hers. “I learned it from my father once I was old enough to stand on my own feet. Your house and your blood – those are the sole things that matter and upon which you can rely on...” His face remains impassive, but his voice wavers with emotion and she struggles to control the urge to reach for his hand. “I suggest you consider the advice from someone who’s seen what happens if one loses sight of that...” 

Sipping the ale, she cast a longing glance at the sea and thinks of her life at the nurturing community of Riverbend. Such a long way from where they are now! Her thoughts return to Kade, her only family. His blood is not her blood, but her fate and his are the same. They were united to share the kind of sincere love that would take either of them to the ends of the earth to save the other, just like she is doing now. 

“Not some advice easily taken...” she mutters the words hoping they’d disappear into the throat of the bottle. “Not when you’re twice orphaned....”

His eyes widened for the briefest moment, a glimpse of sorrow crossing them, before he uttered an attempt to apologise in what she assumes is part of Undermount’s fine etiquette.  

“It was a long time ago...” she dismisses with a forced smile, despite the hollow in her chest that aches more frequently than she would let anyone suspect. “With no house to have my back... I guess my experience and perspective on the matter might be a little different from yours...”  

He nods, and his gaze contemplates her face until he averts his eyes. “I suppose.”  

She releases a breath, thankful he does not press on.  

When she looks back at him, Tyril’s chin tilted up, exposing his elegant long neck, and his gaze is fixed on the stars again.  

Maybe he’ll speak of the constellations, she hopes; maybe he’s lost in thoughts that are not meant to be shared with her, which would be less desirable. Her heart aches, fearing to have this moment abbreviated. 

Arwen takes another swig at the ale, building the courage to bring another topic and encourage him to maybe speak more of himself. She doesn’t exactly know why, but she craves to learn more... Probably because he’s an elf and holds the knowledge she so long desired; or maybe that’s just what she keeps telling herself to not think about the other reason for her eagerness... 

She licks her lips, and a warm smile curls them.   

“May I ask you a question?”  

His long black hair sways when his head turns, and his eyes return to her face. It’s difficult to determine if it’s the sight of him and his piercing eyes or the sea that makes her sway gently. 

“Are you a poet, Lord Tyril of Undermount?” 

“Excuse me?”  

“A poet,” the words slowly roll from her tongue.  

“You mock me?” he scowls, and she stifles a giggle. 

His face is always ready to respond with indignation, as if expecting to always meet the worst in those around him. It’s amusing, but also makes her wonder the depths of the loneliness this mindset brings. The frown is back, and she'd like to erase it with a kiss, right between his eyebrows, to help erase whatever poisons his mind.   

“Mock you? Absolutely not,” she stresses the negative word and heaves her hands in theatrical surrender, unable to supress the grin parting her lips. “I’d never dare mock someone who could slice me in half like butter and not break a sweat!” And look like a gorgeous angel of death while doing so...  

“I’d never draw my sword against you!” his response is quick and apparently more truthful than he intended.

The butterflies on her stomach almost flee through her mouth, taking her voice away with them, but she whispers, “You wouldn’t?”

He coughs and covers his mouth.  

“Don’t be absurd!” he scoffs. “Everyone knows that is not the appropriate punishment for mockery and slander according to the elven code!” 

“Oh, right,” she utters with sheer disappointment. 

The graveness of his expression gives way to the slightest twitch of his lips, and that’s when she sees it: the small, almost imperceptible smile, and the glint of mischief in his eyes.  

She gasps, “Was that... a joke?” 

“Everybody knows I do not joke about such matters. Or any matter at all.” His face is still quite serious, but his voice not so much. It wavers as if he's struggling to contain the laughter bubbling inside. What would it take for him to let it out? “Beware, if you sustain those false accusations, you might face time in the dungeon...”

“Oh! We don’t want that, do we?” she teases.

The amusement reaches the corners of his eyes. 

“Wow! You cracked a joke and evaded the question... I’m impressed, Tyril!” 

“Ludicrous allegations are not worthy a rebuttal,” he finally says, his words coated by a lilt of a laugh and his lips slightly curled at the corners. But it isn’t enough. She needs to see him smiling, unabashedly baring his teeth, cackling with her... so relaxed that his beautiful blue skin would be freed of the soft lines marking the area in between his eyebrows.

“Too late! I already have evidence.”

“Evidence?” he echoes.

Grinning, Arwen moves a little closer, tilting her chin up to meet his gaze.

“The sword was a good metaphor. Fits a trained warrior like yourself, but hints you got the heart of a poet hidden in there…” She points at his chest, and his eyes narrow, but not in a menacingly way; there’s a hint of amazement at the gesture. When one of her fingertips lightly touches the armour over his heart, Tyril visibly swallows, despite not drinking anything. 

A teasing smile plays on her lips, appreciating the way his cheeks have darkened again, tinting themselves in that lovely shade of lavender she’s fascinated with. Would his cheeks be soft and warm against her fingers? 

“And since you did not deny my assumption, from now on, I’ll be picturing you writing poetry late at night, pen in hand, eyes squinted in concentration... Warrior by day, poet by night...” 

He takes a deep breath and a step away from her, then sharp words fly from his tongue, “How could I make time for poetry when the Shadow Court is spreading their corruption in these lands? Endangering the entire world? I could never waste precious time with such frivolity!” 

“Can’t you do both?” Her lips roll inside her mouth, and she moistens them, giving them both time to contemplate the idea. “Can’t you allow yourself to be overwhelmed by the beauty in the world, love and whatever else moves you... without losing sight of your quest? I believe it can be a motivating force to achieve greater things...” 

“You assume much about myself, including that I would have any talent for poetry...” 

“I’m certain you do, and I envy you.”  

A wistful smile curls her lips when she remembers the first time she saw the sea at Port Parnassus, the way her heart filled with so much joy and craved to have Kade’s talents and compose a song to immortalize that feeling, to share it with him once they are reunited.  

“When I first saw the sea, I was just...Wow!” She waved her hands to try and convey all that excitment. “My first thought when my brain stopped screeching was 'Gods, I wish Kade was here!'” She takes a deep breath, and leans forward, letting both her elbows rest on the railing, the bottle held close against to her chest. “If he were there, he'd have the perfect words... and five minutes later he'd pop a new song and just capture that moment... you know? But he was not there... I was and it seemed like a waste of prettiness... What will I tell him?” She shrugged. “The sea was huge... and blue... and... I don’t do metaphors! And I'm physically uncapable of rhyming!” 

“Maybe you underestimate your capabilities...” he said softly when she stopped rambling.

The bottle almost plummeted into the dark waters, and she took it to her lips once more, before speaking again.

“Kade is the storyteller, the singer... My talent with words is from an entirely different nature.” She winked at him to make sure he understood what she meant by that, and he looked away, which usually is not what happen when she does that with her charming smile.

“Hey! Kit, are you and Elf boy coming over or what?” Mal question rings in the air and she’s reminded of what she came to do in the first place.  

“Would you like to join us? We’re playing cards, sharing tales…” 

A mere glance at the groups, and the crease between his eyebrows returns and looks even deeper than before.  

She risks a pat on his arm, and says softly, “The swordsmith needs something to work on...”  

Tyril’s eyes flick to her face, and his reluctance slowly vanishes. With a nod, he accepts the suggestion and follows her towards the improvised table. 

“Oh, look!” Nia cries, “How fortunate! Mal was about to tell us of the encounter with Duke Erthax!” 

“Listen closely, elf boy, you can learn a thing or two!” 

Tyril halts and Arwen looks over her shoulder.  

“Does your party really requires a thief?”  

“We’ve been through this,” she huffs amused, “you cannot throw Mal overboard.” 

The elf sighs.  

“May I?” Tyril asks, pointing at the bottle, and she hands it. The elf coughs loudly after taking a swig not anticipating the pungent taste, drawing the attention of the group who failed at pretending not to pay attention at the two of them. 

“It’ll get better.” She pats his arm lightly. 

“The taste?” he snorts. “I highly doubt that!” 

“Everything.” She winks and receives the bottle from Tyril’s hand.  

When he crosses the last steps and takes a seat with the others, she smiles to herself, celebrating this small victory, anticipating the others certainly to come. 

[little-svt]

FEMME-READER | FLUFF | ‘Niū Niū’ & ‘Xiǎo gōng zhǔ’

Wc: 908

Taglist: @pastel-princess-please @kiki-woo @fishsquishh

Back 2 Back

“Should I come in? It looks pretty full.” Minghao laughed as he entered the bathroom where Jun had joined you for bath time. Who was responsible for the mass amounts of bubbles and the empty bottle of bubble bath on the floor would remain a mystery.

“Bàba! Are you gonna come in too?” You asked, pouting with big puppy eyes, the bubble tower Jun had been building on your head nearly flying off as you splashed excitedly in the tub.

Jun suppressed his snickering. Even though Hao knew exactly what you were doing, it didn’t decrease its power at all.

Minghao immediately grumbled and started taking off his clothes, grabbing a towel for when he’d get out. A minute or two wouldn’t hurt. Sinking into the bubbles with a side of water, he was surprised it didn’t spill over the edge, though it tried. You giggled happily and moved to snuggle against him.

“Wahh now Daddy’s cold” Jun complained, making a show of shivering as if 80% of his body wasn't submerged in warm water. He was completely shameless about begging for your attention, always one-upping Hao. Still, you hadn’t seen your Bàba all day. Daddy would survive without you for just a little bit.

“Oh hush.” Hao rolled his eyes, his airy giggle making your heart fluttery and warm. Warmer than the bath or his arms that came snuggly around you as he left a kiss on your nose and smoothing away the bubbles on your head.

“Did he even wash you yet, Niū Niū?” he teased, poking two fingers at your side to make you squeal.

“Hey!” Jun snorted into the water, his body now submerged almost fully, stopping just below his nose as he waited patiently for his Xiǎo gōng zhǔ to return to him.

“Yep! All clean!! Daddy let me shower with him before we got in the bath!”, you nodded, resting your cheek against him as he cupped your face in his hands sweetly.

“Even behind your ears?” Minghao rubbed his nose against yours, eyes crinkled affectionately as he smiled.

Jun grumbled to himself and considered splashing a nice sized wave in Hao’s direction but deemed it wasn’t worth it, you being the casualty.

“All clean! Daddy washes the bestest!” You beamed before bringing one hand over the side of your mouth, whispering not so quietly, “but Bàba dries the bestest”

“Yah! I heard that!!”

You giggled and found yourself in Jun’s arms again, the complaints immediately coming to a halt.

“Okay! Daddy be the yellow ducky and Bàba be the green ducky and I can be the baby ducky. I have to be because it’s pink, see?”

“Yes I see. But you’re always gonna be the baby no matter what, little ducky.” Jun teased and kissed your cheek loudly with a ‘MWAH’.

Both of them took their acting parts very seriously, playing and splashing along with you proudly until the water was cold.

“Look, kitten. Bàba is shivering. He’s not invincible at all.” Jun laughed.

“I never claimed to be!” Hao defended. Why was he defending himself? Who wouldn’t be shivering sitting in cold water?? There was plenty of room to tease your cold-loathing-Bàba, but he wasn’t the one whose teeth were chattering away even being embraced in your Daddy’s warmth.

“I cold too, Daddyyy.” You frowned, shaking and wiggling in place impatiently as Jun stood with a smile. Fetching the towel and opening it wide for you. Anything for you.

“What about me?” Hao pouted, betrayed.

“Get your own.” Jun stuck his tongue out as he squeezed your tight and began drying you off.

“But I got that one.” Hao huffed and flipped the plug for the tub before getting out to fetch another towel. He’d have to dry quick, he was the best dryer after all. But by the time he dried off and began dressing, Jun had you sat on the counter, wrapped in your towel and was already blow drying your hair.

“That’s my job!” Hao insisted and Jun gave him the hair dryer with a grin, only teasing and went to fetch himself some clothes. Though if he had it his way he’d probably never wear clothes.

Once your hair was dry, you half asleep and barely noticing the blaring, cozy air had stopped, Minghao made quick work of winding it up and tucking it away in the cupboard.

“Oh I thought it was movie night, Baōbèi. Bedtime already?” He beamed so fondly, stroking your soft locks before tucking a piece gently behind your ear.

“Huh?” With that your eyes shot open, remembering you had to be the first to the sofa to have first pick.

Hopping off the counter, leaving a giggling Bàba behind, you zoomed out of the bathroom and down the hall to the living room to find your Daddy grinning smugly with the remote in his hand. Before you could pout, he opened his arms wide and pulled you into his lap when you crashed into him, giving you the remote.

“That’s cheating.” Hao plopped down beside you, putting his arm over the back of the sofa as you fumbled with the buttons, “let Bàba do it.”

They liked to play pretend sometimes as if anyone but you would be picking the film. Happy with your choice, once the movie was playing, the three of you became a tangle of limbs under a throw blanket until inevitably you’d fall asleep in their arms

🧸Endnote: ‘Niū Niū’ means little girl & ‘Xiǎo gōng zhǔ’ means little princess. You know I’d never miss Hao day!! But you don’t get one without the other hehe (only kidding//sometimes) My JunHao are my whole world ㅠ ㅠ I hope Myungho has a wonderful birthday and Junnie bugs him a lot!! 我爱你!! ALSO THE NEW ALBUM?! Woozi really is a God of Music!! I cannot pick a favorite track (though Back 2 Back is probably taking first) Ofc still on hiatus because now I am so busy and looking back realizing it’s now been over three months. I miss writing I do ㅠ ㅠ 💖 ~ 🐶🐰🍓

🧸Masterlist🧸

[the-whatcherof-89]

PIGLIN 

Racial abilities:

Type Medium Monstrous Humanoids(Orc subtype)

Speed 30ft

Senses Darkvision 60ft

Ability Score Modifiers +2STR -2INT

Gold scent: Piglin can detect any golden material and sense their status within 60ft. This effect functions like the spell Detect Metal but only on gold.

Greed: +2 bonus on Appraise checks to determine the price of nonmagical goods that contain precious metals or gemstones. This bonus increases of a +2 if they are made of Gold.

Piglin skills: Craft (Gold), Handle animal, Perception, Survival are always class skills for Piglins.

Orc Ferocity: Once per day, when a member of this race is reduced to fewer than 0 hit points but is not killed, it can fight on for 1 more round as if disabled. At the end of its next turn, unless brought to above 0 hit points, it immediately falls unconscious and begins to die.

Frenzy: Once per day, whenever a member of this race takes damage, it flies into a frenzy for 1 minute, gaining a +2 racial bonus to Constitution and Strength, but a –2 penalty to AC.

Weapon Familiarity: Piglins are proficient with Battleaxe, Heavy Crossbow, Longsword, Pickaxe.

Limited telephaty: Piglins possess a crude but efficient form of telephaty. While they cannot use it to perform coversations, they can sense the general emotions of their kin(only of other Piglins) and understand them reacting as a single unit in front of danger. This effect is constant as long as the Piglin is conscious and links any Piglins within 50ft with each other.

Unnatural Fear: Piglins are automatically afraid of all forms of undead Piglin, undead Hoglin and Soul Fire sources(magical and not) and they will never come close to these.(treat this effect as a Fear spell)

Overworld curse: Any Piglin that leaves the Nether will turn into a zombie version of itself within 3 turns with no saves. This effect can be halted only with a Wish or Miracle spell for 1 round. These spells can also be used to return transformed Piglins into their normal forms.

Languages: Piglins begin to speak Orc. Those with higher score in Intelligence can choose from the following languages: Common, Ignan, Abyssal, Giant, Alko, Undercommon and Necril.

Background: Piglins are brutish, greedy, primitive, yet united, inhabitants of the Nether. They live in various locations of the crimson landscape but never in a Soul valley. The Piglins live a nomadic-hunter-gatherer tribe life-style, never still for too long but from time to time setting in a ruined Bastion or a Nether fortress which they consider a monument of their glorious days of the past. They are very superstitious and afraid of Soul fire that traps the very souls of the victim(or so they think). They also run away from any version of themselves that has been turned into a zombie. It is said that in the past, there were many wars and at the peak of their civilization, the Piglins invaded the Overworld causing havoc and plundering the land. Resources were taken, inhabitants were enslaved, cities turned into rubble, obsidian portals opened everywhere in the land. Mighty fortresses of gold, quartz and blackstone towered in the Nether as testament to their might… however, one day it all crumbled to dust and the very gods casted a curse upon the Piglins: If they dared to returned the very land would sunder their being and strip them of any form of life for they greedy stole too many in the past. And so they walk, sometimes equipped with gold equipments and barely remembering the days of old, yet obsessed with gold and willing to do anything to get more…

Physical appearance and personality: Piglins are muscular powerful humanoids with tusks, pig-like faces and features. They wear simple, rugged leather clothes but they seek to get gold as soon as possible to build their weapons and armors. Piglins, are obsessed with gold as it is the only thing to show their status: The more gold one has, the more his status is considered higher, until someone steals it, or worst. Wearing gold armor and giving gold items to Piglins is the only known way to stop their territorial rampage and they will give you something in return(that is not gold). To survive the harsh Nether they learned a few tricks: like how to squeeze water out of mushrooms or Nether wart. No matter what, they are always ready to barter as they are to steal, kill, betray or hunt. Sometimes, they manage to gather into a fortress of old like a Bastion, where they organize and gather their loot. However, these organized groups are short lived as their hierarchy is as fragmented as their long lost empire. One always tries to topple the other and while they try to grow their children they also engage in hunting/training Hoglins or seeking resources while at it. Be forewarned, for they will consider even the gold in a wall theirs as a sort of a “secret stash” only to have another Piglin yell that it was his causing a massive rampage. They worship various spirits of fire, strength, war, riches and death that are all the same God, their creator. However, even these cults disappear as they appear… like a flame flickering in the dark. Overall, they are greedy, warlike, superstitious, survivalist pig-like humanoids that still will protect their clans with a ferocity that cannot be measured with words.

Art by the amazing Illwelldomen!

 illwilledomen.tumblr.com

[mordenheim]

A Little Grump, A Lotta Love

A birthday gift I wrote for @pumpkinspice-pony Dream Baker belongs to her. Content below the break not suitable for readers under 18 years of age.

Dream Baker grumped silently to herself as she sat on top of her pillow, wrapped up in a pale blue dish towel like it was a blanket. Only her curved horn and the tip of her yellow muzzle could be seen as she gripped the edges of the towel tightly in her hands, pulling it around herself as she grumbled.

Victor slowly peeked up over the top of the headboard, grinning and flashing his sharp, white teeth. He leaned down right next to the currently small unicorn, whispering.

“Hey, cutie...”

“Hush, you...” she admonished, pulling the towel around her even tighter. “I don't want to hear anything you have to say right now.”

“Cute... Adorable... just so wonderful...”

The unicorn felt a warmth stirring inside of her, but did her best to push it down. She tried desperately to concentrate, to keep a hold on her grumpiness. She hadn't had a good grump in a long while and she was in absolutely no mood for the currently towering zebra to ruin it.

His long, red mane fell in front of her face as his head hovered over her. “Let me see you...”

“No..” She gripped the towel even more tightly and flopped over onto her side as she curled up. Her blue hooves poked out of the bottom a little.

He reached out and gripped the edge of the towel with his fingertips, tugging playfully at it a little, “Let me see that beautiful little mare...”

“Stoooooop...” She kicked at his smooth fingertips, her hooves clicking off of them, that warmth in her chest growing.

His huge, soft lips brushed against her fingers where she held the towel. “Wonderful, beautiful....” He slowly opened the towel, leaving her little nude form in the open. “Lovely, soft...” He sniffed at her, rumbling happily before nuzzling her tummy, rolling her onto her back with his soft, velvet-furred nose, “Incredible pony...”

She blushed as he rubbed his lips against her, resting his hands on either side. She saw the love, longing, and raw need in his single eye as he gazed at her. That warmth inside of her burst into a roaring flame as she suddenly surged larger, her rapidly growing body shoving his arms outwards as she nearly matched him in size. She rested her head back on the pillow, trying to frown at him as she playfully bopped his nose with a fingertip.

“Jerk, ruining a good sulk like that...”

The zebra smiled and settled down by her side for a moment, stroking the soft fur of her tummy and kissing her cheek. “I didn't ruin anything. I just wanted some time with my beautiful little pony...”

He slowly entwined his fingers with hers and shifted, crawling over her on his hands and knees. The inhibitor collar which kept his size in check beeped softly without her even really touching him. Just the thought of her was giving him little jolts of pleasure as he clasped her other hand in his. He leaned down, kissing her breasts, slowly working his way upwards to gently nibble at the side of her neck.

“I want you... My beautiful mare... I need you...”

Dream shivered, trying to hold on a little longer, feeling that heat growing again, that flame turning into a roaring bonfire. His words were like logs thrown on the fire, but his touch was like gasoline.

She finally felt his shaft slide out of its sheathe, flopping out against her. She felt it throb and swell, stretching slowly up her body, unbidden by her touch, his desired fueled by nothing more than his view of her body. It was more than she could bear.

She felt like she was going to explode. There was a loud crash as the bed was crushed into the floor. Victor let out a soft whoosh of breath as he was crushed against the ceiling, pinned there by a single gigantic breast. Dream's smooth blue hooves crashed straight through the wall and into the back yard as her head slammed through the front of the cabin. She took a few heaving breaths, glancing down at herself essentially wearing the zebra's cabin like some weird one piece swimsuit before peeling back the rooftop to see him resting atop her nipple.

She picked him up with her fingertips, unable to wipe the grin from her face as she cuddled and kissed him gently. “Thank you... but, I think it's time for you to turn that inhibitor off...”

[emerysaks]

If you live in the USA, TAKE NOTE: national emergency alert system test on Wednesday, 10/4/23.

“If you hear a screeching alert go off on your cell phone – and everyone else’s cell phone – this Wednesday at 2:20 pm ET, don’t panic.

The federal government said it will conduct on Wednesday afternoon a nationwide test of its Emergency Alert System and Wireless Emergency Alerts. The EAS portion of the test will send an emergency alert to all radios and televisions, while the WEA portion of the test will direct alerts to all consumer cell phones.

Beginning at approximately 2:20 pm ET this Wednesday, all wireless phones should receive an alert and an accompanying text message that reads: “THIS IS A TEST of the National Wireless Emergency Alert System. No action is needed.

The free text message will be sent in either English or Spanish, depending on the language settings of your device. The text will be accompanied by a unique tone and vibration that is meant to make the alert accessible to the entire public, including people with disabilities, FEMA said.

The test will be broadcast by cell towers for approximately 30 minutes beginning at 2:20 pm ET, FEMA said. During this time, all compatible wireless phones that are switched on, within range of an active cell tower, and whose wireless providers participates in WEA tests should receive the text message.

Meanwhile, all radios and televisions will also broadcast a test emergency alert at the same time as part of the broader test. This message, which will run for approximately one minute, will state: “This is a nationwide test of the Emergency Alert System, issued by the Federal Emergency Management Agency, covering the United States from 14:20 to 14:50 hours ET. This is only a test. No action is required by the public.”

[serafiel-jacobs]

Projection (Fanfic)

New Chapter of my Angst series 💜

Simon is a failure, always has been.

As Paracelsus is injecting him with his special shots; he remembers the day he was deemed a failure and also the day that he decided to prove that he wasn’t.

As time passed, he desperately tried to achieve his goal of becoming a powerful alchemist, and he could feel himself getting closer and closer to his goal.

But then Sophia was born.

And since she was a young child, her power was obvious to see, a goddess walking on earth, an angel, a power that rivaled the power that Simon’s father held.

She was born powerful and he was born powerless.

He envied her, he envied a mere child.

She was the living proof of his own failures. —-

“Open up Simon”

Paracelsus is forcing him to swallow those damn pills, and as he closes his eyes to not think about it, Simon remembers when he killed Sophia’s parents, he murdered his sister Isabelle and he got rid of Valentinus so that he could become the new leader of the alchemists, but his true goal was always to have Sophia to himself.

Because he needed her, he needed Sophia’s powers for his plans, it was all for that, he didn’t love her, didn’t care for her. He only wanted her because she was useful to him.

She was useful and he was useless.

—-

Simon's entire body feels weak and sore, he is trying not to think about it, he is trying to distract himself from the pain, so he remembers the past. He remembers how he held Sophia captive, and how even in her agonizing dying state, she was still more powerful than him.

He remembers Geppetto’s puppet, how Sophia would bring him back over and over again just to destroy his plans, that stupid puppet, it’s Geppetto’s fault he failed, it’s his fault that he is in this state.

He hates Geppetto so much, not only did he ruin all his plans, but he is now forced to play with his brat every time he is forced to see him, how Carlo with his massive strength crushes him with his affection, he can’t even be mad at Carlo because the boy’s behavior is the fault of Geppetto.

Sophia and Geppetto, they are to blame, he was so close. So close to achieving his true goal, and he failed, like he always fails.

He remembers how Pinocchio lied about taking Sophia’s life, her Ergo, the Ergo that should have been his and, he remembers telling the boy to watch out, that his father was scheming something.

That idiot, that stupid puppet, didn’t hear his warning.

Sophia used the puppet for her vengeance against him, Geppetto might have built him, but in the end, Sophia was the one to guide him. Guide him so that he could kill him so that she could have her revenge.

Because Simon doesn’t feel love, he has never felt love, and he can’t comprehend Sophia loving Pinocchio, so his mind tells him that it was all her master plan, her revenge against him.

All the people he experimented on to prove his worth, all the people he silenced and crushed, all the people he killed. All the horrible things he did without remorse, just to prove a point.

And Sophia proved him wrong.

———

Paracelsus has him restrained because he was struggling too much, because was an idiot that wouldn’t stay still and take his treatments, he can’t stay still because Sophia is there, her rotting oozing body staring at him again, the husk of the goddess she was, the husk of her former self, the husk that haunts Simon even after her death.

“Shh darling, I’m sorry but you know you have to stay still, I just want what’s best for you”

Sophia stares at him as usual, always quiet. It doesn’t matter how much Simon screams and cries, Sophia stays quiet, with no emotions on her face, she is just there, reminding him of what he did.

Reminding him how he took her all for himself, how he used her as a tool, he used her because he wasn’t strong, he would never be strong like her.

Simon would come down from his tower and talk to Sophia, he would tell her how she was weak, that it was so easy for him to keep her trapped, and how she was pathetic. Simon would tell her how he would become god, how he would finally show his true power, that she was just a means to an end.

And just like she is doing now, Sophia would stay quiet, only staring at him.

Simon tries to fight against the restraints because he wants, needs to prove everyone wrong he needs to prove that he is not a failure.

But he eventually stays still, he stops moving, and he stops trying to fight back.

Because deep down he always knew he was a failure.

—-

Simon is alone.

Paracelsus is gone, he is working.

He is all by himself and he hates it, he hates being alone, he feels isolated, and he cries because he doesn’t want to feel this way, he doesn’t want to be alone, he wants to be with Paracelsus because Paracelsus loves him and cares for him.

Because Paracelsus doesn’t see him as a failure.

——

Paracelsus is humming as he is making breakfast, Simon is quiet waiting for him to be done, the only good thing about being stuck with him is that Paracelsus is a good cook.

“Something special for my favorite patient~”

Paracelsus serves the food at sits down as well, but he isn’t eating yet, he watches Simon eat, he likes watching his dear Simon eat, and even more, he likes it when he has to feed him himself but that would have to wait for another day.

The stare is intense, his arms are on the table his hands holding his chin, like a school girl looking at her crush, he is even kicking his feet a little.

“You belong to me Simon” He likes to remind him, it’s cute because every time he tells Simon that he sees a shiver going down his spine.

“And you belong in a mental institution” Simon spits his words as if they were poison.

Paracelsus doesn’t respond, he takes a sip of his drink and stops looking at Simon, now looking at the past, he remembers, he was in one…a long time ago. But he doesn’t remember well, his memory is… tangled.

He remembers the blood, he remembers hearing people talk about him.

Then he was sent there, the doctors told him that he killed his mother, but he didn’t remember killing her, so he had to be constantly reminded over and over again that he had done so. But no matter how many times he was told he would forget again.

Just like he had forgotten until now.

He remembers that the doctors were trying to cure him, trying to make him feel better, they would restrain him, they would keep him in that straightjacket for days and his body always felt weak and sore, he remembers the injections, he remembers how they would force him to swallow pills, how they isolated him.

He remembers the nice doctors and nurses taking care of him, telling him that they were just trying to make him feel better.

He remembers how well-behaved he was, he remembers that they called him their favorite patient.

Paracelsus is brought back to reality when he hears the movement of Simon leaving the table, waking him up from his trance.

Realizing that he hasn’t eaten anything yet, he has his breakfast but he starts to wonder what he was thinking about, he can’t remember, feeling like he is forgetting something, something important.

[odinsson2021]

Here's the Playlist of my Tonight's Show!

I hope you liked it!

Stormwitch-Rondo ala Turca-Eye of the Storm-1989-(Hot Blood Records)

Stevie Nicks-Edge of Seventeen-Bella Donna-1981-(WEA Music)

Joan Jett-I hate myself for loving you-Up your Alley-1988-(PolyGram Records)

Girlschool-Race with the Devil-Demolition-1980-(Bronze Records)

Heart-If Looks could kill-Heart-1985-(Capitol Records)

Joal-Rock that City-Joal-1989-(WEA Records)

Thundermother-We Fight for Rock ‘n’ Roll-Thundermother-2018-(Despotz Records)

Vixen-I want you to Rock me-Vixen-1988-(EMI Records)

Bad Sister-Bad Attitude-Out of the Business-1992-(Hurricane Records)

Chez Kane-Better than Love-Chez Kane-2021-(Frontiers Music)

Lana Lane-Moongarden-Garden of the Moon-1998-(Angular Records)

Laos-I want it-We want it-1990-(TELDEC Records)

Lee Aaron-Call of the Wild-Call of the Wild-1993-(Attic Records)

Lita Ford-Kiss me Deadly-Lita-1988-(RCA Records)

Femme Fatale-Waiting for the Big One-Femme Fatale-1988-(MCA Records)

Doro-Bad Blood-Angels never die-1993-(Phonogram Records)

Evanescence-Call me when you’re Sober-The Open Door-2006-(Wind-Up Records)

Lacuna Coil-Heaven's a Lie-Comalies-2002-(Century Media Records)

Xandria-my Curse is my Redemption-The Wonders still awaiting-2023-(Napalm Records)

Magica-King of the World-Center of the Great Unknown-2012-(AFM Records)

Nightwish-Endless Forms Most Beautiful-2015-(Nuclear Blast Records)

Burning Witches-The Dark Tower-The Dark Tower-05.05.2023-(Napalm Records)

Rock Goddess-Calling to Space-This Time-2019-(Bite you to Death Records)

In this Moment-Sick like me-Black Widow-2014-(Atlantic Records)

Epica-The Skeleton Key-Omega-2021-(Nuclear Blast Records)

Within Temtation-And we Run-Hydra-2014-(BMG Records)

Amaranthe-Make it better-Manifest-2020-(Nuclear Blast Records)

Amberian dawn-Dance of Life-Magic Forest-2014-(Napalm Records)

Blind Guardian-Mr. Sandman(Single)-1996-(Virgin Records)

[indelicateink]

Your cellphone will blare Wednesday afternoon [in the US, Oct. 4, 2023] to alert you of a national emergency – but don't worry, it's only a test.

The Federal Emergency Management Agency and Federal Communications Commission will broadcast an alert to cellphones, televisions and radios around 2:20 p.m. ET Wednesday to test the nation's emergency alert systems. There's nothing you need to do to receive the alert.

Opting out of the test, though, is a different story. The test will evaluate the United States' Emergency Alert System and Wireless Emergency Alerts, both of which were designed to notify the public in case of major events.

The cellphone alert will arrive with a loud tone, which some people may want to avoid. According to the National Network to End Domestic Violence, alerts like these can inadvertently expose survivors' hidden cellphones, which they may rely on for help.

Here's what you need to know about Wednesday's test and how to avoid receiving the alert.

How to block the emergency alert test:

The cellular broadcast system will send out emergency alerts starting at 2:20 p.m. ET for a duration of 30 minutes. During this time, all WEA-compatible wireless cellphones should receive the alert.

To avoid the alert, you can:

Turn off your cellphone.

Put your phone on airplane mode.

Use WiFi only.

According to FEMA, cellphones that are turned off for the entire 30-minute test period should not receive the alert message once it's turned back on.

Your cellphone may not receive the alert if you are outside active cell tower range or if your wireless provider does not participate in WEA.

Some cellphone settings include options to turn off emergency alerts. Opting out of these alerts will not silence Wednesday's national test, FEMA says.

The National Network to End Domestic Violence recommends survivors turn off hidden cellphones during the test.

[read more]

[dertaglichedan]

Why everyone’s phone will alarm at 2:20 pm ET on Wednesday

Klaus Vedfelt/Digital Vision/Getty Images CNN  — 

If you hear a screeching alert go off on your cell phone – and everyone else’s cell phone – this Wednesday at 2:20 pm ET, don’t panic.

The federal government said it will conduct on Wednesday afternoon a nationwide test of its Emergency Alert System and Wireless Emergency Alerts. The EAS portion of the test will send an emergency alert to all radios and televisions, while the WEA portion of the test will direct alerts to all consumer cell phones.

“The purpose of the Oct. 4 test is to ensure that the systems continue to be effective means of warning the public about emergencies, particularly those on the national level,” the Federal Emergency Management Agency, which is conducting the test in coordination with the Federal Communication Commission, said in a statement.

Here’s what to know.

How does this impact me?

Beginning at approximately 2:20 pm ET this Wednesday, all wireless phones should receive an alert and an accompanying text message that reads: “THIS IS A TEST of the National Wireless Emergency Alert System. No action is needed.”

The free text message will be sent in either English or Spanish, depending on the language settings of your device. The text will be accompanied by a unique tone and vibration that is meant to make the alert accessible to the entire public, including people with disabilities, FEMA said.

The test will be broadcast by cell towers for approximately 30 minutes beginning at 2:20 pm ET, FEMA said. During this time, all compatible wireless phones that are switched on, within range of an active cell tower, and whose wireless providers participates in WEA tests should receive the text message.

Meanwhile, all radios and televisions will also broadcast a test emergency alert at the same time as part of the broader test. This message, which will run for approximately one minute, will state: “This is a nationwide test of the Emergency Alert System, issued by the Federal Emergency Management Agency, covering the United States from 14:20 to 14:50 hours ET. This is only a test. No action is required by the public.”

As the agency has said, no action is required by you after you receive the emergency alert test on your phone or hear it through the radio or TV.

Has this happened before?

Wednesday’s test is set to be the seventh-ever nationwide test of the Emergency Alert System – the alerts that are sent through radio and television broadcasters. It is the third nationwide test of the Wireless Emergency Alerts, but only the second to be sent to consumer cellular devices.

The most-recent test run of both systems took place in 2021. The first-ever test of the Emergency Alert System occurred more than a decade ago, in 2011.

Hasn’t the government messed this up before?

There have indeed been multiple high-profilemistakes, attributed to errors at the state-level, associated with mobile emergency alert systems that hit cell phones.

Perhaps the most infamous incident was a 2018 misfire in Hawaii that set off a wave of short-lived panic across the state. On the morning of January 13, 2018, a Hawaii state emergency management worker accidentally pushed the wrong button in the emergency operation center, sending out a false warning alerting of an incoming ballistic missile threat. The employee who pushed the wrong button was ultimately fired, state officials said.

And earlier this year in Florida, state emergency management officials issued an apology after Floridians were awoken at 4:45 a.m. by a test emergency alert sent to their phones. State officials said the test alert was meant to run only on TV and not meant to disturb anyone who was sleeping. Florida also said it was ending its contract with the software company blamed for shooting off the pre-dawn test alert to cell phones.