#mid century glass coffee table

[zegalba]

Knut Hesterberg for Ronald Schmitt Aluminum "Propeller" Coffee Table (1963)

[youmakemelikecharity]

Living Room - Open

Inspiration for remodeling a mid-sized contemporary formal living room with a brown floor and a limestone floor, white walls, a regular fireplace, no TV, and a tile fireplace.

[deejay-the-first]

Living Room Open in San Francisco Example of a mid-sized mid-century modern formal and open concept dark wood floor and brown floor living room design with gray walls, a hanging fireplace, a metal fireplace and a wall-mounted tv

[vampiricallyxspeaking]

Compact in Toronto Sunroom - small modern carpeted and brown floor sunroom idea with a standard ceiling

[daisy-source]

Open - Family Room

[billielolly]

Sims 3 Build - Cheerful Cottage

A cosy and vibrant cottage, perfect for a sim starting their new life. 1 bedroom and 1 bathroom on a 20x20 lot.

Watch the speed build: https://youtu.be/-Kc9YLWA6t0

Download here:

Patreon (free): https://www.patreon.com/posts/111265861/

Exchange: https://www.thesims3.com/assetDetail.html?assetId=9605511

Expansion packs:

Ambitions

University Life

Stuff packs:

None

Store content:

None

Custom content:

heaven - Pewter Slate Roof with White Trim

PralineSims - P-Glass Tiles III

ArtVitalex - Mayorka Ceiling Spot Lamp

Mutske - Kitchen Aria Cookerhood

Kerrigan House Designs - Autumnfell Bench

Lulu265 - Eclectic Living Room Coffee Table

PralineSims - Big Flokati III

PralineSims - Sheep Carpet IV

ArtVitalex - Glen Bedroom (Bed, Mirror)

johziii - Irene Bedroom (Nightstand, Lamp):

Martassimsbook - Lorelea Abstract Paintings:

Lulu265 - Bedford Bedroom Wall Art

Julietsimscc - Dolce Vita Paintings (Medium Frame)

Martassimsbook - Pinkboxdesign Kitchen Clutter Set (Utensils, Dishsoap)

ATS3 - Square Canisters

ATS3 - Kitchen Herbs (Basil, Mint)

ArtVitalex - Rowlett Hallway Extra (Key Bowl, Umbrella Holder)

Martassimsbook - cmdesigns Anemone Bathroom Set Candle

NynaeveDesign - Lyne Curtains (Curtains 1x1 Left, Curtains 1x1 Right, Curtains 2x1)

Martassimsbook - Cowbuild Dahlia and Delpinium Vases

Martassimsbook - Ars-botanica Cup of Pansies

ATS3 - Toothbrush #2

Mutske - Toiletroom Aria Toilet Paperholder

Onyxium - Kearny Bathroom Accessories (Soap Dispenser, Reed Diffuser)

Martassimsbook - Cowbuild My Home Set Potted Cordyline Palm

Martassimsbook - novvvas Mid Century Modern Living Room (Books 2, Succulent 3)

Martassimsbook - novvvas Planties pt3 (Ficus Elastica, Monstera Deliciosa)

bioniczombie - Lug Trio

Onyxium - Troia Living Room (Bergere, Sofa Double)

ArtVitalex - Juniper End Table

Martassimsbook - novvvas Rahat Set Ficus

Martassimsbook - Aira Daisy Set (Acrylic Vase A, Acrylic Vase Flowers)

ArtVitalex - Fullerton Toilet Brush

Catharsim - Syboulette Hortensia Beech Tree

Martassimsbook - Ravasheen Hang Around Closet Set P1 Shelves

Martassimsbook - Ravasheen Hang Around Closet Set P2 (Dress Belt, Summer Dress, Tunic, Long Sleeve Dress, Shorts, Sweater)

Martassimsbook - Ravasheen Hang Around Closet Set P3 (Floppy Hat, Ivy Cap, Fedora, Sunglasses)

[himbocoups]

˗ˋˏ Red Horn ˎˊ˗ | 18+ Only

synopsis: devils are contract workers - simply offer them a payment that they can never refuse, and your problems would be taken care of. the only thing is, what could a mere human possibly offer to a devil?

pairing: devil!jeonghan x innocent!reader (gn afab)

genre: fantasy, supernatural | smut, pwp

tags: flirting, food mention, office | bondage, light choking, creampie, dirty talk, fingering, oral, pet names, pnv, praise, if there's a term for jeonghan fucking you with one of his devil horns please tell me, reader wears lingerie, reader's first time, multiple orgasms...

wc: 5.4k

message from nu: this took me super long to write, but this has to be one of my favorites. special thank you to xan @aceofvernons and june @junkissed for keeping me company while I worked on the fic. I hope you all enjoy reading - nu <3

In the distance, the elevator dings sharp and clear, its ring piercing through the reception lounge as its large plum-colored crystal doors open with a rumble. Even when you sit facing away from the reception desk, you can imagine the receptionist greeting the incomer with their monotonous voice, drawling out the same script they gave to you – jet black orbs staring at you judgmentally while you try to scribble your personal information on the forms as fast as you can.

A large Prometheus-type creature in the seat across from you whimpers when its name is called, head hunched and practically trembling with every stride toward the smiling attendant. Open space in front of you, you can see through the large glass windows the hundreds of skyscrapers and verdant greenery where feet touch the ground under the red sky. This place is but a stretch, an affected area of Hell – at least for those who are not native. Even this lounge, untouched coffee bar with expensive Keurig models, circa 1920s sleek leather Barcelonas, and low mid-century style coffee tables with old filled-in Highlights magazines as table decorations, is deceiving in its own way. Because, if it wasn’t clear enough, all of you are in Hell.

Sharp teeth chattering, long tails thumping in anxiety, and sheepish whimpers, the atmosphere in what could be a beautiful place is filled with layers of dread and fear. You sit in your chair, right hand brought to your lips, while slowly peeling the layers of chipped skin off your lips, the light sweater you wore in the morning feeling as heavy as a weighted blanket. Flicking away the loose pieces to the floor a few inches away from your fuzzy teddy bear slippers, you slink further into your seat with thoughts of what could possibly come next weighing you down.

You wanted it. Correction. You still want it, even when the soft jazz playing from the speakers barely masks the distant screams and screeches that echo throughout the many halls and floors in the building. So desperate to have your need fulfilled you would even beg a devil, the devil, for even an ounce of that fulfillment.

So, when a siren with beautiful wings adorned with brown speckled feathers calls your name, you answer with a squeak and scramble to meet them in the corridor of one of the halls where they wait patiently for you with a kind smile on their face. The creature’s feathers ruffle as it elegantly struts down the bright corridor, passing various framed artworks and accolades, a file folder nestled under the crook of its left wing. Too deep in your mind, nitpicking at your outfit choice and squeaky voice whenever you answer the siren’s small talk, you fail to even notice that it isn’t the usual demon who is walking you to their office.

And the office, matte black large double doors that seem to aggrandize the more you stare at it, seems to you the most daunting thing you’ve ever experienced, dreading what’s on the other side of the doors. The doors automatically swing open when the siren approaches, and a rich puff of aroma fills your senses – strongly smoked tea leaves, spices, and aged tannin from the great oak trees you spent your vacations under during summer camps. Immersive, sultry, powerful…frightening.

The creature beckons you to follow them inside, the doors slamming shut when you enter the threshold. If you were dreading the office's interior - perhaps a grotesque chamber too scary to imagine, then the reality only confuses you. Plush gray Persian rug you’re too scared to step on, mahogany desk sitting at the end of the room, a large fish tank built into one of the walls big enough to hold a shark. It would look like a standard luxury CEO office if it weren’t for the shelves of trinkets from collectible matchbooks to eyeless Sylvanian Family figures to mysterious chained and muffled floating orbs that stand behind the desk.

Taking a seat in front of the desk, you watch the siren slowly stalk behind the desk, perching itself in the leather executive chair to rifle through the files with its back turned towards you. Your hands find each other in your lap, folded together, the right thumb twiddling with the left. It is awfully quiet, and the atmosphere is just as bad as it was in the lounge. No part of you wants to spark a conversation, afraid that the slightest conversation error could send you on a one-way ticket into the depths of hell. Does their boss know they are sitting in their boss’ seat?

However, when the leather chair turns around, you see a man frowning at what you assume to be your file – your attendant long gone. He flicks away his remaining brown feathers, letting his disguise dissipate into thin air while craning his head to the left and right to stretch his neck. A tri-toned nameplate appears at the front of his messy desk, deep burgundy red with a black center dark enough that you could mistake it for a void. Written in gold is the name “Yoon Jeonghan,��� and in a smaller font underneath is his official title.

The devil, as the plate reads, cocks an eyebrow at you through his long curtain bangs, causing you to take a craven stance – wincing and lowering your head so you don’t meet his eyes. Taking a page out of the file, he presses it against the desk and slides the page towards you, twisting it with his long nimble fingers in one smooth motion so the words face you upright.

“You summoned me via a crocheted sweater, a three-year-old three-wick seasonal autumnal candle that smells like pumpkin pie, and a tiny crushed packet of Prince Noodles you found at the back of your snack cabinet?” His voice is light and airy, but the terrifying smoothness and the seemingly innocuous nature of his tone only deceive the listener – he is a creature filled with malice and iniquity.

Slamming his palm against the table, he drags the page towards himself, creasing it with the strength and anger he exerts. The slapping sound causes you to flinch, and your eyes continue to stay trained on your lap, the shrill sound of the slap still ringing in your ears.

“Look at me,” he commands you in a low tone, a voice dipped in a thick vat of bubbling tar. “Summoning me with trash? Do I look like a joke to you?”

Scared you might combust into flames the moment you look at him, yet too scared to defy his command, you slowly lift your head to look at the man sitting across from you for the first time.

If his verbal command isn’t enough to evoke fear in the most draconian demons, perhaps his physical properties - his presence and his chiseled facial structure - command creatures differently. Dark brown eyes and thin-lipped, bottom lip slick and catching the light after he runs his tongue over it while scoffing at you, you have to admit the devil is strikingly handsome in his features. Pure sybarite from the decoration of his office to the decorations he wears, he outfits himself in leather garb. Fashionable thick leather blazer with a belt cinched around the waist, a silver chain dangles around his neck, sparkling in hues of red. And the horns that sit at the top of his head, dark crimson red with the shine of the waxy Red Delicious apples that stack in a pyramid under bright supermarket lights. Elephant tusk-like: thick, curved, and blunt. You wonder what it would feel like if he…

He appears before you in an instant, sitting at the edge of his desk, leaning over, and sandwiching you between his towering frame and the back of your chair. With an apparent smirk on his face, he enjoys watching you practically whimper underneath him, trembling in your seat. Irises expanding in size at exponential speeds is a clear tell, a giveaway of your need for him.

“You’re scared of me.” He points out with much effrontery while cocking his head, his face a mere few inches away from yours. He leans back with his arms crossed, planting himself firmly against his desk. “But you’re the one who summoned me, wanting to make a deal with me, right? So, no matter how scared you are of me, you’re still the boss and I’m your contract worker.”

“Contract worker?”

You can’t believe his words. He is agreeing to your stupid little request that you thought could never be fulfilled. Summoning a demon? Summoning the devil? It sounds like a quirky group activity to do at middle school sleepovers.

“You mean why did I agree to your request?”

You quickly nod your head in response.

“I’m a man with needs. And you’re a little angel who was brave enough to offer me a deal. It’s an obscene request that nobody of your kind has offered me for centuries - although, the last one perished with my touch…but you wouldn’t lie to me, right? Sweetheart?” He almost bats his long eyelashes with the pet name, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

The scene shifts almost theatrically – morphing from Jeonghan’s office to the tiny bedroom you were in about an hour ago. It seems real. All of it. The same putrid orange floorboards with dark knots that look like stains, hanging on the wall is a single bronze circular mirror your navy curtains slap against when the wind blows. You’re sitting in the middle of your bed, the old lumpy mattress you’ve been using since elementary school covered with the white checkered duvet set you found for free on some second-hand site. On the floor by the foot of the bed is a tiny space you made by pushing your jackets and plastic bags away, saved for summoning Jeonghan. Now, all that is left is soot, the Prince Noodles wrapper, and a now-stretched hand-made sweater.

Fucker. He is keeping the candle.

“It’s your first time so I can make you feel more comfortable – play on your turf. But the question is, can you take it? Can you take all of me? We can break it down into several sessions.” His suggestive tone is almost warmhearted. It almost makes you forget this is the first time you’ve met him. 

This situation would be laughable if it weren’t for the fact that you’re talking to the devil. You don’t know if he’s the type to laugh at bad jokes, but you weren’t going to test your hypothesis. 

“No,” you tell him. There’s only one thing on your mind. “One time.”

“You don’t realize what ‘all at once’ means, do you?”

Granted, if this were any other day with any other person, you would’ve faltered when this type of question kisses your ears. Doe-eyed, you watch him while sitting at the edge of your bed, a tiny nod in motion that makes him smile at you. The outer corners of his eyes crinkle, and he almost seems like a college boyfriend-esque type visiting your room for the first time - kind and patient, yet filled with corrupt thoughts.

He takes a seat next to you and proceeds to unbuckle the belt that cinches his waist. You’re too shy to stare at him while he undresses, but you can hear very clearly his garments hitting the floor one after another. The end of soft thuds and crinkles and a cool touch that turns your face to his, he holds your face in the palm of his right hand. So tender, yet his intentions are clearly laid out in the open.

“Why don’t you show me what pretty outfit you’re hiding underneath your sweater so I can show you what I mean?” his voice low, sending vibrations down to your core.

What you reveal underneath is a dainty two-piece. Thin lavender silk trim and clear organza with embroidered pastel flower details accentuate the cups that cover your breasts. The bottom matches the top, pulled high to your waistline. He hisses, forked tongue appearing for a split second before disappearing again.

“Contrary to what humans believe,” he mutters while holding one of your hands in his. “Angels don’t exist in this world. But at this moment…” He pushes a strand of hair away from your face, a subtle yet intimate gesture. He’s doing his best to prepare you for the worst without scaring you off, and you can’t help but to cling to him and seek refuge in his assuagement. “You’re the only Angel in front of me.”

Now you can see them more clearly. Dark brown eyes with bright specks of gold only a mere few inches away from yours. It makes you wonder how someone as beautiful as he can become the Devil. But he leaves no time for you to spare as he dips and plants his lips against yours. And you reciprocate with ardor, leaning back onto the bed as he changes his position so he is hovering, towering above you. His kisses are slow, focusing on making you feel good. Supple lips against your hot skin, he nips and licks at your flesh, leaving discolored hues of claret and magenta, him ravaging your untouched purity. And he takes the lead, grabbing your hands so they hug his neck so you can press him closer to you when you feel like it.

And you do. It excites you when learning how your body automatically reacts to him in need and lust: pulling him into your chest while feeling his soft skin rub against your lingerie, speeding up your kisses, and whining when you want more. He only smirks when he pulls away, looking at you from above and seeing your plump swollen lips and sexual frustration scintillating in your eyes. Your first hickeys on your neck and chest look like the beginnings of the first fallen leaves in the suburbs during Autumn. And you feel him grow against your core, a firm ball that waits to be unleashed with its owner’s command.

“Will my Angel be good for me?” He looks up at you while he traces the dainty straps that wrap around your skin, his pointer finger swirling around the yellow intricate embroidered flower that barely covers your nipple. The tip of the finger flicks against your rosy bud, and the feeling sends vibrations and shivers straight to your core. “Yes or no?”

“Yes,” you barely manage to whisper. “I’ll be good.”

“Then I’ll make you feel good.”

He bends down to kiss you again, this time with more fervor as if to mitigate any of your worries or concerns. But, strangely enough, you don’t. What is left behind in the trek to his office is replaced with new feelings of greed that you desperately want to have fulfilled during your nights alone. And the man who kisses down your body, pleasing you and praising you for reacting so well to his touch, seems multifarious enough to fulfill everything you dreamed about in secret.

When he reaches your core, it’s already uncomfortably wet. He seems to pay no mind as he pries away the lily embroidery that covers your cunt, cool finger briefly brushing against your skin to reveal your tender flesh that throbs underneath his gaze. Jeonghan starts slowly, prying your thighs apart with both of his hands. Firm grip on your skin, you whimper when he frowns at you for trying to shy away. Then you feel his lips planting pecks along your left inner thigh, making his way to your slick. 

If the way he kisses you is nothing but a lust-filled way of overcoming his workload, stress, and greed, then the way he eats you out is the complete opposite. Yoon Jeonghan doesn’t dive in head first after pushing you into the deep end; he holds your hand while guiding you into the pool, letting you adjust to the temperature of the water before swimming after him. Laps you up with the flat side of his tongue, long licks around your inner folds and swirls your core like a whirlwind, Jeonghan tsks when you start to close your thighs around his head without thinking. While telling you to behave, the low growl making you almost come on the spot, he pries your thighs apart. 

Firm grip and fingers digging into your skin, the Devil presses his tongue against the area you often frequented yourself at night, never thinking the day would come when someone else is able to visit. Forked tongue draws a heart down your slick, zigzags, paddles, and swims in your juices. It feels like two tongues are working you at once, and it makes you come twice as fast, your fingers gripping the bed sheets and your body jolting upwards. Supple lips close around where you feel the most sensitive, and he eats you out in a way that tells you that you would never be able to experience something like this in the future - not with him and definitely not with anybody else.

“Aah-ah fuck Jeonghan.” You squirm while he keeps his pace, wet sounds from beneath you filling your little room while he cleans up your aftermath. “Want more.”

“Aww my little Angel wants more?” He temporarily detaches his face from your cunt, red swollen lips glistening and glossed with your cum, to smirk at you. “Why don’t you look at me and beg for it?”

But he’s meticulous with continuously making you feel good. In the absence of his tongue, he replaces the emptiness with his fingers. Rubbing your nub in between his thumb and pointer finger, the Devil uses his other hand to rub himself - his hands prepping his long and pink organ. It takes a choked sob emitting from your mouth and your eyes rolling to the back of your head before you can even begin to think about looking him in the eye. And when you finally look him dead in the eye and trail to his raging member while letting out what he thinks are the prettiest and most deceivingly innocent whines, he finally understands your cupidity. 

So he thrusts his digits in your core, your panties now magically disappearing when he could’ve shrugged them off ages ago. Two long fingers fill your virgin hole, he scissors them while feeling your warm flesh contrast in reaction to his cold skin. Pointer fingers hook around your spongy G-spot, and he uses it as a sort of pulley, pulling him into you while your stomach tightens and squeezes with every quiver of his finger. You feel yourself soak his fingers, running down into his palms. He catches every drop with his tongue, licking his hands clean and then moving on to your cunt as he continues to finger you thoroughly.

He pulls his fingers apart, creating an opening to stick his tongue in you. Tonguing you, he savors your sweetness, sucking and thrusting his tongue deeper into you while he slides his fingers in and out of you. He fills you up until he runs out of room. You feel so corrupted, never expecting any person to make you feel so dirty, disgusting, yet so well-handled at the same time. You lust for more, to feel more as he smirks against your sex and reaches his open hand upwards to grab your breast. It feels plush and soft when he kneads it in between his fingers. Simply flicking his thumb over your sensitive nub sends shockwaves down to your core, and he surfaces with your cum dripping down his chin.

“How are you feeling?” he asks you, briefly leaning upwards to catch your lips in his mouth. “Can you take more? That was just to warm you up. Are you ready for me?” he mumbles against your lips.

The taste of yourself sits prominently in his mouth. You can taste yourself as you exchange another kiss with him, slowly winding down from your high.

“I- I want to try more.” You hear yourself openly admitting while he leaves tiny pecks along your collarbone. “It felt good.”

“Just good?” He looks up at you in feigned confusion. “Come on honey, I didn’t fuck you dumb just yet. I’m pretty sure you’re smart enough to come up with better adjectives. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“I don’t know how to describe it.” You gasp when he moves away from your cover to latch his lips around your nipple. “I cam- I think I came several times, but I’m still horny.” The last part comes out in a sort of whisper as if you’re afraid you would be caught by somebody if you ever admitted to being horny out loud.

“Mmm.” He groans with your tit in his mouth. “Mmf. Nothing wrong with being horny. And you did come. Several times…but are you ready to come more?”

“Yes.” You’re feeling more confident. “I’m ready for more.”

“Even if I have to tie you down?” He pushes himself up so he kneels in front of you. “I’m afraid your human body can’t take what I’m about to give you.”

“I want to try,” you reply. “‘All at once,’ remember?”

“Okay Angel.” He smiles, leaning over to put his hand behind your head to bring you upright. “All at once.”

Your face is so close to his body that you can smell the muskiness of his sex. Right in front of you is his member. It’s your first time seeing one this closely, red and stiff, and a tiny bead of precum that rolls off the tip. You wonder how it would feel in the palm of your hands, how you would be able to fit all of it in your mouth.

“Take a good look at it, Angel. Touch it or suck it if you want,” his voice is gentle yet mischievous. “Don’t be scared. I can guide you. Take your chances before I spend the rest of our time disappearing in your cunt.”

Hesitantly, you bring your lips closer to his tip, opening your mouth wide enough so your lips close around the head. It’s smooth like a cool cherry-flavored popsicle on a hot summer day, yet there’s a certain softness to the organ. You stare up at him with his head in your mouth, and he simply nods, thrusting forward a little to tell you that you can continue. 

A tiny lick causes him to flinch and then gasp, his eyes fluttering as you lick him again more confidently. He breathes out a groan when you place a hand on his waist while the other grabs his length. Closing your eyes, you hollow your cheeks and guide him in and out of your mouth, sucking and licking as you go. 

And the raging and tantalizing ache in him can’t help but to grow and extend along his erection, growing hot in his stomach as he looks down at you trying your best to suck his dick. It makes him feral knowing that he’s your first - the first to corrupt you, to coat your thick and swollen lips with your saliva and his precum, and to watch you as you clench your thighs while sucking him off. Just thinking about your request and actually seeing you try to fit him in your mouth without gagging intoxicates him and makes his mind fuzzy. But before he can begin to process his dick hitting the cold air, he feels your mouth latch around one of his testicles, gently sucking while your hand kneads the other, and your other hand continues to pump him in your mouth’s absence. 

This time, he sees you wide-eyed and staring right at him. And when your eyes roll to the back of your head, he immediately snaps and spasms - shooting white liquid all over the bed sheets. 

“Lay back down,” he demands. 

Repositioning himself over your naked body, he wipes away a few splatter marks on your face and reapplies it to your open lips. It’s hard to concentrate on the new salty taste when the Devil is staring intently into your eyes while his hands roam your body, touching and flicking. 

He asks you about punishments for making him come without warning - something about how he should prolong your virginity, a concept that you wanted him to take away. 

…it’s just a social construct used to belittle others, the contract states. But if anybody is going to take it away, then it has to be the Devil himself. 

“This might hurt a little,” he tells you. 

Invisible ropes drag your hands above your head and tie your thighs to your bed. Making sure you’re secure Jeonghan quips, “In case you try to run away.”

You can barely see what he’s doing from your angle. His dick is slowly becoming hard again, so you think he’s going to eat you out in the meantime. But nothing can prepare you for what comes next. 

It feels cold and warm, a long tubular shape slowly digging and nudging itself into your cunt. Yet, you don’t feel the same wetness you felt when he stuck his tongue in your cunt. The figure pulls in and out, sliding and squelching with every thrust. Your mouth drops open, letting tiny soundless exhales fall out of your mouth. A burning sensation builds up at the bottom of your stomach, causing you to lurch and struggle against your binds. Jeonghan only chuckles from underneath you, his face shrouded by his hair. It’s only when he pushes deep, causing you to yell his name when you realize the object he pushes into you. 

What fucks your cunt in a steady rhythm is the same crimson red, elephant-tusk-like horn that sits on top of Jeonghan’s head. He slightly turns his head so the thick and curved object hits you in the right spot, causing you to struggle, moan, and breathe heavily. 

“What a twisted angel,” Jeonghan grunts. “You didn’t think I would be able to read your thoughts? You didn’t think the Devil would be able to listen in on every single dirty thought that came across that pretty little head of yours?”

“Fuck. P-please Jeonghan,” you whine through gritted teeth. “Want your dick.” 

“No.” His tone is flat. “I’m not horny yet. Hearing you whine and mewl about how good I make you feel ”

“N-No,” you manage to say. “Can’t wh-whine if you’re choking me.”

Your invitation causes him to immediately pull out of you, therefore causing you to lurch forward with a gasp and fall back down when you’re stopped by your binds. It’s a lot clearer now, his wet red horn and the hair matted down by your juices. Still, there is nothing that could make the man in front of you become an eyesore. 

He’s objectifyingly beautiful - now not as downright terrifying as you thought him to be. Your little push of confidence, although a bit passive, goes a long way as he bends down once again to catch you between his lips, kissing you feverishly as his left hand slowly works its way to loop around your neck. 

It’s a new feeling, feeling the pressure of his palm against your neck. The pressure is light - not how Jeonghan would’ve liked to choke you, but enough so the concept doesn’t scare you away. Gently squeezing the sides of your esophagus, Jeonghan removes his lips from yours so he can see you clearly. Chin lifted up and your eyes glossed over, you seem to him to be needier than ever. He watches you as your struggle against his invisible binds, hips thrusting in the air. 

“Please Jeonghan.” You struggle against his hand. “Please. I’m ready. I’ve been ready. Please-”

“Beg.”

“Fuck,” you breathe out. “I’m begging. Please.”

He adds a little more pressure around your esophagus, making you struggle and almost come on the spot. “More.”

“W-want t-to see your pre- ah fuck pretty face lose its beauty when you bend over me while fucking me hard. I want you to be mean to me and pull my hair so my back arches while you pound into me from behind. Make my thighs quiver and tremble as my knees go red. Use me until I’m left with nothing but tears.”

“I can make you cry.” He lets go of your throat, tsk-ing at the fading soft pink imprint left behind on your skin. “But not in the way you described…You’ll be leaking from somewhere else, Angel.”

You breathe his words in like an airy aphrodisiac, filling your lungs and clouding your brain with blissful jubilation. But the tears. The tears fall when he slowly pushes into you, cooing and soothing you while you cling onto him, fingernails digging red welts into his bare back while you struggle to adjust to his size. The stinging pain feels like no other, but fuck does it feel good to have him inside you. 

Wrapping your legs around his waist, he bends over you and whispers in your ear, “Keep tightly clenching around me before I can properly fuck you and you’ll never be able to leave Hell. Understand?”

“Yes,” you reply, hissing when he pulls back.

Then he starts pushing slowly back into you, savoring how your walls etch and hug his ridges, savoring how your eyes immediately roll to the back of your head in response to your pleasure. Another thrust, faster this time. He plagues you with need, making you practically fuck him yourself by angling your legs on the bed so you can push yourself into him over and over again. He pinches your nipple in anger, but it only sends a lewd string of pain straight to your core. You find it pleasurable, your nerves heightened to a new level. 

So he puts his hands around your waist and tells you his name again - because that’s the only thing you’ll remember after he’s done with you. 

He ruts into you over and over again, harshly and quickly. The only sounds filling your tiny bedroom are your hiccups that complement the sound of his skin slapping against yours. Your whole body jerks and rocks with every thrust, your bed no longer standing in the same place, now slightly askew. He doesn’t even give you time to recover when you cum on his cock, your belly tightening, releasing, and then tightening again in a matter of a few seconds. 

“Whore,” he sneers. “Look at you, all fucked out underneath me. You can’t help but come multiple times, can you?”

He rubs your clit while pounding into you, watching you writhe in pleasure underneath him, very well unable to respond to his rhetorical question. 

“And you want me to pound into you from behind?” He mockingly laughs out loud. “All that talk but you can’t even form a word. Form a word then. Try forming a word before I cum.” 

But another wave swells in your abdomen, causing you to jerk forward in reaction. Your body feels sweaty and sore, but the pleasure rolls in waves - building in you and ejecting out of you like a consistent ebb and flow. Every single bite, flick, and word that comes out of him only breaks you even more. And you topple like a house of cards, reduced to nothing but his personal fucktoy. 

He chases his own orgasm when he feels like it, pushing into you deeply and thrusting one last time by hitting your walls so he can slowly milk his seed as he rolls his hips. And when he pulls out, he watches his liquid slowly collect at your entrance, threatening to spill out. Your body still twitches in his absence, your aftershocks squeezing and making his seed drip and run out of you. 

Your eyes are blurry, body is sore with tiny cartoonish stars floating and rotating above your head. You can’t expect the Devil to stay. He had done enough for you, more than you could ever imagine. It takes everything in you to bring yourself to whisper his name one last time before you feel him leave your side. 

On the floor where you summoned him is an invitation to summon him again:

Whenever you’re ready. He writes. I’ll make you crawl. -YJH, The Devil

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Small glass house. No. Just, no. 2011 glass house in Lakeport, CA. 1bd, 1ba, $1.25M. Once again, NO. Also, the property is off-grid and powered by "highly efficient roof mounted solar panels with a separate battery bank and propane generator for reliable power."

For the price, you would think that they had electric shades or blinds.

But, they just have big, bulky gray draperies that you pull yourself.

The small kitchen looks mid-century modern, considering it was built in 2011.

The dining area.

Hmmm. The ceiling is metal.

There's also a table for two out on the deck.

Couch and coffee table facing the window.

Right next to the bedroom. Looks like the walls are glass, also.

I guess the home is minimalist, b/c all your stuff would be visible.

View from the bed.

Shower, toilet peeking out. I thought that it would be more enclosed.

The tub is outside.

I guess the Buddha's included.

Also, on the property is a metal building.

It's a guest house but the owner uses it as an office and home gym.

It has a nice bath.

And, a sauna.

Lamps bounce off the glass walls at night.

Lots of land- 64.54 acres.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/3312-Benmore-Valley-Rd-Lakeport-CA-95453/201509479_zpid/

[thetourguidebarbie]

oh my, love is a lie

for @the-road-betwixt. happy birthday. i did some recon on your favorite tropes and i hope i hit close :)

--

"Love is a lie," Caroline declared, throwing back a glass of $418 zinfandel like a shot of tequila and slumping back on the couch in Kol's exquisitely decorated mid-century modern condo. "There's no such thing as soulmates. If I can’t find mine after over a thousand years of trainwreck relationships, it's fake."

"Cheers to that, darling," Kol said, waving his own glass in the air.

"You're so lucky you're not half-wolf," Caroline grumbled.

"Love can be a lie for me too, now. Don't be racist."

"Okay, yeah, but you don't start every relationship knowing that it's probably not right and that your soulmate could interrupt at any time and completely nuke it, so what's the point of even trying."

"I ruin things just fine on my own, it's true," Kol allowed. "But I think you're being a bit fatalistic."

Caroline huffed, propping her bare feet on the coffee table and idly wondering whether painting her toenails a mopier shade would be warranted. Pale grey, the color of the dead corpse of her love life, perhaps?  "The concept of soulmates is by definition fatalistic, Kol. And that's what post breakup wine nights are for. Fatalism, derogatory!"

"You'll find him," Kol insisted, in a rare moment of genuine emotional support. "You have forever, after all."

"Yeah, I do! What if he's already dead? What if I missed him?" Caroline asked, now drunk enough to give voice to the fears that she usually kept compartmentalized in the most out-of-the-way part of her mind. "What if I didn't find him in time and now I'll never have anyone?"

"Ah, we've had enough to invite the entrance of sad-drunk Caroline. A pity."

"Shut up," Caroline whined. "You're not being very helpful."

"I like to think I've been an excellent support system," Kol said indignantly. "I've listened to you mope for centuries and haven't encouraged you to contact an ex-boyfriend once. Do you know how rare that is in this day and age? In the era of looking up your ex-husbands on linkedin because it's the only platform they've not blocked you on?"

"Well I don't have a linkedin or an ex-husband, so that wouldn't be very helpful," Caroline said, glancing at Kol, whose eyes were shifting guiltily. "What?"

"Sorry, darling," he said quickly, chugging some wine straight from the bottle.

"For what? It was a joke," Caroline said slowly, her eyes narrowing.

Kol was being. Weird.

So weird.

"But we've never talked about it," Kol said, avoiding her gaze. "Scrupulously avoided it, in fact."

"Avoided what?" Caroline asked, mystified. 

"I'd assumed it would make you upset."

"That what would make me upset?"

"Mentioning Nik."

Caroline blinked. "Who?"

Read the rest here.

[simstorian-blog]

Dusty Turf

(CC List + Links)

World Map: Oasis Springs

Area: Parched Prospect

Lot Size: 30 x 20

(3-bedroom, 2 Bathroom)

Gallery ID: Simstorian-ish

Packs Used

Cottage Living

Desert Luxe Kit

Dream Home Decorator

Eco Lifestyle

Get Famous

Get Together

Get To Work

Growing Together

Island Living

Laundry Day Stuff

Outdoor Retreat

Spa Day

Wedding Stories

Build Mode

AnneSimmer – Wall Mural Pt. 1

Felixandre – London (Chandelier, Panelling)

Felixandre – Grove Pt. (Plaster Floor)

Harlix – Bafroom (Mirrors, Windows)

Harlix – Harluxe (Used Throughout)

Harlix – Orjanic Pt. 1 (Column)

Harlix – Tiny Twavellers (Mural Wall)

Harrie – Kwatei Pt. 1 (Doors, Windows)

Max20 – Polished Sandstone Trim

Peacemaker – Curly Koa Flooring

Peacemaker – Simple Siding

SimPlistic – Leafy Wallpaper

Sooky – Victorian Floor Tiles

Buy Mode

Anye – Cal Magazine

Anye – Neomy Table Lamp

Anye – Zara Bathrobe

Awingedllama – Apartment Therapy (Rug)

Awingedllama – Boho Living (Cement Planter)

Awingedllama – Blooming Plants

BlueTeas – Rivers Bedroom (Base, Headboard)

CharlyPancakes – Lavish (Shopping Bag)

ClutterCat – BusyBee Pt. 2 (FlatBox)

ClutterCat – Cozy Casita (Candle)

ClutterCat – Dandy Diary Pt.1  (Leather Tray)

ClutterCat – Dandy Diary Bathroom

Dereon – Silver Lining Stool (DL Available via Patreon)

Felixandre – Chateau Pt. 4 (Square Container)

Felixandre – Colonial Pt. 3 (Parasol)

Felixandre – Florence Pt. 3 (Luggage)

Felixandre – Florence Pt. 4

Felixandre – Grove Pt. 2 (Stacked Plates)

Felixandre – Paris Pt. 3 (Pouffe)

Felixandre – Shop The Look 1 (Side Table)

GreenLlamas – Kerv Inkblot Rug

Harlix – Baysic (Bedding, Hanging Clothes, Packs System)

Harlix – Baysic Bathroom (Toilet)

Harlix – Kichen (All glasses)

Harlix – Livin’ Rum (Tv, Bowl, Vase)

Harlix – Orjanic Pt. 2 (Vase)

Harrie – Octave Pt. 4 (Light Switch)

Joyce – Simple Live #5 (Separate Towel)

LeafMotif – House & Garden Covers

LittlBowBub – Home Barista

Littledica – Delicious Kitchen (Paper Towel)

Littledica – Rise & Grind (Flavour Syrup)

Madlen – Dionis Ottoman

MyCupofCC – ColourTalk (Mirror)

Myshunosun – Gale Dining (Cart, Wine Bottle, Wine Glass)

NoStyle – Mara Living Chair

Peacemaker – Ellipse Armchair

Peacemaker – Mid-Century Abode (Bedframe)

Peacemaker – Oasis Chic Living (Cordyline)

Pierisim – Domaine du Clos Pt. 2 (Account Book)

Pierisim – Domaine du Clos Pt. 4 (Zucchini Chopping Board)

Pierisim – Living Room Mini (Citrus Bowl)

Pierisim – MCM Pt. 2 (Rug)

Pierisim – MCM Pt. 3 (Metal Sconce, Soap)

Pierisim – MCM Pt. 5 (Table Lamp)

Pierisim – Oak House Pt. 4 (Shower)

Pierisim – Vera Bathroom (Mounted Hook, Robes, Soap)

Ravasheen – Hot Sim Disguise Clutter (Tray)

RusticSims – Kind of Modular (Books, Coffee Table)

RusticSims – Lofi Pt. 1 (All Lighting)

Severinka – Aura Ottoman

Sundays – Duvet

Sundays – Kediri Pt. 1 + 2 (Sofa, Throw Pillows)

Sundays – Kuta Pt. 1 (Dining Table)

Sundays – Pandawa Pt. 3 (Pouf)

Sundays – Sumba Pt. 1 (Pillows)

Sundays – Swell Pt. 1 (Bolster Pillow)

Sundays – Ungasan Pt. 2 (Slippers)

Sundays – Yarra Pt. 3 (Bed Pillows)

Syboubou – Caroline Shower Rug

Tuds – Ind 02 (Wine Rack)

Winner9 – Malibu Pillow

DO NOT REUPLOAD MY LOTS.

DO NOT CLAIM THEM AS YOUR OWN.

DO NOT PLACE BEHIND A PAYWALL.

Tray Files: Download

[deepdreamnights]

Spaced Out

Uhhh...

The image(s) above in this post were made using an autogenerated prompt and/or have not been modified/iterated extensively. As such, they do not meet the minimum expression threshold, and are in the public domain.

Prompt: A photograph of an elegant woman from the 1950s, with her hands in front showing a manicure and wearing pearl earrings. She is sitting at a table with one hand resting on it. The other arm has two small glass perfume bottles hanging off its wrist by their labels. Her hair is styled to appear romantic yet natural. She wears a black dress against a black background, with soft lighting, in the style of vintage-style portrait photography with a grainy film filter.:: The interior of the massive house features a spiral staircase with green carpet and wallpaper. The living room has a mid-century modern style, with white furniture and a green glass table lamp on the coffee table. The walls are white, and the living room has a green patterned wallpaper. The curtains are cream-colored, and the overall aesthetic is one of retrofuturism.:: A simple cartoon drawing of three stick figures, one lion, and two people standing next to each other on lined paper in the style of David Dennis. The person wearing glasses is sitting down, holding their head with both hands while looking at an angry man dressed as Zothof Mamenti, who has long hair tied back into braids, his eyes glowing red, and sharp teeth showing through thin lips. There should be no text or words in these doodles. They have been drawn by hand using a black ink pen --ar 3:4 --v 6.1

[pinkiepiebones]

if it’s ok can I request gardener renfield opening up a greenhouse :-)

Years after the death of Dracula, Robert Montague Renfield buys his first home. Well, technically it's his second home, but the first one was purchased well over a hundred years ago and for all he knows might have been knocked down and paved over to create a new by-pass.

Anyway.

Robert's settled in New Orleans, because it is where Dracula was dismembered and mixed with concrete and dumped into the sewer system and he'd like to keep an eye out for any vampiric shenanigans that may arise, but also because he's just tired of moving. He sells most of the objects d'art he's been lugging around the past century. He puts some in a storage unit though, out of a sour mix of nostalgia and dread- the stuffed raven, the stuffed albino fox, a few paintings, some bolts of fabric. The coffin.

"Dude, someone would pay millions for that coffin," his best friend Rebecca Quincy asserted the day Robert wheeled it out of the rented U-Haul and into storage. "There's some weird old rich guy out there who would totally want it. You don't have to keep it."

Robert swiped his arm across his brow. "Who'd buy this thing? Honestly? It's a lead box lined with the fur of some extinct animal. Give me a name."

Rebecca thought a moment. "Nicholas Cage?"

"Hasn't he already got a pyramid tomb?"

"Oh yeah... Well maybe he'd use Dracula's coffin as a coffee table or somethin'."

Robert shook his head. "Even if I had a way to contact Mister Cage, I doubt even someone of his, ah, eccentricity would want this." Robert shoved the coffin into the darkest corner of the storage unit. "No, it'll do just fine tucked back here."

Robert's new home is small-but bigger than his apartment with two bedrooms, one and a half bathrooms, and a full acre of yard space- and what the home renovation shows would call a "fixer upper" with "good bones." It makes him happy to work on it. He listens to music and the occasional psychology podcast as he polishes the original wood floors or paints the walls or rewires the light switches. It's therapeutic- he's gone from caring for a monster to caring for himself, and he has found that he enjoys making things bright.

The yard is a paradise for Robert. In the front yard he sticks a couple of those cheery plastic flamingoes he'd wanted for decades and puts in a white picket fence. He gives his home what the home renovation shows would call "great curb appeal." Perhaps superstitiously now, Robert makes sure to not buy a "welcome" mat, and he plants wolfsbane just inside the fence's perimeter. In his head he plays a very old memory of Doctor Van Helsing waving the wolfsbane in his face. It turned out that the man had been right- Dracula fucking hated this stuff.

His backyard is the bigger of the two yards and he decides quite early on he wants a greenhouse. Rebecca helps him build it (mostly because he promises to take her out somewhere nice for dinner, but also because she's his friend and she loves how happy he is). It's small, maybe a bit bigger than two tool sheds, but the inside walls have sturdy, wide shelves where he can start seeds, there's a toolbox with drawers for labels and waterproof markers and seed packets. Bags of soil and watering cans are carefully tucked under the shelves and garden spades varying in length hang from a little cork board propped up against a wall. Robert even refurbished an old battery powered radio and has it set to a station playing classical music, since that seems to be what plants like the most. There's fresh white gravel making up the floor and a thermometer hangs from a string of fairy lights tacked to the wooden frame of the glass door. Plans for a garden are scribbled on a pad of paper beside the toolbox.

Robert and Rebecca are on his little patio one evening, sitting in refurbished mid-century lawn chairs and drinking fizzy alcoholic drinks. Rebecca gestures to the greenhouse. "That turned out pretty good, didn't it?"

Robert nods.

"You ever think about scaling it up?"

"What do you mean?"

Rebecca sets her drink down to gesticulate as she talks. "I mean, you still own the hospital, right? If you pay someone to demolish the building, that'd be a great place to build a greenhouse that people could come buy stuff from." She picks up her drink and sips. "You could even have classes, y'know, on proper plant care. People would love that shit."

Robert smiles. "I guess I never really thought about it. Might feel good to share what I do," he pauses to take a drink, "especially now that what I do isn't, you know, terrible."

Rebecca chuckles.

[nicolestamas]

The Pastel Ladies - A Delightful Duplex by Harlequin Eyes

I built this duplex a few years ago, inspired by a house I drive by occasionally. In my mind the homes are occupied by two elderly sisters. Each side has a living room, kitchen, half bathroom, full bathroom, main bedroom, secondary bedroom/study/bonus room, small back yard, and a tiny front porch off the main bedroom where the sisters sit and chat over tea and coffee. It's definitely got a lot of "cool grandma" energy but you can make it over however you want.

This has been in my game for a while, and I've modified it slightly to work with the upcoming Sims 4 For Rent Expansion Pack. More pictures under the cut!

DOWNLOAD

Packs Needed:

Discover University

Island Living

Get Famous

Seasons

Cats & Dogs

City Living

Get Together

Realm of Magic

Strangerville

Jungle Adventure

Parenthood

Spa Day

Paranormal Stuff

Backyard Stuff

Kids Room Stuff

Romantic Garden Stuff

Movie Hangout Stuff

Cool Kitchen Stuff

REQUIRED CUSTOM CONTENT: (Files are included if I couldn't find a source)

Dishwasher Pro recolor by me (included)

Autumn Pumpkin, Contact Solution, & Gelydh Shop Head by ajOya (included)

Barbie Doll & VHS Box

Make-up Bag & Soft Glasses Case

Lemon Timer

Hair Dye Box

Make-Up Tray

Butter

Toaster (red IKEA-looking one)

DIY Container Mug

Hemnes Vanity

5th Avenue Deco Globe

Magazine - Arts/Music/Architecture

Eyeshadow (6 color pots)

Open Book - Simlish

Tawashi

Coffee Table

Animated Birdbath

Penchant For Plaid Wallpaper

Bistro Tea Set

Fishermen's Nook Set

Woven Chest

Crystal Ball

Get Famous Clutter

Parenthood Bathroom Clutter

Vintage Glamour Clutter

BRIE Reading Glasses

Hatch Mowed Grass by BritStep (included)

Floral Wallpaper by DWS (included)

Freed Eco Decor

Family Fun Stuff Conversion

Pillow Galore Collection

Samspelt Deer

Upright Piano

Sputnik Toaster

Eco Kitchen Stuff

Striped Wallpaper with Wainscoting

Umbrella Stand Collection

Amber Glasses

Plant Life Kit

Cathrineholm Lotus Inspired Kitchen Recolors

Steaming Cups

Shabby Chic Round Pillow

Cottage Garden Set

Sheer Will Curtains

Mid-Mod Seema Chair & Mid-Mod End Table

Kitchen Goals

Study All Night Clutter Item

Luminous Lotus

Binge Inking Stacked Books

Luminous Ball in Lotus Flower

Spring Fling Paintings

Rifle Paper Company Window Valance

Moravian Star Lamp

Under Stairs Bookshelf

Slot Fixes

Tastefully Tacky Paintings

Sims 2 to 4 Mask Conversions by unknown (included)

Ornate Display Stand

Christmas Gifts 2018 - Sweets

BV Souvenirs & Collectibles

Simplistic Curtains Add-Ons

Additionally there are items from the following sets by Peacemaker_IC:

Annabel Bedroom Suite

Atwood Living

Caine Living

Cats & Dogs Siding Recolors

Coba Bedroom

Colour Me Rugs

Country Crafter Build Set

Elsie Bedroom

Essa Kitchen

Futura Living

Geomertic Murals

Graciously Georgian Set

Grove Furniture Collection

Hamptons Getaway

Hamptons Hideaway

Hamptons Retreat

Mid-Century Abode

Mid-Century Eclectic

Mina Kitchen

Myra Living & Study

Oasis-Chic Dining

Oasis-Chic Living

Ornate Tiling

Paranormal Add-Ons

Roarsome Bedroom

Rock'n Rockers

Shrunken Coffee Tables

[akallia]

the fluidity of concrete, part 1

Hello, all! I'm back. Nothing much here but there will be important notes at the end. This is a cross-post from AO3, and there will be a link to it at the end if you want to read it there. Happy reading!

Pairing: Albedo x Fem!Reader, Kaeya x Fem!Reader if you squint

Word count: 4k

Concept: Albedo, son of a renowned German architect, finds himself in small-town America as his mother slips into a coma. You, an employee of your local library and resident architecture nerd, form an unlikely relationship with the foreigner with the platinum blonde hair.

CW: smoking, language, substance abuse, death, abusive parents

Most people would never get to see true stasis. Stasis, a state or period of inactivity or equilibrium. The best place to find stasis is a home owned by someone important which was turned into a museum after their passing. That is where stasis is in its purest form. Where else would you experience a state of such stillness? It feels so wrong - either the original owners should come back and inhabit their home, or the tourists should occupy it. Regardless, the stasis of an empty, culturally significant home possesses an arresting emptiness to it. It is… stasis. Stasis implies that there will be change, soon. It is a home. Homes are for living. Where are all the people? 

The home in question: mid century modern, hidden away behind rows of thick symmetrical hedges, a sprawling lawn behind it stamped with a checkered mowing pattern, dotted with willow trees. A bright conversation pit in the center of the living room with a baby grand Steinway adjacent, immaculately dusted and wanting. Low, flat ceilings, floor to ceiling built in bookshelves decorated in antique clocks and obscure coffee table books on art. A wall of glass behind the conversation pit that faded into a short concrete porch. 

Gold stood there with her hands clasped thoughtfully behind her back, a large, ugly hat on her head as she surveyed the lifeless lawn and its perfectly cut grass. Just her, and her “translator” on the phone in the kitchen, making sure she didn’t wander off. She tended to use her old age to her advantage these days, meandering wherever she pleased in the name of “allowing an old woman her pleasures.” 

—

Again, Gold and her omnipresent companion, now at one of the churches and preschools downtown. Mona, her translator, always on the phone, balancing herself on one hip with all her weight on a dangerous-looking black stiletto heel and impeccably dressed with her innate balance of tasteful and expensive. She jabbered on in German… 

“Was du gesagt hast, klingt für mich so, als ob…” She gave a quick glance at Gold, who had picked up one of their discarded umbrellas and was meandering. “Ach nee!” She said rudely. 

The courtyard of the church was a strange one. The church itself was large and imposing, a compound occupying an entire city block. A large L-shaped rectangle formed the main structure, and in the crook of the L it sank down to an open courtyard an entire story into the ground, a sort of hamster tunnel up above from the preschool to the church proper providing the only shelter from the elements. White concrete contrasted against the green summer grass that housed a small fenced-in playground. The concrete proudly exhibited its popularity with wheel tracks from skateboards and roller skates. 

Gold collapsed in a heap on the concrete as the clouds opened and rain fell on her old body. 

Mona dropped her bag and flung her heels off and ran, dialing 911 as she went. 

--

It was your mid-afternoon smoke break. You wished books weren’t so delicate. If they weren’t, you might be able to smoke in the library instead of outside. It was so fucking hot outside, in the June midwestern heat. You hated it. But the view of downtown was nice, and you got to stare at the church, the library, and the Ragnvindr house. You didn’t mind that much. It might have been a less miserable smoke break if Kaeya was there to keep you company. He was good at distracting you with intellectual bullshit. 

You stared thoughtfully at the large gray-green sculpture that the kids aptly called Dinosaur Bone. The architect had designed it such that when you looked through it from the right angle, the clocktower of the L-shaped church across the street was framed perfectly inside of it. You leaned against the wrought-iron fence of the Ragnvindr house that bordered the library, observing the clocktower, which was in desperate need of renovation. It was interesting that something only a few decades old could rot like that. But it didn’t surprise you. Rot was everywhere, no matter the age. 

While you pondered, you ran over the script in your head, rattling off lines about the church. You hoped the historical society would accept your job application for a tour guide. You knew your stuff, but the thought of staring at strangers, with their expectant eyes intently gazing back at you, and having to recite something from memory gave you heart palpitations. Another drag from your cigarette. You clenched the clear red gas station Bic lighter for dear life. 

“Fuck,” you whispered. You stepped on your cigarette, and went back inside to clock in for the rest of your shift at the library. 

Inside, you were in the zone as you called it. It was easy to get lost in yourself working here. The library was always occupied, but never busy. The ceilings were impossibly high and waffled with concrete, lights inset in every adjacent square like checkers. The rows and rows of wood shelves complemented the red brick walls and dated blue carpet, and the lazy midsummer light pouring in from the monstrously large sections of glass between the brick pillars made you feel cozy.

A half hour of stocking the shelves with returned books came and went, and you had made it to the back of the adult fiction section. There, on the floor leaning against the stacks, was your coworker Kaeya. His thick raven hair was pulled back in a signature low bun, and he wore the same vans, black jeans, and button-down that he wore almost every day, a getup which you affectionately dubbed The Kaeya. He was holding a book open in his tanned hands, brows furrowed in concentration. 

“Reading anything good?” You took a seat on the floor next to him. It was getting close to closing, and you were sure that nobody desperately needed a third copy of Crime and Punishment at this hour.

“Not sure,” he responded, not looking up at you. “Might just be grad school gibberish.” 

“If you need help with something, let me know,” you offered. 

“Yeah…” he trailed off, still engrossed. He suddenly shut the book with one hand and met your eyes thoughtfully. “Do you wanna… see a movie tonight?” 

You were taken aback. Kaeya was your work best friend and nothing more. You bit your lip, wondering how to handle the situation, though you couldn’t deny you found him attractive. In all honesty, it was a bit shocking he wasn’t taken. The two of you did live in the middle of nowhere, after all. Specimens like Kaeya were snatched up fast. 

You kept your expression guarded so you could gauge the situation. “I… can’t. I’m getting dinner with a friend tonight," you lied.

 “Like a date?” He looked a bit disheartened, but maybe your mind was playing tricks on you. Kaeya wasn’t the type to mope about stuff like that, you didn’t think. He was a bit of a ladies’ man. 

“No, no, just a school friend.” You tucked an errant strand of hair behind your ear, messing with the hem of your shirt. “Nothing like that.” 

He met your avoidant eyes with an even, contemplative look. You could almost fall for him like this, you think. His eyes were deep, dark pools of blue. “Yeah, sure, whatever.” He opened the book again. You wished he would tease you. Normally he would’ve teased you over something like that. 

“Do you have your master’s?” You asked, changing the subject. This was getting uncomfortable. If Kaeya really was interested in you, you certainly had a lot to think about. 

Thankfully, Kaeya was a smart guy, and he seemed to catch your drift. “Yeah, unfortunately.” 

“Was it hard to get?” 

“Depends on your definition of ‘hard.’ Why do you ask?” He flipped through the book, his long, dark fingers occasionally grazing over something. The movements of his arm turning the pages constantly messed with his nametag, and it bothered the living hell out of you. 

You paused. “I was just talking to Lisa, and she told me that as a rule they only give full time positions to Masters of Library Science grads.” 

Kaeya didn’t miss a beat. “That’s not completely true. Rosaria doesn’t have one.” 

“She doesn’t?” A flicker of hope blazed in your chest. If there was a possibility that you could land a decent-paying job without the burden of paying for school - which you most definitely could not afford - then there was hope. 

“She has a Ph.D. in Lit.” 

“Great.” Your heart sank and you thought you might burst into tears. 

Kaeya chuckled lightly to himself in self-pity. “Yeah, whatever you do, don’t get a masters in library science. It was recently declared the worst master’s degree for a job.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah,” he replied, still not making eye contact. He was honestly starting to bother you a bit. 

“And yet you have a job,” you jabbed, irritated. 

“I’m an exception.” Another page turn, his nametag flipping around again. “Anyway,” he said, finally looking at you. “You don’t want to be a librarian.” 

“I might.” You weren’t sure if his words were laced with condescension or not. Regardless, a small thorn of spite lodged itself in your heart at his tone.

Kaeya sighed dramatically. “No, you don’t. What about Deborah Berke? You’d be crazy to pass that up.” 

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen,” you laughed softly. Would your future never stop haunting you? You wished you could shut your brain off and never think ever again. 

“Why not?” Kaeya challenged, an indignant look crossing over his face before melting into something less severe. The book in his lap, opened again as he shifted his attention away from you once again, ruffled with the breeze of the AC unit above. 

“It’s just not,” you replied, a bit of a bite to it. “You wouldn’t understand.” You leaned back on your wrists to stare at the waffled ceilings again. 

“Yes, I would.” 

“What?” 

“Nothing.” 

– 

It was cloudy again. Summers in the midwest were always hot and humid, but this particular June was stifling. The humidity soared with every inch of rainwater that threatened to flood the river. 

You internally bemoaned these facts as you scooped vegetables into a tupperware container to save for later. Your mother still wasn’t home from work yet, and you wanted the vegetables for dinner to be at least semi-fresh for the meal. You checked your watch - 5:30 and she still wasn’t home. Her shift ended at four. 

You felt a tightness in your chest. It wasn’t her fault she didn’t know how you were feeling. But at the same time, she had to understand how hard this was. How hard it was to pretend. The sporadic absences, the overworking, the lack of communication, the trying–God, the trying. It weighed on you. Your house felt so empty without another person in it. 

–

You were back at the bank again. Your beat-up Civic rattled to a halt in front of the building you’d visited a thousand times in the past six years. You got out of your relic of a car and sat on the hood, staring at the four squares of greenish fluorescent lights that covered the concrete overhang for the drive-thru teller stations. 

It was nighttime, and the temperature had dropped to a bearable 85 degrees despite the ever-rising humidity. You deemed this appropriate weather for crying. You stared and stared and stared at the lights and let the paradox of your existence consume you inside and out, silently crying as you always ended up doing when you went to this unremarkable bank that had become something so meaningful to you. 

Most teenagers had a “spot.” For some people, it was the watertower on the west side of town with its suspiciously unlocked ladder. For others, it was the roof of the highschool on the north side. Another group might frequent the soccer fields with its soft grass and border of blue firs. For you, it had been this old mid century drive-thru bank downtown. You hadn’t had many friends in school, so nobody minded that your go-to hangout spot was a fucking bank. 

9:30. Your mom wasn’t picking up her phone. 

–

10:30. You were crying, this time in front of the hospital. The second shift was leaving while a well-dressed man with platinum hair dressed smartly in a navy and tan suit was exiting a taxi. He gave you a passing glance as he pulled an expensive looking matching suitcase and duffel bag behind him before disappearing into the lobby. You gave him a small smile for moral support, wondering why he was there. Maybe he was a doctor or something. If he was, you felt stupid for smiling. Doctors know what they’re doing. 

There she was. Your mom, the last of the group of cleaners leaving. You walked back to the car in awkward silence as you shot down each of her attempts at conversation. You both resigned yourselves to an uncomfortable quiet on the ride home with only the rumble of the engine to fill the void of words. 

–

Albedo found his way to the third floor of the hospital with no difficulties save for the obnoxious distraction of one squeaky wheel of his suitcase. Mona was waiting in the hallway for him, arms crossed and tapping her foot like a cartoon character. Her dark hair was wound in a low, tight bun that made her soft facial features look more severe than they actually were. Albedo didn’t like it on her. It made her look older. He missed the days when she was younger and happier. But then again he hardly remembered those days anymore. 

The receptionist gave him a barely perceptible nod and Mona finally saw him. Her anxious body relaxed a bit at the sight of him, and he let go of his suitcase to catch her as she barreled into his arms, squeezing more tightly than he would have liked. 

After what felt like forever, she finally pulled away. “Come on. Let’s go see her first,” she muttered. Albedo really didn’t want to. 

–

Albedo checked into his room at the Ragnvindr house, a stately old home which had at some point been converted into a bed and breakfast. It was regal, meticulously maintained, and blessedly empty. His suite was large and tastefully decorated with rich oak walls, double hung windows, and heavy velvet curtains. His room boasted a small sitting room of eclectic vintage furniture; a massive, ancient-looking wardrobe, a beat-up desk, and a sumptuous king-sized bed on an ornately carved mahogany frame.

He dropped his expensive luggage unceremoniously on the floor and took a turn about the room he had found himself in. As he rifled through the many scraps of paper and open books still on the desk, he realized he would most likely be staying here for an undetermined amount of time. 

He felt sick remembering that this was his mother’s room. 

Albedo picked up one of the empty notebooks. It was black with a red fabric binding. He flipped through it, pacing the room as he looked at her scribblings and half-legible German. When he felt truly sick to his stomach reading her notes, he threw the notebook on the bed and opened the wardrobe, looking for something more tangible than the abstract, half-cooked drawings. 

Inside the behemoth wardrobe was a singular cropped vest and an ugly green hat. Thankfully, his phone rang and broke him from the reverie of his mother’s hideous fashion sense. 

“Ja?” He picked up. “...Nein. Rufen Sie mich später an, bitte…. Ja. Tschuss.” 

He sighed heavily and laid down on the bed fully clothed, staring at the ceiling. 

–

“I can’t believe how old you are. You look just the same,” Mona said, crossing her legs delicately at the ankle. She daintily took a sip of her wine, a small, faraway smile crossing over her lips. 

Albedo sat next to her at the bar nursing a beer. He hadn’t bothered to change out of his suit despite feeling disgusting from traveling for so long. “That’s not true, but thank you.” 

“You do!” Mona insisted, attempting to inject some energy into the clearly-deflated Albedo.

A beat passed before he scrounged up the mental capacity to grind out, “You’re sweet.” 

They both took another drink before Mona kept the conversation going, her body angling towards him. “So,” she drew out the ‘o’ for too long. Albedo never understood her. She was far too friendly to be German. Did she talk to strangers like this? “How do you like being in Berlin?” 

“It’s okay,” Albedo replied softly. He looked anywhere but at her, somewhat unsettled by her undivided attention. He observed the dim bronze lights hanging from the curved ceiling, and glanced at the other patrons. It was a nice, refined place, reminiscent of a chic subway tunnel. Mona certainly had good taste. 

“What are you doing there?” She asked, her accent hardening the ‘w’ a bit. 

“I got a job at a lab there. Science… stuff.” Albedo felt absolutely sick to his stomach thinking about work.

“That sounds interesting.” Her voice was encouraging, like she wanted him to talk. He did not want to talk. 

“It is… not.” For a brief moment he considered whether or not to dump all his troubles onto her, but then decided against it. He kept a lid on it, intentionally air-tight, just for that reason. “It’s pretty painful, actually. Um, I’ve got projects still ongoing. I just got off the phone with them before we met here.” 

Mona looked offended. “They don’t expect you to work while you’re here, do they?” 

“I think they do. You know,” Albedo began, taking another sip for courage, “it’s that… that thing: ‘We’re sorry, family is important… but really work is the most important… so you’d better fucking finish your project or we’ll lose the grant…’” He trailed off, eyes glazed over. 

“That can’t be true.” 

“We’ll see.” His words held a finality to them. “I wish you were staying another day.” He didn’t wish that at all, but he felt like he should humor her and perhaps honor their history. 

“I know… but I was supposed to be in Chicago a few days ago with your mother. And I have my work…” She trailed off dejectedly, tapping her fingers on the counter. 

“I know,” he almost whispered. “You’ve already done so much.” He stared at the wall of wine bottles.

“I can’t believe this happened…” Mona had a haunted look in her pretty blue-gray eyes. “She was doing fine and then just… I’m sorry.” Albedo was taken aback at her change in demeanor. She hiccuped a bit and placed the back of her hand on her mouth to force back the tears. “I just… I owe her so much. Your mother means everything to me.” 

The bartender tactlessly interrupted the obviously intimate moment. “Is there anything else I can get you guys?” 

Mona beat Albedo to the punch. “No, I think we’re ready for the…” 

“Can I get another beer?” Albedo interjected. 

“Definitely. Another glass of wine for the lady?” He smiled a picture-perfect customer service smile that Albedo knew all too well. 

“No thanks.” 

A moment of unsure silence passed before Albedo spoke up. “She didn’t even tell me she was coming on this trip. Did she tell you that?” 

“No…” 

“That’s about right. Did she mention me at all?” He asked, somewhat desperate. Normally he could keep it under control, lock them away, keep them hidden, but Mona’s presence and the stress of traveling internationally and seeing his mother’s failing body and being in a foreign country was just too much. The lid was slowly popping off and he was terrified he wouldn’t be able to get it back on. 

“We talked a little,” Mona said defensively, eyes darting around like a cornered animal. 

He pressed her further, heart pumping. The rage, God, the rage! He gritted his teeth, spitting out the words, “What did she say?” 

“Albedo…” Mona was on the verge of tears again. Albedo felt a small pang of guilt for it, but she couldn’t pretend to be blind to Gold’s problems forever, no matter how much Mona owed her. He wondered how she would feel when she found out the truth about Gold. 

“Did she tell you that we haven’t spoken in over a year?” His voice lowered dangerously. The lid was slipping.

Mona looked absolutely devastated. “You’re all she has.” 

“That has never been the case,” Albedo said in a deadly calm. His hands tightened under the bar counter, small crescent moons forming in his palms. He knew his mother didn’t care for him. She raised him, if you could call her parenting raising a child, and cast him aside like he was some sort of creature. Like a pet she didn’t have use for anymore. “She has her students… her work,” Albedo spat. His tone was so venomous he was sure the acidity of them could've bled through the bar.

“You’re her son!” Her voice was pleading. It revolted him to his stone cold core. 

“You’ve been watching too much TV” is all he said. The lid was safely back in place.

Mona peeked at him out of the corner of her eye before waving down the bartender, clearly done with the conversation. “Can we get the check?” She sighed heavily, rubbing the bridge of her nose with her thumb and pointer finger. “I have to leave early in the morning. I should go to bed.” 

Albedo tried to salvage the situation, adrenaline petering out. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought that up.” And he really was sorry. It was so painfully awkward he wished he hadn’t brought her up. 

“The Ragnvindr Inn knows about the situation,” Mona explained, disregarding him. She did this sometimes. Business as usual. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised by the quick construction of the facade; she was practically raised by Gold as well. “You should be able to stay in her room as long as you need.” 

They parted ways. 

–

Back in the suite, Albedo stood in the ensuite bathroom wearing a white t-shirt and sweatpants,  arms braced on either side of the mirror. He glared at himself. The gravity of the situation weighed on him. In that moment he believed he might just be Atlas.

“Shit.” 

-

You were peeling vegetables again. This time, a daikon root from the backyard. You’d decided to take on gardening to pass the time, and your mother needed good healthy foods to recover. You dedicated yourself completely to your task, rinsing the root in the sink. You absentmindedly stared out the window as you grabbed the next one, watching your mother smoking under the carport. She was too young to look this old; she was truly 45 going on 60. Your heart twisted violently. 

You ate your meal together in comfortable silence this time, your mother commenting on how much better your cooking had gotten. After you cleaned up, you sat together on the couch and watched Jeopardy, the blue glow of the board and Alex Trebek’s familiar voice enveloping the otherwise black darkness and silence of your tired living room. 

“Do you know what you’re doing on Sunday?” She asked suddenly. 

“No, I’ll just drop you off in the morning and then take it over to Wagner’s,” you replied with a mouthful of ice cream. 

“It’ll cost us more if it breaks down on us…” she said with a twinge of worry. Her long, skinny arm reached across you to take a sip of water. 

“Ugh, I hate cars,” you complained. 

“Me too.”

--------

Author's Note

Heyyyyy! Not sure if anyone will read this but I am back from my little hiatus. I am planning on writing some other pics, maybe Link or Scaramouche, not too sure yet (and maybe even some Levi depending on when the fuck season 4 part 3 is dropped).

Housekeeping stuff:

this is not my original work. this is from a movie called Columbus. I thought the story was really interesting and I wanted to stretch my writing ability and see if I could adapt a really complex, visually-heavy, story-light screenplay into text

I am part German, though my German isn't perfect. sorry if there are mistakes, I'd say I'm only about half fluent, and it's mostly German/English I speak with my family. as such, grammar isn't very strong

reader is about 25 here, albedo is around 27 or 28

for clarity again, this movie takes place in a real town called Columbus, Indiana. for reference, it is in the middle of nowhere, but it is considered a bit of an architectural hub. so if it seems weird that there are important architects with buildings here, that is why

this is already finished on AO3 if you want to read it completed there, but it is NOT edited. it needs a lot more fleshing out, so if you want a better story and a better representation of my writing ability, I'd recommend waiting it out here

this is a 7 chapter story, but I will be narrowing it down to 3-5 on Tumblr. I think longform works better with this story since the "chapters" are so fragmented

Thanks for reading! Have a lovely day <3

[ickytoadfromspace]

This weekend's project: Makeover & remodel for San Myshuno's Penny Pizzazz, part 2

I wanted to update her apartment to match her cool funky sense of style.

Entryway and main CC:

Main living/bedroom area walls- @pierisim Domaine Du Clos Plein Walls with Paneling

Entryway table- @peacemaker-ic Bowed Phorm Sofa Table

Entryway clutter- @peacemaker-ic Palm Frond, Bookender, Not Just Decor Books

Bedroom CC:

Bedframe- @peacemaker-ic Coba Canopy Bedframe & Coba Canopy

@peacemaker-ic Coba Bed-End Ottoman

Nightstands- @peacemaker-ic Bowed Phorm Side Table

Dresser- @peacemaker-ic Coba Lowboy

Mirror- @peacemaker-ic Mid-Century Eclectic Starburst Mirror

Lamp- @peacemaker-ic Furror Floor Lamp

Rug- @peacemaker-ic Geometric Ripple

Art- @simplistic-sims4 Anthropologie Paintings in Gold Frame

You can also see @greyzonesims Willow Print

Plant is @awingedllama Fiddle Leaf Fig D

Living Room CC:

Sofa & Chair- @harrie-cc & @felixandresims Harluxe Collection

Coffee Table- @peacemaker-ic Bowed Phorm Coffee Table

Plants- @awingedllama Hanging Pothos, Short Hanging Plant- Bohemian

Rug- @peacemaker-ic ColourMe Rugs- Multicolor

Art: @imfromsixam Very Famous and @peacemaker-ic Caine Living Foiled Gold

Clutter: @peacemaker-ic Mid-Century Eclectic Baxtor Glass Vase, @s-imagination Nota Living Room Elephant Scuplture, @imfromsixam Pretty Portrait and Beautiful Landscape, @ravasheencc Hoarders Simnonymous Treasure Box

Tricky to get a good shot of the kitchen! Kitchen CC:

Counters & cabinets- @myshunosun Macaron

Clutter- @peacemaker-ic Atwood Dining Fruit Bowl

Little eating nook-

Bar- @myshunosun Macaron

Barstools- @peacemaker-ic High Back Barstool

Mirror- @peacemaker-ic Coba Claimshell Mirror

You can also see her at her little desk space in the living room way back there-- the chair is @imfromsixam Wood Desk Chair.

I couldn't get any good views of her teeny bathroom, but I can add what I used if anyone is interested!