#it needs a lot of editing but the bulk of it is there

[bobfloydsbabe]

section one of the penthouse smut is complete, and i'm pretty damn proud of myself for how it turned out. i'm not an experienced smut writer, as in i've never written full-on smut before, so it's all new for me.

i'm excited and nervous to share this with y'all next week.

[keeps-ache]

things have been learned 👍 (slight audio warning !)

[icewindandboringhorror]

Found a very cool pastel cat sweater at the bins but I have literally nothing that matches it well, so I always struggle to make outfits with it lol

[pedrospatch]

fall into temptation | three

Jackson! Joel Miller x Preacher’s Daughter Reader

series masterlist

summary: Of all the women to catch Joel Miller’s attention—it just had to be one of the goddamned preacher’s daughters.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. SLIGHT PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION OF READER, mentions of her hair which she can put up into braids as well as her style of clothing. despite the nickname Joel gives her, it does not speak to her body type or size. AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 56). several mentions of religion and religious symbols, reader has a father and two sisters, all who come with names, reader gets put into a a very uncomfortable situation, insecurity, anxiety, Seth is an asshole, protective Joel, he threatens to break someone’s jaw which is a warning in and of itself. SMUT. loss of virginity, reader is inexperienced but not totally clueless, oral (both m and f receiving), risky unprotected p in v sex (please wrap it up), lots of praise and pet names (baby, babygirl, honey, you know, the works), Joel gets a teensy bit rough, creampie, hint of aftercare, ends with a cliffhanger, but also not really if you think about it?

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, NO MENTION OF RACE OR BODY TYPE.

word count: 10k

a/n: it was not my intention to post this on jesus day, but here we are. this took forever and a day considering the second part was posted back in september, but i am so so proud of myself for finally completing a wip i could cry. i did a bulk of the editing while i’ve been sick and in all honesty i probably should have asked someone to beta for me because i think i coughed out like 90% of my brain cells this week, but i think it turned out okay. ish.

Somehow, even over the volume of the live music, you could still hear their hushed, astonished whispers.

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

“Is that Joel Miller with Pastor John’s daughter?”

“What’s she doing holding his hand?”

“He’s got to be at least twice her fucking age—”

Throat bobbing anxiously, you glanced up at Joel.

His shoulders were squared back, his head held high. 

Solid. Steady.

Joel couldn’t seem to care less about the bewildered stares, the judgment that was being flung his way. Not once did he seem to waver. But you?

Oh, you were already starting to crumble underneath it all, on the verge of falling apart right before everyone’s prying eyes. Shame sat heavily inside of your chest, the weight of the feeling suffocating you, making it harder and harder to breathe as it prevented air from reaching your lungs.

It had nothing to do with Joel. Of course it didn’t. It had all to do with you and with who you were. Their beloved preacher’s sweet, innocent young daughter. 

His youngest daughter. 

Suddenly, the whispers were no longer whispers.

“Oh God, she’s not going home with him, is she?”

“That’s not right! Someone should say something!”

“Pastor John would never allow something like this.”

“Poor thing’s naive—she doesn’t know any better.”

Hot, stubborn tears of frustration glazed over your eyes and threatened to spill. It was as if you were a child who didn’t know any better, a gullible, clueless little girl with nothing in her brain who needed to be rescued—saved from the bad, bad man before he did bad, bad things to her.

Had it been anyone else, no one would have batted an eye. No one would have noticed, let alone cared. But it was you that Joel Miller was leaving the bar with in the middle of the night and it was you whose hand he had clasped in his own. That is what made it wrong. That is why it was a problem.

Everyone’s concerns had nothing to do with him at all, they had everything to do with you. You, you, you. You were the sole reason why it was a problem, the reason why he was being perceived as the Devil himself, horns out as he dragged the poor little unsuspecting angel down to the fires of Hell.

“Joel?” Overwhelmed, you instinctively reached for his arm with your free hand. Cold and trembling, your little fingers curled tightly around his bicep, digging into the firm, bulging muscle through the thick corduroy fabric of his sleeve. You whispered his name again. “Joel—”

“S’alright, babygirl,” he reassured you quietly over his shoulder. He gave your hand a comforting squeeze. “S’alright. Just keep your eyes on me, sweetheart. I’ve got you. You just keep on lookin’ right at me, okay?”

Nodding, you inhaled deeply and focused on him. Only him. The broadness of his back and his shoulders. Tufts of hair that curled over the collar of his shirt. Only him. He’s what mattered. He’s all that mattered.

“Almost there,” Joel murmured, squeezing your hand again as the door came into view. “Breathe, baby. We’re almost there. I’ve got you. You’re alright. Ain’t gonna let anythin’ bad happen to you. Promise I’ve got you.”

It wasn’t until his fingers wrapped around the old, brass handle that you finally exhaled the breath you had been holding out in utter relief, though it was very, very short lived. Just as Joel pulled the door open, you felt a hand wrap around your arm. Dry, slender fingers dug into the soft flesh above your elbow as an attempt, and a feeble one at that, was made to tear you out of Joel’s grasp.

The music stopped and the bar fell silent. Everything and everyone came to a sudden standstill, freezing mid dance, mid drink, mid bite, mid gossip.

Shocked, you glanced over your shoulder. “Seth?” you squeaked his name. “What—what are you doing?”

Seth didn’t acknowledge you. His focus was on Joel.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Miller?”

Joel’s anger couldn’t be seen, but it could be felt. So palpable you could have wrapped your fingers around it. It radiated off of him and loomed over the entire bar like an incoming storm cloud. Threatening. Dangerous.

“Where are you taking her?” Seth demanded, his other hand curling around your wrist as he tried, but failed, to snatch you from Joel’s side once more. “Let the girl go! You let her go right now, you hear?”

Caught in between the two men, you nervously turned to look at Joel. Nostrils flared, jaw clenched, seething eyes that did the talking for him. His message was loud and oh so abundantly clear.

If Seth didn't take his hands off you, he wasn’t going to have any hands.

Not after Joel Miller was through with him.

Blazing heat flooded your face. As if it couldn’t possibly get any worse, everyone had now gathered around you to watch the tense encounter, eyes wide, brows raised and jaws practically on the weathered, hardwood floor.

Tommy Miller stood among the crowd, subtly shaking his head, his lips pressed together in a tight, thin line of disapproval as he glowered at his older brother. Would he be looking at Joel like that had it been Esther in your place? If she was the one he was taking home? Would any of this be happening if it was her instead of you?

“Seth.” Uttering his name, you shifted your attention back to him. You sounded calm and collected, despite feeling anything but. Joel’s hand in yours was the only thing keeping you steady and grounded. His touch was the only reason you hadn’t yet spiraled into a state of panic. Clearing your throat lightly, you spoke again and tried your hardest not to waver. “Please let go of me.”

Still fixed on Joel, he spat, “I’ll be damned if I let him take you anywhere.”

“He’s not taking me anywhere, Seth.” Without thinking, the words came tumbling out of your mouth—loud and clear for everyone in that room to hear. “He isn’t forcing me to go with him. I’m making the choice to leave with him. Out of my own volition. Please let go of me.”

Finally, Seth looked at you. His old, worn features were twisted in disbelief. “What?”

You swallowed dryly. Part of you wanted you to shrink away, curl into yourself. Instead, you straightened your posture, forced yourself to stand a little bit taller. Willed yourself to have a backbone for once in your life.

“You heard me,” you said, lifting your chin in defiance. Several onlookers gasped in surprise at your rebellion. Where had this insolence come from? “I’m choosing to leave with Joel. Now, please let go of my arm.”

Behind you, Joel stood silent and still. 

Watching. Observing. Waiting.

He wanted nothing more than to intervene. Rip you out of Seth’s hands and shatter each and every last bone in all ten of his fingers for putting them on you. Had Joel not realized that this was probably the first time in your whole, entire life you’d mustered up the courage to use your voice, he would have easily given into the urge. He wanted to protect you. He needed so badly to protect you. Yet, he knew you weren’t helpless or incapable of standing on your own two feet. He knew you deserved the chance to stand up and speak for yourself after a lifetime of being silenced, a lifetime of being forced to stay in your place, seen but never heard.

“Seth, let go of my arm,” you repeated. It was no longer a polite request. It was a demand.

He scoffed. “Do you honestly think I’m going to let you leave with somebody like him? You think I’m just going to stand back and let him take advantage of you?”

Oh, you hadn’t liked that insinuation, not one bit. 

It caused something inside of you to finally give way.

Snap.

The blood in your veins boiled, ran hot enough to make you feel like you were about to burn from the inside out. “Joel isn’t taking advantage of me! It isn’t like that,” you seethed, furiously. The quiet, well mannered, obedient good girl everyone in Jackson knew was gone. And she could stay gone. In your periphery, you could see Leah elbowing her way through the sea of people to the front of the crowd with an incredulous look plastered on her face. She stood there beside Tommy, who appeared to be just as incredibly bewildered by your outburst. “Don’t treat me like I’m some child who doesn’t know any better! I’m an adult and I’m old enough to make my own choices, okay?”

For a moment, you had forgotten it was Seth standing there in front of you.

“I’m capable of making my own decisions! I don’t need you to dictate my life. I don’t need you to tell me what is and isn’t good for me—controlling what I should and shouldn’t believe in.” Your voice trembled as emotions you’d been suppressing for years bubbled their way up to the surface. Amidst the chaos, you could feel Joel squeeze your hand again, as if silently encouraging you not to lose your nerve. He was your anchor, the only person who could keep your world from capsizing. You knew he wouldn’t let you drown. Not even God, who you had always been forced to believe was your pillar of strength, had ever made you feel this protected. Safe. “I don’t need you to tell me how to live and much less when it’s the end of the world.”

It wasn’t Seth you were addressing.

It was your father.

Your father, who controlled every last thing, from what you would eat to the way that you dressed and how you wore your hair.

Your father, who refused to let you have a mind of your own, who simply could not bear the mere thought of you thinking for yourself.

Your father, whose love felt like shackles, heavy, rusted metal restraints that had been digging into the flesh of your wrists for far, far too long.

“You need to let me go now,” you said, swallowing back the lump in your throat. Once more, you caught Leah from the corner of your eye, your heart lurching in your chest when you noticed her desperately trying to wipe at her eyes with the back of her hand. She was the only person in the room who understood how you felt. Her rebelliousness only ever masked the pain of knowing her father’s love came with terms and conditions—and the fear of knowing what would happen if those terms and conditions weren’t met. For several weeks, you’d gotten a taste of what she went through everyday, how her fear of putting her foot down led her to run around in secret and live a double life. “Just let me go.”

Seth firmly shook his head. “No! I’m not letting you go anywhere with him. I don’t know what the hell he did to you, but he’s clearly got you all fucking brainwashed.”

That was fucking enough. Joel stepped in, lowering his voice as he said, “Y’know, I’ve just ‘bout lost count of how many fuckin’ times she’s asked you to let her go now and it’s really startin’ to piss me off.” Raising an eyebrow, he laid his offer out on the table. “Here’s the deal. You let go of her right now and I won’t shatter your fuckin’ jaw into pieces. That seem fair enough to you?”

“No.” Seth gripped your arm even harder, prompting you to let out a little yelp as his nails dug painfully into your skin. Though it’d been accidental and he hadn’t meant to hurt you, it didn’t matter. He’d just set off the ticking time bomb that was Joel Miller.

Furious, Joel snatched a fistful of his shirt with his free hand—the other still held yours. Gentle, despite being mere moments away from beating someone to within an inch of their life.

“Joel! Stop!” Tommy’s voice broke through the tension as he approached. His footsteps were slow—careful and cautious, as if he was afraid to make any kind of sudden movement. “Joel. Hey. C’mon now, let’s not do this, alright? Ain’t gotta handle things this way. We can talk it through. No need for anyone to wind up bleedin’ in the fuckin’ infirmary tonight, so just take a breath and let him go.”

Blatantly ignoring Tommy’s attempt to keep the peace, Joel tugged Seth forward, yanking him closer. “Listen to me and listen to me good ‘cause I ain’t gonna fuckin’ say it again. You’d best take your fuckin’ hands off her right now unless you wanna spend the rest of the night sweepin’ up your teeth off the floor of your own fuckin’ bar,” he threatened, his tone enough to send a chill up anyone’s spine, even your own.

“You wouldn’t dare, Miller.” Somehow, Seth managed to keep a straight face, but you could see it so clearly in his eyes and in the tremble of his lower lip—oh, he was terrified of Joel and rightly so. “Not in front of all these people. Not in front of your brother. That wouldn’t be a smart move considering you’re already on thin fucking ice for what you did to that boy’s face, now would it?”

Joel tugged him closer. “Test me,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “Go on. Fuckin’ test me.”

His challenge was immediately met with a pathetic look of defeat. Seth dropped your arm and he was released.

“S’what I fuckin’ thought.” Without another word to the man, Joel whirled around and roughly pulled the door open, leading the way outside. As you both descended the building’s old, creaking wooden steps, you began to shiver and he suddenly remembered he’d left his jacket behind inside the bar. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “C’mere, my little dove,” he murmured as he tucked you against his side for warmth. “I’ve got you.”

The first thing he did was light the fireplace.

“Should start warmin’ you up, sweet girl,” he’d said to you over his shoulder. He tossed a log into the blaze as you sat perched on his couch rubbing your bare arms with your hands. “M’gonna go upstairs and find you a blanket, alright? You stay put.”

“Okay,” you’d mumbled, knowing there was no point in telling him not to fuss over you.

Even with the soft, fleece throw blanket he had draped around your shoulders and the warmth of the flames in front of you, you continued trembling. Subtle, but he’d noticed it, felt it when he had sat down beside you and pulled you close against his side. “Oh baby, you’re still shakin’?” That was when he realized you weren’t cold. Frowning, Joel rose to his feet and disappeared down the hallway. He came back to the living room a minute later with a glass of water in his hand. With a small, labored grunt, he dropped to one knee in front of you and held it out. “Here.”

“No, thank you.” You shook your head. “I’m not thirsty.”

“Maybe not, but I’m kinda worried you could be in a bit of shock right now,” he stated, the creases in between his brows deepening as he observed you for any other physical signs of distress. Carefully, Joel lifted the glass to your lips, gently coaxing you to take a drink. “C’mon, darlin’. Think you can be a real good girl for me and at least take a couple sips? Hm?”

Sighing softly, you nodded and did as he asked of you, taking a small sip of water. It soothed your dry mouth and throat and you took another one. Maybe you were thirsty after all.

“Little more, now. Little more. That’s it. That’s my good girl.” Once he was satisfied with how much you’d had to drink, Joel set the half empty glass down on the oak coffee table behind him. He turned back to you, placing his large hands on either side of your thighs below the hem of your dress. He started tracing soft, soothing circles into your skin with his thumbs. “M’real proud of you for standin’ up for yourself back there, sweetheart. Took a whole lot of fuckin’ courage to do that, y’know.”

You glanced down at your hands in your lap. “Mhm.”

“Baby. Hey. Look at me.” One of his hands abandoned your leg and he reached up, delicately taking your chin between his thumb and index finger. He tilted your face upwards, his worried gaze meeting your own. “Talk to me. M’right here.”

“That—that was a lot,” you admitted meekly, shoulders sagging as the adrenaline started wearing off and your body slowly came down from the peak hormone rush. “It was a lot.”

Sighing, Joel’s hand fell away from your face. “Yeah, I know it was a lot, babygirl. I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“No.” You were quick to cut him off. “Don’t be sorry.”

His chest heaved with another sigh, this one deeper, heavier, bearing the weight of his guilt. “Well I am,” he said. He planted his hands on either side of you on the couch and lightly shook his head. “Didn’t even fuckin’ think twice when I pulled you outta that fuckin’ supply closet and took your hand in front of all those people. I was so fuckin’ hellbent on showin’ everybody you were mine that I didn’t even stop and think ‘bout what all it would mean for you. It was selfish of me. Real fuckin’ selfish. And I’m sorry, little dove.”

“Do you regret it?” you asked, quietly.

Joel chuckled in spite of himself. “M’pretty sure I’m the one who should be askin’ you that question, darlin’,” he remarked. “Tell me. Do you regret it? Do you regret me pullin’ you outta that closet?” He momentarily paused. There was a stutter in his heartbeat when you dropped your gaze away from his, silence your only reply. “Do you regret me takin’ your hand in front of everyone?”

Of course not.

You wanted to be his and you wanted everyone to know it. There was no regret, none. 

Still. 

The consequences that you would undoubtedly have to face in the morning were overwhelming. Daunting.

Surely, by then, your father would know about you and Joel. When he came downstairs right after sunrise and he discovered you weren’t in the kitchen helping Lydia prepare breakfast, he would question where you were and make some kind of remark about how you should not be sleeping in this late. He would tell her just how irresponsible it was for you to ignore your duties and obligations to him and the family. Sloth was one of the seven deadly sins, after all. He would make her trek upstairs and wake you, and when she did, your sister would find your bed empty.

Meanwhile, there would be a knock at the front door.

No stranger to having members of the congregation show up on his doorstep when they were in need, be it of prayer or comfort, your father would answer it only to find someone, not in need of solace, but who felt that it was their responsibility and moral obligation to inform him that they had seen his youngest daughter leaving The Tipsy Bison with Joel Miller in the middle of the night, hand in hand.

He wouldn’t believe them.

“Now, that is simply not true,” he would say, offended that anybody would have the nerve to show up at his door and accuse you of something so vile. “That’s not possible. I know my daughter and she would never do such a thing. It must have been someone else that you saw with him. Someone who looked like her, perhaps.”

Then, Lydia would descend the staircase and tell him you weren’t in your bedroom. “She must have gone up to the main street as soon as she woke up,” she would suggest with a shrug, not yet privy to the events that had taken place the night before at the party you and Leah had snuck off to. She never had to worry about you, the good one. “I did notice we were running pretty low on eggs. Sugar, too. She probably wanted to be the first in line at the pantry to—Papa? What’s the matter?”

The color would drain from your father’s face when the realization slowly sank in. No, you weren’t out on the main street picking up eggs for breakfast and sugar for his tea. You were lying up in Joel Miller’s bed—defiled, impure, and with the curse of Eve on your flesh. Even after dedicating his entire life to making sure you did not stray from the path of righteousness, he had failed. You had fallen into temptation. 

There was a chance he would have mercy on you. All you had to do was beg and plead for his forgiveness—and more importantly, for the forgiveness of God. “Vow to atone for your sins,” your father would say, his gaze fixed on the Holy Bible in his lap. He probably wouldn’t be able to look at you, not after what you had done. “Repent. And swear to me, child, that you will never so much as glance in that man’s direction ever again.”

No. That’s not what you wanted.

You wanted Joel and the freedom to be with him. 

But that freedom came with a high, high price.

You were willing to pay it, but you’d be lying if you said you were prepared to navigate the consequences. Then again, was there really any way for someone to prepare themselves to be shunned by their own father?

“I can take you home,” Joel offered quietly, the sound of his voice taking you out of the future and bringing you back into the present.

“What?”

“I can take you home,” he repeated himself. “I can take you home right now if that’s what you want, sweet girl. Won’t give you any kinda grief ‘bout it.”

Confused, all you could do was stare at him.

“Listen to me, baby. You mean a lot to me. More than I can even begin to explain,” Joel reassured you before any kind of doubt could find its way into your mind. “I want you to stay with me. There’s nothin’ on what’s left of this fuckin’ earth I want more than for you to stay here with me. But what you want matters to me a hell of a lot more than what I want.” He reached up, lightly stroking your cheek with his thumb. “If you decide you wanna go home and go back to your family—back to your old man—then that’s where I’ll take you. Okay?”

Your father would give you an ultimatum. But Joel? He was giving you a choice. And he’d respect that choice.

“I wanna free you from your cage, my little dove. But I think we both know you’ve gotta make the choice to fly outta there on your own.” He lightly swept his thumb over your quivering bottom lip, his eyes meeting yours as he whispered, “Door’s wide open for you. What you do next is all up to you.”

“I’m afraid, Joel,” you confessed. A tear slipped from the corner of your eye and rolled its way down the side of your face. He was quick to wipe it away, along with the others that followed. “I do want out of my cage. I really, really do. But I’m terrified. All I have ever known is my family and my faith. I have never been apart from my father and my sisters.”

His expression softened. “I know you’re scared. Can’t promise you things will be easy, but there is one thing I can promise you.”

“What’s that?” you questioned, then waited with baited breath.

He gingerly cupped your cheek in his large palm. “I’ve got you,” he swore to you, just like he had done so back at the bar. “If you decide to stay, I promise I’ll take real, real good care of you, alright? For the rest of my life, I’ll take care of you. You won’t ever have to worry ‘bout a thing with me by your side. Swear it on my life.”

Warmth blossomed in your heartspace and finally, you stopped trembling. Lifting a hand, you curled your fingers around his wrist as your gaze fell to his mouth. “Joel?”

“What is it, darlin’ girl?”

“Kiss me. Please.”

With a gentle nod, Joel’s other hand found your hip, the warmth of it seeping through the cotton fabric of your dress. Leaning in, he brushed his lips against yours. It was a chaste thing, soft and innocent until you grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him closer to you. “Babygirl,” he mumbled against your lips. He deepened the kiss, sweeping his tongue through your parted lips and into your mouth. He tasted like bold bourbon and citrus beer. There was a faint hint of tobacco too—you recalled him admitting to you one night in the church house that while he wasn’t all that much of a smoker, at least not like he used to be when living in the zones, he would occasionally partake in the habit if he happened to come across a pack of cigarettes while out on patrol, pairing the nicotine with a drink. He tasted delicious. He tasted delicious because he tasted like yours.

You sank back into the worn, supple brown leather of his couch, tugging him forward so he sank in with you. Over you. Releasing your near death grip on his collar, you managed to wedge your hands in between your bodies and began to claw furiously at the buttons of his shirt, your fingers shaking out of pure desperation to feel him. It wasn’t until you were halfway down that he finally noticed what you were doing and leaned back, catching both of your wrists.

“Baby, wait,” he panted, shaking his head. “Don’t think now’s a good time for that—”

“Joel, please,” you pleaded, the intense ache between your thighs almost too much for you to bear. “Please. I want it. I want you.”

“S’been a rough night for you.” Joel’s voice was hoarse—strained, like he was aching just as much, if not more. “You’re real emotional right now. Vulnerable. Last thing I want is to take advantage of you at a time like this.”

You frowned. Had Seth’s words gotten into his head?

“You’re not taking advantage of me.”

“Darlin’ I just don’t think we should—”

“Joel, please,” you begged him again. “I was so good for you, was I not? Wasn’t I patient, just like you asked me to be?”

His lips thinned into a tight line. He wouldn’t be able to resist much longer. You, his beautiful little temptress of Eden.

“I waited for so long,” you reminded him. “I’ve been so, so good for you. Please, just make me yours already. I don’t want to think about anything else right now. I just want to be with you. Please, Joel. I need you so badly it hurts.”

Christ.

No man could stand it. No man could possibly have the strength to deny you.

With a look of utter defeat, he folded. Before he could say another word or make another move, your greedy mouth was on his, and you kissed him with fervor, with urgency, as you finished the task of unbuttoning his shirt. Pushing it off of his shoulders, the corduroy fabric fell into a crumpled heap behind him, nearly knocking the glass of water off the coffee table. You broke away from him and shamelessly marveled at his mouth watering form—you admired the way miles of smooth, tanned skin stretched over his wide shoulders, broad chest and soft, soft belly. Arousal pooled between your legs and you reached out and raked your fingers down his chest, and over his stomach, going lower and lower, following the trail of coarse, dark hair that led you to his brown leather belt. You clumsily started fumbling with the brass buckle until he caught your hands once more.

“Slow down, my little dove,” he murmured. “No need to rush this. We’ve got all night.” He stood up and held his hand out to you. Time blurred a bit—maybe it was your nervousness mingled with the eager anticipation of what was to come, but there seemed to be a small gap in your memory, a blank space that spanned from the moment you rose off the couch until the moment you found yourself standing in his bedroom where you were about to answer to the call of the flesh.

Dropping your hand, Joel switched on the lamp on his bedside table and kicked off his boots before taking you into his arms. “C’mere, honey.” He nuzzled your cheek with the tip of his nose as he spoke, the scruff of his beard tickling your cheek. “Couple’a rules, sweet girl. I do somethin’ that you don’t like, you tell me. You want me to stop, you tell me to sto—”

Without waiting for him to finish his sentence, you slowly lowered yourself down onto the floor and knelt at his feet with purpose, as if kneeling before an altar, a sacred, holy space. Though you felt anxious, you were eager to worship. “I haven’t forgotten about what I said earlier tonight,” you cooed, noticing the mild look of surprise on his face. “I said I’d make it up to you and I intend on keeping my word.”

All the blood in his body rushed south to his cock and it strained painfully against the crotch of his jeans. “Baby, I—” Again, he was cut off, only this time by the sound of his own groan when your hand brushed up the front of his thigh and over his growing bulge. He glanced down, his heart thrumming painfully hard against his sternum as he watched you reach for his belt buckle.

With all your might, you willed your hands so as not to tremble. It was self-explanatory, what you were about to do, but your total lack of experience sowed seeds of doubt into your mind—you wanted to make him feel good, just like he had made you feel good outside of the church house during services. Just how you knew he would make you feel tonight.

Hand still over his buckle, you pressed the tenderest of kisses to his bulge through his jeans. Then, turning your head, you rested your cheek on one of his thick, blue denim clad thighs and peered up at him through your eyelashes with a small, nervous smile as you confessed what he already knew. “I’ve never done this before.”

Oh, how sweet and endearing you were. Joel reached down and smoothed your hair back and away from your face, tucking it behind your ear. “S’alright, honey,” he crooned, grazing the silkiness of your cheek with his index finger. “I’ll walk you through it. Teach you how to be a real good girl and suck my cock just the way I like it. That what you want, my little dove?”

His filth made your cunt clench hard around nothing.

Slowly lifting your head off of his thigh, you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and managed a clear, consenting nod as your hands fumbled with his buckle, the clinking sound of metal ringing loudly in your ears. You undid the button on his jeans and pulled down his zipper, your throat drying when you saw the outline of him, his size intimidating even behind the cotton fabric of his faded, black boxer briefs.

With a harsh swallow, you glanced up at him, silently asking him for his permission to continue.

Such a polite little thing, Joel thought to himself. “Go on, sweetheart,” he encouraged.

You tugged his jeans down to the middle of his thighs and hooked your index fingers underneath the elastic waistband of his boxer briefs, pulling them down and freeing his cock. There was a deep, swooping sensation in your belly as you watched it slap up against the lower part of his abdomen. After many nights of sitting in his lap, feeling him through his clothes, grinding your cunt down onto him, you thought you’d at the very least had an idea of what you would be in for, but oh, how wrong you had been. He was so much bigger than you could have imagined, and your stomach swooped again when you realized he was not going to fit. Anywhere.

Licking away the dryness of your lips, you take him in one of your hands, feeling the heaviness of his length in your palm. He was so long and so, so thick.

“Oh fuck,” Joel hissed the curse through gritted teeth, his hips jerking forward involuntarily as your touch sent a charged jolt of electricity shooting up the length of his spine. He looked down at you, his pupils blown wide with arousal. Christ. You hadn’t even done anything to him yet, but seeing you sitting so prettily at his feet was almost enough to make him come on the spot.

Delicately wrapping your hand around him, you found yourself almost in awe at the way your fingertips barely, just barely, touched. The sheer size of his cock dwarfed your hand, and made it seem so much smaller than it really was.

“You’re so big,” you murmured, echoing your thoughts. You licked at your lips again, suddenly feeling ravenous, an appetite that had seemingly come out of nowhere making you salivate. The tip of him was flushed red, slit already glistening—how badly you wanted, needed a taste. Never, ever, did you think you would be down on your knees for anything but prayer, but there you were, starved and desperate to bite into the forbidden fruit.

“What’re you waitin’ for, darlin’ girl?” he croaked.

“Permission,” you replied, sweetly.

“Go right ahead, baby. S’all yours—I’m all yours.”

Yours.

Yours, yours, yours.

Finding your first push of courage, you leaned forward and so carefully swept your tongue along the tip of his length, collecting the slight saltiness leaking from the slit and getting your first delectable taste. With your hand still wrapped firmly around his base, you looked up, your eyes locked on Joel’s face as you flicked your tongue up against the rigid underside of his cock.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” Joel groaned, all of the muscles in his stomach already pulling taut when he felt you dragging your tongue in a slow, purposeful lick along the length of him. “Babygirl.”

“Is that good?” you asked him, sounding hopeful. “Am I doing good?”

“Doin’ so, so fuckin’ good for me, sweetheart. Look so fuckin’ pretty down on your knees for me.”

Pleased, you wrapped your mouth around the head of his length, pressing forward and taking him in as far as you possibly could—which, in all fairness, wasn’t very far. At least not as far as you would have liked. Another groan tore itself from the depths of his chest as your plush, plump lips sealed around him, your tongue warm and wet on the underside of his cock. Moving both of your hands to rest on the sides of his thighs, you began to move your head back and forth, following what felt most natural to you. The nerves you initially felt slowly but surely dissipated, vanishing one by one with every curse, every tremble, every sharp breath.

Joel resisted the urge to buck his hips forward, fought the desire to feel himself at the back of your throat. He needed to be gentle, so careful with such an innocent, pliant thing who had much, much to learn. “Sweet little fuckin’ mouth feels so good around my cock, baby, just like I fuckin’ knew it would. Y’think it can take more of me, little dove? Hm?”

You hummed, the vibration intensifying his pleasure.

“Yeah? Y’trust me?”

Your reply came in the form of a muffled, “Mhm.”

Joel reached down and cradled the back of your head in the palm of his hand. He carefully guided you further onto his throbbing length, slowly feeding you one inch at a time. Your fingers dug into the denim of his jeans. He was much more than a mouthful for you, and you could only take about half of him before he hit the back of your throat, prompting you to gag around him. Drool dribbled out from the corners of your mouth and down the sides your chin, dripping onto your lap.

“Oh fuck, sweetheart. Yeah, that’s it. Little more now, honey,” Joel encouraged. He bucked his hips forward, his head slipping further down your throat. Just when you felt like you were about to choke, he pulled out and you tried your hardest not to cough and sputter as you took in a much needed, precious breath of air. He gave you a few seconds or so to finish catching your breath as he shoved his jeans and boxer briefs further down his legs. He stepped out of the articles of clothing and kicked them somewhere off to the aside, standing before you completely bare. “Open up.”

Your absolute devotion to him bred sweet submission, so as worried as you were that you wouldn’t be able to handle it, you nodded obediently and very willingly did as you were told. 

He guided himself right back into your waiting mouth, pressing deeply. You tried to relax your jaw, reminding yourself to breathe in and out through your nose. Tears streamed down the sides of your face as you did your best to forestall another gag. “Little bit more,” he said, thrusting his hips in a slow, steady controlled rhythm. He advanced even further into your mouth—trusting he wouldn’t suffocate you, nor push you too far past your limits, you opened up wider. He moaned, “Yeah, baby. That’s my good girl. That’s my good fuckin’ girl.”

With a bit of newfound confidence, you hollowed your cheeks and sucked him. You swiped your tongue along the thick, prominent vein on the underside of his cock, earning yourself more of his sweet, sweet praise.

“Fuck, yeah, suck me off, sweetheart. This pretty little mouth was fuckin’ made for sin,” he breathed, guiding your head back and forth with a firm, but gentle hand.

You moaned, the noise muffled around his length. Slick soaked through your panties and coated the insides of your thighs. With another moan, you tightly squeezed your legs together, inwardly reminding yourself that patience was a virtue.

Noticing the way you had shifted, Joel moved his hand from the back of your head, lightly curling his fingers around your jaw. He pulled you off of his cock, a loud, lewd popping sound bouncing off the sage green walls of his bedroom. “C’mere, baby.” He grabbed your arms, effortlessly hoisting you up to your feet.

“What’s wrong?” you questioned him worriedly. “Did I do something wrong?”

Chuckling softly, he brushed a finger along the strap of your dress. You could do no wrong, his perfect, perfect girl. “Of course not, sweet girl. You did so fuckin’ good for me,” Joel reassured you, lightly tracing along your collarbone with his finger and making your flesh erupt in goosebumps. He leaned forward and feathered a kiss onto your lips, murmuring against them, “Are you wet, little dove?”

Before you could even process the query and generate some kind of coherent response, he dove his opposite hand between your thighs, cupping your warm heat in his palm. At this, your weak knees buckled, prompting you to reach out and grab onto his arms to hold steady and keep yourself from falling into a helpless heap on the floor.

“Oh, honey. You’re soaked. That what sucking my cock does to you?” he cooed. He peppered another kiss, this one onto the corner of your mouth. His voice lowered another octave. “Poor little thing. She needs me, don’t she? Needs me to take care of her?”

You whimpered. “Yes.”

“Manners, babygirl,” he reminded you, skimming your cheek with his nose. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, please.”

Humming in approval, Joel withdrew his hand from in between your legs and guided you backwards towards his bed. “Sit,” he commanded gently, bidding you to let go of him. “Arms up.”

Reaching for the hem of your dress, he took great care in pulling it over your head, then discarded the vibrant yellow material over his shoulder, leaving you in nothing but your cowboy boots and thin, cotton white panties. Without a word, he knelt before you and pulled off one boot, and then the other, setting them both aside. He hooked two fingers underneath the elastic waistband of your underwear, coaxing you to lift your bottom off of the bed, just long enough for him to pull them down and slide them down your legs. He was so tender in the manner in which he undressed you.

“Fuckin’ beautiful, beautiful girl,” Joel praised. His dark gaze dragged down the length of your body as you sat before him wearing nothing but the delicate, gold chain around your neck. The holy cross nestled between your supple breasts gleamed in the light of the lamp on the nightstand. He would leave it on until your decision was made, set in stone. “My pretty little dove.”

“Joel.” You whimpered his name, hands curling around fistfuls of his dark blue sheets. You were drenched now, in dire need of some relief. If he didn’t touch you where you needed him most, you would surely lose your mind.

Desperate, you leaned back slightly onto his bed and parted your knees, your folds glistening as you showed him just how badly you needed him.

Joel groaned, almost visibly salivating at the sight. The blazing heat in his eyes sent ripples of desire coursing through your body, straight to your throbbing core.

You opened wider. “Please.”

“Christ, babygirl. Already soakin’ the sheets.” Sliding a finger up along the seam of your pussy, he grazed your clit, the touch light, but somehow still enough to make your hips arch off the mattress as white-hot pinpricks of pleasure danced their way up your spine. He lowered his head and leaned in, your sweet scent drawing him in like a moth to a flame. Just when you were about to start pleading him for more, he dipped his face into the apex of your thighs, his mouth finally, finally, meeting your wet heat.

“Oh!” you gasped, your head falling back. “Fuck!”

Against you, his lips curled upwards into a wicked grin. He’d never heard you curse before, not until now.

Joel took his time devouring you, savoring the essence of your cunt with each broad stroke of his tongue. Sealing his lips around your clit, he flicked the swollen, sensitive bundle of nerves over and over again, eliciting from you some of the sweetest noises that he had ever heard in his entire life. In preparation for what you both knew was to come, he pushed one finger inside of you, the invasion causing you to fist his sheets even harder. He then slipped in a second finger, groaning in sheer, carnal bliss at how your walls squeezed them, at the mere thought of them squeezing his cock in the same manner. How was it that you felt so much tighter this time around?

“Oh God.”

You shouldn’t be saying His name. Not like this.

Not when something this sinful was being done to you.

Hungrily, Joel lapped at you, curling both of his fingers in an upwards motion to hit the perfect spot. He knew you were close, felt it in the way that you squirmed and writhed. Draping his arm across your hips, he pinned them down onto the bed, holding you still as he chased your high as if it were his own.

“Joel,” you chanted his name over and over again in a fevered prayer. Releasing the sheets, your hands found his hair, tangling themselves in his curls. Your head fell back, and you cursed at the ceiling of his bedroom. “Fuck, fuck, fuck Joel—”

Pushing onto his mouth, you came, moaning his name so loudly you were certain the whole neighborhood was getting an earful.

Joel pulled back, his beard and mustache slicked with your spend. “S’right, honey,” he crooned, his digits still buried to the knuckle as he helped you to ride out your wave of ecstasy. Eventually, when he pulled them out, you tried closing your shaking legs. He tsked and shook his head, wrenching them open further. “No, no, baby. Keep those pretty thighs open for me. Wanna see her.” He admired his work, his cock twitching at the sight of your pussy, swollen and shining, and ready to take him.

Like earlier, there was another brief skip in time.

Mind still in a haze, you hadn’t even realized that he’d risen to his feet and guided you further up onto his bed, not until you were lying on your back with your head on his pillow and he was hovering over you, his hard length brushing against one of your messy, inner thighs when he settled himself between your legs. 

Your heart began to pound in a mingle of both fear and excitement.

Joel’s eyes met yours. His pupils were blown so wide, there was not one, single trace of brown anywhere to be seen. “Y’absolutely sure about this, little dove?”

Your response came without hesitation. “Yes. I’m sure.”

He pressed a kiss to the underside of your jaw. Your submission was a gift, and he would cherish every last second of your surrender to him, savor it for as long as he possibly could. His lips, soft and warm, skimmed along the column of your throat, leaving a trail of fresh goosebumps in their wake.

If, by some chance, you decided that you wanted to go back to your father and to your faith, Joel didn’t know how he would find it in himself to let you go, not after this. Of course, he would have to let go, though.

The last thing he wanted was to help free you from one cage just to stick you right back into another. While he was no stranger to loss, he had to admit to himself that to lose you would be a knife to whatever was left of his heart.

Shoving the thought out of his mind, he reached down and gripped the base of his cock, pumping it in his fist before running the leaking head along your puffy lips, coating himself in your wetness with the hope it would ease some of the pain you were bound to feel. “Ready, babygirl?” he asked you, lightly teasing your entrance. “Might hurt a bit. M’gonna go slow. Just need you to relax for me, alright?”

“Okay.”

“I’ve got you,” he promised.

You nodded, saying softly, “I know.”

Though he knew he had all of your trust, Joel could still sense your anxiousness. He reached out for your hand, lacing your fingers together with his own as he gingerly pressed forward and eased himself into you, taking the very innocence you had been taught your entire life to preserve, one slow, careful inch at a time.

“Oh—Joel!” You cried loudly at the initial stretch, your pretty face scrunching in discomfort. Tightly slamming your eyes shut, sparks flew behind your eyelids when he finally bottomed out. The burning sting in between your thighs was too overwhelming, almost impossible to cope with. He felt so enormous within you, you could have sworn he was in your belly. Another broken cry fell from your lips and he swallowed it with a comforting kiss.

“Jesus Christ,” he hissed against your lips, a thin sheen of sweat coating his brow, neck, and chest. He wasn’t sure where he found the strength, but he suppressed his urge to thrust. Instead, he dropped his face into the hollow of your neck and waited, giving you the chance to adjust to him. He mumbled against your skin. “Doin’ so good for me, sweet girl. Y’know that? You’re doin’ so fuckin’ good for me.”

Even in discomfort, you preened at his praise.

He squeezed your hand, and after a minute, he gave an experimental thrust of his hips—and then another and another before he ceased his movement once again. He was so big and you were so deliciously full of him.

Eventually, the pain subsided, and you found yourself asking, no, begging for more. “Move.” Your other hand found itself cupping the side of his face, coaxing him to lift his head and allowing your gazes to meet. Your soft, plush thighs parted further to help accommodate the breadth of his hips. “Please, Joel. I need you to move—I need you to fuck me.”

Surely, you would be the death of him.

He drew his hips back with cautious, tender care, then advanced in the same manner to fill your precious cunt all over again. He did it over and over, your pleasured moans encouraging him to begin picking up the pace. He drove his cock in and out of your weeping pussy, the slapping of flesh against flesh, the lewd, wet squelch of you around him inspiring him to fuck you harder, faster. And the noises you were making?

There was something oh so beautiful about your cries, sweet raptures of submission as you laid there beneath him, all too graciously taking everything he had to give you like the good, good, good girl you were for him.

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart,” Joel rasped. “Look at you—look at the way you take my fuckin’ cock, honey.”

And you did.

Glancing down, your gaze fell between your bodies and you watched in awe, openly marveled at the way Joel slid in and out of your cunt, how he knocked hard so deeply inside of you, driving himself as far as he could possibly go.

“Fuck Joel, I’m gonna—” You tried warning him as the pressure in your belly neared its peak, but you tumbled over the edge before you even had the chance to finish your sentence. Arching up off off the bed, you pressed your chest against his, your fingers squeezing his own so hard you feared you might break them.

“That’s it babygirl, let go,” he grunted, speeding up his thrusts. “Squeeze my fuckin’ cock—just like that. Good girl. My perfect, perfect girl.”

You didn’t quite get the chance to let the praise sink in.

Joel pulled himself out of you, and with ease, he flipped you over onto your belly. His hands gripped your hips and pulled them up off the mattress, his fingers moving to firmly knead the fleshiest part of your ass. He leaned over you, the head of his cock nudging at your hole. “Y’think you can handle a little bit more, sweetheart?” he whispered the question into a tumble of messy hair, the delicate scent of the lavender shampoo you used to wash it filling his senses. “Answer me, little dove.”

“Yes,” you replied breathlessly with a nod. “I can.”

With a satisfied hum, Joel sank into you, this second stretch not quite as overwhelming at the first, but still intense. “Relax,” he murmured, hunching further over your quivering back. He pressed a kiss onto the top of your head and then leaned down to brace his hands on either side of you. “Need you to be sweet for me just a bit longer, okay, baby?”

“God,” you whimpered when the heaviness of his balls came to rest on your sensitive clit.

It was the second time you’d uttered His name.

Joel almost grinned at the irony. He found his rhythm, groaning in gut-deep satisfaction with each snap of his hips—each smooth stroke in and each smooth stroke out.

“Oh fuck, sweet girl.” Heaven was indeed a real place, and Joel Miller was buried in it to the hilt, right at this very moment.

He was getting closer and closer.

Maybe it was your eagerness to help him reach his own release mingled with the pride you knew you would feel once you did that gave you a second wind, a fresh, new burst of energy. You planted your hands firmly on his pillow. Rolling your bottom lip between your teeth, you curved your spine and pushed back onto Joel with purpose, meeting his thrusts halfway as you rode his aching length to the satiation that waited for him at the end.

“There’s my girl,” he rasped. “Oh fuckin’ Christ—”

No way he could live his life without you now.

He needed you.

He needed you so much more than you needed him.

Joel slipped an arm around your shoulders, across your chest.

“Oh!” you gasped as he then yanked you back, pulling you flush against him. The rough crash of your back against his chest, combined with the angle in which he was fucking you knocked the wind out of your lungs.

His lips were at the shell of your ear. “Stay,” he panted, his breath hot against your cheekbone. He wrapped his other hand lightly around your throat. Relentless, were his hips now—his movements had become frantic. Desperate. “Stay with me, baby.”

Even as you fought to catch your breath in the position he had you in, you picked up on the fact that he wasn’t asking you of it, nor was he demanding you of it.

He was begging you.

Him, the most feared man in this town. Begging you?

“Joel,” you choked.

“Please, my little dove,” he pleaded, turning your head towards him. His mouth was then on the corner of your own, his beard roughly scratching the soft and delicate flesh of your cheek. “I need you, babygirl. Stay with me. Please, just fuckin’ stay with me.”

Your hands curled around his wrists. “Yes, I’ll stay,” you moaned. “I’m yours, Joel. I’m all yours. I—I’m not going anywhere. I promise. I’ll stay with you.”

A low, guttural sound rumbled through his chest. Joel firmly took hold of your cross, and without so much as a warning, he ripped the chain from around your neck and tossed it somewhere over his shoulder. He heard it land on the hardwood floor with the tiniest, faint clink the moment he spilled into you, ropes of warm release coating your fluttering walls. Curses and groans spilled from his lips and into your neck. Your cunt clutched at his pulsing cock, greedy for every last drop of his spend she could get.  

Once you were filled, you both collapsed beside each other on the bed, heaving to catch a steady breath.

“Y’okay, sweetheart?” Joel managed to ask, his chest still rising and falling rapidly.

Exhausted, all you could do was nod and utter, “Mhm.”

He exhaled an amused huff through his nose. “C’mere.” He reached for you and pulled you against his side. He draped an arm around your shoulders, holding you as close to him as was possible. “Y’did so good, honey.”

Your mouth curled into a small, contented smile.

Several minutes had passed by, and despite telling him that you were too tired to even think about moving, Joel made you get up and use the bathroom, and while you did so, he ran a clean washcloth under warm water. “Here, darlin’. Let me clean you up,” he’d said, his lips meeting your forehead in a loving token of affection before he sank down onto one knee and ran the damp cloth along the insides of your thighs. He took extreme care when he wiped at your swollen folds, knowing you were still sensitive to the touch. “There we go. All done, now.”

Not long after, you were both back in his bed, wrapped up in his sheets.

Yawning, you nuzzled into bare his chest, your eyelids feeling heavier and heavier with each and every second that ticked by. You’d started drifting off when you heard his voice.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?” you answered sleepily, eyes still closed.

“Did you mean what you said?”

“Mean what, Joel?”

There was a brief pause. “Y’know, when you said you’d stay with me.”

Snuggling closer to him, you mumbled, “Mhm. Of course I did.”

“S’not gonna be easy,” Joel murmured into your hair.

“I know.” You yawned. “But I have you.”

“You do. You’ve got me—and I’ve got you, babygirl.”

“Mm. I know that too, Joel.”

You felt him kiss the top of your head and then fell fast asleep in his arms.

The sun bloomed over the Grand Tetons.

Your father would wake soon, that’s to say if he wasn’t up already.

The nerves began to set in.

Joel must have sensed it. “Breathe, baby. S’gonna be okay,” he soothed, squeezing your hand.

With one of his warmer, heavier jackets that normally didn’t see the light of day until winter season draped around your shoulders, the two of you made your way down the road and towards your house. Or better said, towards your father’s house. Because after what you were about to do, that yellow and white cottage would no longer be a place you could call home.

He led you up to the porch. “Y’sure you don’t want me to go in there with you?” he asked, quietly.

You could have laughed. You almost did.

“Do you believe that to be a wise choice?”

“No, I reckon it ain’t the best idea,” Joel admitted with a sigh, raking his free hand through his unkempt, salt and pepper hair. He looked up at the house, then back at you. “Look, little dove. No matter what happens in there, just know that everythin’ will be alright. M’gonna take care of you. For the rest of my life, I’ll take care of you. I’ll try my hardest to be everythin’ you need.”

“You already are, Joel,” you said, your gaze earnest.

His chest swelled with warmth.

Truth be told, Joel didn’t know how he had managed to defy the odds—how he, of all people, had managed to make his way into that sweet, innocent, beautiful little heart of yours, but somehow he did, and he would not take this responsibility lightly.

He brushed your lips with his and promised, “Gonna be waitin’ right here, okay?”

“Okay.” Inhaling deeply, you willed yourself to let go of his hand and took a step back. You then started up the porch steps on wobbling legs. When you made it to the top, you glanced over your shoulder at Joel, who gave you a subtle nod of encouragement. Exhaling slowly, you reached for the knob with trembling fingers and turned it, opening the door. You stepped inside, your heart dropping into your stomach when you saw your father sitting there at the foot of the staircase, as if he’d been waiting for you. He had been waiting for you. Fully dressed, he sat on the second to last step with both hands folded on his bible in his lap, a rosary clutched between them. “Papa?”

He said nothing. Instead, he silently observed you—his eyes glazed over the men’s jacket and the short dress you wore underneath it, the disheveled, loose hair and kiss swollen lips. Your holy cross nowhere to be seen.

“Papa.” You swallowed harshly and shifted your weight anxiously from the heel of one boot to the other. “We, um—we really need to have a talk.”

He peered around you, catching a brief glimpse of the man standing outside, waiting for you at the foot of the porch.

He cleared his throat, lightly. “Yes, child. I suppose that we do.”

Nodding tightly, you turned around and slowly closed the door. Joel’s words rang in your mind over and over, giving you the push of strength you knew you would need.

I’ve got you.

divider credit goes to @saradika 🤍

[pullthehilt]

Reader is Yuu with an implied family with siblings. Not re-read or edited.

One day you realise that there is just a bit too much food on the table. It takes eating with the others to truly notice, but it starts with Grim complaining.

"We've been eating the same thing for days now!" And you laugh because it's true. After eating it fresh the first day, you tend to pack up and store the rest equally in the fridge and freezer because, yes, it's a lot. Dishes that are soups, or meals that are cooked in the larger pots and pans. Food that is to be served with rice on the side, portions that are bigger than your face. That isn't to say that you had a lot of thaumarks on you as you're just good at making bulk purchases worth it.

Everyone laughs at Grims moping, remarking of how he should be greatful you're feeding him at all. The banter is great.

But you're picking at your packed lunch now.

Why do you cook so much? Why do you reach for the bigger pots and pans? Why are your portions always for more than one?

From the fog of your mind, you see... your kitchen. Or you think it's your kitchen. It's not the kitchen back at Ramshackle, but the one from before Ramshackle. You're bustling around the counter, chatting to a faceless figure by the table, and reaching for seasonings without even looking. You're opening cabinets and finding what you need easily and asking the figure to make some rice to accompany whatever is in that pot. There's the squeals of children and hearty laughter from the other room. And hands, there's a hand at the small of your back and you think it's a motherly touch because how else can you describe the gentle way they press you to the side of their body.

For the next few days you can't eat properly. There's weight at your gut that substitutes for food and you don't make anything more. When your friends come over to invade the living room of Ramshackle, you don't have much snacks to offer them.

Peering into the fridge only reveals the stacks of containers of food you were eating days prior. You're mulling about maybe something you can make for them when,

"Whoa, talk about excess. Grim wasn't kidding." Ace's voice is right behind you.

"Ugh, sorry guys. i don't think I have anything proper to really feed you guys--"

"Is that some sort of egg salad?" Deuce's hand slithers forward to grab at one of the containters. "You have bread?" Nodding you gesture to the other cabinet. "Then I'll snack on this-- Er, if you wouldn't mind."

Epel peers from the doorway. "You don't happen to haf' some meat in 'er do ya?" Your fingers linger, before meekly pulling out a corrisponding tupperware.

"It's a bit stiff though, Epel."

"Hah, I'll jus' throw it on tha' stove or somthing. If it's still tough, I dun' care. Sometimes just gotta eat the greasy foods." He takes the tupperware and slaps it into a pan to heat it up. The aroma of sizzling meat is quick to attract both Sebek and Jack who add to the noise of chatter amongst the others, the former mostly.

You find yourself to the side, watching as they scour through your leftovers, opening and nodding at the meals inside before choosing which to heat up. And it's loud, but not grating. They're navigating through your space with expertice, slipping past each other and peering into cabinets. Jack's making rice and Sebek is counting the plates (whilst also making sounds whenever he sees a chip in the odd one or two). Over the stove Epel and Ace are jerking their hands into the pan, nipping their fingers to the corner pieces of the meat to just 'check if it's ready to eat'. Gathering the spoons and forks, Deuce nibbles on a piece of his egg salad sandwich before disappearing in the living area where everyone is setting up.

The dinner table has been set. You don't feel entirely there, floating to a cushion on the floor as your left overs are bought over to the table plate-by-plate. Everyone sits around you, Grim settled into your lap as he nibbles on a piece of fried fish, and they're passing the dishes around.

You've eaten these things before but you've always eaten them with Grim or alone when Grim takes his naps early. Instead of one set of cutlery scraping at porcelain, there's multiple sets-- a symphony playing to their hunger as they gather more to pile onto their plates.

[reverie-starlight]

kenma for the soul <3

gn!reader, no physical descriptions. this was in my drafts for so long that I forgot abt it. based off of my own routine when I get a panic attack. I believe I wrote the bulk of this after one, actually.

warnings: depictions of a panic attack, my own personal coping methods (I swear they make sense in my head) and kenma being soft for you. this was edited at like 2 am so if there’s some mistakes… no there’s not.

it’ll pass.

you know that. you’ve known that for years, actually, yet somehow the sentiment doesn’t hold up in the moments you need it to the most.

kenma watches as you switch between sitting on the edge of the bed with him and pacing the length of your bedroom.

he really feels for you. he still gets panic attacks from time to time, after all, so he knows the basics of what you’re going through like the back of his hand.

he’s still trying to learn your specifics, though.

he’s observant and he’s strategic. with those skills, he’s gathered that you do not respond well to sitting still and taking deep breaths.

you continue pacing and wringing your fingers together, clenching and unclenching your fists and shaking your arms out (he recognizes this as literally trying to dispel the panic from your body).

he watches you closely, wanting to figure you out as soon as possible so he can utilize his strategic side and end your suffering. are you trying to tire yourself out? why is it that you don’t find the breathing exercises useful? why doesn’t sitting still and meditating benefit you?

oh… of course, why didn’t he think of that sooner?

you don’t like those coping methods because you see it as another opportunity to focus on your trigger. by trying to stop it, you just end up thinking about it more. they require you to be aware of every sensation in your body, but if you’re moving around a lot instead, it acts as a distraction.

so he’ll need to help you redirect your train of thought some more.

“babe,” he calls out quietly, not having the energy or willingness to be any louder at two in the morning.

you don’t stop pacing, but you look at him and nod to let him know you’re listening.

“let’s go to the kitchen.”

you blink as he gets up and takes your hand, leading you out of your bedroom. he hopes the change of scenery and mystery of what he has planned brings you out of your head a bit.

“kenma-“ you start, voice raw from the crying you did earlier.

“do you want to make cookies?”

you watch as he goes to the fridge and gets some water and ice cubes. (he read once that the ice can shock you out of panic and act as a good redirection strategy.)

you take the glass when he hands it to you and allow the chill of the ice ground you a bit.

your head feels clearer now. the panic had mostly subsided well before you were led out of the bedroom, but you had continued pacing anyway.

in your mind it makes sense- relaxing too soon, when it’s not quite gone, gives it the chance to come back and restart the cycle all over again. tiring yourself out and distracting yourself with the familiar movement patterns that helped stopped it in the first place…

it’s always worked for you.

and now, sitting up on the barstool by the kitchen island with kenma, you definitely feel the exhaustion.

so you shake your head. “no, I’m too tired, babe.”

he nods, successfully getting a read on your energy level. “okay,” he says. “drink your water, I can make toast for us.”

you blink at him. “why?”

he shrugs. “you must’ve worked up an appetite with all that walking, right? I got winded just watching you.”

you snort, surprisingly, and the corner of his mouth lifts up a bit. “I guess so… oh but kenma, I kept you up, you must be tired too.”

he gets the bread ready to put into the toaster and glances at you over his shoulder. “you do realize you’re dating someone who once streamed for twenty-four hours straight, right? one late night is nothing.”

you sip your water and hold an ice cube in your cheek, letting it melt. “still, I’m-“

“and don’t apologize. I know that’s what you were about to do.”

you sheepishly look down into your glass and let the silence linger until he presents you some buttered toast. “remember how I told you I used to get really bad panic attacks in high school? the ones I get now aren’t nearly as intense as those, but I do still know how draining they are,” he rips off a chunk of bread and feeds it to you. “it’s not too much to care for you, okay?“ he knows the feeling of being afraid to be a burden well, too, unfortunately.

you smile and knock your head against his as you chew. “thanks, kenma. I love you.”

there’s still a lot he has to learn for you, but he knows that if this were a video game, it’d be the easiest level he’d ever complete.

“love you too. now let’s finish this and get to bed.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@dira333 some kenma :3

[thefandomsfervent]

Viktor x Reader Personal Pigments(Part 17) - Prussian Blue

This is a jayvik x reader fic now but it'll still be labeled as a Vik Fic until it's fully implemented. Ft. JayVik and wine, drunk Jayvik, it goes 18+ here (masturbation). Find my imagine that inspired it here. Previous and next chapter will be linked at the bottom. It's late, I was on a roll, and I didn't proofread this a whole lot, I'll edit it later.

Planning on writing as much as I can this weekend to post in bulk before Christmas week, I'll be traveling a distance away and can't bring my laptop with me.

stay tuned and Thank you for reading <3

╔═*✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧-✦-✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧*═╗

It only took you thirty minutes to find your way back to the lab. Although, those first few minutes had you stressed and embarrassed. You and Mel had spent almost two hours walking and talking and you thought she had taken you all over the Academy, but she really had you both walking laps. You were closer to the dining hall than you thought, from there you were able to find your room, and then the lab. Just as you walk up to that heavy door it swings open. 

“Zlato, please, use your feet.” It’s Viktor, doing his best to keep Jayce above the floor. You rush forward without thinking and get under Jayce’s other arm to prop him up. You have to drop your pouch and your sketchbook. It gets kicked behind you into the lab once you’re able to stand taller. 

“What happened?” You’re asking as you shift Jayce between yourself and Viktor. He’s laughing to himself at the situation. “Oh my gods. He was drunk. Jayce Talis sensible golden boy was drunk.” You remember the wine that Mel had gifted them. But it had only been two hours. Three and half maybe? 

“The wine was stronger than we thought.” When you look at Viktor you see his hair is tousled, his cheeks red from exertion or his own drinking you aren’t sure. 

“Did he have the whole bottle?” You’re laughing and trying not to. The shaking of your shoulders makes it hard to keep Jayce up straight. “Hun you have to help us help you okay?” 

“Mmm you’re both warm. ‘S nice.” You were not letting him live this down tomorrow, if he wasn’t suffering a raging hangover. 

“He had four glasses, too close together I think.” Viktor is adjusting his cane straighter with one hand and moving his shoulders around to get a better grip on Jayce’s back with his other. 

“And you?” 

“I also had four, but I am much better with alcohol than he is.” He thinks back to the first time they had drank together. Some whiskey that was spiced heavily at a cocktail lounge many many months ago. Viktor had enjoyed it, nursing a glass for the first thirty minutes. But Jayce? He slammed it and immediately gagged. Coughing and sputtering. That one drink alone had almost knocked him clean on his ass ten minutes later. He’s laughing at the memory. Especially when he remembers that Jayce made the exact same mistake another ten minutes after drinking a seltzer and they had to sit on the curb outside nursing water. Since then Jayce had learned how to pace himself, learned that he preferred drinks that did not burn his throat and were easier to sip on. Wine was hit or miss. “The wine was sweet, so he was not as cautious as he should have been.”

“WE ARE CELEBRAATING!” The sudden input from Jayce surprised you both. Despite his jelly legs his arms are strong, squeezing the two of you closer. He wasn’t yelling, as much as he was whisper screaming.

“Oh! Congratulations, a new development?” You’re following Viktor’s lead as you take patient steps down the hall. Viktor looks down to Jayce, whose face is flush from all the wine, who has a smile so bright it could be seen in the dark, and who is actively starting to fall asleep in their arms. They needed to move him quickly before he was dead weight. At that point it would be impossible to move him even with your help. There was no time to explain what they were celebrating.

“Yes, a new development.” He can’t help the gentle grin growing on his face. It was so warm. This endearment blooming in his ribs, the wine finding its place throughout his body, feeling your arm against his as you help him haul Jayce down the hallway. He can see their rooms. His was closest and Jayce’s was a couple doors down. There were many reasons he was thankful for the proximity of their moved rooms, but now more than ever. His hand using his cane was starting to go numb from the pressure, a pain shooting up his arm into his shoulder. “Here, to the left. Can you get him to the wall?” Jayce is heavy but you manage to move him to the wall by yourself, needing a breather as you slump against it with him. 

He looks sleepy. Eyes struggling to stay open, his mouth parted, his usually perfect combed back hair disheveled.. “Pretty boy indeed.” You’re brushing it out of his face when he leans into your hand. He’s smiling, white teeth and happiness blinding even in the dim light of the hall. “You alright?”

“Neveerr betterrr.” It’s a slurred breathy reply and he slots his head against your shoulder. Viktor is glancing at you while also fiddling with a ring of keys. The clinking sound of metal against metal echoing in the hallway. He finds the one for Jayce’s room and starts unlocking the door. He nods at you to try and get Jayce to his feet. 

“Hey big guy, you ready to get up again?” Jayce just hums, pushing the back of his head against the wall now. “Don’t you want to lay down all cozy in bed?” 

“Mhmm.” 

“Okay then I’m going to get up and I’ll need you to come with me. Can you do that?” Jayce gives another hum of agreement and Viktor watches how gentle you are with him. Helping him stand gingerly, holding onto his waist with one arm, and pulling Jayce’s arm over your shoulder again. Intertwining your fingers with his golden partner’s as you try your damndest to get him through the door. He watches as you give Jayce affirming words and praise for just moving forward with you. It pulls at his core, at all the things him and Jayce had discussed tonight. At all the moments that have been shared. “I’m a sappy drunk,” he thinks as he directs you to Jayce’s bedroom. Viktor pulls the covers back on the bed and lets you set the man down before he sits with him. Helping him take off his shoes. 

“Thank you for your help. I am sure he will apologize tomorrow.” Jayce is leaning against Viktor, whispering something you can’t catch. 

“I can’t say I won’t give him a hard time.” You laugh at the thought, then again when Jayce’s hand is slapped away from Viktor’s tie. It almost dies in your throat when you watch Viktor’s slender fingers work at Jayce’s. You know it’s to help Jayce get ready for bed, but after all that you’ve seen today it was an image you weren’t sure you were supposed to be burning into your memory like you are. “Goodluck. I’ll be in the hall if you need help.” Viktor just nods, trying to get Jayce to sit still as you leave.

You can hear Viktor talking to Jayce, instructing him as you close the bedroom door. Jayce’s apartment is neat but lived in. It smelled a little of oil? And baked spices. A jacket tossed over a couch, shoes neatly lined by the front door. A table with notes and blueprints that looked similar to how he kept his own room. Stacks of books filled with sticky notes. There are a few plants around. A guitar? So much information about a person in one space. It made you wonder about Viktor’s room. If it was neater than this knowing that he barely spent any time there. As you make your way into the hall you remember that Viktor had a key, on his own key ring, to Jayce’s place. So intimate, the care they had for each other. So sweet in its normalcy. A feeling brews in your chest as you wait by the door. Overwhelming and unknown, something akin to wanting. 

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

“You are drunk Jayce.” Viktor is trying his hardest to not laugh at the man in front of him, struggling to unbutton his own shirt. 

“ ‘know that.” An irritated huff, an uncommon sound for his partner. “ ‘m trying.” 

“I know you are, let me help.” It takes a few minutes to get Jayce set up for bed. Viktor leaves him in his undershirt, let’s Jayce take care of his pants despite the struggle. There’s a want brewing in him. He wants to stay here, to hold him til he sleeps, be there with water and maybe a pain reliever when he wakes up. But he doesn’t. He ignores the whine in Jayce’s throat when he goes to the kitchen to get his partner water. When he returns Jayce is out cold. Snoring softly under the covers. He leaves the water on the bedside table, watching the even breathing that moves Jayce’s chest. A hand moves to cup his cheek, rubbing a circle into the apple of it. Viktor’s heart swells when he feels the weight of Jayce push into it unconsciously. 

He joins you in the hallway shortly after. You were staring at the wall in front of you, zoning out when the closing of the door snaps you out of it. 

“Hey, he alright?” You’re leaning forward, hands by your side as you face him.

“He will be fine. Embarrassed, but fine.” Viktor was tired, the wine making him sleepy and warm. He starts walking towards his room and you follow. 

“Didn’t think he’d be a lightweight. It’s kinda-” cute. You don’t finish the sentence but it seems like Viktor agrees with you, laughing softly as his cane taps against the floor. 

“Unexpected. I did not know either when we first met. He will deny it though, if you ask it. Blames it on anything else.” He likes hearing you laugh. He likes knowing he caused it. He frowns when he realizes how short the walk is to his room. You would be leaving now. “Goodnight Ms. L/N. We shall see you in the lab tomorrow, yes?” 

“Yes. Goodnight Viktor.” Your voice is so soft, so sweet. Viktor watches as you walk down the hall, flipping through all the keys he has before finding the one for his door. He hadn’t gone to bed this early in a long time. It wasn’t even ten o’clock and he was already in his room getting ready to shower. Discarding clothes, finding ones for tomorrow. Brushing his teeth as the shower heats up. 

When he steps in it fogs up the window over his sink. The warm water soothing the aches of his body. He goes over today’s events as he lathers a shampoo through his hair. How Jayce’s teasing of you led to teasing him. And now they were… together. Officially. Finally declared as two parts of a whole, and that they both wanted you. He thinks about the wine. How it was sweet and rich and strong. How it was sweeter on Jayce when he kissed him again. How pliant Jayce was in his hands, the heat of those broad shoulders in his palms. The sounds of their kissing, teeth clacking, lips hungrier after every glass. 

He should be rinsing the soap out of his hair, he should be washing his body. The routine of putting soap to a washcloth, rubbing it between his hands to form suds lingers in the back of his mind as he continues to think of those kisses. How he could taste fermented fruit and cinnamon and Jayce. A different familiar memory cuts through the haze, much stronger this time. Of release, of teasing touches from past lovers. His imagination taking over. When Jayce tried to bed him would he touch him the same way? The shower is getting hotter, the wine on his breath despite having brushed his teeth. When he tried to bed you, would you react like he did? Would you feel the same that he and Jayce did, would you want them together? 

His hand was moving lower, lower, lower. He could feel it happening, the blood moving down, the water against it but he is surprised at how hard he is. When he moves his hand down, the tip moving past the opening of his fist he imagines your lips. How would they feel on him,  would you be experienced enough to wet them before starting. The image of you on your knees alone has him moving faster but then his thoughts wander. Would you start slow or would you try to take him all at once? Could he fist both of his hands in your hair and hold you there so could he fuck your mouth.  Or would you take the lead,  bobbing your head up and down. He imagines your hands holding it or maybe braced on his hips, fingers digging into the flesh. Would Jayce talk you through it once he knew what worked for Viktor?

He can feel it building, all too quickly.  It's been a while since he indulged himself like this.  A raspy breath falling from his chapped lips. You were so soft. Sweet. Your voice. Quiet and gentle. Would it be honeyed with a returned lust or would it be strained? Dazed like that morning he woke you? "Viktor?" It’s your voice. It’s Jayce’s. The intensity almost knocks him off balance, free hand bracing on the tiled wall as he finishes. Shooting forward onto the handles of the shower. A long burst followed by several short ones as he slows his hand. Twitching when he lets himself go.

And then the only fog he's left with is the steam of the shower. He felt faint, the shower water was too hot and he hadn't been taking full breaths. He turns a handle to make the shower cold and his hand is sticky with his release. Shame. Regret. Oh. What did he just do? He wants to blame it on Jayce’s teasing today. On the glass of wine that warmed his chest. But he knows that's not it. That it's his own depravity.

Well, he could blame all of those things. Embarrassment burns his cheeks more than the water, more than the wine. He hadn’t indulged in that in so, so long. And the realization that there would be something with Jayce in the future settles in his chest. That Jayce wouldn’t be upset with him for this. He takes a deep breath. 

More thoughts for later. Exhaustion is deep in his bones now, it had been a long day despite coming to his room early. He needs to sleep, to clean up. He lathers the rag on the hook and enjoys the rest of his shower. Tomorrow will be a new day. A good day. 

╚═*✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧-✦-✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧*═╝

-------------.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙-Part 16-.-Part 18·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .----------------

------------‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙· Master Fic List *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊--------------

[jcollinswrites]

New update 29/11/24

This update is more technical than anything. There is not a big pile of new content, but there are lots of small changes.

Chapter 2 is officially completed! It still needs some editing, but the bulk of the writing is done.

I changed the scene where priests can visit Tia in the hospital if she survived. Hudjefa isn't there anymore but Tia's parents are. This is probably the biggest change made in this update.

I did some editing and fixed a few awkward sentences here and there.

Changed the description of the warnings for the age choice. It's a bit more vague now, but I prefer it this way (if anyone wants to know the specifics, here is the FAQ that explains it)

I made clarifications for the options in the age-choice, just to make sure that readers know that the option "late teens" does NOT mean an underage MC.

Made the magic system a bit clearer in-game when you choose your patron god, and added it to the Stats screen.

Added a lot of extra variations in the text (1-2 sentences in a lot of places) that will make reading a bit more immersive.

These issues with the game are still ongoing. The admin is working on fixing them, but as I saw, Weeping Gods is not the only one suffering from them.

So far, the best way to prevent an error from popping up: 1) before you start reading, hit restart. 2) do NOT close the tab while you read. 3) if you notice that the Achievements button is not showing up on the header, save and restart the game.

If you still get a game-breaking error, try this:

Cancel the error message

Reload the browser page (or hit F5)

Cancel the error again, now the save function should be available, even if you only see a blank page

Save the game

Hit restart

Load the save. It should continue without an error.

Old saves won't work because I changed both chapter files. I will not do this again for a while because like I said before, the regular weekly updates are going to move to patreon. Starting from CH3, I will also make a quick character creation option so that you can skip the first 2 chapters, even if the saves restart.

I think that's all. This week was horribly tiring for me, so I'm sorry if I'm not as chipper as before. Troubleshooting the errors and everything else kinda drained me.

LINK

Thanks for reading!

JC

[laurademelza]

The Sims 3 Easel Painting Replacements Mod

This is an incomplete mod but I am uploading it now since I may never finish it. This is due to the fact that there are 1580!! different paintings your sims can paint on the easel, depending on their traits.

My mod replaces 600 of these 1500 paintings, mostly the basic, brilliant, and masterpiece level paintings that are not affected by traits. There is a heavy bias towards European art movements from roughly 1870-1950 by artists such as Chagall, Modigliani, Cezanne, and Picasso.

Some of the paintings for grumpy and neurotic sims can include darker/scarier themes by artists such as Frida Kahlo, Odilon Redon, and Wifredo Lam.

Download from Sims File Share

More info below the cut!

If my memory serves right, since I did the bulk of this years ago, I replaced the entirety of the "basic" trait-free paintings, including brilliant and masterpiece quality. Less complete but still worked on are some of the paintings for traits I find make up my artist sims, such as artistic, grumpy, and genius.

I don't often play evil, computer whiz or Can't Stand Art sims so those categories are definitely edited less.

I have included some screenshots as a sample of the art, although if you open the file in S3PE you can see more clearly what is included.

If you hate EA's paintings and would like ALL 1580 paintings replaced, I would recommend using this alongside other painting replacement mods such as:

Plum's Replacements (massive credit and thanks also for the fabulous tutorial and files, though this is a lot of pop culture/digital art and will look jarring against my choices)

Medieval Knights Default Replacements (this would actually keep in theme better with the art I have included)

You have two options to use mine and another mod at the same time:

(1) Open the other mod first in S3PE. Then import my mod second via Resource > Import > as dbc. Allow all files to be overwritten if prompted.

!!OR!!

(2) In your packages folder, rename my file to have a zz at the beginning or something else that instructs Sims to load it after the other mod. This is easier but will make your packages folder about 50mb bigger than it needs to be, so I recommend the first method.

I made this for myself and am just sharing in case anyone else wants to use these too. It's "good enough" for my purposes for now but if I ever decide to finish this, I'll share it too. Just don't anticipate that happening any time soon or....ever. I worked on this mostly when I was a loner at university with a lot of spare time, and I have a full time job, a house, friends and cats now.

So if you find this and want to finish the other 900 paintings, please be my guest and include this with whatever you make, I don't need credit or anything. Share it with whoever. I don't really care.

Enjoy and let me know if you run into any problems getting this to work or need any advice for your own default replacement mod. :)

[apple-salad]

Rose Ribbon Embroidery "Mini" Projects (for BABY NYFW) Part 1: Kumya JSK

I decided semi-last minute to attend BABY's fashion show at NYFW!

BABY had mentioned in their NYFW brand description that their newest collection would be a return to their origins, as well as presenting archival items.

You have to dress to impress for NYFW, right? So of course, I had to pull out all the stops and wear my Rose Ribbon Embroidery.

Also at the last minute, I decided to make a few extra complementing items...

A matching RRE kumya JSK, and a bonnet.

What follows is more of a sew-along/journal rather than a tutorial or guide, mainly for my own memory's sake. But if you enjoy looking at my process (sometimes sloppy), I'm happy!

Also feel free to take a look at the more romantic process video I edited.

Part 1: Kumya JSK

Part 2: Bonnet

To make a matching kumya JSK, I first had to investigate the original dress a little! This I found actually very fascinating because I had never bothered to take a very careful look at the construction details of this JSK (it was, and still is always a precious item that I am afraid will get dusty or dirty if I look at it wrong...)

I actually even found a spot where it looks like the material was torn and someone roughly repaired it by hand (laugh). I have a feeling this was a factory mistake/fix (either from fabric manufacture or sewing) because it's hidden beneath some lace ruffle and I don't really think it's something that an owner would let happen, but who knows.

So here's a few details of RRE~

Many people don't know that RRE is made of velveteen! And further, there is sometimes a misconception that it came in a "cotton" and "velvet" version. As far as I know, there is only one version made out of cotton velveteen.

So the white can get dirty and attract dust super easily :')

The bodice has a panel of 3 ruffles + upper "hashigo" (ladder) lace part with ribbon. It is also boned (BABY's crap boning with sharp edges and no channels, meh...) but obviously I can skip that for kumya.

The skirt has a trapezoidal embroidered panel, the star of the show, surrounded by 3 tiers of ruffles that extend all the way around the back. The last "tier" is not gathered and has a smaller ruffle all around the skirt.

While thinking about how to construct something similar in kumya-scale, I found it fascinating that the under-material the ruffles are attached to are cotton! Makes sense to reduce bulk, plus you can't tell when the ruffles cover it.

The density of ruffle starts out quite concentrated, and then reduces as the bottom ruffle is reached. The cotton under-material also seems to have less material gathered than the main velveteen ruffle. This also makes sense to not only reduce material usage but also because having a huge amount of gather on the bottom tier can make the skirt look too heavy.

Knowing this, I fussed out some semi-arbitrary ruffle multipliers for each tier (and lining) in my notebook. Very important to keep tabs on how many fabric strips I need and their exact widths!

Also since everything is in kumya-scale the gathering is generally reduced by a lot. Kumya doesn't need much to have a very full skirt, and with such tiny tiers the effect of the gathering can easily look like overkill. The kumya elizabeth OP gathered lace/tiers very lightly:

As reference dimensions for kumya, I have these two kumya dresses which I used lightly (mostly the sugar bouquet one because it's a JSK). I also have the babydoll kumya, but as it was out of commission for a while (on my christmas tree!😅) I didn't use it for checks at all.

The sugar bouquet "bodice" is about 3cm long. I decided to extend it one more cm to 4cm to make it easier for me to calculate for the ruffles and also leave enough space so the ruffles would be visible and not potentially buried.

I use a cotton velvet fabric and a mixture of cluny and torchon lace I have on hand. This velvet has a noticeable twill weave to it and is thinner than the velvet BABY usually uses, but the thinness is perfect for this purpose. I was originally going to just use cotton sateen but remembered I had this!

You can't see the weave from afar so I tolerate it. I wouldn't have wanted to use polyester velvet/suede-like/minky, I think.

Since the material is still a velvet and does have a thickness compared to cotton, I decided to roughly hem any ruffle edges by hand with a simple once-turned whip stitch. it kind of seals the raw edge and hems it at the same time. Note that this is not a great idea for something that would be worn and washed a lot, but this piece in this specific case won't be.

In general, when it comes to mistakes with this piece I mostly ignore them because it's kumya-scale and not only will most people not notice, but as stated above it's also not a piece that will be worn and washed often so quality of construction isn't much of a concern.

Mentally deconstructing and calculating the construction of the ruffle part was a bit of a pain. My lace was wider that I needed so I had to roughly mark out where it should be sewn into the ruffle, not always with great success.

I'm also not great with working at small scale...much respect to doll clothesmakers.

The bodice of the sugar bouquet kumya JSK is made from a front trapezoidal panel with a strip of fabric attached to the sides that extends all the way around the back, and the skirt attached to that. So I cut some slightly angular side panels to attach to my rectangular/square-ish front ruffle panel.

(I threadmarked approximately where I wanted the seam to go because I don't trust myself to attach the side panel in the right area/dimension otherwise with such a wonky panel)

Simple straps made from strips of fabric. I make these slightly thicker than a regular kumya JSK as well because I feel like RRE has thicker straps too (well, the entire construction of the bodice is a bit different, but ignoring that...)

And a facing layer of ordinary cotton is sewn to the front panel.

For the section of lace at the top, I frankenstein together 2 types of lace that I trimmed to look more like the lace used on the original JSK. It seems the original JSK also has this lace sewn through the lining layer, so the stitching is visible from the inside.

I use the thinnest ribbon I can find--some silk ribbon in this case. It actually works really well because silk ribbon is very thin/flimsy and can be tied and threaded in nicely with relative ease.

By the way, if you aren't aware already, a yarn needle works very well for threading ribbon through lace.

Bodice portion finished. This took way longer than I was hoping, an entire night. Hopefully the results are worth it.

Next I fuss out the skirt. At this point I am working out the calculations and investigations already mentioned previously. I did make a few mistakes and had to re-cut a couple tiers!

I use a different lace from the bodice for the tiers because I thought the shape of this one was closer to what was originally used (it's actually the bilateral ladder lace used for the bodice, but instead of cutting off the lace edges and using the thread-through part, it's just cut in half)

After hemming the ruffle, I attach the lace to the velveteen ruffle with a single gathering stitch (too lazy to use 2, and the thick material makes it hard to gather anyway). The under cotton layer is gathered separately and sandwiched between the cotton layer of the previous tier.

Coming along. I think the lace length for these ruffles is a bit off/uneven/less than ideal, but oh well, can't be bothered to fix it...

After the third tier, a non-gathered velveteen tier is attached with gathered lace.

I also prepare the bottom ruffle, but that will be attached to the completed skirt.

Next, the most exciting but also potentially the most taxing part must be done--the embroidery!

I know that the top of the embroidered panel is basically the same width as the bodice ruffle (referencing the original dress), but the width of the bottom is a bit arbitrary (about 3x the width of the top of the trapezoid)

I mark out everything roughly with water soluble marker (the darker patches are where I messed up and used some water to erase, waiting for it to dry...)

The midlines of the panel as well as the 1/3 lines were marked because I 100% do not trust myself to make the embroidery symmetric without doing so. I'm a beginner and not nearly skilled enough in embroidery to freehand...

I carefully investigated the original embroidery and copied the locations of roses and leaves to my mini-panel. Once I have the general shape that I'm happy with, I start embroidering.

I didn't take too many progress photos of the embroidery, but I also don't think you need them. Because the scale was small, this took an entire evening/night which I think is not too long?

For the roses I use a combination of the "pinwheel" rose method and french knots (+ some additional plain stitches where I wanted more volume).

The nice thing about ribbon embroidery, I think, is that the ribbons add so much texture that even if it's a bit messy it looks very impressive anyways. Plus your mind will mentally interpret some random puffy ribbon lines as a flower anyways.

I use regular DMC 6-strand embroidery thread (split in half, so 3 strands used here) for the vines and leaves. Because I also suck at embroidery and have never embroidered a real project/learned real techniques I mostly kept the leaves simple and slightly abstract with 3 branchlike stitches. I think I currently can't fuss with making nice rounded miniature leaves without messing up every second stitch...

Finished.

I spray water to remove the marker marks and let dry.

Attach embroidered panel to ruffles. I should have double checked where the panel was aligning with the ruffles on each side since it's uneven, but whatever.

Gather bottom ruffle and attach to skirt.

I attach the bodice strip to the front bodice panel as well, and sew the straps down.

I basted the front of the bodice to the skirt by hand because I wanted to make sure they were aligned. Because I messed up sewing the ruffle tiers to the embroidered panel and they are somewhat misaligned, I tried to adjust where the top of the skirt was sewn to the bodice to compensate, it didn't work that well but eh, it's alright.

Gather the skirt and sew to the bodice portion. This was very fiddly and I had to redo some parts several times because the lace wasn't getting sewn down properly. It's still not great but I'll fix any egregious parts by hand.

The gathering is also pretty uneven, but I'm ignoring it...

Looks almost done but not yet!

There is a tiny bit more embroidery on the edges of the middle ruffle tier. I marked approximately where I wanted the roses to be and roughly embroidered them (without a hoop because it's too complicated to figure out alignment before construction, although embroidery is always easier with one).

I also add a back ribbon to simulate waist ties, a detail I notice on a few other BABY kumya JSKs. The waist ties on RRE have a slightly rounded/pointed shape to them, so I freehand this shape for the bow "tails" (because I'm getting tired and lazy, I didn't really measure although I did check that the width was approximately the same throughout). The backside of the waist tie is another layer of cotton, which reduces bulk when turning the shape inside out (the backside of the original JSK is also just lining material). I also folded a long strip over itself and basted it down, creating a loose tube shape to use for the bow part.

It's pretty hard to create defined folds in the bow with such thick fabric, but I tried my best...at least it's likely the back will rarely be seen.

I gave the dress a final allover spray with water to hopefully erase any remaining soluble marker. Also, some interior hand finishing needed to be done (mainly tacking down some unruly seams)

And finally, actually finished. The embroidery thankfully turned out decent enough to distract from any weird spots of construction and so on. It looks quite remarkably like the actual dress, so goal achieved I think!

Extra contents:

I make kumya little wrist cuffs because some of the kumya variations (such as babydoll kumya) come with them, and that's really cute.

BBD kumya seems to use a type of lace that's already elasticated, but I don't have that on hand so I just sew two pieces of the same lace used for the bodice ruffles together to make it bilateral and stitch on an additional elastic with a stretch stitch. And add on a little ribbon bow (I only have silk ribbon in this narrow width, but I think a ribbon with more body such as poly satin or cotton satin would work better)

And I also make two of those little applique ribbon thingies (you can buy them cheaply from craft stores and so on, but whatever) and stitch them temporarily to kumya's bows for an extra accent.

I'm lazy so I use the bloomers that came with the hawase kumya set underneath (I'm sure making a similar pair of bloomers wouldn't be too much work but I have no idea if these are patterned with some kind of shaping/rise and I don't want to deal with that)

This is actually yuefii's kumya that I am still hoarding for whatever reason and has its eye and mouth fur already trimmed.

And now Usakumya is ready to see the runway :)

Part 2 (bonnet making) is here.

Thank you for reading! If you ever decide to take up a similar project, I'd love to see it!

[tackytigerfic]

tacky! if you’re not fed up with talking about it: what was your macro process for first watch of the night, soup to nuts? wondering about how you broke down outlining, drafting, editing. was it different in scope from your ordinary process, or just scaled up?

soup to nuts, baby (i had to google that, it is one of those delightful phrases that we don't use here and i'm hopelessly charmed by it).

thanks for the ask, pal. i'm always interested in people's processes myself, particularly since I came to writing so late (late 30s) and have never approached it formally. i do read an awful lot and that i think is my main influence and teacher (less so in recent years but am trying to get back to incessant reading). i have also been trying to read more works in translation and to revisit classics too, as well as try more formally inventive works. this i struggle with as i'm a bit basic when it comes to reading, i like the segue 'twixt page and brain to be seamless so it's like i'm absorbing it rather than thinking about it, while ofc a more experimental style does often necessitate thinking about it. My partner (approvingly) described my original work as a 'stylistic blank' (the cleaner the better i say) and that's exactly what i like best to read - though it's always a pleasure to be dragged by the throat out of my comfort zone too.

I would always have described myself as a pantser - I never outline, never do writing exercises or character work or beat sheets or whatever (i'm quite resistant to a very structured formal approach). every fic i ever write starts with the germ of one very specific idea - a cameraflash-quick image of a scene, a piece of dialogue... whatever it is. and then i usually start to write at the start and then work my way through.

This one was fairly similar in approach, initially. I opened one doc for loose note-taking — it's where i jot down any ideas i had for scenes, any snippets of dialogue, anything I'd need to remember. I then started writing the fic itself - in this case, I actually skipped through and wrote out of order, not that I knew what order things were going to go in, as such - but I just wrote any scenes I had thought of that felt interesting to me, and skipped a lot of the world-buildingy scenes or the sort of "texture" scenes, the ones that construct a sense of the world they're in and the relationships they have. I then found myself in the position of having to go back and write those bridging scenes, and make the connections (which in some cases did not naturally fall into place) - it was not easy, and I wish i had taken a more linear approach to the writing, in retrospect.

So by the end, some scenes in this fic were written in 2021 and some in late 2024, which means that when I finally finished the rough first draft, the writing quality was patchy, the pacing was off, and some plotty stuff really didn't make sense. That's when the real hard work started.

A few people had looked over very early scenes, but the bulk of the fic was written with no input from anyone else - just three years of writing it into a vacuum without any sense of perspective. Showing it to my alpha/beta people was so nerve-wracking. they read it at different times, which was great as i could concentrate on their feedback one by one, and all three of them had different suggestions (as well as lots of overlap ofc). It was extremely helpful to see what made sense to them, and what they liked - but more significantly, what bits they went 'what the fuck' at, or which bits all three of them had issue with (i'm thinking of the ending here, i really had to kill some darlings there when all three were unanimously just like... tacky no). i had different docs for all three of them, and i worked off one master doc, deciding which changes i wanted to incorporate and how i wanted to approach them. plot stuff was a HUGE issue. the writing quality could be smoothed out - but i'm not a plotty writer and sadly this fic has A LOT of plot. so i needed to work on that. i also have some wolfstar (including a sex scene) which i was nervous about, as i have never read any wolfstar.

Once i finished all the edits, i then did one more read-through myself. I've never edited on such a significant level before. my other two longer fics were written for fests, usually in a scramble to get them done on time — this felt expansive in a way i couldn't have imagined allowing myself to be before i was in it, but as i was working it didn't feel necessary to try to force myself into speed i couldn't hope to achieve or maintain.

@sweet-s0rr0w and i had a really happy morning organising the chapter breaks, and then i had to decide on a title and write a summary. tagging was easier as i had my friends to advise.

another big difference to previous processes is the posting schedule. now i'm posting a chapter every two days, i spend the day between posts working on the upcoming chapter one more time. in all but one chapter i have made quite a few changes immediately prior to posting, which just goes to show that the work is shaping itself as it goes. It's been fascinating to me how putting the fic out into the world is giving me a sense of perspective, creative distance, and dare i say a tighter control over the narrative now that it's not just in my head anymore? so i do think any tiny remaining wrinkles are more satisfyingly flattened than i could have ever hoped for.

so in short, this work is different in scale, ambition, and process in almost every way to anything i've ever written. I can't imagine i'm likely to be able to pour myself into something so profoundly ever again, tbh. it took me by surprise, but it's been the most creatively satisfying thing i've ever done. having people finally reading it (and so generously too) is like getting a very special gift.

Regrets? Being the slowest writer in the world, being too perfectionist (not that i think it's perfect in any way, just i wanted it to be the best i could make it, when it probably would have been grand if it was ehhh fine, you know?) Also, i think i could probably have refined the pacing a bit more. We're on chapter 7 now and six months have passed, so basically the last three months of the fic take place over the last 14 chapters 🙈 But that's because this is where most of the romance and plot develops, so it makes sense that it would take up more space. And i do firmly believe that fics should be a bit self-inulgent, so why not stretch out in the parts i'm most interested in writing?

tagging @citrusses @maesterchill and @sweet-s0rr0w who i can never thank enough for the work they did to get me to this point. everyone already knows what brilliant writers all three are - what a lucky bastard i am to have had their insights and advice.

[antisocialbunnysims]

My new speedbuild is a... Y2K Barbie Horse Girl Sorority Dollhouse! Yes, I know it's a mouthful lol. Please check out the video to learn what inspired the build and to see my movie tour at the end where we meet the sorority sister horse girl dolls who call this dollhouse home. 😇 You can download this lot and add a dollhouse to your town! Info under the cut, download info also included in the youtube video description

DOWNLOAD THE LOT sfs

DOWNLOAD mediafire

residential, cleaned with Chris Hatch's lot compressor, built in UC. Some cc is included, and a couple maxis recolors by @aliksims that were very essential and they are only uploaded as bulk downloads so I included 4 of them that I used in a subfolder. Massive thank you to all the creators who made such amazing cc and recolors!

edit: forgot to mention you need numenor's no cutaway wall and prison wall from here, and you also need the bespoke build set master file! All the CC used in the video can be browsed on my pinterest board dedicated to the build.

[19burstraat]

Ok we all know guild me, build me exists due to my artistic abilities being very lacking in the visual arts, so rather than drawing the crows in the komedie brute, I had to write kaz in. however I had ideas for the others that I couldn't get into a fic, so I've put em down here

Kaz: (description ripped from guild me, build me):

a heavy black cape, sewn with stolen chains and jewels so that it jingled upon every movement (...) It was marked up and slit here and there, on the edges and at the collar, to give the impression of crow’s feathers, and it was made of some kind of shiny, velvety fabric that had the oily shine of crow’s plumage. The gloves were the same material, thinner and more embroidered than Kaz would have ever entertained, and the cane was a plain, inaccurate copy– (...) the mask; a silver crow’s head (...) crooked over the eyes and nose, almost like a Kaelish plague mask. But it left the mouth unblocked; of course it did. Dirtyhands needed to talk.

Inej:

Light and flimsy dark (doesn't have to be black; could be blue or grey) fabric for the veil and cloak. Has an element of spiderwebby fraying to it which is a nod to her being... Well, a spider lmao. But also meant to look ghostly and insubstantial, can sometimes see a metal shiny suggestion of knives underneath it. The veil can be parted just down the side of her face, so you can occasionally see a bit of her face, but never the whole thing. Would not be a practical costume to climb or spy in; too long and bothersome, the same way Kaz's Dirtyhands cloak would not be practical to pickpocket in. Sometimes productions get her a few cheap sheath knives.

Jesper:

Rabbit head mask, short cloak in some batshit colour like green or pink, lined w rabbit's fur and threaded with gambling chips, 'lucky' rabbits feet, coins, and stray bullets. Adornments tied on loosely so they swing everywhere when he moves. This way there's also a real risk of the Kaz and Jesper actors getting tangled together if they interact, which is not symbolic, just funny. This is our get-along Komedie Brute costume :) (we are stuck)

Wylan:

A once-fine red cloak with a high ruffly collar-- now tattered and singed and gone to seed. Little bits of wiring or string or pouches of powders etc sewn into it; sneakily embroidered with the Van Eck laurel around the edges. Mask, while elaborate and matching with the cloak, only covers the top half of his face, as if he's not quite as all-in as the others. For similar reasons, the cloak is half-length.

Matthias:

Wolf's head mask ofc, white fur cape a lot longer and more substantial than Jesper's, with heavy furring around the neck (made to bulk out the actor if they're not the right stature, which most will not be). Likely they also weight his boots to make his tread sound more imposing. Possibly a wig if they can afford one, since Druskelle are known for the long hair.

Nina:

Porcelain-doll Venetian style mask (you know the ones!) with a single black tear-- referential both to that bit in CK when they identified themselves that way in the crowd of Mister Crimsons, and the Queen of Mourning thing. Mask is covered with a very light veil, and she wears a long heavy silk cloak with a bit of a hint of a kefta, but not enough to get the Komedie Brute in shit from Ravkan Grisha lmao. Entrance usually heralded with a blue corpselight.

I imagine dependent on the production and the costumier they could look great and beautifully elaborate, or they could look cheap and shit lmao.

Bonus: I got bored and made a mock-up of a page of a Komedie play. I edited over the first folio for this, yes. Sorry to the Big W.S.

[cityof2morrow]

NetworkMAT: Streetscaping 001 (Sidewalks & Sewers)

Published: 5-23-2024 | Updated: 7-16-2024 (+hood visibility) SUMMARY “Accentuate the streets, pedestrian paths, and roadsides in your city …” “Rubberall is made from upcycled rubber, metal, and other materials. It's ten and a half times weather resistant as regular rubber and twice a pretty. Order it in bulk today!” “Build a functional water and waste management system in your city…” Another edition to the Network Materials (networkMAT) (Simmons, 2022-2024) series! This modular set includes 80 low poly objects for pedestrian paths, sidewalks, decorative foundations, and other roadside streetscaping. Objects are designed to be used with the Streets of 2morrow (Simmons, 2023) set  - but they’ll work without them just fine. There are also matching neon curb lights. How about functional sewer/water management networks?! You also get a canal, tunnel, deco, and functional items for making your own sewer network. The drains will clear the lot of any unattended puddles and garbage every few hours – visible exhaust rises from them during this process. The utility box and pipes earn the lot owner a small credit at each billing cycle – SimCity rewards good infrastructure!

DETAILS Requires all EPs/SPs. §0 and §100-1000 for lights/bollards, §300-1000 for sewer items Build > Architecture/Columns and Buy > Lighting/Plumbing/Electronics > Misc Most objects are repo’d to the BBNiche1Master (BuggyBooz, 2012) and/or Element Repository, which are both in the Repo Pack (Simmons, 2022). Don’t forget to grab some recolors – I recommend the “element” set HERE (Simmons, 2023) for the sewage water/material. See the following tags for more swatches: #co2recolors, #ts2recolors, #ts2repo #co2repo #co2repopack IMPORTANT:

2-click objects are for 2-click/step foundations and foundation pieces are for default foundations/stages. Still – you’ll be able to mix and match in a variety of ways.

You’ll need “move object on/off” and “grid on/off” cheats to place some objects.

Foundation pieces match default foundations/decks which are slightly larger than a 1x1 tile space. They will overlap slightly – so depending on your design, you may want to shift things around with cheats.

Some items are asymmetrical/oversized so they’ll fit better with others in the set and give the paths a bit of a “distressed” look.

The 1x1/2x2 round corners use angled (not rounded) curves; this detail is apparent when you apply solid color txtr’s to them.

Some lights are repo’d to the neon plutonium rod (Nightlife EP) and will use the same light colors.

There is a short tutorial for this set HERE.

ITEMS SIDEWALKS

2-Click Platforms, Planters, and Ramps (12-100 poly) 4-Click Foundations (32-64 poly) Bollards 001-002 (230-262 poly) – Bollard 001 is repo’d to the Plutonium Rod (Nightlife EP) Step Covers (Steps/Ramp) (~18-24 poly) -place with cheats; – center/side pieces work as Rubberall Platform 1x1/2x1 (20 poly) Rubberall Ramp Cover 1x1 (66 poly) Rubberall Corner (Left/Right) (96 poly) Rubberall Curb (14 poly) Just8, 1x1 Transition Curb Left (24 poly) Just8, 1x1 Transition Curb Right (24 poly) Just8, 1x1 Transition Platform (44 poly) Lighting (166-332 poly) Solo, 1x1 Planter (20 poly) Solo, 2x2 Planter (20 poly) Urban Future 4, 1x1 Curb (66 poly) – curb MESH; includes invisible recolor other curbs, curves, corner, and accent pieces (6-305 poly) SEWERS 001

Beam (Deco) (44 poly) Beam (Column) (44 poly) Canal (7x9) (140 poly) Pipes 001-003 (1000-1024 poly) Rails (1-Tile/3-Tile) (115-192 poly) Tunnel (7x9) (448 poly) Utility Box (Functional) (266 poly) – earns the lot owner a small credit for each billing cycle. Utility Wires (896 poly) Zogorman Drains (1x1 /3x1) (42-126 poly) K76 Drains (1x1/2x2/Raised) (728-744 poly) DOWNLOAD (choose one) from SFS | from MEGA COMPATIBILITY Compatible with Shiftable Everything (Lamare, 2022) and Object Freedom (Fway, 2023). Shift trees and garden plants into place before adding the planter pieces. CREDITS Thanks: Sim Shenanigans Discord folks, UV Mapping Tips (Frac, 2024). Sources: Beyno (Korn via BBFonts), Dosch SciFi Materials V1.1 (2022; 2009), EA/Maxis; Metal Grate (RBG_illustrations, 2019 via CCA), Modulo_Sewer_01 (Polo_Art, 2022 via Creative Commons Attribution), Modular Sidewalk/Curb Kit (Just8 2022-2023 via CCA), Neon Floor Lamp Add-On (PineappleForest, 2022), Nooks & Niches (Buggybooz, 2012), Offuturistic Infographic (Freepik), Retro Simlish Font/Simlish Manbow Solid (Adele, n.d.), Rubber Traffic Inspirations (Pewex, 2019), Sewer grate (Katy76 via PC Sims, 2007); Sidewalk (Zogorman, 2018 via CCA), Spawn of Square Stair (Khakidoo, 2007;), Textures (CuriousB, HugeLunatic, 2018; Simmons, 2023; 2010; Stonemason, 2011; Klevestav, 2013; 2010; EA/Maxis); Tree Planter w/ Grate (LordSamueliSolo, 2021 via CCA), Urban Future 4 (Stonemason, 2011).

[minoment]

Hello there, may I request some cod characters being harassed in a bar or whatever and having a tall, intimidating reader step in to defend them?

(Preferably with Krueger, König or Price?)

Imma give you all three because I can't choose.. ALSO THANK YOU FOR ASKING FOR KRUEGER

Warnings/Tags: purely sfw, can be platonic or romantic, gn reader, reader is MASSIVE (around 7ft), implied harrasment, implied violence

this is sloppy and poorly edited because i'm exhausted 😭

KREUGER

You'd probably only have to step in because of Krueger's violent tendencies. If it wasn't for you, you guys would probably be in a VERY different situation.

Krueger leant against the bar, sipping his drink while this clearly drunk man yammered on in his ear. He decided to ignore him, since he was exhausted, but the constant talking was making that familiar heat coil in his gut. His patience was slipping.

The man reached out and grasped Krueger's thigh to get his attention, almost making the soldier drop his drink. His eyes narrowed and his fists clenched as he put down his drink and opened his mouth to snarl something rude.

Just then, he felt a large presence behind him and a heavy hand on his shoulder. He relaxed against the familiarity of your towering form.

"Get lost.." you said, almost quietly. But the man looked up, his eyes widening at your hulking body and cold gaze. He was gone in an instant.

Krueger leant back against your chest, placing his hand over yours as the rage faded from his stomach. You were his rock, and he was forever grateful for that. Words weren't needed to express that, so you both stood there in silence and finished your drinks.

KÖNIG

Helping him out in uncomfortable social situations is probably the thing he loves the most. His anxiety gets too much sometimes...

König sits in the corner of the bar, trying to keep his head down and trying to seem a little shorter while he finished his drink. Somehow, that makes him seem even taller. A group of men walk up to his table, looking him up and down.

"Aye, how tall are you big boy?"

"Fuckin' hell you're massive.."

"I bet women drool over you.."

The comments make him scowl to himself, so he just looked down into the foamy top of his beer, wishing they would just disappear.

"What's the problem huh?"

"Can't take a joke?"

Their jeering continued, making the familiar feeling of his throat tightening begin to well up. He tried to slow his breath and swallow, attempting to ignore the men. The room seemed too small and too loud. All until a familiar voice cut through the noise.

"HEY."

König looked up in hope; the men spinning around and only being met with the muscled bulk of your chest.

"The hells going on?" You snapped, making the men glance around to each other and shake their heads. They muttered excuses and quickly left the bar, leaving you with König.

You slid into the seat next to König, ruffling his hair and wrapping an arm around his waist.

"I've got you Colonel.. Do you want to leave?"

König was practically buzzing with gratitude and relief, all he could do was hug you tight. You laughed softly, hugging him back.

PRICE

Price seems to be able to handle himself incredibly well in situations like these. Everyone needs a helping hand once in a while, and you are always glad to be that one for him.

Price goes to bars a lot, but on this particular occasion he just wanted to clear his head. He sat down with his beer, closing his eyes and taking a long sip. He swallowed and rested his head in his hand, just thinking to himself.

All of a sudden he feels a hand slide down his back and he sits up straight, his nerves on edge. The gentle laugh of a woman is heard behind him and he frowns, not in the mood.

"Can I help take your mind of something, sweetheart?" she purrs.

"Yeah, you're looking a little off mate.." another one adds.

To his horror, there was more than one. Great. This is what he got for going to a bar while on duty.

"Move your asses." A cross, familiar voice yells. Price could almost see the hulking shadow of your form moving across the bar. "He's with me."

Price's shoulders relax at the tone of your voice, the group of younger men and women swiftly leaving the bar at the sight of you. You laughed softly, leaning your head down onto his shoulder.

"This doesn't look like the training grounds Captain.." you teased gently, rubbing his arm. "Don't worry, just say you caught me here. I'm willing to do extra duties for you sir.."

Price couldn't stop the warm smile spreading across his lips.

"Thanks kid.."

[magicwithclass]

Reserved List

There are over 500 Magic the Gathering cards on the reserved list. This list is a promise to never reprint these cards in paper which means, that for these cards, the copies that exist are the only copies that will ever exist. The reserved list only comprises of sets from before the year 2000 so most reserve list cards are 25 years old minimum. You would think that the cards on the reserve list would all be astronomically high but very few are over a dollar. Many feel that the reserved list will eventually be rescinded but the failure of the 30th anniversary edition cards makes this seem unlikely especially in the modern era. It seems like a lot of money is in newer Magic cards especially with the advent of serialized Magic cards. Now may be the time to move in to bulk Magic the Gathering reserved list cards. Every year the number of reserve list cards in circulation dwindle. Cards get lost or destroyed or they enter vaults never to see circulation ever again due to investors and speculators. At the moment, old school Magic seems to be at an all time low so this might be time to move in to reserve list cards. I recently purchased a couple hundred reserved list cards in various conditions and over the next couple of weeks I will post them online and explain the logic behind my purchase. Am I simply wasting money buying bulk that will never rise above a buck? Am I a fool for diversifying my purchases instead of focusing on one specific reserved list card and attempting to buy it out? Only time will tell. However, I really do have a love and a passion for the cards and it makes me feel a part of the community to have a piece of magic history in my hands. It is an interesting feeling to own something where there are only a certain number of copies on earth. Isn't this the appeal of serial numbered cards? Are serialized cards just a modern day reserved list for a new era? After all, most of the cards on the reserved list are cheap for a reason. They are simply unplayable in the modern magic the gathering era in almost all formats. Most serialized cards are chosen because they see play and are highly sought after cards. Any cards seeing a lot of play on the reserved list are already astronomically expensive so what is the point? Well, no one can see the future and some cards that were completely unplayable just need the right card printed to become all stars. The only question is which cards will reach that echelon. Yes, I have some opinions on which cards are more likely to see possible play in the future but you never know. That is why I want to diversify my assets. Should a reserve list card below one dollar spike card I will likely have many copies of it in my collection. Should all cards on the reserve list eventually spike as people realize that once all copies are gone they are gone and the cards aren't getting any younger then I will have simply made a profit. Even now, I do think there are cards on the reserve list that are criminally undervalued. I also believe that one day a card will spike on the reserve list that no one will predict. I am going to show the reserve list cards I bought this month although I have been buying reserved list cards for years.