#construction time & demolition

[freelancearsonist]

make a move on me

➔ pre-outbreak!Joel Miller x reader - 5.5k

➔ You've been teasing Joel every day since he started remodeling construction on your house. He finally works up the courage to do something about it - but not in the way you expect him to.

➔ Rated MA for baby’s first anal fic protected p in a and anal fingering (r receiving), age gap (reader is early 20’s, joel is 36), m masturbation/pillowhumping, daddy kink, size kink, praise kink, gentle-turned-rough sex, pet names (baby, darling, honey, good girl, baby girl, little lady), slight degradation and condescension but only in a sexy way, one use of “slut”, pussy pronouns, one (1) pussy slap, gratuitous dickscription, heavy dom/sub dynamics i mean seriously these power dynamics are out of control, tommy is a little bit of a shit (affectionate) [pls let me know if i missed anything at all :)]

➔ This reader insert character: has female anatomy and uses feminine pronouns, no name/no use of y/n, is generally able-bodied, fits in joel’s shirt and is implied to be shorter/smaller than him, is on summer break from college but no major/year is mentioned.

Joel had one rule for himself going into this job: be respectful. Keep his hands to himself and his mind on the job. Don’t fret over the pretty little thing who’s been draping herself all over the house ever since he started demo, practically begging to be fucked.

If he had any sense, he would pack his shit and drop the job–or, at the very least, tell your parents to put you on a leash. But there’s a little part of him that might be a glutton for punishment–that savors the teasing.

The most infuriating part of the whole thing is that he can’t blame you for this whole mess. He shouldn’t be so quick to temptation. You should be able to walk around your own home in whatever you want and not have to worry about the creepy contractor getting flustered every time he looks in your general direction.

But god, you make it hard–double entendre intended. You walk around like you haven’t a care in the world because you don’t; you’re home for summer break after a grueling year at college, and you intend to savor every languid second of it. Your preferred method of savoring just happens to be wearing tight little bikinis that barely hold anything in place as you lounge out by the pool in the Texas heat, or tight leggings that hug your ass so perfectly it almost makes him jealous of the material as you curl up with a book on your couch.

Joel’s a grown man. He can keep it in his pants, no matter how badly he wants you. But you’re not exactly making it easy on him.

Really, it’s Tommy’s fault when the levee breaks. If he could keep his big mouth shut, Joel might’ve been able to maintain the thin control he had over himself. But Tommy goes and makes an off-handed comment about you one night, and that’s the beginning of the downward spiral.

The brothers are both lounging on Joel’s couch after a particularly taxing day of demolition work, beers cradled in hands and the TV droning uselessly with some movie that they’re more staring at than actually watching. It’s late, yet weary muscles are melted so comfortably into the couch that neither of them try to move even after Sarah’s gone off to bed.

Tommy’s eyes flicker over to Joel, then back to the TV. “That girl’s gon’ be trouble for us, brother.”

There’s a question mark in the grunt Joel emits, leaning forward with interest because he knows Tommy’s talking about you without any specification.

Tommy hums in confirmation and takes a sip of his Corona. “She’s always wearin’ those skimpy little outfits a’hers, and she ain’t coy. Must catch that pretty little thing starin’ at your ass even more than I catch you starin’ at hers.”

Joel plays it off as best as he can until Tommy goes home for the night with a half-assed promise to actually be on time in the morning for once. Then he goes up to his room, locks the door, and wraps himself around the spare pillow that lays against his headboard.

He tries so desperately hard not to think about the plump round curve of your ass, or the enticing way you lick your lips, or those damned little bikinis you favor. He grinds his aching cock into the soft pillowcase and tries to think about anything that isn’t you.

But he comes with a muffled growl of your name anyway, face pushed deep into the pillow and hips jerking arrhythmically.

There’s not much he can do now besides clean himself up and try not to think about how thoroughly fucked he is.

The next day is torture because he can feel your gaze lingering. He catches you checking him out on more than one occasion, and you’re brazen about it now. You can tell something has shifted, so you shift with it. Where you once would’ve flushed with heat and hurried away to your room, you now meet his heated eye contact and hold it.

Joel’s jaw hurts that night from the way it’s been hard-set and clenched all day long. He rubs over his sore temporomandibular joints with his long, thick fingers and wills himself to siphon you out from beneath his skin.

It doesn’t work.

The work helps. Laying tile is something he normally considers tedious, but it’s a welcome reprieve in your home because he can get down on his hands and knees and focus on something that isn’t you.

You see the labor he’s going through, and you appreciate it. And really, what kind of host would you be if you didn’t reward his efforts?

It starts with a pitcher of iced tea. It’s made just the way Joel likes it, with light ice and a few slices of lemon. He doesn’t know how you could possibly guess that, but it makes him want you that much more.

And then it’s cookies. Pain-stakingly handmade oatmeal raisin cookies, to be exact. You’re like something out of his most shameful domestic dreams in your cute floral-patterned apron and oven mitts as you pull the tray of cookies out of the oven, and an image of you in nothing but those mitts and that apron flickers through his mind before he can stop it.

All the while you traipse around the house like a mirage–humming along to the yacht rock that drifts from Joel’s stereo, swaying your hips in the kitchen as you put together the most delicious bologna sandwich Joel’s ever eaten, toweling off your soaking wet body after an afternoon in the pool. You’re the worst temptation Joel’s ever had to face.

It becomes his mantra. Be respectful, be respectful, be respectful.

But there’s no respect in your eyes. There’s nothing honorable about the way you bite your lip and smirk when he catches your gaze lingering on him.

Joel had one rule for himself going into this job: be respectful. But why should he have to play nice if you don’t?

And really, the whole thing is Tommy’s fault. He started it with that first comment about you, and then he goes and calls out sick (read: horribly hungover) this morning. He leaves Joel all alone with you–gives you the perfect opening to pounce.

Or, more accurately, entice Joel into pouncing on you.

He’s just setting his tool bag down, about to decide where he wants to start today, when your beautiful face pops in through the door.

“Good morning, Joel,” you say with that gorgeous smile of yours that makes his knees go a little weak. “No Tommy today?”

He nearly chokes on his own tongue when you step further into the room wearing a plaid button-up he left here earlier in the week and booty shorts so small he has to do a doubletake to make sure you’re actually wearing anything on your lower half. You look fucking good in his shirt, and suddenly all he can think about is pulling you in and bending you over the half-finished vanity–

“N-no. He’s sick,” Joel manages to choke out. He takes a deep breath to steady himself, then, “that’s my shirt, isn’t it?”

You look down and rub the time-worn fabric between your fingers like you have to think about it, like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing.

“Oh, it must’ve gotten mixed in with our laundry!” The little giggle you let out is so innocent that he almost believes you. Almost. “Here–”

You start to lift the fabric up your torso in the most tantalizingly slow fashion, and he just sits there and watches it happen. He sees the first peek of skin above the waistband of your shorts, and then your beautiful stomach, then the delicious curve of a breast–

He quickly jolts out a hand to stop you in the midst of mentally willing every single molecule in his dick to control itself. “S’alright, darlin’. You keep it. Looks better on you, anyway.”

“Okay,” you acquiesce and let the fabric drop back down into its rightful place. “Can I get you anything? Water maybe?”

He certainly could use it. His neck and face are flushed red, and there’s sweat starting to form at his temples despite the relatively cool temperature within the house.

He realizes, with startling clarity, that he’s at a precipice right now. This might be the only chance he gets to really do something about this burgeoning tension that’s spread thicker than butter between you and him. He’s got a choice to make, and it’s not going to be an easy choice.

“Sure.” It comes out a bit too high-pitched, so he clears his throat and tries again. “Sure, sweetheart. That’d be great.”

���Alright,” you say with that damned giggle again. “I’ll be right back.”

As soon as you leave the room, Joel feels like he can breathe again. It’s so much easier to think straight when you’re not standing there, smiling up at him and looking so damn gorgeous.

He’s got two options, when it boils down to it: fuck you or leave you alone. And he really, really wants to take you. Make you scream his name while he pounds himself into you, fill you so full that you never completely wash him out. And you want it too, he knows you do, you’re practically begging for it.

But he promised himself he would be respectful. That he would keep his hands away from the girl that’s definitely too young and too pure for someone like him–because he knows that if has you, he’ll never be able to get enough.

There’s a very clear and obvious loophole that comes to mind now; a way he could have you without ruining you, a way you could both come out of this satisfied yet mostly intact. Joel’s never been opposed to doing the hard jobs, after all.

He’s got a condom in his wallet and KY jelly in his bag–mostly used for plumbing fittings, but it’ll do the job for this kind of pipework, too.

You come back with a glass of ice water, and his resolve slips. How the hell is he supposed to initiate this? What if you say no and think he’s disgusting? What if you tell your parents? He can’t do this, this was such a horrible idea, he–

Your touch on his back is like a gentle breeze, just a flutter of your fingers to alert him to your return. He flinches a bit at the sudden contact, but when he turns you’re still so achingly close. He can smell the agonizingly sweet aroma of your conditioner and the lotion you slather on your body after showering, and all he wants is more. He wants to wrap you around him, to inhale that scent straight from the source. His resolve is back, just like that.

He doesn’t give himself another opportunity to hesitate. He places one big, meaty palm on your cheek and wraps the other around your hand that holds the glass of ice water to steady you; and then he kisses you with such bruising force it almost knocks the wind out of you.

You moan. You actually moan the second his lips meet yours, and he knows just like that–with a startling moment of clarity–that this isn’t going to be enough. He’s going to take, and take, and take–gorge himself on you until you have nothing left to give. And the strangest thing of the whole matter is that he thinks you’ll actually enjoy his greed.

“Joel–”

“Tell me you don’t want this,” he murmurs as his lips break away from yours–so low and soft in your ear it can’t be anything but a growl. “Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll stop right now.”

“I want it,” you affirm.

He searches your eyes, but he finds only earnest honesty and lust. That darkness, that pure and unadulterated want is enough to make his pants tighten. “Fuck.” 

He’s so big underneath your roaming hands as he crowds you back against the long bathroom vanity. He lifts you like you’re nothing and sets you on the counter top; he slots himself between your legs and there’s an actual stretch in your muscles to accommodate the width of his hips. One of his wide palms slips behind your head and his fingers tangle into your hair, tugging a little bit to angle your head just the way he wants it. It’s messy and frenzied and desperate–your hands gliding over tee shirt-covered muscle, his tugging your (his) shirt up over your stomach.

“Was starting to think you weren’t interested.” Your voice is heavy and breathy as he breaks away to tug the shirt over your head, casting it aside to lie forgotten on the floor.

“I’ve been tryna convince myself m’not,” he kisses into your neck. “Didn’t work.”

With a sudden roll of his hips, he has you gasping into his neck. He can’t be more than half-hard, but that bulge is formidable. Thick and straining and… suddenly you can’t focus on anything except getting him out of those tight jeans to see what you’re working with.

Your hand just barely fits around him. He’s thick and flushed, getting harder with each passing second as he scatters feather-light kisses over your neck and shoulders. He muffles a groan into your neck as you slowly pump his length–you think he’s seven, maybe eight inches at best guess. The tip of him is flushed red once you get his uncut skin out of the way, and it makes your mouth water. There’s a slight upward curve to him and a long, prominent vein that runs down the left side. It’s porn star material–you didn’t know real people had dicks like this.

“Joel… Jesus, that’s gonna be a tight fit.”

“Oh, don’t worry darlin’,” he hums, thumb ghosting over your clit in a way that makes your entire body jolt. “It ain’t goin’ in there.”

There’s nothing but pure excitement in your voice, despite the anxious gulp that tracks down your throat. “Where…”

“Flip over f’me.”

You follow his instruction with a sort of morbid curiosity, hopping down from the counter before folding yourself over it.

You can feel his eyes on you, as he takes in your willingness. It’s like you’re on display for him, for his appraisal. You’ve still got shorts and a bra on, yet you’ve never felt more exposed.

It’s almost like he can sense your mind swirling–maybe it’s because his is prone to do the same. He sets a gentle hand on your back and smooths it down your spine as he crowds up against you–you can feel the press of his exposed cock against the curve of your ass, and it makes you shiver.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he murmurs as he folds over you, caging you in with the delicious weight of his body. His lips trace along the curve of your jaw and down your neck as he speaks. “But I made myself this little promise that I wouldn’t fuck you. You got me actin’ so unprofessional, honey.”

You whine at the sincerity in his voice–all you’ve wanted since the day he started was for him to have you folded over and at his mercy like this. 

“You can fuck me,” you whine earnestly. “It’s okay, I promise. Won’t tell.”

“Mmm, I know. You’re too good a girl to go gettin’ me in trouble over somethin’ like this,” he hums–you can hear the condescension in his voice even as he praises you, and it makes your cunt clench around nothing. “But with all the teasin’ you been doin’... don’t rightly know that you deserve to be fucked.”

“Please–”

“However,” he continues, landing a light smack to your ass in retaliation for your interruption, “might be willin’ to take you anyway, with some conditions. Out of the goodness of my heart.”

He pauses to let you ask, “What conditions?”

And then he pauses again, asking his own question this time. Is he really going to go through with this? But he’s spent the better part of two weeks staring at your ass, and you’ve spent the better part of two weeks putting it on display for him. It’s like you’ve been silently asking him all this time to take it.

His hand slides down from where it rests on your spine, over your tailbone to where he’s been thinking about all this time. He feels the way your muscles tense up even through your shorts, and it sends a thrill he can’t describe coursing through his veins.

“You ever taken someone here before?”

“N-no.” He feels it again as his other hand comes to soothingly rub your hip–that excited-yet-nervous flutter of muscle. You haven’t run away screaming yet, and that’s the biggest motivator he could have to keep going.

“I think you ought to let me. As a thank you, for puttin’ up with all your play,” he growls into your ear.

It’s fucking dirty, the idea of letting a man you hardly know take you in such a taboo way. It’s even dirtier how fucking excited the idea has you.

“You say no right now and I’ll drop it,” he murmurs so sweetly. “Don’t ever have to talk about this again.”

You’re shaking your head before he’s even finished talking–a sly smirk spreading over your lips as you grind back against him hard enough to make him choke on a moan.

“It’s only right,” you affirm. “Gotta make it up to you for how naughty I’ve been.’

His eyes flash dangerously as he grinds his cock against you again, smearing precome against the flimsy fabric of your shorts. “Atta fuckin’ girl.”

He has your bottoms and panties down around your ankles in a flash, and he actually groans at the sight of your sticky cunt all puffy and wet and on display for him.

He can’t resist the urge to swipe a finger through your folds, delighting in the string of shiny arousal that connects his finger to your core when he pulls away. “She wants it so bad, hmm? Such a shame she ain’t gettin’ any.”

It tugs a moan from your throat, especially when he drags as much slick as he can up to circle your tightest hole. He feels the way you flutter with apprehension, and he leans back down to kiss the corner of your jaw.

“Gonna get you nice and ready, I promise. M’not gonna hurt you, baby girl.”

“Thank you, da–” You almost lost yourself there for a second–almost laid your whole hand of cards out on the table for him to see. You try not to get flustered over the slip–you simply clear your throat and try again. “Thank you, Joel.” But you aren’t nearly as smooth as you hope to be.

In a flash Joel’s free hand is lifting your head, forcing you to look into his deep brown eyes. They’re so much darker than normal, and it only serves to make you wetter.

“What’d you call me?”

“J-Joel.”

His hand slips down to your throat and gives it a warning squeeze–his jaw is set, you know he isn’t playing. “Try again, and tell the truth this time.”

“D… daddy.”

You try to hide your face, to cower in shame, but he won’t let you. He smashes his lips to yours at the exact second his first finger probes that tight, waiting entrance.

“Good girl,” he murmurs as he slowly breaches you, using your own slick to guide the way. “Wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You can’t do anything but gasp, hands clutching for dear life to the edge of the counter. This feels different, and not in the way you were expecting it to. It’s tight, sure, and it feels foreign, but it also feels so much better than you ever could’ve expected it to. The subtle stretch around his thick finger is addicting.

Joel’s jaw drops at the expression on your face; you already look so thoroughly fucked-out, and he’s barely even started. “Fuck.You like this, hmm? Like feelin’ daddy’s fingers gettin’ you ready for his big cock?”

The only response he gets is a wrecked little whimper, and he props your chin up again to meet his heated gaze. “Talk to me. Gotta talk to me, tell me how you’re feelin’, or I’m gonna stop.”

“Fuck!” It’s shriller than you want it to be and you would feel pathetic if you weren’t so thoroughly overwhelmed with this new sensation. “Don’t stop daddy!”

“Feels good, yeah? How long has daddy’s little slut wanted to try this?”

But there’s no way you can be expected to answer, not when he’s adding another finger to the onslaught. Not when your legs are already shaking and you’re thinking about just how many fingers he’s going to have to use to get you ready for the massive cock you can feel throbbing against your thigh.

He retracts just as suddenly as he started, and a needy little whine escapes from your throat involuntarily.

He can’t help chuckling as he reaches for the bottle of KY jelly he’d dug out of his bag while you were getting him water. It feels like it’s been years since you left the room on that little errand for him–definitely not the barely ten minutes it’s actually been.

“Relax, baby girl. I’m comin’ right back.”

You feel the cool drizzle of the water-based substance over your hole and it forces another whine from your throat. It’s met with his thick fingers again, spreading the jelly over your hole before plunging two in knuckle-deep.

“Atta girl.” His voice is thick and sweet as honey as he slowly works his fingers, thrusting and scissoring at an achingly slow pace. “Doin’ so good f’me.”

“Daddy–”

“I know,” he coos. “I know, it’s so much, isn’it?”

All you can manage to do is nod your head, arms shaking under the strain of holding yourself upright. He sees the way your limbs tremble and he adds a third finger just to be extra cruel–although he steadies you by grabbing your hip firmly with his free hand, keeping you in place as he fucks you open with his fingers.

Everything is so hot. There’s a sticky sheen of sweat covering your forehead and your chest; you can feel your own slick dripping down your thighs.

And then his free hand drops down to thumb at your clit, and everything twists in your gut so fast it nearly gives you whiplash.

Within seconds you’re coming–no pretense, no warning. It explodes white-hot from your belly and sweeps through you to the tips of your fingers and toes with flash flood speed. One second there’s nothing more than pleasant anticipation–the next, you’re shaking and convulsing and sobbing Joel’s name as you fight with every cell in your body to remain upright.

He does his part to work you through it, thumb swiping even circles on your sensitive clit, pulling his fingers from you to pin you in place on the counter so he can continue working you through it.

“I know, I know,” he coos so sweetly in your ear over the sound of your moans and cries. “You’re doin’ so good baby, let yourself have it.”

It’s minutes before you’re breathing normally again–your legs are cramping from trying so desperately to support your shaky weight. Joel’s hands are soothing you the whole time once he lets up the onslaught on your clit; it’s like he’s mapping you, tracing over every dip and curve so tenderly you could almost forget what this encounter really is.

“Doin’ okay?” He husks into your ear–and then he’s folding himself over you again, and you can feel the insistent press of his hard cock against the curve of your ass.

For some reason, that’s what really makes it sink in. That’s the moment you realize that this is actually going to happen–that you want it to happen. Joel’s about to take something from you that no one has ever taken before, and you want him to. You’re offering it willingly, even.

You hum in response and buck your hips back, giving him a delicious taste of friction that pulls a ground from his throat. “Mhm. I’m ready, daddy.”

“Fuck, that’s my girl.” He gives your hip a light pat before pulling away for a moment, and you somehow have the presence of mind to jump up on the deep countertop because you know your legs won’t be able to support you through what’s about to happen.

There’s a smile on his handsome face when he turns back towards you, lube and condom in hand. “That how you want it, baby?”

Despite everything that’s already happened, you feel so much more exposed like this. You’re completely naked, and he’s fully clothed with his pants shoved down just enough to free his dick. Even as you spread your legs to admit him between your thighs, you feel shy. And he senses it, the slight apprehension in your gaze, because his smile softens even further; he sets the lube and condom down on the counter next to you so he can grasp the collar of his worn t-shirt and tug it up over his head.

He’s beautiful for a nearly forty-year-old man, you think. He’s firm and toned, but there’s a softness about him that you can’t help admiring, especially around his belly. Your eyes eagerly lap up the soft curve of his tummy, following the tantalizing promise of his treasure trail to his cock, hard and aching for you. The ruddy, flushed tip is weeping for you; you don’t know that you’ve ever seen someone so turned on before, and it’s a heady rush of power.

He chuckles as he sees your hungry eyes taking him in–he raises one big hand to cup your chin and pull your gaze up to meet his. “You’re so pretty, baby, look so good spread out f’me like this. You sure you’re ready f’this?”

“Fuck yes,” you say with an alluring little wiggle of your hips, and that’s more than enough for him.

He pulls his bottom lip between even rows of shiny white teeth as he rolls the condom down over his length, and it’s actually intimidating like this. He’s so big and imposing and it makes your legs want to close, but–

“M’gonna go slow, okay?” He vows, voice gentle as his big, brown eyes look into yours. His fingers wrap tightly around the half-used tube of KY jelly, and he leans down to kiss you when he sees the nervous gulp that bobs your throat. “Gonna be real gentle, I promise. You tap out at any time and we’re done, ‘kay?”

“Okay,” you affirm, and you feel a lot better. As out of the blue as this is, as little as you really know Joel, you can tell he’s being sincere. You trust him; you know he won’t hurt you.

The first press of his aching tip against your hole is enough to make you choke on a gasp. He’s big, and even with all of his attentive prep work to get you ready for him it’s a tight fit. You can tell it’s affecting him, too. His eyes flutter shut and he bites down hard on his bottom lip, and you can tell that he’s fighting with all his strength not to just shove himself deep inside you. You appreciate his restraint more than words can convey, so you don’t even try; you hook your arms around his neck and pull him in for a deep, messy, desperate kiss instead. His tongue licks eagerly into your mouth as he eases his hips further and further towards yours, and it’s a nice distraction from the nearly overwhelming stretch of your muscle trying to accommodate his girth.

He shudders when his hips finally meet yours, cock stuffed to the hilt into your ass. “God damn baby, you’re so fuckin’ tight. You doin’ okay?”

You whine at the first roll of his hips, nodding your head rapidly because words won’t come. It’s such a foreign sensation, being stretched and breached like this. Not unpleasant necessarily, but so brain-scramblingly different that all you can do is dig your nails into his strong, broad shoulders and hold on for dear life as he actually starts to fuck into you.

It’s nasty, and you’ve never been so wet in your life. You hear the sticky squelch of lube as he thrusts his hips, shoving his cock deeper than you imagined possible. Your own wetness seeps from your neglected cunt and drenches him, dripping down around his cock and wetting the dense curls at the apex of his sex.

“Shit baby, you’re takin’ daddy’s cock so well,” he whines breathlessly; one arm hooks under your knee so he can spread you open a bit wider for him, and then the other hand returns to your puffy, arousal swollen clit.

You make what has to be the most high-pitched sound you’ve ever made as his index and middle fingers start a torturously slow pace on the little bud. “Fuck daddy!”

“I know,” he coos–you think that soft, breathy, Southern twang is going to actually put you in your grave. “I know, you wanna come, dontcha? It’s okay baby, daddy’s gonna make you come all over his cock just the way you need.”

His hips pick up the pace in time with his fingers, and all you can do is lay there limply like a ragdoll. The pleasure is so much different than what you’re used to, but it’s good. It’s amazing, the feeling of him balls deep in your guts in tandem with his ministrations on your clit, in a way you never imagined it could be.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl f’me,” he growls, hitching your leg a bit higher over his hip so he can thrust even deeper. “Fuck, m’not gonna last long like this. You’re gonna make daddy come so hard in this tight little ass.”

His words are accentuated with a little smack to the side of your ass, and it makes you moan louder still. Your head rolls back as he picks up the pace of his fingers, swirling hard and messy circles with reckless abandon. He’s not trying to prolong it anymore–he’s going for the kill.

“Fuck daddy!” Your hands scrabble for purchase on his smooth, freckled skin as he pounds harder into you. “W-want it, please, want you to come in my ass–”

“Gonna give it to you, impatient girl,” he growls deep in his chest. “You gimme one first.”

Your entire body jolts when he brings his hand down on your sensitive cunt before groaning at the way your arousal sticks to his hand and makes his fingers shine.

“She wants t’be stuffed so full, doesn’t she?” He purrs, fingers dancing so fucking teasingly around your fluttering cunt that it makes your eyes water. “Bet she’d love to be chock full’a cock right now.”

“Joel–”

“Now, now, baby, no whinin’. It’s unbecomin’ for such a sweet little lady,” he grunts, and the condescension dripping from his tone is almost enough to make you come on its own. “You’re gonna take what I give you and be grateful for it, aintcha?”

“Yesyesyesplease–”

His fingers have barely returned to your clit before you’re coming again. This one is even more powerful than before–a hurricane instead of a flash flood. Your entire body trembles with the ebbing flow of pleasurable waves–the words you’re panting aren’t even discernible English anymore.

The way you clench and flutter around him in your own pleasure pulls him over the edge faster than anything ever has before. He comes hard, chest clenching hard around his breath, cock twitching more violently than anything you’ve ever felt before as he spills his load into the condom.

It’s a long, breathless moment before he pulls himself from the vice-like grip you have around his dick. He pulls out with a deep, long groan–it makes you giggle, because it’s the most over-dramatic sound you’ve ever heard in your life.

There’s a beat, and then he starts laughing, too. At the sweet sound of your laugh, at the way he feels like he just ran a marathon, at the absolute absurdity of this whole thing. His laughter is so sweet and gut-deep and infectious, and it only serves to make you laugh harder. For a good few moments it’s just you and Joel, half naked, panting and sweaty, doubled over in laughter.

And then the bathroom door swings open and Tommy barges in. 

“I’m feelin’ a helluva lot better after sleepin’ in, what’s so funny–” He stops dead in his tracks; he sees you naked and spread out on the counter and Joel disheveled and sweating. Neither of you are laughing very much anymore as you both scramble to cover yourselves up.

Tommy quirks a brow, a smirk spreading across his lips as his eyes dart back and forth between you and Joel. “Well, well, well. What have we here?”

You don’t know how to answer when you’re so mortified, so you do the only thing you can think of–you dart out of the room and down the hall to the safety of your bedroom as fast as your shaky legs can carry you.

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[absurdthirst]

Contracted Fling {Joel Miller x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 14.8k

Warnings: Secret affair, rough sex, oral sex (male and female receiving), semi-public sex, mentions of loss, miscommunication, fight, Joel being sexily violent, make up sex, morning after

Comments: Hired to renovate your parents house, Joel finds you irresistible. Engaging in an affair that turns complicated and scratches beneath both of your pasts.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Joel Miller MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

It’s not a bad gig. Not all things considered. The house isn’t in terrible shape, it just needs updating and homeowners aren’t the type to squabble if Joel uncovers some problem that will take more time and money to fix, they just want it to be done right. A true rarity in construction. 

Then there’s you. He’s old enough to know better and you’re young enough to have moved back into your parent’s house one week after demolition had started. You are a bonafide distraction and trouble all wrapped up in a pretty little package. Right now, he’s moving the little box of your bathroom shit into the hallway to continue to tear the tile out. Trying not to look down into it and see what you use when the smell of your shampoo drives him crazy.

When you moved back in with your parents, you felt like a failure. Your ex boyfriend had cheated on you and you were living in his place. You refused to stay in his apartment a moment longer so you packed your things and left. Moving back home, you plan to save enough money to get your own place but for now, you’re happy to be home. 

Especially when you’re greeted with the sight of Joel laboring around the house. He’s older, beard salt and pepper with streaks of gray through his hair. He’s unbelievably hot in a DILF kind of way, and you want him. It’s been a while since you had sex. Your ex hadn’t touched you and you wondered why until you found him balls deep in the colleague he said was ‘just a good friend.’ 

Joel is working on removing the tile in your bathroom, his brother downstairs is working on the tile in the kitchen, and you walk past the bathroom, eager to catch a sight of him. The way his plaid shirt stretches over his shoulders makes your mouth drool. 

“How’s it going?” You ask him when he pauses his demolition, leaning against the doorframe in the short shorts you’ve taken to wearing around the house since he arrived.

Joel glances at your legs and then straightens, groaning slightly and reaching for his handkerchief to wipe the sweat off his face. “Should be done with the demo by tomorrow.” He tells you. “You can still use the bathroom tonight though.” 

You cross your arms, biting your lip as you watch him roll his shoulders. “Cool. You and your brother seem to know what you’re doing. My parents made a good choice picking your company. You need some water? I’m heading downstairs to grab a coffee before I get back to work.” You’ve been working from your childhood bedroom, able to work remotely.

“Sure.” He won’t turn down water, especially enjoying the view when you turn around to walk to the stairs. “Thanks.” He calls after you, frowning slightly as he swears your ass shakes just a bit and his cock twitches. “She’s not interested in you.” He grunts to himself, listening to you bound down the stairs and call out a ‘hello’ to Tommy when you go into the kitchen. 

You come back about five minutes later with your coffee cup and you hand him a bottle of water, your fingers brushing his as he takes it from you. You stand there, watching as he opens the bottle and tilts his head back to down half the bottle, his Adam’s apple moving. Your mouth falls open slightly and you swallow down the drool. God, he’s so hot and he doesn’t even know it. “I’ll be in my room if you need anything else.” You try to say as innocently as possible and you turn to walk out of the bathroom with your cup of coffee. You’ll keep pushing him, see if he breaks, and if he doesn’t, you know he doesn’t want you.

“Thanks.” He lifts the bottle and watches as you walk away again, hissing slightly under his breath. You have been prancing around the house in short shorts and tank tops with your tits on display, giving him a good fucking view of the body you have. It makes him want to bend you over the bathroom sink and fuck you, but it’s your house, you can wear what you want. He’s just a guest here. 

**** 

It’s been two weeks since Joel and Tommy started working on your parent’s house and you have been frustrated by Joel’s presence. Every night, when the house is quiet, you rub your clit and imagine Joel taking you hard over the under construction kitchen counter. Today, his brother Tommy, is sick and it’s only Joel who is working on the kitchen floor. You work in your room until you decide to seek out a snack, making your way downstairs to the makeshift pantry. “Hey Joel. You want a snack?” You ask and you bend over to see what’s in the box your mom left in the corner.

Joel groans and grits his teeth together. “Yeah.” He grunts. “Whatcha got?” He knows what he wants to snack on. It’s right in front of him, bent over and all he has to do is just pull your shorts down and pull his cock out of his jeans. “Anything good?” 

You rifle through the snacks and hold up a couple of options over your head. “Chips or cookies?” You offer and he says “chips.” You take the cookies and stand up, tossing the packet over to him. You lean against the dining table and watch him shove a chip into his mouth. “So…how’s the work coming along? Must be hard without your brother here to help today.”

Joel snorts, rolling his eyes playfully and shrugs. “Better, don’t have to listen to him whine about dealing with his pregnant wife.” He jokes. “Cravings and cramps and aches and pains.” He shoves his hand back into the bag. “Told him just to fuck her good when she’s complaining, but that might be why he’s expecting a kid.” 

You wince slightly at the mention of his sister in-law being pregnant. A sensitive subject for you but Joel doesn’t know that. You chuckle after a second, fiddling with the bag in your hand. “Being a woman isn’t easy. Being pregnant, well that’s the hardest thing. Not that I- I don’t have kids. From what I’ve heard.” You explain, “you guys are doing a great job. My parents are already happy with your work. You’re good with your hands.” You compliment saucily, licking your lips of cookie crumbs after taking a bite.

Joel lifts a brow at your comment and stares at you for a moment. “I am good with my hands.” He agrees, staring at you in challenge, waiting to see what else will come out of that mouth of yours. Trying not to think about what he would like to put in that mouth. How you would react to that. 

“What else are you good with?” You ask, biting your lip as you wait for his reply. He leans against the counter, crossing his arms and the chip packet is still in his hand.

“Lots of things.” Joel brags, smirking at you slightly. “What are you interested in?” He asks, setting the bag down on the counter and crossing one leg over the other at the ankles as he waits for you to answer. 

You set the bag of cookies down on the kitchen table and brush off your hands, taking a step towards him. “Lots of things.” You hum, walking towards him, “not sure if you’re interested in using them on me but I sure have imagined it enough times.”

It’s an invitation, one that he hadn’t expected but he damn sure appreciated. He doesn’t move, just arching a brow at you as he licks his lips. “Take off your shirt.” He orders.

Your parents aren’t home. It’s only you and Joel. You can’t deny him when he looks at you with those dark brown eyes, his gaze burning into you. You reach down to grip the hem of your tank top and pull it over your head to expose your lace bra. You know he wants you to take that off too and you want to make the first move so you reach behind you to unclasp it, letting it drop down your arms to fall onto the floor he’s been working on.

He grunts, his cock twitching and hardening in his jeans. Finally uncrossing his ankles and standing straight as he steps closer to you. “You have pretty tits.” He compliments, palms itching to touch them. “Now I want to see your ass.” 

How can you deny him? You reach down to unbutton your shorts, knowing he’s in total control. He could leave you high and dry and humiliated but the look in his eyes tells you he’s going to give you exactly what you want. You push your shorts down along with your panties and turn around as you kick them away. Looking over your shoulder at him, you smirk. “Like what you see, old man?”

You have a fucking gorgeous ass. He wants to slap it and he huffs as he pins you against the counter, newly installed by him. “Unbutton my pants and find out.” He orders.

Your stomach twists with anticipation and arousal and you reach down to unbutton his jeans, snaking your hand in to wrap your fingers around his cock. “Fucking hell.” You gasp in shock. He’s huge. Thick and throbbing in your hand. “Is that - I don’t know if that’s gonna fit, Miller.”

Joel chuckles quietly and smirks at you. “Don’t think it will, little girl?” You’re a grown ass woman, but your fingers tighten around his cock when he calls you that so he assumes you like it. “I think it will. I think you’ll take every inch and scream my name.”

You pull him out of his jeans and squeeze him, starting to slowly pump him as his hands cup your tits. “Big words. Big words I’m not sure you can fulfill.” You taunt him, licking your lips as you clench around nothing.

He huffs and reaches for your waist, pulling you up to shove you onto the counter and spread your thighs. “That right?” He grunts, squeezing your thigh before he slides his fingers to your core and finds you dripping wet. “I think it’ll be nice and slick.”

“Fuck.” You whimper when his fingers find your clit. “You wanna find out?” You ask breathlessly, grinding back against his hard cock. “Joel. I need- I want you to fuck me.”

The next moment, Joel’s too busy lining up and pushing inside your hot, tight cunt to even think about birth control. Groaning as he pushes deep, he doesn’t stop until he's bottomed out inside you and one hand slaps down on the new granite countertop.

Your gasp echoes in the kitchen, your eyes sliding shut as he stretches you out. “Holy shit.” You whisper, “oh my God. You’re - I think you’re in my guts.” You admit, unable to believe how he feels inside of you.

Joel growls, loving how tight you are squeezing him. “That’s the point, little girl.” He reminds you cockily. “To let you feel it.” He pulls back and then slams back into you.

Your head drops back, your mouth open in a silent moan as the delicious friction slams you into the counter. “I feel it. I - fuck - I feel it.” You pant, eyes opening as you turn your head to look at him, loving the way his dark eyes seem almost black with his desire for you.

He start to fuck you, quick hard thrusts that have you gasping his name while your hips bang against the counter. Reaching up to cup your tits and squeeze harshly before pinching your nipples.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” You hiss as he fucks you hard and fast. You cover his hands with yours as much as you can, making him squeeze your tits even harder. “Joel. Feels - better than I imagined.” You confess in a squeal when he kicks your ankle to spread you wider so he can push impossibly deeper.

“Gonna- fuck, gonna make you scream.” He huffs, nearly out of breath from how hard he’s fucking you but his hips don’t stutter and he doesn’t slow down. “Want to hear you scream.” He bites down on your ear and lets go of one of your tits to rub your clit.

Your hands slap down on the counter and when his calloused fingers find your clit. “Oh my - fuck!” You squeal, thighs starting to shake as he pounds into you, rubbing your bundle of nerves. You haven’t been fucked like this in - never. You’ve never been fucked like this. “Yes. Yes. Yes! I’m gonna - oh shit. You’re gonna make me cum.” You confess in a wheeze as he rasps in your ear, “that’s it, little girl. Want you to soak my cock.” You shudder and your palms slide on the counter, slick with sweat as he works your body higher. “I’m gonna - Joel!” You shriek as you cum, clamping down on his cock.

Joel growls again and the slap of his hips against your ass becomes even more frantic, fucking you through the high of your orgasm and chasing his own. Groaning filthily into your ear at how tight you grip him, making his hips stutter as you ride out the pleasure. “Gonna give me another?” He hisses in your ear, still rubbing your clit. “Gonna soak me again and scream. I know it, I can feel it.”

Most men would’ve already been pushing deep and spilling inside of you but Joel is still going. Your jaw is dropped and senseless moans of obedience fill the kitchen as you wordlessly promise him you’ll cum again. His hips press against your ass, no doubt leaving bruises from the brutal way your hips are hitting the quartz counter. His fingers rub your clit and he slaps it after a few seconds. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he continues to ruin you. “Gonna - yes. Again.” You gasp out, walls starting to flutter around his cock.

His back is killing him and his knees feel like they are turning to rubber, but he doesn’t stop. Addicted to the way your body splits open for his cock and your walls hug him close. “That’s it. Cum for me, you naughty little girl.” He groans. “Tightest little pussy I’ve ever fucked.”

His raspy words send you over the edge. “Oh fuck. Joel!” You sob his name out, loud enough for the neighbors to hear as he fucks you by the kitchen window. You clamp down on his cock, soaking him and your knees give out but he presses you against the counter while he frantically fucks into you. “Cum inside of me. It’s safe.” You promise breathlessly, slumping down to rest your upper body on the cool counter as he continues to ram into you.

Joel grunts, his body curling around you and he holds onto the counter as he pounds into you. Feeling his own orgasm getting closer with every thrust while you clench around him. “Fuck, fuck.” He growls into your ear. “Gonna fill you up.”

“Yes yes yes. Do it. Oh God. Fuck me. Fill me up.” You beg, wanting to hear him when he climaxes. You turn your head to look at him, his jaw clenched as he rocks into you. “Cum for me, baby.” You plead and that’s his undoing. He grunts as he cums, his cock twitching while he paints your walls with his hot seed.

Joel closes his eyes, his forehead pressed to the nap of your neck as he rocks his hips shallowly. Making sure every drop of his cum spurts inside of you until he is done. “Fuck.” He hisses, enjoying the wave of pure bliss that floods his body and he pants to catch his breath. “You good?” He asks after a moment.

You nod, trying to catch your own breath. “So good.” You confess, looking back at him when he lifts his head from your neck. “Didn’t expect that to happen today but I’m glad it did.” You giggle and caress his forearms as he clings to you.

He pulls out of you slowly, not wanting to hurt you. Rocking back and reluctantly letting you go so he can tuck himself back into his jeans. “Feel a lot lighter now.” He snorts, snagging a paper towel to wipe you up.

“Maybe you can focus on the floor instead of watching me walk around in these tiny shorts I had to dig out of my case to tempt you with.” You giggle, reaching for your panties after he tosses the paper towel. “Took you long enough to make a move, Miller.”

Joel snorts, “maybe, spent enough time thinking about bending you over the bathroom tub.” 

You chuckle, grabbing your bra after pulling your tank top back on. “Mmm, now that sounds like a good time. You promise to do that?” You tease him, “but seriously, I want more sex if you want that. Nothing serious. Some fun and you’re - you’re the hottest man I’ve seen in a long time. I don’t want strings after what happened with my ex. I want to have fun. You up for that or is this a one time thing?” You gesture between you, wanting him to make a choice on if this happens again.

Joel contemplates your offer and shrugs. “Sounds like I would be a fucking idiot to turn down sex.” He folds his arms over his chest. “Especially with a woman as gorgeous as you are.” He’s not the best at paying compliments, but he likes the way you smile when he says that. You are gorgeous and you want him to fuck you, the least he can do is make you feel good.

You step closer to him, leaning in to kiss his jaw, “I gotta get back to work but I’ll see you later. This is gonna be fun.” You squeal as you step back and stride off to the stairs, making your way up to your room. Joel huffs, a smirk on his face as he shakes his head. You’re going to be trouble.

****

You bite your lip as Joel works on tiling your parent’s bathroom today. His shirt is off, leaving him in a tank top, a chain hanging from his neck, and you keep walking past to get a glimpse of him. “Stop starin’.” He orders and you lean against the door frame. 

“Can’t help it when you’re teasing me all day with those arms of yours.” Your cross your arms, letting your eyes trail down his body as he stands to turn and face you. His brother is downstairs working on the half bath and you know he can’t hear you flirting with his older brother.

“You gonna let me fuck you on my lunch break?” Joel asks, smirking as he looks up from the mortar line he is laying. “Tommy’s running some errands so I’m gonna just stay here and eat my sandwich like a good boy.” He chuckles when your thighs press together on instinct.

You smirk, “yeah? You gonna have your cake and eat it too? You know Tommy won’t be gone for too long and I can’t be quiet so you gotta be quick to make me scream your name and cum before you finish your lunch.” You step into the bathroom and lean on the vanity, pushing your tits together so they meet his gaze when he looks up at you again. “You think you’re up for the challenge, old man?”

“I could make you cum on my tongue now, little girl.” He growls, eyes dropping to your tits. “Then just fill that little pussy with my cum while he’s gone.” Joel smirks at you with glee, “but I don’t know if you can be that quiet.”

You inhale sharply, “I could try. You could keep me quiet. Use your fingers or - or my panties.” You test him, wondering if he’s bold enough to do this while his brother is downstairs. “I can be good.”

Joel chuckles quietly and drops his trowel into the bucket and groans slightly as he climbs to his feet. “Hand me your panties then get up on the counter.” He orders, grabbing his rag to wipe his face. “And spread your legs.”

You giggle, glad you are wearing a dress today while pushing your panties down, handing them to him, and you shift to sit on the vanity he installed the other day, spreading your legs. He’s so hot, his muscles moving while he wears that tank top and his jeans tight around his thighs. He shifts to stand between your legs and you tilt your head to kiss his chin.

Joel pushes your dress up even more, pleased that you are so eager to give him what he wants. He tilts his head down to press his lips to yours briefly, not really kissing you a lot but you haven’t chased kisses either so he wonders if you dont really like it. Balling up your panties, he smirks as he holds them to your lips. “Open up, little girl. You can’t make too many noises while I eat your pussy.”

You eagerly open your mouth for him, wiggling on the cool surface as you impatiently wait for his next move after he pushes the lace into your mouth. It’s dry and you swallow around them, cheeks full of the material and your eyes meet his as his hands trail along your inner thighs, a whine of need is muffled by your underwear.

“So impatient.” He chides, pinching the inside of your thigh slightly and then soothing it with a small rub. “Now-“ he grunts as he kneels back down. “You need to be quiet.”

You watch him, eyes dark with lust as he leans in, his hot breath washing over your wet pussy. You’re always so turned on around him. You’ve never experienced this kind of attraction to someone before. You’re like a magnet to him. You whimper around the material when his tongue slides through your folds. 

Joel doesn’t hesitate to lavish attention on your cunt, spreading your thighs apart with his hands you seem so obsessed with. Groaning at the first and second whimpers that you give him. You haven’t asked him for this, but he wants to, wants to have you cum for him. Loves making you cum and your thighs shake around his ears.

Your head tilts back to hit the wall where he hasn't installed the mirror yet. Your eyes closing as you arch your back so he can access more of you. You moan around the panties, his thumbs spreading your lips to suck on your clit.

Your thighs press his head and you roll your hips down, making Joel groan into your folds. You aren’t screaming yet, your moans are muffled by your panties and it’s thrilling. The door into the bathroom is still opened and your parents could come or Tommy could walk in at any moment. His eyes flicker up to watch your face as he sucks.

You couldn’t care less if someone sees you right now. His tongue is magic against your clit. Harsh but perfect as he sucks and licks. His fingers slide along your thighs, pushing your thighs back out to give him room to make you fall apart on his tongue.

He doesn’t rush you, keeping the rhythm of his tongue steady and he flicks his tongue against your hole before sucking on your clit again. Groaning quietly as he devours you.

You pant around the pace, your chest heaving as he works you higher. His tongue flicking and lapping then he sucks on your clit and your thighs start to shake around his head. His name is muffled as you moan it as you get closer and closer. When he pushes his tongue deep, curling it and his nose presses against your clit, you fall apart. Your cry is silenced but he knows you’ve fallen over the edge by the way your thighs squeeze his head.

He can feel the rapid pulse of your heart pumping blood through your veins and he loves it. Keeping his tongue curled up inside you, his curved nose pressed against your clit as he feels your arousal flood his tongue. Your thighs squeeze his head and he huffs slightly when your fingers grip his hair, not letting you push him away just yet.

You whine around your panties when it becomes too much, his tongue languidly swiping over your clit but you're too sensitive. Your hands finally succeed in pushing his head away and he smirks up at you, cocky because he made you fall apart under his tongue.

“Joel!” Joel can move fast when he needs to, lurching to his feed and out the door while you are still sprawled on the counter. Tommy pauses at the door to the master bedroom. 

“Yeah?” He grumbles slightly. “Damn near thought you cut a finger off. What’re you yellin’ for?” Tommy snorts at the grumpy attitude of his older brother and shakes his head. 

“I’m headed out, you sure you don’t wanna grab a burger?” He offers, making Joel shake his head. 

“Nah, packed a lunch.” He smirks. “Even have dessert, ate that already though.” 

You scramble off of the vanity, shoving your dress down and spitting out your panties to shove them in your bra. Your face is burning from nearly getting caught but your pussy is throbbing from arousal at the fact that his brother nearly caught you. Tommy stares at his brother, eyebrows raised at his shiny chin, but he doesn't say anything. He doesn't need to when his older brother stares at him as if to say 'don't you dare.'

Tommy holds up his hands and smirks slightly. “Alright..uh, you should finish up the tile in there today?” He asks, nodding to the bathroom. 

“Yeah.” Joel nods and shoots daggers at his brother, wanting him to leave. “Have a good lunch.” He tells him pointedly. 

Tommy shakes his head, a small chuckle escaping his lips. He isn't dumb. He's seen the way you and Joel look at each other and he doesn't care so long as your parents don't get pissed and blame the company for Joel fucking their daughter while doing the renovations. He's happy that Joel is finally getting some. It's been a couple of years since Tess died and he deserves some happiness after so long. Tommy leaves, purposefully slamming the door shut and you come out of the bathroom, "oh God. He knows, doesn't he?" You ask Joel, slightly mortified.

“Tommy’s not stupid.” Joel answers. “He won’t say anything.” He wonders if you would want to stop now, ashamed that someone other than you and him might know. He grins at you and glances down at the slight bulge under your shirt. “Still not wearing any panties?” He asks lecherously. “Do you want me to fuck you in the bathroom or bend you over mommy and daddy’s bed?” He’s half joking, but he would do it if you wanted. 

You smirk, loving that he isn't put off by his brother knowing. "Oh God. I want - the bed. Want you inside of me. Want you to fill me up." You confess, knowing how wrong this is but your pussy is dripping as you stare at him, chest heaving.

“Lay down at the end of the bed.” Joel orders, reaching down to unbuckle his belt to unbutton his jeans. “Gonna put your legs up on my shoulders and fill your pussy with my cum right there on your parents bed like we’re fucking rebellious teenagers.” The fact that Joel’s not too much younger than your parents doesn’t matter, you make him feel younger.

You obey immediately, laying down on the bed and you shove your dress up to your waist. You watch him unbuckle his belt, his cock hard and aching as he pulls it out. You never get over the size of his length. “Fuck me, daddy.” You tease, spreading your legs for him.

“Fuck, do you want me to stay hard?” He huffs, pumping his cock in his hand and rolling his eyes at you. You giggle, not remorseful in the least and he shuffles forward. “I’m going to make you scream now that we are alone.” He warns with a smirk.

You moan when he slides his cock through your folds. “Please.” You whimper, your stomach clenching as you look up at him. “Want you to make me scream.” You demand, your hands caressing his forearms. He notches his cock at your entrance and grabs your wrists, lifting them over your head to press them into the mattress as he pushes into you.

“So goddamn tight.” He hisses. “Best little pussy I’ve ever fucked.” 

You love his compliments. He’s not a man of many words but fuck, he’s so sexy. Your feet are behind his head as he lifts your calves onto his shoulders, practically folding you in two as you take his cock. “Oh my God. I think you’re in my throat this time.” You pant, closing your eyes.

“Good.” He huffs, rocking his hips forward sharply as he moves your legs up from his waist to his shoulders. Leaning forward, he braces his hands on the bed, flashing a smirk before he starts to destroy your pussy.

You moan when he starts to move, pushing deep and hard. “Yes yes yes!” You squeal, your head tilting back and you close your eyes. 

“Look at me.” He demands, “fucking - keep your eyes open.” Your eyes flutter open and you look at him above you, his jaw clenched as he rocks into you. He stares down at you, his jaw clenched as he fucks you hard enough to shake the bed, the headboard starting to bang against the wall. “Fuck, dirty little slut.” He grunts. “So desperate for my cock you’re letting me fuck you on your parents bed.”

“Yes. Your - your slut. Oh God. Your cock. Only your cock drives me to do this.” You cry out, “so good. You - you fill me up so well.” You moan as he grinds deep into you. “Joel. So - so fucking good.” You cry as he fucks you hard and fast.

He can feel how close you are, bending down even more so he can press his lips to yours and the short hair above his cock grinds against your clit. “Cum.” He demands breathlessly. “Want you to cum.”

You practically wail, your eyes closing as you fall apart. “Oh my - Joel! Joel! Joel!” You squeal as you clamp down on his cock, soaking him with your cum.

Joel groans, eyes rolling back as you pack down around him. Having to really thrust his hips to move as he tries to work you through. “Fuck!” He yells, grabbing your thighs and straightening up as he continues to drill into you.

You watch him, your body pushed up the bed. “Come on. Cum for me, baby. Wanna feel it. Wanna feel you spill inside of me. Come on.” You egg him on, clenching around him as he drills into you until he stutters, his cock throbbing as he fills you up. “That’s it. Oh shit. Never gets old. Love watching you cum.”

Joel grunts and groans as he finally stops cumming. Panting and his work rough hands caress your legs. “Fucking love cumming in you.” He watches as he pulls out, spreading your thighs to watch his cum start to push out of your cunt. “That is a pretty sight.”

You giggle as he watches your pussy for a moment until he lets your legs down from his shoulders. “You wanna have your lunch?” You ask, knowing he’s gotta be hungry after that and he does need a lunch break. He nods and you gingerly shift off of the bed, “I’ll tidy up. Go eat.” You demand, rubbing his shoulder.

Joel tucks himself away and goes downstairs to where his lunch box is sitting in the kitchen. He really had packed a lunch because of Tommy and he opens it quickly. He knows that Tommy won’t say a word, but he will give him shit for taking too long on the lunch break.

****

You bite your lip as you watch Joel work, his shoulders moving with each motion of the brush while he paints the wall. He senses your presence and turns to look at you. Tommy is on a coffee run and your parents are out. "Hey trouble." He smirks at you and you step closer to him. 

"Hey handsome." You don't mess around, knowing you don't have a lot of time so you squeeze him through his pants.

“What are you doing?” He hisses, glancing around the room as if someone could walk in at any second. You laugh, making him glare at you and you squeeze him again. 

“I want to suck your cock.” You tell him, making him hiss again, this time his hardening cock jump against your palm. You smirk as he twitches under your touch. “No one is here. Just us.” You reassure him, your fingers sliding up to unbuckle his belt. Your nimble fingers unbutton his jeans and you reach in to pull out his half hard cock. “Wanna taste you.” You murmur as you shift to kneel down in front of him, paint splattered on his pants.

“Fuck.” Joel groans, looking down to find you watching him under your lashes while your tongue slides along the growing length of his cock. He’s never had someone blow him in their parents kitchen, and he’s not going to turn you down when you are so eager for it.

You kiss along his length as you feel him harden against your lips. His hands gripping the kitchen counter as he watches you. You moan when you wrap your lips around the head, loving the spurt of pre-cum hitting your tongue. Salty and all Joel. You can’t seem to get enough of him.

It’s fucking incredible, your mouth is hot and wet, tongue eagerly sliding against his shaft. You fucking take him deeper and the first groan bubbles out of his throat. Making you smirk, stretching your lips around him.

He hisses your name and you brace your hands on his thighs. The denim is rough under your palms and you keep your eyes on him. Your moan vibrates up his cock as you take him even deeper, your pussy throbbing at the groan that escapes his lips.

His hips push forward sharply, during his cock even deeper into your mouth. Making you gag as he grabs the back of your head and takes over. Holding you still while he thrusts into your mouth, loving how your hands grab at his hips and your throat contracts around him.

You let him use your mouth, the groans escaping his mouth combined with the grunts make you slide your hand into your shorts to rub your clit. Letting him hold your head and your eyes water as you allow him to use you.

“So fucking good.” He groans. “Don’t know what’s better, your pussy or your mouth.” He catches sight of your hand in your shorts and moans. “That’s right, play with your pussy while I fuck your throat, little girl.”

You moan around him again, choking a second later when he pushes deeper, the curls at the base of his cock brushing your nose, and you rub your clit a little faster. His hands still grip your head, using you and rocking his hips a little faster.

Even as often as Joel is getting sex, he’s still working himself close to cumming quickly. Your mouth is perfect, the pressure around his length too much for him to be able to stand for too long. “Gonna cum down your throat.” He promises. “Fill- fuck- you up.” His hips stutter and his stomach lurches. “Fuck- gonna-“ he chokes out a groan as his cock pushed deep down your throat and starts to throb.

Joel grunts as you swallow around him one more time, spent now the last spurts have been swallowed. His hand softens on your cheek and he stops rocking his hips, eyes looking at your own watery ones.

You let his softening cock drop from your mouth as he caresses your cheek and you offer him a soft smile, enjoying how relaxed he looks right now. “Fuck baby. So- you look so good.” You murmur, throat a little sore, “not stressed.”

He chuckles softly, smirking at you slightly. “Hard to be stressed when I just came.” He rubs his thumb over your lips. “How are you, little girl? You need to cum? Want me to rub your little clit?”

You nod, shifting to stand on shaky legs. He helps you up after tucking his cock away and spins you to press your against the counter where he was standing. “Joel.” You whimper when his hands squeeze your tits. “I want to cum.”

His hand slides down from your shoulder to your tit, squeezing it and then gliding down to your stomach. Hitting your shorts and diving under the elastic waistband, and groaning when he finds you’re not wearing any underwear. “Fuck baby.” He groans. “You’re always ready to take me. Ain’t ya?”

You nod, mouth falling open as his fingers find your clit. He’s been the best part of returning home. Working from your childhood bedroom has allowed you to run riot with Joel over your parents’ house and it’s been amazing.

“Thaaaat’s it.” He coos, smirking smugly at the way your body jerks and pulls taunt as he rubs. Knowing that he’s touching you exactly like you need to be touched. “Such a good girl for me. Doing so good. I know you want to cum.”

“Need to - God. Need to cum.” You pant, head tilting back as his calloused fingertips rub your clit expertly. He knows your body inside out by now. “Joel, baby. Shit. Know just what I need.”

He knows that you are just praising him because he’s giving you pleasure. He hums and presses his lips to the bottom of your ear. “You’re doing so good for me.”

You moan, “need - fingers inside of me.” You plead and he nods, shifting his hand further into your shorts so he can push two thick digits inside of your dripping pussy. “Yesss.” You cry, gripping his shirt as he pushes you into the counter.

He doesn’t stop, curling and pumping his fingers deep inside your cunt. Pressing you close and pushing his thigh between your legs to keep them splayed open. “Come on baby, soak my fingers.”

You pant, fingers curling in his shirt as he pushes you higher and higher. “Oh God. I -fuck Joel. Joel baby. I’m gonna - shit. Shit. Shit.” You cry out, clamping down on his digits as he sends you over the edge. His thumb pressed against your clit and you slump against him while your thighs shake against his knee.

Joel watched you closely, enjoying the way your entire body reacts to your pleasure and he hums softly. “That’s it. You just melt against me.”

You inhale deeply, leaning in to breathe him in. Your lips press against his neck, “so good.” You murmur as he withdraws his hand from your shorts just as the front door opens. Joel steps away from you immediately and your parents walk in. “Hey Joel. How’s it going?” Your dad asks and you exhale shakily, stepping over to the fridge Joel installed the day before.

“It’s going good.” Joel acknowledges, sliding his hands into his pockets and leaning back like he just hadn’t had his fingers buried in the other man’s daughter. “We should be finished up right on schedule. Just finishing the tile and trim and she’ll be done.” He glances around and the completely redone kitchen.

You are disappointed that Joel will be done sooner rather than later. You’ve had weeks of sex and you’re not sure what you’re going to do when he’s done. Luckily, he still has the bathrooms to finish along with the laundry room and the flooring in the bedrooms. “He’s done a good job so far.” You comment and your mom smiles, agreeing. “We are having a BBQ tomorrow with the neighbors. Weather is perfect and we wondered if you and Tommy wanna join us?” Your dad asks the older Miller brother.

“I- uh, yeah, sure.” Joel doesn’t often socialize with his clients, but he also doesn’t normally bang their daughters either. He bites his lip and shrugs. “What can I bring? I don’t know if I would trust something I cooked, but I can bring cups, beer, whatever you need.”

Your dad nods, “beer would be awesome. Just bring you and Tommy can bring Maria. Want to thank you guys for doing such an amazing job so far.” He says and reaches out to slap Joel on his upper arm. Your lover nods, his dark eyes glancing at you and you offer him a soft smile, wanting to let him know you want him to come to the cookout.

****

You see Joel across the lawn, sipping a beer and talking to Tommy and his wife, Maria. The entire street is here for the cookout and you sip your vodka seltzer while Darlene from two doors down talks to you about her lawyer son who would be ‘just perfect for you.’ “He sounds perfect for Sally’s daughter.” You point to the other woman who is talking to your mom and you make your way across the lawn to the Miller family. “Hey guys. Everyone is amazed by the kitchen and half bath. My parents have given your number out to nearly everyone here so you should be busy for the rest of the year.” You grin, shifting in your short sundress.

“Good.” Tommy looks very pleased by the prospect and rubs Maria’s back. “This is my wife, Maria.” He boasts. “And soon to be the next Miller.” 

Joel’s lips press together but he relaxes his jaw so it’s not obvious he’s uncomfortable. “That’s good.” He nods, holding up a case of beer in each hand. He has splurged on the good stuff since he didn’t think your dad drank PBR. “Where do you want these?”

You greet Maria, “I’ve heard a lot about you. All good things.” You promise, offering her a smile and she says “I’ve heard a lot about you too.” Her eyes look at Joel and he avoids his sister in law. “You can put them on the bar.” You tell Joel, escorting him over to the table full of buckets of ice and various drinks.

“Thanks.” He puts the beers down on the bar and turns towards you. “So…what now?” He asks. “I talk to all his friends about remodeling their bathrooms?” He chuckles quietly.

“That or…we could find somewhere private and you could show me how you manage to get your grout lines so straight?” You smirk, biting your lip and you glance around to make sure no one is watching you. “Unless you’d prefer I leave you with the neighborhood watch mom group over there?” You flick your eyes over to the gaggle of middle aged women who are not so discreetly eying Joel.

“Fuck no.” Joel snorts, looking over at the group of women and then shooting you an annoyed look. He doesn’t want to be fending off those vultures all night. “Where do you want to go?” He asks, wiping his hands on his jeans and feeling a little out of place even though he had showered and even trimmed up his facial hair for tonight. His jeans aren’t ripped or paint stained and his flannel shirt is practically new.

You trail your eyes along his figure, stomach twisting at how good he looks tonight. He smells good too. “I have a treehouse. Used to go in it when I was a kid. You want to join me in there? I might want to upgrade the flooring.” You tease, grabbing your drink and spinning around, you glance over your shoulder at him as you make your way through the yard to the treehouse.

Joel grabs a beer, ignoring the women who are staring after him and follows you outside. There’s enough people here that most of them are talking and not paying any attention when you disappear around the back of a tree and Joel reaches the base just in time to catch a glimpse of your bare ass as you climb. “Fuckin’ too old for this shit.” He grunts quietly, shoving his beer into his pocket and climbing up after you.

You giggle as he climbs up, “come on Miller. Where’s your sense of adventure?” You ask him as you step up onto the treehouse your grandfather built years ago. He was like Joel. Handy and an excellent craftsman. Your dad didn’t inherit the gift. “Gone when I turned 50.” He groans as he steps into the treehouse. It’s not creaking when he shifts his weight and he hums, impressed with the structure. You sit down on the beanbag, holding your drink up. “You look good for your age.” You hum, taking a sip.

He rolls his eyes and huffs as he sits down, knees creaking slightly. “For my age, huh?” He pulls the beer out of his pocket and opens the can. “To aging gracefully.” He toasts, holding the can up and then taking a sip of the cold brew.

You smile, watching him in your childhood treehouse is a bizarre experience but you love it. “You do look really good tonight.” You compliment him, “I like the clean look a lot. I do think I like the dirty look more, though. Rugged, sexy, capable.” You flirt, “and you can still get it up.” You tease, “most of the time.” You joke about the time he was about to fuck you and your parents’ old fashioned house phone voice sounded out their voicemail. Your dad telling you to take the chicken out of the freezer. He went soft as soon as he heard your dad.

“Can’t believe you still hold that against me.” He snorts. “Been thirty fuckin’ years since I’ve been worried about somebody’s daddy walkin’ in.” He grunts, staring at the way your thighs spread teasingly. His cock twitches in his jeans and like every time he’s around you, he starts to harden. “So did you bring me up here to fuck?” He asks. “Or just get away from everyone?”

“Both.” You tilt your head, “I don’t - I have to confess, I’ve never been so sexually attracted to anyone. I want you. All the time. Like I even touch myself thinking about you at night.” You know you’re giving him all the cards but you mean what you say. “So…we can talk since I saved you from the neighborhood ladies flirting with you and the husbands asking for your advice on their latest DIY project…or we can fuck and you gotta keep me quiet since they could definitely hear us up here.”

“How wet are you?” Joel asks, eyeing the exposed skin as your thighs spread again. You’ve talked between flirting and fucking, but the idea of you walking around the party dripping his cum is one he really likes.

You bite your lip and lift your dress higher, spreading your legs to expose your wet folds to his dark gaze. “Soaking wet for you. Ever since you walked into the party.” You confess, sliding your hand down to rub your clit.

“Spread your lips apart.” Joel orders quietly. “Rub slower.” He twitches in his jeans and reaches down to palm himself as he watches you touch yourself. You’ve not really had time for more than frantically rushed fucking, so now he can watch you. See what you like to do to yourself when you’re thinking about him.

You set your drink down and reach down with your other hand, spreading your lips to show him your puffy clit. Your eyes on him as you slowly rub the bundle of nerves and he squeezes his cock through his jeans. You like the way he’s ordering you.

“That’s good, just like that.” He grunts. “Slide your fingers through your slick and then rub your clit again. Gotta make sure you’re nice and wet. But you’re always so fucking wet.” He unbuttons his jeans and reveals that he’s not wearing any underwear, pulling out his cock and then spitting in his hand to wrap around it and pump slowly.

You whimper, mouth almost watering when you see this thick cock in his hand. You follow his order, sliding your fingers down to gather up your slick and you bring it back to your clit, rubbing it a little faster. “Always wet around you. Just looking at you gets me wet. Especially - shit - especially when you strip your shirt off or wear your tank top.”

“Like that, huh?” He grunts and rocks his hips up, working himself into his fist. “You enjoy being fucked. That pretty pussy needs to be fucked as often as possible.”

You whine slightly as he pumps his cock a little faster. “Joel. Please. Let me - let me sit on your cock. Wanna feel you inside of me. Want you to cum inside of me.” You beg pathetically, pulling your hand away from your clit.

“What are you waiting for?” He demands, still pumping himself. “You want to ride, you have to come to me.” You’ve never ridden him before but he wants to see your tits bounce in his face. “Pull out your other tit and come sit on my cock.”

You pull down the straps of your dress, exposing your tits and you shift out of the bean bag, straddling his thighs and he holds his cock up so you can sink down on him. “Fuckkk.” You whimper, eyes fluttering closed as he stretches you out.

“Shhhh shhhh.” He covers your mouth with his hand, the other behind your neck to hold you firm while he bottoms out in your aching pussy. “Silent.” He whispers, knowing that no one at the party can hear, but you will get loud if he doesn’t warn you. Breathing against his fingers, he groans quietly when your pussy flutters. “You like that, huh?” He grunts. “Holding your mouth closed while you ride my cock? Is that how to keep you quiet?”

Your hands grip his wrist, eyes wide as you nod. You want him to keep you quiet. His cock twitches inside of you and you whimper against his palm. “Shhhh.” He coos, “ride me.” He demands softly and you nod, lifting your thighs to pull up off of his cock nearly all the way. You sink back down onto him.

He watches you, feeling the shuddered breaths against his palm, warming it. Thinking that you are fucking gorgeous and too good for him as you grind back down into his lap. Wanting him as deep as possible while you lean back to find the perfect angle for his cock inside you. “Good girl.” He praises, voice low. “Make yourself cum.”

You love his voice. Deep and gruff. His orders have you fluttering around his cock already. Knowing that anyone at the party could figure out that you are together, up here, having sex. Your nails dig into his forearm slightly and you rock a little faster, your thighs aching but you don’t care. You want to cum and you want him to follow you.

Joel’s hips stay down, letting you have complete control of the ride, although he pulls you up straighter by your head. Just enough for him to duck down and wrap his lips around one of your nipples. Biting it before sucking it onto his mouth and lavishing attention on it.

You cry into his palm, muffled as he bites down on your nipple and you tangle your fingers in his hair as you ride him a little faster. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you find the right angle for the head of his cock to rub against your g-spot.

Joel grunts, sucking and biting on your breast while you gallop on his cock. Loving how your moans are muffled by his hand and his cock twitches. He loves how you demand pleasure and are willing to take it for yourself.

You moan into his palm, so close to your orgasm. He switches to your other nipple and it sends you over the edge. You clamp down on his cock, soaking him and your cry threatens to bubble past his palm but he presses his hand harder against your mouth to smother your cry. His groan is soft against your breast as you grip him and you shake above him.

Your hands slide down from his hair to his shoulders, caressing his upper back as he paints your walls with his cum. His hand drops from your mouth as he grips your waist and you rest your head on top of his. “So good, baby. So fucking good.” You gasp, “can’t get enough of you.”

Joel chuckles quietly as you both ride out your orgasms, panting softly. “I can tell.” He teases quietly, running his hand down your spine. “Good baby?”

You nod against his head, “so good. Fuck, Joel. Wish you could stay inside of me alllll the time.” You tease, running your fingers through his salt and pepper locks. “I am gonna be dripping your cum at this party.”

“I know.” He smirks at you and waggles his brows. “I’ve thought about that before you ever even climbed in my lap.” He pats your hip lightly, leaning back and sighing, relaxed and loose now. He picks up his beer and takes a swallow, his cock softening inside you.

You watch him, your gaze softening until you clear your throat and shift off of his lap. You grab your own drink after you pull your dress into place, sitting down in the bean bag. Joel is quiet as he sips his beer and you shift in the bean bag. “I’m gonna head down, clean up. Come down whenever you’re ready. It’s better that we are seen separately.” You murmur, groaning as you stand up and his cum starts to drip down your thigh. You wink at him as you climb down the ladder and make your way into the house to clean up. When you come out of the bathroom, you are grabbing a snack in the kitchen when your mom approaches you. “Sweetheart, we - your dad and I wanted to talk to you. We noticed you and Joel go up to your treehouse and we - we’ve seen the way you look at him. You’re an adult and after what that asshole did to you, you deserve to have some fun but honey…Joel is complicated.” You open your mouth to respond but she shakes her head, “you don’t know his past. You’ve been away from home for a long time and we - your dad knew Joel from his coworkers. Joel lost his daughter. She was thirteen. He lost her and his wife - she left him when his daughter was two. He’s got a lot of baggage and I’m worried that he will hurt you because he doesn’t want to - he’s not the dating kind.” She explains and your jaw clenches. 

“Mom, I don’t want to date him. We are having fun. Please…I know I have kept this for you. Been doing this under your roof and I’m sorry for that but I’m not sorry about Joel. He’s fun and I- I deserve to have some fun. I’m not marrying the guy.” You scoff, crossing your arms. She nods and grabs her wine glass, neither of you aware that Tommy was lingering in the hallway.

Tommy finds Joel nursing a beer and listening to one of your father’s neighbors talk about the bathroom that he wanted to remodel. Obviously wanting a quote, sight unseen. “Hey, can I talk to you for a second?” Tommy asks Joel, nodding in apology to the potential customer. Once he gets him alone, Tommy shuffles nervously. “So I heard something…..” 

Joel clenches his jaw as Tommy relays the conversation that he had heard between you and your mother. “Right.” He spits after a moment, glancing over at you and then back at his brother. “Think I’m going to call it a night.” He decides.

You frown when you don’t see Joel anymore and you ask Tommy where he went. The younger Miller brother is a little cold towards you and tells you his brother went home, decided to call it a night. You nod and thank him and Maria for coming when he tells you they are leaving. You’re confused Joel didn’t say goodbye but you suppose that’s his MO. 

****

The next day, Joel is back working in the house and you glance around to see where Tommy is before you waltz over to him, a smile on your face. “Hey handsome. Working in my bedroom today?” You ask, “I need some help moving the bed.”

Joel looks up at you for a brief moment and then back down at his tools. “Tommy and I will move it. I’d prefer it if you weren’t in the room.” He tells you. “Liability.” He doesn’t look back up and doesn’t say another word while you are standing there waiting for him to take you up on your obvious overture.

Your smile falls, his gaze turning back to his tools and you deflate. “Oh, uh, okay. Sure. I can take my work to the living room.” You step back, wondering if he’s had a bad morning. You leave the hallway without another word and grab your laptop, heading downstairs to work. Later that afternoon, Tommy is out getting their lunch and you walk into your bedroom to find Joel working on ripping up the old carpet. “You need a drink?” You hold out the bottle of water, “figured you could use a break while you wait for Tommy to get back.” You bend over so he can look down your shirt at your tits.

“I’m good.” He doesn’t look up, not wanting to see your tits or your legs on display. “Have a bottle over there.” He doesn’t even stop working and just nods his head towards his tool bag. “Be finished by tomorrow.” His words are short and clipped.

There’s definitely something wrong. You frown and huff, standing up straight and you don’t leave right away. You uncap the bottle and tilt your head back, chugging half the water. With a dramatic sigh of satisfaction, you spin on your heel and leave the room.

Joel continues working but he sighs, hating that he had ever thought that you would want him. He was stupid, he had started to care about you. Way too much, it was better to just keep things professional between you. He was the contractor, nothing more.

****

A couple of days pass by and you ignore Joel and Tommy’s presence in the house, deciding to work at some coffee shops instead, but today is a gorgeous day. The sun is shining, you don’t need to work, so you decide to sit in the sun and have a drink. You walk into the kitchen where Joel is sitting, looking over his materials, and you open the fridge to grab a drink while dressed in the smallest bikini you own. Just because he’s ignoring you doesn’t mean he won’t notice you. Maybe he’s in a bad mood. You’d forgive him if he touched you again.

The muscles in Joel’s jaws have been getting a workout. Clenching every time you walk into a room half naked and primping around. He knows what you are doing and it’s starting to piss him off. He's ached for days, having to go home and jerk off after work every night like he’s a teenager again. “Need to put some fucking clothes on.” He grumbles under his breath.

You turn your head to look at him, “did you say something?” He shakes his head and you hum, taking your drink outside to the sun loungers your parents had bought for the summer. You sigh as you lay down in view on the kitchen window. Taking off your top to sunbathe.

It takes him about fifteen minutes to notice you. Hissing in anger when he sees your tits on display. He grabs one of his work rags and stalks outside angrily. “Cover yourself up.” He growls, tossing the rag over your chest. “My fucking brother doesn’t want to see your tits and his wife certainly doesn’t want him to.”

You glare at him from behind your sunglasses. “Your brother isn’t here, asshole.” You toss the rag back at him. “It’s my day off. I wanted to relax and you are interrupting that.” You hiss at him, “and it’s not like you haven’t seen it all before.”

“Fuck this.” He growls. “I’m done for the day.” He’s pissed off and needs to get away from you.

You huff, grabbing the rag back. “You don’t need to leave. I’ll go inside. If you leave, you’ll need more time to finish your work and I don’t want you staying longer than necessary. You might as well stay and I’ll go inside. Give you a break from my tits.” You growl, shifting to stand up from the lounger.

“I’m just the help, right?” He scoffs. “Someone to use and have fun with?” Hearing what you had said hurt because Tommy had said you had seemed appalled that your mother figured it out. “So I think it’s best that I keep things professional. So there’s no confusion. Not like you’d want people to know you were getting fucked by the carpenter.” He shakes his head. “I’ll have Tommy finish up this job.”

“I- I didn’t - you heard my conversation with my mom? I was - I was trying to save your ass. It’s not exactly professional to sleep with your client's daughter. I- it was fun. Until you decided to be an asshole. I figured you wanted to keep it casual and I want to know more about you but we don’t exactly have time to sit down and tell our life story.”

“Tommy heard you.” He corrects, wondering if you’re just trying to cover your ass or if you were trying to protect him. He waits for a moment, biting his lip. “If you want to know about me, I’ll be at Bill & Frank’s tonight.” He tells you, planning on going to the dive bar that Frank has tried to make a little more classy. “Up to you.”

You nod, knowing it’s best to not push him anymore right now. You grab your bikini top and head inside, deciding to leave him be and meet him later. You head back inside and you don’t look back, figuring that he’d want to be left alone. 

****

You brush your dress down, looking up at the crooked sign for Bill and Frank’s and you inhale deeply. Reaching for the door, you head inside and it’s a weird mix of old fashioned saloon and an afternoon tea shop. Lace doilies on the tables with small lamps and worn coasters. The artwork on the wall says “eighty year old woman” while the floor is sticky.

“Well that doesn’t walk in here often.” Bill grunts, looking at the door with an almost annoyed glare, which was normal for the cantankerous bar owner. “Trouble if I’ve ever seen.” 

Joel looks over his shoulder to see you and snorts. “Surprised you noticed.” He huffs at the other man, smirking slightly when the bearded man shifts his glare to him. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell Frank.” He’s sort of friends with Bill and Frank, the proprietors of the little bar. Or it’s better to say, Tess was really good friends with Frank, so Bill and Joel had tolerated each other. After Tess had died, Joel had found himself still coming back.

You spot Joel at the bar and make your way over. He turns to look at you, “hey.” He grunts and you offer him a soft smile as he pulls the bar stool out next to him for you to sit down. He slides the shot he had sitting in front of him over to you and you don’t hesitate to tilt your head back as you down it. Bill snorts, wiping down the counter, “what can I get you?” He asks and you order a beer. “I didn’t know if you’d be here. You didn’t give me a time.”

“Sorry.” He grunts, lifting his beer to his lips and takes a sip. “Figured you’d come and I’d be here.” Bill chuckles as he wipes down the bar with a rag, smirking slightly at the sight of Joel and another woman. “You on a date, Miller?” He cackles.

“Joel is working on my parents’ house.” You explain and Bill snorts, “this is the hussy that’s got you running around in circles?” He asks and your eyebrows raise. Joel shakes his head, “go get her drink and get Frank out here if you can’t be nice.” He orders and you huff, “been talking me up, huh?” Joel shrugs and you sigh, “I suppose I deserve that. I haven’t exactly treated you fairly. It wasn’t just fun for me. I wanted more.” You admit softly, looking down at the counter.

Joel snorts as Bill walks away and cuts you a look before he takes another sip of his beer. “I’m old, little girl.” He reminds you. “You’re a hell of a lot younger, wanting things I can’t give you. Like kids and shit.”

You tap your fingers on the counter, closing your eyes for a second. “We never had a discussion about birth control other than me telling you it was taken care of. The truth is…my ex cheated on me.” You take a deep breath, “he cheated on me because I found out I’m infertile. We tried for a year. Figured we would do the tests when we discovered that I can’t - I have PCOS and it was bad. They did some tests and scans and I had to have my ovaries removed then he - he cheated on me. She’s pregnant. That’s why I moved home. I was in his house and I was sure he was going to propose since he seemed to accept that we wouldn’t have biological kids but he - he cheated and I moved home. So to answer your question, I can’t have kids.”

“What a fucker.” He growls, angry on your behalf. “That’s a shit thing to do.” He will never understand someone’s need to cheat. Those people are complete scumbags in his eyes and he’s done a lot of shit he’s regretted. “I’m sorry, you deserve better than that douche bag. It doesn’t matter if you can’t give him kids.”

You nod, “it did to him. I’m glad I found out what he’s really like. Better to happen like that instead of when we have had adopted two kids and I’m stuck with him.” You confess just as another man comes over to set your beer down along with another for Joel. The man, you assume he is Frank, says your name. “Right? The pretty girl you’ve been telling us about. She’s as beautiful as you described, Joel.” Frank says and you fluster, looking at Joel who is busy studying the grain of wood on the counter. “There’s a condom machine in the bathroom.” Frank winks as he walks off to serve another patron.

“Jesus Christ.” Joel hisses under his breath, squirming slightly in his seat in embarrassment. “Gonna stop fucking coming here.” He gripes even as he picks up his new beer.

You giggle softly, “he heard all the details, huh?” You tease and you nudge him gently. “It’s fine. I didn’t know you cared so much, Miller.” You take a sip of your beer and glance around the bar, feeling someone’s eyes on you. A man, younger than Joel but shorter, is staring at you and you offer him a nod before you turn back to the counter.

Joel glances around and doesn’t really think anything of the people in the bar. Plenty of people are flirting and having a good time. Frank is down the bar waiting on another couple and he wonders if you want to get some food.

Frank sets another round of drinks down in front of you after he serves the couple down the bar. “On the house. It’s been a while since I saw Joel smile. Especially not since Tess died.” He says and you frown, turning to look at Joel.

He owes you an explanation. “Tess was my- we were-“ he fumbles for the proper way to describe his relationship with Tess. The ache was still there, deep inside him just like when he lost Sarah. “She was mine.” He finally settled on just that. “She died. Two years ago.”

You can see the pain in his eyes, losing someone else that he loved. Your dad told you more about Joel losing his daughter, Sarah, to a gunman in a gas station robbery that went wrong. Your heart aches for him. You reach for his hand, “I’m so sorry, Joel.” You murmur, knowing that there’s nothing else you could say.

Sorries always make Joel uncomfortable. It can’t change the past or bring back Sarah, or Tess. “Thanks.” He mumbles and drains the rest of his first beer. “I need to piss.” He tells you as he stands. “Be right back.”

You nod, watching him go. You take a sip of your beer and sense a presence beside you as soon as Joel disappears. “Hey baby. You done babysitting the old man? Wanna have some real fun?” He asks and you scoff, “he’s not old.” 

The guy leans against the counter next to you. “Bet he needs viagra to get it up.” He scoffs and you snort, “that ‘old man’ can make my legs shake and make me moan his name more than anyone I’ve ever met.” You say and he says, “until you met me.” He smirks, leaning in and you jerk back. 

“Please fuck off.” You order, hating how he won’t take the hint. “Come on baby, don’t be mean. Gimme a chance to make you cum.” He coos, reaching for your wrist. 

“Get the fuck off of me.” You hiss, trying to jerk your wrist out of his grip but he doesn’t let go.

Joel comes out of the bathroom, walking into the bar and the first thing he sees is you trying to pull your arm out of some asshole’s grip. The fucker not letting you go and Joel’s jaw clenches and his fists bunch together. “Oh shit.” Frank hisses, knowing what that look means. “Joel! Joel! Don’t do it! Joel!” Joel doesn’t even hear him as he crosses the bar in less than ten seconds and is dragging the asshole off of you. Whirling him around and punching him down to the ground before climbing on top of him and whaling away in an angry haze.

Your eyes widen and a shocked gasp escapes your lips as Joel continues to punch the asshole. “Joel. Joel. Stop!” You demand, knowing he’s going to kill the guy if you let him continue. You reach for his shoulder as he pulls his fist back again but he shrugs you off, his vision going red. Bill rushes around the bar, grabbing Joel’s waist to pull him off of the guy before he punches his face in. “Come on, man.” Bill grunts, dragging Joel off just enough for Frank to get in front of him. “Go. You gotta go.” Frank tells you when he hears someone calling 911. “Take Joel. Go.” Frank urges, knowing Joel can’t afford another arrest. “Motherfucker.” Joel growls, trying to get out of Bill’s grip. 

“Stop it,” Bill growls, spinning him to drag him out of the bar. You nod, grabbing your purse and Bill escorts Joel to his truck. “Drive him home.” He orders, shoving Joel into his truck, his fists bloody and skin broken. Your hands shake, taking the key from Bill that he pulled out of Joel’s pocket. You get into the driver’s seat, adjusting the seat, and you barely manage to start the engine. “You- you gotta tell me where you live.”

Joel doesn’t answer you right away, staring down and his hand and flexing it to make sure nothings too broken. Just a few hairline fractures from what he can tell with the adrenaline still running through his system. “Joel!” You snap, making him look up at you, his eyes dark and focused, causing you to nearly shrink back from him. “Where do you live?” You repeat and he knows he’s in no condition to drive. He murmurs his address and then looks back down at his hand, sirens wailing in the distance.

You drive a little faster when you see the flashing lights on the horizon, wanting Joel to get home safe and sound. Your heart is still pounding but you manage to figure out his street and pull onto it, squinting to see the numbers in the dark. Finally, you pull onto his drive and put the truck in park, killing the engine. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” You murmur, getting out of his truck and rounding it to open the door for him.

Joel follows your instructions, getting out of the truck and following behind you as you climb the steps to the front door of his house. The old craftsman cottage has been a project for him, one that he needed after Tess, but now it is done and it is a beauty.

You unlock his door with the key on his truck key ring and you admire the workmanship that went into the home. Signs of Joel’s hard work are everywhere. You shut the door behind him when he walks in. “Do you have a first aid kit?” You ask and he nods, “laundry room.” He jerks his chin towards the door across the hall and you nod, “go sit” you order before you go find the kit.

He should tell you to go, but he just sits down at the dining room table and sighs. His hand hurts, but he’s fucking still amped up. His leg bouncing slightly as his pulse just jumps around.

You come into the dining room to sit down, opening the kit. Your stomach twists as you look at Joel, the dark look from earlier still not receding from his eyes. You’re silent as you work on cleaning the blood to assess the damage to his knuckles.

He wants you. The way his cock is twitching and throbbing as you work on him, it should scare him. Scare you. Your thumb brushes over his knuckle and he grabs your hand, making you look at him. “You should go.” He growls.

Your eyes meet his and you realize he doesn’t want you to go. You stare at him for a few moments, trying to figure him out until you say “no.” You won’t go. Not when he needs you and you need him. Sometime between the messing around and having sex, it became serious.

“I’m not going to be gentle.” He warns, wanting to be honest. “I can’t be. Not now, not when my fucking-“ he cuts himself off. “Last chance.”

You take a moment to wrap his knuckles. “I don’t want gentle.” You tell him, your eyes meeting his after you finish wrapping his knuckles with the bandage. “I want you. No matter what. I want you.” You promise, your gaze firm, showing him that you’re not running away.

Joel shoots out of his chair and grabs your shoulders, kissing you roughly, his lips bruising. He wants to destroy you, completely break you apart in a completely different way from how he would have handled that bastard. Wanting to banish the thought of him touching you from his mind and replace it with you.

You gasp into his mouth, his hands lifting you up onto the table and you grip his shirt, wanting to keep him close. Your legs wrapping around his waist and his cock is hard in his pants, pushing into your core. His tongue slides into your mouth and your hands slide up to tangle in his hair, tugging as you react to his rough touch.

Joel growls, biting your bottom lip and it’s like he’s lost all reason on control. He wants nothing more to break you down. His hands are rough and demanding, nearly ripping your dress off your body.

You reach out, fumbling to unbutton his shirt. Every time you’ve had sex, he’s been dressed. Tonight, you want to see all of him. You grow impatient and rip his shirt, buttons flying as you shove it down his shoulders to access his skin. Your hands explore his chest when the shirt hits the floor and you lean in, biting down on his peck.

He grunts, cock twitching and he squeezes your hands before he rips your panties off of you. Willing to sacrifice them to his needs.

“Oh my God!” You squeal at the ripping of your underwear. “Joel!” You gasp, moaning a second later when his fingers push inside of your dripping wet cunt. You slide your hands down to his belt, unbuckling it and you rip it out of the loops, working fast to unbutton his jeans and pull his hard cock out.

Joel pushes your hands away but you press your thighs together when he tries to step between them. “Strip.” You demand and he growls, needing to be inside you.

Joel kicks his boots off, his jeans hitting the floor and he shoves them across the floor. Naked in front of you for the first time, you lean back to admire his form. His arms are strong, freckled from being in the sun, and he has a slight belly but it’s so sexy. He’s not overly hairy and your hand lets go of his cock so you can caress his skin. “So gorgeous.” You murmur, lost in your own thoughts as you admire him.

Joel huffs, shaking his head. “I’m old, you’re gorgeous.” It’s the small bit of tenderness he can manage right now, but when he grabs you, his hands are harsh. “You’re not letting that fucker touch you.” He hisses, pushing your thighs apart. “He couldn’t fuck you like I do.” He grabs your leg and pulls it up on his hip, lining up and slamming his cock into your warm and giving cunt in one thrust.

“Joel!” You squeal as he stretches you out. You’re wet enough to take him but it pinches slightly. You don’t care. You grip his arms, lifting your thigh higher so he can push deeper inside of you. “Fuck baby.” You pant, tilting your head back as he starts to fuck you.

The table rocks, shaking and scrapping over the floor as he fucks you. Brutally slamming into you before quickly pulling back out to do it again. Savage and feral, his mouth bites and sucks at your tilted throat, needing to possess and mark you as his.

He’s possessing you with every thrust, bite, mark, and kiss. You’re surrounded by him. His woodsy smell from the lumber he works with in your nose and you moan, fumbling to cross your ankles behind his back to get him even closer.

He might break the fucking table, but he doesn’t care. All he cares about is the way you take him. Your pussy giving way to the harsh thrusts of his cock and squeezing tight around him. He growls and groans, making noises that sound inhuman as he fucks you.

“Joel. Oh my God.” You cry out, your hands scrambling to grip him, needing an anchor as he fucks you hard and fast. It’s harder than anything you’ve ever experienced. Feral and dominating but your cunt is absolutely gushing around him, your stomach clenched with arousal as he rocks into you. “Shit. You’re gonna make me cum.” You pant, reaching down to rub your clit, knowing he’s focused on thrusting into you.

He knows he should ease up, that you deserve tenderness but he doesn’t have it in him right now. The rage, the fury, all being taken out on your pussy. “Cum.” He grunts, the sound nearly demonic from how raspy he sounds. “Cum.”

How can you deny him when he asks you like that? He pounds into you two more times and you’re sent over the edge. Clamping down on him, your scream echoes in his house and your hand falls away from your clit to slam onto the table to keep yourself upright.

Joel hisses your name, so fucking close to cumming himself. It’s so sexy how easily you cum for him. Hips stuttering, he only manages another few thrusts before he is cumming, painting your walls with his cum as he moans your name again, softly this time.

You slump against him when he cums, his cock twitching inside of you, and you moan softly when he rests his head on top of yours. “Joel.” You murmur, throat closing slightly with emotions that you can’t give voice to.

Panting, he closes his eyes, his hands slowly relaxing and he sighs. “Are you- did I hurt you?” He asks softly. He hadn’t wanted to actually hurt you, despite being rough.

You shake your head, “no. No you didn’t, baby.” You promise, leaning in to kiss his chin and he sighs, turning his head to press his lips to yours. It’s surprisingly tender after how rough he fucked you. You cup his cheeks, caressing the gray stubble there to show him how much you care for him without actually telling him.

“Do you want to stay?” He nuzzles his nose against yours, realizing you must have left your car at the bar. He hasn’t even pulled out of you, but he doesn’t really want to. Suddenly tired and ready for bed after the evening.

“Yes.” You nod, knowing it’s too late to head home. He pulls out of you, slow enough to not hurt you, and you shift off of his table that has scraped along the floor. “Can I borrow a shirt?” You ask, watching him bend down to grab his jeans, pulling them on.

“Yeah, come on baby.” He uses his shirt to wipe up his cum and grabs you a bottle of water out of the fridge. “I’ll get you a shirt you can sleep in. Or you can sleep naked beside me.” He jokes, smirking at your wobbly footing when you stand up.

You’re soon dressed in his shirt, sliding under his sheets that smell just like him, and you’re exhausted. The events of the day hit you hard and you curl around him when he slides in beside you, water bottle placed on your nightstand.

Joel doesn’t like sleep, he dreams too much. Of Sarah, Tess and all the mistakes he has made over the years. Haunting him and weighing him down. Tonight, wrapped around you, Joel doesn’t dream.

The next morning, you wake up and groan against the sunlight peeking in through the blinds. “Joel?” You call out softly, voice raspy. The smell of bacon and eggs hits your nose and you get out of bed, peeing before you head downstairs to the kitchen. Your eyes widen when you find Joel cooking and sitting at the counter is a teenage girl.

“Holy shit, Joel! You had a sleepover.” Ellie pipes up, making Joel turn around from the stove. “Ellie! Language!” He hisses before he catches sight of you. “Hey! Uh, good morning. I’m making breakfast.” He explains, as if it weren’t obvious. Ellie snaps her fingers and says your name. “That’s you, right? Joel’s been talking about you.”

You are trying to figure out who Ellie is. You haven’t heard a word about her from Joel. “Oh, uh, yeah. Hi Ellie.” You greet her as you come over to Joel who is cooking. “Coffee is in the pot.” He says and you nod, grabbing the mug he left on the side and you pour yourself a cup. You feel awkward in his shirt, your hair all over the place, and you can feel Ellie watching you.

“Joel, Joel, Joel.” Ellie tsks and shakes her head before leveling a mockingly serious look at him when he slides her eggs onto her plate. “Do we need to have the talk, young man?” She snickers. “Are you engaging in safe sex?” She lowers her voice to a pitch that matches the old sex Ed videos. “Jesus Christ.” He hisses. “Don’t you have school?”

You smirk, finding it refreshing that the teenager is prodding at an otherwise always cool headed Joel. “Safe sex. I’ve looked after him.” You promise her as you lean against the counter and she chuckles, “he was practically soppy when I came in this morning. I slept over at my friend Riley’s house.” She explains and you nod, a little relieved she didn’t hear you and Joel last night. “I’m leaving for school after I’ve had my breakfast.” She adds, looking over at you. “I'm his foster kid, in case this dumbass didn’t tell you.” Ellie says, guessing from your look that you didn’t know about her. “I, uh, I’m sorry. Joel hasn’t really told me much.”

“Got lunch money, kid?” He asks, reaching into his pocket and pulling out some money. “It’s pizza day right?” He asks, smirking when she nods and snatches the money out of his hand before she shoves the eggs into her mouth and pops off the stool. “Well, see ya!”

“Bye!” You call out as she rushes off and you turn to look at Joel. “Another secret you’ve been keeping.” You tease softly and he snorts, “not a secret. Just didn’t want to drag you into my bullshit.” You shake your head, “that’s not bullshit. You- she seems like a good kid and you’re looking after her. You’re a good man, Joel. One I want to know more about. One I could easily fall for…maybe have been already.” You confess, reaching out to touch his arm.

“You….” Joel frowns slightly, setting a plate in front of you. “You like the fact that I’m an asshole?” He asks it like a question, one that he never considered before.

“I love the fact that you’re an asshole. You’re not an asshole to me…most of the time. I’ve never felt so wanted. I want - I want all of you, Miller. Even the asshole.” You joke, slightly flustered at your confession.

Joel shuffles uneasily and sighs. “I’m not good with words.” He admits, looking around the kitchen that he had once shared with Tess. “I didn’t- I don’t really share emotions.” He had realized that when she had thought he hadn’t felt the same way about her. That he hadn’t loved her. He had been raw about that for a long time, although the kid didn’t deserve to blame herself for Tess getting bit. Who the fuck would have ever thought a woman would die of rabies during this day and age? He looks back at you. “I can fuck you until you scream, protect you. Cook you breakfast. But that might not be enough for you.”

You reach up to cup his cheeks, bringing his eyes to yours. “That is enough. You are enough. I’m damaged too. Let’s not put pressure on this. We aren’t first loves. We aren’t teenagers. We are grown ass adults who can communicate. I don’t want a fairytale, I’ve been hurt before by silly dreams and fake promises. I want real. You’re real. I want you.” You assure him, your eyes burning into his.

Joel watches you for a moment and then gives a small nod. Agreeing with you. After last night, he’s not giving you up. You’re his. “I don’t break promises.” Joel tells you. “Not if I can help it.”

You nod, leaning in closer to kiss him softly. “I know, baby.” You murmur and he nudges his nose against yours. “I’m here to stay, baby. Especially with the way you cook bacon.” You grin, taking a slice off of the paper towel and biting into it. “You might want to stay at your parent’s house all the time when we are finished with it.” He jokes and you snort, shifting to sit down at the counter while he plates up the food. “I don’t think so, baby. Might have to convince my parents to add an extension. Keep you working for them.” You tease and Joel snorts, “you can have my cock for free.” He promises and you wink at him, swallowing the bacon. “Now that sounds like a good deal.” You smile and Joel chuckles, knowing that this job might’ve turned into the best one of his career. Not only did he get paid, he got a bonus: you.

[cheriladycl01]

No because that hurt me! Lando Norris x Girlfriend! Reader Part 2

Plot: Lando goes one step too far ...

As you'd promised you'd gone straight back to London, you thrown yourself into your work. You spent the days on the construction sight for the new house you were flipping, overseeing the progress. You spent the evenings in the studio working on more plans for the interior of the house.

But you did miss him, of course you missed him.

He was your person ...

Your guy...

The love of your life.

In the time that you'd come home however, videos had surfaced, many videos had surfaced...

The first was of you and Lando in the club, someone from a table across from the one your friends had been sat in showed how Lando had acted towards you and how his friends had tried to back you up. The next was of you running up to Alex, begging for a lift.

Afterwards, videos were leaked of the rest of Lando's night where he celebrated his win, by dancing with his friends and random girls that were being pulled into the big group. Nothing scandalous but enough to upset the fans who really liked you.

Later on, after the first few videos came out a video came out of Max Fewtrell and him arguing before him and Pietra left. Max actually pushed him a little and lots of hand gestures were flying round, but Lando looked just as angry as Max did.

Normally when you were in London, people knew they'd get content on your Instagram stories of you doing what you do best. People had suggested you to start a YouTube because your live's and reels were so funny that they'd definitely spend the time watching.

But you'd been dark since the argument with Lando and people were getting worried including Lando. So when you posted a titkok with your team, in the trend that AstonMartin did where the camera is up high above and you all do funny things, the media went crazy.

You then posted a video on instagram talking about the new house and the progress that was coming on.

"Hey guys! Y/N here! Just wanted to show you how the latest project is coming on. We've torn down the living room and put all new flooring in, which actually has built in underfloor heating which i think here in the UK is a real money move. We're going to hook it all up to a central network from the hallway as you walk in, which we finally finished the painting for that last week" you pan showing the round the areas you'd been talking about.

You showed you and one of the girls tearing down the kitchen.

Captioned 'Best Part of the Job, Free Rage Room', which is how you'd always referred to the demolition phase of house flipping. People on twitter of course took it out of context and rumors started flying that you and Lando had in fact called it splits, even one of those WAG update pages 'confirming' the breakup from close sources.

You'd found it laughable really, but you knew it would be hurting Lando, and no matter how much he hurt you ... you weren't a bitter person. You didn't want him hurting as well.

You were sat in your studio at your desk, sketching for the garden. The pen was currently in your mouth, sat back debating whether you should reach out to Lando or wait for him to come to you.

It had been three weeks at this point with no communication. You'd spoken to Lando's family, who had talked with you about everything that had happened. Cisca and Adam had apologized for their sons behavior.

As you were about to pick up your phone, caving in to messaging Lando first when you swore you wouldn't on knock on your wooden studio door sounds.

You frown, wondering who on earth would be coming to you at this time of the night. You weren't even open, office hours were long over. It was about 11pm, so your clients knew you weren't taking calls even though you were still here and working with a light on.

You open the door, bolt and latch on for added protection.

"Lando?" you ask seeing the curly haired boy, hoodie up and his eyes looking more tired than you'd ever seen them.

"You want to open up and let me in baby?" he asks softly, a slight crack to his voice.

"I was just about to call you" you admit, unlatching the door so it swings open fully. He stops just under the arch of the door observing you. It was like he was having a small inward debate with himself.

"Gonna cave coz you miss me?" he jokes, testing the waters. He didn't know how you were now that you'd have some time apart. He was hopeful that he could talk to you again and fix what had happened.

"Honestly yeah. I hate you and how much of a hold you have on me" you admit, leaning back into your chair directing him to the sofa.

"I came here, to say I'm sorry and that I was horrible to you. And I know it's not excuse but I want to explain what happened. In full... I think you deserve more than an explanation... but I think you need one for if we are ever going to go back to what we were" he sighs. He leans forward and takes your hand into his.

He explains how, after the race people told him you'd said you were leaving the race track. So he went to the hotel to find you, only for you not to be there, Max came round and said you were probably getting ready with the girls as P had told him you were all gonna meet them there.

"I didn't think this was too out of the ordinary for you, your especially close with P and Lily, and it wouldn't shock me if Kelly and Kika would drag you all into a girl pre-club party in their hotel room..." he laughs knowing that normally you and P would do each other's makeup when Max and her came to race weekends. Or you and Lily would switch outfit's loving to venture into each other's styles.

When he got to the club and no-one had seen you, and Pierre and Charles had come up to him with celebratory shots, he hadn't declined.

"The shots were the start of what slowly just went downhill, I don't think i ever want to drink that much again, I was so happy at the start" he laughs flushing red and the thought of him knocking back shots, which was rare considering he didn't like to drink. He wouldn't be doing it anytime soon that was for sure.

"You deserved to celebrate though baby, don't make it seem like you shouldn't have had a fun night" you admit, both of you were being open and mature adults right now. You were so glad you'd both spent some time apart to think before you fought more, now you were both talking and listening to each other and you couldn't help but think it was beautiful and intimate.

After the three hour mark he was fed up that you hadn't bothered to show up at such an important night for him. Talking to Charles and Pierre who were also drunk, weren't the best influences on suggesting places you could be. All of them being ones his drunk mind could picture vividly, his sober mind would have known his girl would never dream of doing that to him.

"Charles said some things and I know sober me would have known you wouldn't do that, but i was already angry thinking you'd just ditched me. I shouldn't have drunk as much and I know its no excuse... but" he starts and you nod.

"The main thing is you know how you would have acted. Yes you upset me, yes your hurt me because you said some horrible things to me..."

"Yeah, I've heard the video and It wasn't my intention to embarrass you the way I did, especially in front of our friends. I'm so so sorry!" he admits.

The other group, had tried to convince him that maybe you'd just got held up and thats where Oscar, Lily, Max and P had all messaged you.

"Baby, I'm so so sorry that i wasn't there for you after what happened!" he says tears in his eyes. This would forever be one of his biggest regrets in life, not being there for you when you needed him.

"How did you find out?" you gulp, not really wanting to think about what could have happened that night if it wasn't for the Mclaren Mechanics.

"Well, after having a scolding from Oscar, and Max, and Alex, and Zac... the mechanics also threatened to botch my pit stops. So i listened to what they did for you"

"Mmmm it was scary. All i wanted was you" you nod, rubbing a thumb across his hand.

"I'm so so sorry, I promised you that i'd protect you always. And I've failed!" he says with a little snivel and tears brimming his eyes.

"You've not failed, you just made a mistake, there's been some miscommunication and Charles and Pierre didn't help with their boyish meddling but ... we'll get there" you smile before pulling closer to him and nuzzling into his neck breathing in his sent.

"Do you think you'll ever forgive me?" he asks softly pulling you back so he can fully look at you.

"I already have, darling" you smile.

"What did i ever do to deserve you, I don't think i do" he smiles.

"Hmmmm, well I think the historians will argue one day its me who didn't deserve you" you sigh, brushing some of his hair back.

"I doubt that" he scoffs, knowing that when you first started dating, even with your lack of status people still thought you were too kind, too sweet and too innocent for someone as jokey and brash as Lando was seen to be.

"I've never had anyone treat me the way you do, I'm so so in love with you. And I don't ever want the feelings I have when i think of you and see you to stop. I feel like i can do anything when i have you by my side. Why do you think the first person i seeked out was you?" you offer, softly leaning in and placing a kiss on the corner of his lips.

You guys, talked more that night. About how you actually had fun helping the Mclaren boys pack up, regardless if you thought Lando had forgotten about you.

A week later and the media had picked up on the sighting the paps had got of both of you. Some fans had seen you both at a restaurant and make posts on it.

The comments bashed you either way, being between saying how silly you were for taking him back or the others saying they were upset you were back. It got to the point where you had to release a statement saying that you and Lando, are grown adults who can talk through the miscommunication and issues you'd experienced and were better for it now.

"I love you so much, and I'm never ever ever acting up like that again" he says as you help him do up his fire suit for the race you were currently at with him.

"I love you too, now go out and get another win for me baby so we can celebrate properly this time" you smile, kissing him before Jon comes forward asking for Lando's presence in the front of the garage.

A/N: I hope you guys think this did the first part justice as so many people requested a Part 2, so I'm really scared that this hasn't done it justice! If you want a rewrite with something better... something longer where its more of a series. Or where it goes the opposite way and it takes her longer to forgive him let me know. I just thought that Y/N and Lando in this one specifically would be the type to maturely talk about things!

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[artbyblastweave]

Now one thing I find really stylistically interesting about Batman Beyond, is that a lot of the mechanisms by which the supervillians do their thing come part-and-parcel with the cyberpunk setting, rather than being an aberration resulting purely from the superheroic genre elements. This is the future of a quote-unquote "present-day" DCU, meaning that they've superficially addressed the question of why all the cutting-edge supertech used in the cape scene never seems to see mass adoption by the civilian sector- forty years later, it has. This means that It's never hard to grok where any given villain is getting the resources necessary to execute their gimmick; these people are flashy by our standards, but they live in a world where everyone has access to flying cars and antigravity drones. Half these people are doing the cyberpunk equivalent of going killdozer with repurposed industrial equipment, or kludging together something with off-the-shelf stuff from radio shack, or mounting a machine gun on a technical truck, and literally in the middle of typing this sentence I started the episode where there's mass-market off-the-shelf animal gene-splicing that would have been a whole-ass individualized origin story in the time of Batman: The Animated Series. Even one-off mutants like Inque and Blight are well-understood within the context of the setting, to the extent of Inque being able to make a knockoff of herself on the go.

This is dystopic. Beyond the genre-typical surface-level megacorp domination of society it's dystopic. On the meta-level it's the same dynamic as Superman: The Animated Series, where the reason there's a sudden uptick in weird costumed crime concurrent with the protagonist's debut is purely Doylistic- the hero needs punching bags. But within the logic of the setting, there's nothing special about Willy Watt's decision to go full Carrie using a hijacked construction robot besides the fact that he had somewhat easier access to the thing than the average school-shooter. Spellbinder being able to put together functional illusion-and-mind-control tech on a high-school counselor's salary- when his entire complaint is that he isn't being paid enough- implies that the main barrier to anyone else pulling the same brainwashing stunt is that nobody else thought to. Shriek's sound suit might be more a more roundabout demolition tool than dynamite, but it's still powerful enough to bring down buildings and he created it as a fly-by-night contractor. The consumer tech base is evolved to the point that regardless of when Batman shows up, shit like this should literally never not be happening- they're past an inflection point. I remember Syndrome from The Incredibles having some kind of line about this

[laughhardrunfastbekindsblog]

Okay, in the past few years with different Bad Batch discussions on various social media platforms, I've come across a few too many comments questioning Wrecker's intelligence, saying that Wrecker "isn't smart," he's only "emotionally intelligent," and even (rarely, but it's happened) straight up "he's stupid."

Of course, there are different levels/types of intelligence; my point is that these comments about Wrecker are completely unfounded.

I may make a longer post about this later, but in the meantime allow me to summarize:

(Okay yeah I'm starting with what's probably a headcanon here but I think there's enough unstated evidence in the shows to back me up) Wrecker being a fully commissioned soldier means he is at least as "smart" on average as any of the other clones

His applicable understanding of physics and engineering is such that he is the squad's explosives/demolitions expert, including constructing a weapon on the fly in the middle of a battle

He may not know hand signals or immediately recognize plan numbers, but he DOES know the plans themselves

Relating to the above, Tech describes a plan as "what we did on Felucia" and Wrecker instantly remembers and recognizes it, which to me indicates his memory is outstanding

A few other points:

Being "kid-friendly" does not mean Wrecker is less intelligent overall than his peers

Behaving "childishly" sometimes does not mean Wrecker is less intelligent

Being loud does not mean Wrecker is less intelligent

Being impulsive does not mean Wrecker is less intelligent (spending less time thinking over how to tackle a problem does not mean he's less capable of thinking)

These traits and intelligence are not mutually exclusive

Intelligence does not and should not involve fitting into one "box" or definition

[izvmimi]

cw: another wishful ending to bnha. about shigaraki but mostly from izuku's perspective. hint of a future healed!shigaraki x reader.

Izuku is not sure what he should wear for an occasion like this. 

Between the grueling, far too hands-on curriculum of becoming a hero, becoming the greatest hero Japan had to offer, and the aftermath of meta war that felt like ages (and probably aged him too), it was all too easy for him to forget that he is, in fact, still a teenager.

And a teenager doesn’t exactly always know what to wear when going to decide the fate of another man’s life.

Despite the fact that he’s pretty sure Hawks doesn’t actually care what he looks like at this point, Inko is kind enough to iron a suit for him and adjust the now shaggy-when-regrown mop of green curls into something professional once he’s dressed. She pats his face, letting her hand rest on the scarred side of his cheek.

“I think it will go well,” she reassures him, even though she can sense that he’s nervous. “You’re doing a good thing.”

Izuku is mostly sure, possibly 99% sure, but the 1% of uncertainty dissipates with his mother’s words. He nods.

“Right.”

—

About 5 months have passed since the culmination of the meta war. Owing to the valiant efforts of the people, with Quirks and without them, the guidance of multiple construction companies (including the Urarakas who have made not shy of hundreds of millions during this time), and heavy political support from local and abroad, the city is mostly rebuilt, to the point that it would be hard to believe that so much was destroyed in such a short time ago in recent history.

Izuku finds his way to the new Hero commission and stops at the front desk to present identification but is quickly passed through with a big smile from the security guard’s face. It’s still hard for him to get used to this treatment, but he remains polite and bows before making his way down to the conference room in the email.

A formal Hero Commission email addressed to around ten people, give or take, and he’s probably the last to arrive of those few, all of them seated at a round table once he arrives. Panicking a bit, he checks the time but before he can look at his phone, Hawks takes a moment to give him a once over and then stifle a laugh at his outfit.

“Now, don’t you look dapper?” he jokes.

Hawks is wearing a fitted suit himself, but he’s now president of the Hero Commission so it’s not out of the ordinary. All Might, offering a pleasant but weary smile next to him, is also dressed up, but he has been a fan of fitted suits in the public eye recently anyway so that’s not strange. Best Jeanist is… well, Best Jeanist… and perfectly coiffed and styled in… denim jeans. Mirio, however, is dressed down in a plaid button down and plain slacks, and bounces up to greet him pulling him to sit by him, Nejire, and Tamaki.

“Nice threads, Izuku!” Mirio cheers, while Nejire pulls at the sleeve and asks him if he bought it at the thrift store. Tamaki stares at a wall, having hit capacity for the number of people in the room.

Izuku wasn’t the last person here because Mirko and Katsuki squabble loudly as they finally enter the room, with Edgeshot in his diminutive form and difficult to see upfront trailing close behind, possibly annoyed (you couldn’t tell from this distance). Mirko is wearing athletic wear and Katsuki is wearing-

A suit.

Katsuki and Izuku lock eyes and the recognition sets in at the same time. His cheeks turn red and then he looks away before shuffling into his seat.

Once everyone has been settled and assistants have brought in coffee and pastries, Hawks finally moves to the first order of business.

A hologram shows in the center of the room with two images - one of Tomura Shigaraki taken as an aerial shot while he was screaming, in the midst of the meta war, and just beside it, an image of Tenko Shimura taken just a few days ago, at a construction site using his Decay quirk for demolition as part of a community service effort, quirk disabling wristlets in full display with the ability to be toggled on and off. The contrasts between these two images are evident - the rage distorting the young man’s features as Shigaraki as he is positioned to destroy and kill, unkempt white hair flowing in the air and a small serenity emanating from the young man’s visage as Tenko as he works to disintegrate rubble and clear land for reconstruction, dark hair cropped short and tousled slightly by fall breeze. If you look closely there is a hint of a smile in the second image, and fear in the eyes of the first.

Two very different men.

“We’re here to discuss our next steps with Shig-, Tenko Shimura.”

All Might lets out a breath no one knew he was holding. Izuku wonders if it’s by All Might’s request that Hawks has used his correct name, perhaps to honor his mentor and Tenko’s grandmother. He makes a mental note to always do the same. 

Katsuki keeps his lips pressed into a straight line and doesn’t say a word; Izuku doesn’t blame him, and in another circumstance would have never imagined being willing to sit for this conversation so easily, but he also appreciates that Katsuki is present for this vote at the very least.

“Let’s go through the facts.”

Hawks, pacing around the room, recounts the actions of the man once known as Shigaraki Tomura, as well as delineates what actions are his specifically and what actions were in conjunction with All For One. He shares testimonials from various psychiatrists who have worked with Tenko in this short period of rehabilitation before this discussion and the people who have worked with him on community service. He provides excerpts from social media influencers as well as political and religious opinions. 

The case is long and drawn out and by the time he is done, Mirko is yawning loudly and Mirio is trying very hard not to fall asleep. Aizawa, however, is asleep in the corner of the room, having shown up dead last, and not interested in a word being said.

A vote is meant to be cast by the end of today. Izuku wonders if Tenko is on the other side of that door, waiting for his fate to be decided. 

If no one can agree to rehabilitate him, he will most likely go to jail, deprived of the ability to use any Quirks possibly for the rest of his life. His best chance is now, as Izuku does not imagine any turnover in power will allow him as much amnesty as the current group here.

Izuku has spent the last few months pleading to the Hero Commission to consider his proposal, using the very fact that Tenko relinquished his OFA-related Quirks back to him almost immediately as a perfect example.

Tenko did give his inner child a second chance, and Tenko did fight back. He just needed help.

“All motions to go forth with a continued rehabilitation plan, please say-”

Mirko raises her hand immediately, interrupting.

“Aye.”

Placing both her feet on the edge of the table, she defends herself before anyone can ask.

“If he tries some shit again, I get a rematch,” she says, grinning. All Might gives her a pleased look but says nothing.

Aizawa chimes in from inside his sleeping bag.

“Aye.”

While Izuku’s eyes widen, Katsuki finally interjects.

“Have you guys forgotten this man killed me?”

“And lifted you up with his toes.” Mirko adds. “But you lived, didn’t you, pipsqueak?” she says, grinning. 

Best Jeanist, not at all pleased by the joke, raises his hand.

“Nay. This is a ridiculous idea.”

“What’s ridiculous is your outfits but we don’t-”

All Might clears his throat. “Aye.”

Endeavor takes a look at All Might, crossing his arms over his chest. His retirement is still hot off the presses, and he chooses to take a step back here too.

“Abstain.”

Izuku’s heart is racing and he’s not exactly sure why. Part of this waiting period involves Izuku keeping an eye on Tenko and in repeated conversations, he has always gotten the sense that Tenko could change but his hope had been tempered. The truth was, as much as he wanted to save Tenko, a small part of him was still a little angry for the harm he did, and he imagined that if he felt that way, it was only a fraction of what the public and his peers must feel.

But today, there seems to be a chance.

“Aye!” Mirio and Nejire say in unison and Tamaki quickly follows up. 

Katsuki rises suddenly and leaves the room and while Izuku wants to follow him, he knows that it’s a waste of time.

That’s a problem for days to come.

“And why exactly are we forgiving him?” Best Jeanist asks, as he rises himself to go after his student.

“Because we don’t plan to leave anyone behind,” Edgeshot finally admits. Best Jeanist shakes his head.

“It stays Nay for me but it’s your responsibility.” 

He files out of the room, but Hawks’ smile isn’t deterred, knowing he’ll come around. 

The majority chooses hope.

—

Four and a half years have passed since that vote.

Izuku watches his friend, a girl from the support class a year above him who isn’t Hatsume but just as good in her own realm, fiddle with tracking devices and quirk-neutralizing wristlets attached to the first iteration of Entropy’s Hero suit. Entropy’s hero costume doesn’t include a mask, but Izuku has an inkling that no one will recognize him prior to his debut as the man who almost laid waste to the entire country. There is something about a person’s soul that can permeate a vessel, it’s a reminder that beauty is only skin deep, but goodness will shine through no matter what one looks like.

Tenko is however somewhat handsome in the way that his Hero grandmother was beautiful and that helps. Wavy, dark hair frames his face to a shoulder length, and his dark eyes are actually warm now that he’s had time to shed off most of the loneliness. He’s filled out slightly with better food and less angst, which is another thing that is sure to make him more appealing to the masses. 

Izuku can still sense the trepidation however in the slight tremble of Tenko’s fingertips as he holds them out for the support engineer to readjust the gloves, and wonders if he’s projecting.

Part of the arrangement for Entropy’s debut is for Deku and Entropy to work as partners for at least a year to satisfy the civilians who still don’t trust him (with good reason) as a contingency plan in case Tenko changes his mind about being a productive member of society and needs someone to stop him a second time.

Izuku is pretty sure he won’t fall back into that dark place again by now, even if a select few will never, ever forgive him. Even Katsuki still grumbles, but agrees that Izuku might be right. 

“I feel like a leashed dog still,” Tenko finally pipes up as the engineer adjusts the literal silver collar on his neck. It’s meant to be a joke but it’s not exactly false. Izuku offers him a small consoling smile.

“It makes the commission happy, so bear with it, I guess.” Izuku says. It’s a lame response, he admits, but it’s all he has to offer. 

Between the emergency shock collar that’s stylized to appear as part of the prototype suit, a physical tracker, and internal restraints, there are a lot of things to stop Tenko from becoming Tomura again, but at least the adjustment of all of these in the homey atmosphere of Izuku’s apartment feels less like house arrest. 

Izuku’s girlfriend peers in from time to time from where she’s holed up studying for clinical examinations to check on their progress, a steaming mug in her hand. The girls wave at each other before she disappears again and locks the door, loud music with heavy bass playing from her computer speakers. 

It’s a miracle she’s not afraid of Tenko given Tomura almost killed her during the meta war too, but Izuku understands that this is a testament to how much she trusts his judgment. 

“Thank you for doing this,” he says finally to his friend. She practically beams.

“I’m just giving you the ‘your future wife is my bestie’ discount.”

Izuku goes red at the ears and Tenko stifles a laugh. She turns and gives him a look and he immediately looks away, somewhat startled by how quickly she gets into his face.

“It is however a really big favor, I just worry you’ll be somewhat accountable if something goes wrong, too.”

Tenko frowns. “I’m right here, you know,” he murmurs. He pauses before he uses her professional name, which turns out to not be so professional at all. “... Sparkles.”

Sparkles doesn’t hear him, the jitteriness of three days of no sleep in the setting of piled up audits at her security technologies company getting to her. “Just don’t forget to get me the paperwork, Izuku.” 

She then turns her attention back to Tenko finally as Izuku searches for a pen in a basket under the coffee table.

Tenko again, possibly too affected by how quickly, she moves, seems to stand up a little straighter as she sizes him up.

“Are you planning on hurting anyone?”

Sparkles hadn’t realized Izuku’s girlfriend had left the room again to grab more sugar for her tea.

“If he says yes, what exactly are you gonna do, babe?” she hollers, disappearing again before waiting for the answer. Izuku chuckles.

“I’d ask him if he meant it,” she yells back. She turns to him again, looking up at him through her eyelashes. “Do you mean it? Are you planning on hurting anyone?”

Tenko tenses up and Izuku tries not to laugh, wondering if he should leave Tenko to Sparkles’ charms or allow him to rest.

Regardless, he has great aspiration for the world’s former greatest villain’s future, yet.

[morimementa]

Banal Retired SoapGhost headcanons

Soap still does demolition work, but in the construction field. He's got a nice office job which he has mixed feelings about.

Ghost works part time as museum security, part time as a nightclub bouncer. He finds the museum job pleasant because it's not sensory overload and people rarely talk to him, but boring for the same reasons. By contrast the nightclub is hell on his sensory issues but he enjoys strongarming the odd jerkwad.

By some miracle, Soap's hearing is not completely destroyed. It's still adequate, but he's learned BSL and ASL as a precaution and he's discussed any potential need of hearing aids down the line with his GP.

His ears may be fine, but remember the knee brace in MW2? Yeah, that's still an issue. It's an old battle wound, so he's had time to find helpful therapies, but whenever a ripper of a storm starts blowing in, expect to find him on the sofa with his leg propped up, muttering curses.

Ghost wears unscented deodorants, uses unscented soap, refuses to touch anything with perfume in it. This is a common thing in soldiers with PTSD, apparently. Their neighbor has MCAS and gladly shares product recommendations while breathing a sigh of relief that there's at least one house they can safely visit without triggering a flareup.

Fireworks are one huge pain. At least they don't have the fourth of July to worry about. One time someone in their neighborhood got a little too freaky with the bottle rockets. The next day Ghost came over to "politely tell them to keep it down". There hasn't been a repeat since.

Those neighbors now view him with a combination of terror and awe. As is proper.

Soap has a severe fear of heights due to the whole being-dangled-out-a-window thing. Combined with Ghost's claustrophobia, they both wind up taking the stairs a whole lot.

(Ghost offers to carry Soap on the days when his knee acts up. Soap cuffs him upside the head and laughs at this.)

(He'd still say yes if it meant not subjecting Ghost to an unexpected elevator.)

Civilian life gives them a lot of time to unpack their dual PTSD diagnoses. Ghost has a harder time letting his guard down because he's been on guard for most of his life.

Soap's ADHD was less noticeable in the military, but in their shared living space, he tends to lose track of things. At least once a day he goes, "Babe, where the (thing)?" and Ghost is like, "In the (place), dumbass (affectionate)."

Of the two of them, Soap is more prone to nightmares, usually about Las Almas. Ghost has always been a light sleeper, so he tends to wake up in time to either bring him out of it or comfort him when he jolts awake. Soap is always quick to return the favor.

(Ghost will only admit this to Soap but he gets his best sleep with Johnny in his arms. He loves knowing Soap is safe with him.)

Soap's also prone to getting the wiggles in bed, so sometimes Simon sleeps on top of him for that deep pressure goodness.

It goes both ways, of course. Sometimes Ghost comes home from work and goes, "Floor me." And Soap lays on top of him while he rests on the floor because job loud and stupid, husband warm and soft.

[potatoplace]

You Can Have It - Chapter 3

Alpha!Feysand x Omega!Reader

chapter 2 | chapter 4 | series masterlist

Story Summary: You've been a baker for 75 years, and are finally moving on from the Winter Court to the City of Velaris to start your own bakery after your grandmother passes. After your grand opening, the High Lord and Lady of Night become daily visitors to your bakery for months, every day having your most popular pastry- one that increases fertility for a short time. All the while, the two alphas want nothing more than to call themselves yours.

Warnings: A/B/O Dynamics, no rhys and feyre 😠

Words: ~5.3k

Author's Note: it's here! There will be a second chapter posted soon as well, I needed to cut this one in half otherwise it won't fit in one post. And I rlly want to get to the scene meeting Rhys and Feyre aaaahhhhh I hope you guys like this chapter!

18+ only pls

🤍🩵🤍💜🤍

Tuesday had passed quickly for you, spent with you writing down everything you needed for your bakery, the apartment, and garden in the building process.

You had a visions in your head for exactly how it should look- a log cabin similar in style to those in Winter, with a set of stained glass double doors depicting the cycle of dawn, day, and night during the winter season. The main floor of the bakery would be divided into two parts, with the actual kitchen area being in the back, separated by a wall stretching two thirds of the way across, leaving an open archway to connect the two on the left side. Windows of course, some in the front of the bakery as well as along the sides, and one that takes up most of the back wall of the kitchen, so that you’ll always be able to stare out the Sidra while preparing you baked goods.

At the far right of the kitchen, away from the access into the shop, you were going to have a spiral staircase leading up to your apartment if that was a possibility.

Upstairs, you would have a personal kitchen of your own, also against right side of the back wall of the building, with another large window to offer you the same benefit as the floor below. To the left you’d have your bathroom, sectioned off with walls- you were most excited about the large, possibly custom tub you’d have put in, with more than enough room for you to soak with your wings in the water if you wished.

The indoor part of the upstairs should cover about two thirds of the top floor, with your bedroom not separated by a wall from the kitchen. You wanted to feel free and open in your new home. That left the rest of the second floor for your small garden you were planning to have. Viviane had made sure you knew that you could take some of the plants your grandmother had lovingly planted and tended to. She had loved that garden so much, and had done as much as she could to revive the garden after coming back from captivity, teaching you to tend to them before her cursed illness had gotten too bad.

You were planning to have the space enchanted to act as a temperature controlled greenhouse, that way the frail Winter native plants could survive even in the summer. Among them would be a few bushes: hornberry, the fertility enhancing berries, chillberry, which grow berries that help to alleviate heats, and saiberry, a helpful berry and leaf for reducing the symptoms of ruts. You would also have a variety of medicinal herbs that you used in your pastries related to general health.

You were beyond excited to start drawing up the plans for the building as soon as you had the proper permits. When you went to bed that night, it was all you could think about.

Wednesday morning, you awoke to a note from Marcus, telling you that the demolition and construction permits were approved, and to get yourself over to your lot as soon as you could.

It was only seven in the morning, but you rushed to dress for the winter weather quickly, flying down the stairs and quickly but carefully making your way to the Rainbow.

More snow had fallen overnight, and hardly anyone was out at this time. Most of the streets were still untouched by fae, and silent with the extra help of the snow. You reached the edge of the Rainbow quickly, and spotted Marcus among a dozen other men, all dressed warmly and carrying a variety of construction tools or busying themselves with the two large carts in the middle of the street, attached to two massive horses.

“Y/N!” Marcus exclaimed as soon as he met your eyes, marching over to you and pulling you back to the group. “This is our new boss for the next couple of months, gents, be nice to her, alright?” The men all nodded their heads in agreement, keeping their eyes respectful when they did dart across your form, though many lingered on your wings. “So, Y/N, would you like to take the first swing?” Marcus asked you, already handing you a heavy sledgehammer.

“Why not?” You said lightly, approaching the dilapidated building. You took a swing at one of the windows, and glass went flying into the building. The males behind you whooped, then followed your lead and began tearing down the building as quickly and effectively as they could. You turned back to Marcus, handing him the sledgehammer.

“Y/N, if you’re available now, I’d like to start drawing up the floor plans for your bakery,” Marcus suggested, and your face broke into a grin.

“I’d love nothing more than that, Marcus. But, could we get breakfast first? I came as soon as I woke up,” you said, blushing when your stomach growled, as if to prove your point.

Marcus only chuckled and took your arm, leading you East to the Palace of Flame and Steel. “Of course we can get breakfast, there’s this cute little restaurant that should be open right now, they serve some amazing breakfast foods there.”

As promised, the food in the cozy restaurant was delicious. You’d had a scramble with potatoes, peppers, onions, and sausage, topped with a good amount of cheese. The two of you left feeling stuffed, and made your way to his office, shucking off your winter gear and hanging it on the hooks near the door.

Marcus quickly started a fire in the fireplace, adding some much appreciated heat to the room. The two of you settled in around his desk, and Marcus pulled out a notepad, quill and ink.

"So, do you know what type of building you'd like? Brick, stone, wood..."

"I'd prefer having a log cabin style of building, if that's a possibility," you said, hoping that it would be.

Marcus smiled at you and wrote down your answer. "Of course we can, and we can even go to the lumber yard in a couple of days to pick out the type of wood you'd like, Y/N. Now... what were you thinking for the floor plan?"

"I want it to be a two story building, with the top floor being dedicated as an apartment and also a garden, if everything works out."

"A garden on the second floor?"

You nodded your head. "Yes, I'm planning to have it enchanted so that I can grow some Winter crops year round, and they'll be safer off the ground, I think."

"Alright, that should be doable enough. If you'd like I can direct you to an interior designer who also specializes in home and business enchantments, she should be able to make that garden happen for you."

"Perfect!" You said, clapping your hands together excitedly. Everything was already seeming possible.

The two of you spent the next five hours going over every detail that you wanted built into the building, and by the end of it he had a preliminary sketch of the building.

"The main problem with your spiral staircase would be getting the tub and furniture up and down the stairs. I do happen to have a couple of Illyrians working in my company right now, so we should be able to get the tub up before the roof's construction is done, but the furniture would most likely need to be fully assembled upstairs, or we fly it in before the roof is finished."

You bit your lip for a moment, considering your options. "That would be fine, getting everything in before the roof is finished. Would there be any problems with doing that?"

Marcus shook his head. "No, it's more just something to consider. The spiral staircase will save you some space, so it's a good idea for your floor plan to keep as much space on the first floor for the bakery. Go ahead and look over the blueprint, and tell me if anything is off." He slid the paper over to you, careful not to smear any of the still drying ink.

Your eyes greedily took in the floor plans, already looking exactly how you wanted it. The main floor was divided in the way you had pictured, and the kitchen would be wide enough to accommodate your wings and even another person, if you ended up needing to hire someone to help you.

Only one thing was missing, something you'd hadn't thought of until now.

"Would it be possible to have a fireplace on both floors? On the main floor, about halfway through the front room and on the left, and on the top floor one on the right, after the spiral staircase?"

Marcus looked at the plans for a moment before answering you. "Yes, that should be doable, especially if we allow the chimney to stick out and along the side of the building for the first floor one." He quickly sketched in the fireplace on the floor plan, then turned to the exterior mock up and added the chimney to the side. "Does that look fine to you?"

"Yes, that looks perfect! Thank you!"

"It's no problem, Y/N," Marcus said with a soft smile. "If you think of anything else you'd like in the blueprints, you can either send me a note with it or come here, I'm normally in from six in the morning to six at night."

"I'll make sure to let you know, but I honestly think we got everything down!" You said excitedly.

"I'm glad to hear that, Y/N. The tear down process should be finished by the end of the week, including getting someone in to cast a charm to keep snow from falling over the lot. Then the actual building process after that, as long as everything goes right and all we need to build is available, shouldn’t take more than two months. Now, would you like me to show you to that interior designer I mentioned?" He offered.

"Oh, I'd love that!" Right as you said it, your stomach growled loudly once again. You looked up at him sheepishly. "Want to go to lunch first?" You asked with a chuckle.

"I'd love that," Marcus replied, already standing from his chair and stretching.

You did the same, finally feeling the tension that had built in your body from sitting for so long. Your wings fluttered slightly as they stretched, before you finally relaxed once more.

The two of you threw on your outerwear again and headed out of Marcus's office, and you let him lead you to another restaurant, a different one than this morning.

"This is my favorite spot for lunch, they have these delicious sandwiches," Marcus said as he held the door open for you, letting you walk in first before following you.

It smelled heavenly inside, and if your watering mouth was anything to go by, you knew he was correct.

"I'll have whatever you're having," you told Marcus before he stepped up to the counter. "I'm sure whatever it is will be tasty, but I can't choose between all of those options," you laughed.

"That's fine, Y/N. Any foods you want to avoid?" Marcus asked, looking down at you as you shook your head. "Alright then." He stepped up to the counter, you following right behind him. "We'll have two of your cheesesteaks, please.” Marcus went to hand over his bank card like he had for breakfast this morning, but you beat him to it, grinning at him when he put his card away while shaking his head, a matching expression on his face.

After you paid, the two of you took a seat at a table near the windows, only waiting a couple of minutes to be served your sandwiches. “Thank you.”

“It’s no problem, dearie,” the older high fae said with a smile before she walked back behind the counter.

“And thank you, Y/N, for buying me this delicious lunch,” Marcus said to you, right before taking a large bite of his sandwich.

“Well, you did pay for breakfast,” you said before you followed suit, finding the sandwich made of thinly sliced beef, onions, peppers, and cheese to be just as good as he’d said it would be.

“How’s Velaris been treating you so far?” He asked you after a few minutes.

You swallowed your bite, then said “It’s been really nice so far, everyone’s been very welcoming and I just feel so lucky to be here, and already be making so much progress on my business.”

Marcus smiled at you. “I’m glad to hear it, Y/N. I hope everything continues to go your way.”

“Same here. How’s your life been treating you?”

“Oh, it’s going well right now. My business has been doing better than ever in the past two years since I had a contract with the High Lady, and I happen to have a very sweet new client,” Marcus replied, and his words made you blush.

“That’s good to hear. What was it like working for the High Lady?”

“Feyre and the High Lord, Rhys, were both extremely easy to work with, pretty similar to how it’s been working with you. They knew exactly what they wanted and were good at describing it. It was an honor to work with them, and one of the best experiences I’ve had since taking over the business.”

“They sound like a lovely pair of rulers for the Court, then.”

“Oh yes, I feel we are one of the best treated cities in all of Prythian. And they’ve even begun taking steps to change how Illyria and the Hewn City are run,” Marcus added.

The two of you finished eating, and all you could think of was the High Lord and Lady, and that all of the good you’d heard about them in Winter had to be true, if Marcus, a citizen of Velaris, believed it to be true as well.

“Now, let’s get you to Gabrella’s shop, she is newer to the business, only having moved here five years ago, but all of my clients that I’ve sent to her have nothing but good things to say about her,” Marcus said, extending an arm to you after he’d returned your plates to the front counter.

He led you a few blocks away from the restaurant, deeper into the Palace of Flame and Steel. The two of you stopped in front of cute, red brick building with flower beds lining the front, covered in snow at the moment. Marcus opened the door for you, and you stepped inside, immediately loving the cozy feel of the shop, and you spotted an fae female, with large, black leathery wings coming from her back.

They were absolutely beautiful.

You’d heard of Illyrians before, and as a child had thought that wings without feathers could not possibly be pretty, but your child self was proved wrong the moment you laid eyes on her wings.

“Welcome in- oh, Marcus! Another client of yours, I presume?” The fae asked as the two of you made your way back to the counter she was seated at.

Her smell hit you, a sweet blend of mountain air, honey, and some type of berry that you couldn’t quite place- an omega. That instantly put you at ease. It’s not that Marcus’s scent wasn’t nice, the snow and pine mix was pleasant, but knowing that at least one of the people you’d be working with for the next couple of months is an omega was calming.

“Yes, my name is Y/N. I’m going to be opening a bakery with an apartment upstairs in the Rainbow soon, and Marcus is helping with the construction aspect. He said that you’re an interior designer?”

The Illyrian nodded her head and replied, “Yes, my name is Gabrella. I do interior design work and household and business enchantments.”

“Would you be able to show her a bit of your work, Rella?” Marcus asked. “She’s wanting a greenhouse for year round Winter native plants, and I know you just recently finished something similar.”

Gabrella’s eyes lit up at that, and she stood from her spot behind the counter. “I would be delighted to show you something like that, Y/N. Marcus, you can come too, if you don’t have anything else to do.”

Marcus looked at the clock on the wall to the left, sighing when he saw the time. “No, I should be getting back to check on the boys, make sure the demolition is going to plan,” he said, making his way to the door. “Y/N, remember that you can come by my office from six to six if you need anything, and you’re always free to stop by your lot at any time, alright?”

“Thanks you, Marcus. I’ll probably see you sometime tomorrow.”

“That sounds good,” he said, leaving with a wave.

“Bye Marcus!” Gabrella said right before he shut the door. “Alright, Y/N, I’ll have you come upstairs with me, my garden is on the third floor.”

You followed the other fae up the stairs, then up one more set, coming out onto a beautiful rooftop garden, filled with lovely blossoming tropical flowers. The air was warm and humid, even with their being no walls or roof.

“This is amazing,” you said, trailing your hands over a few of the blooms lightly. “How were you able to do this?” You asked, turning to Gabrella.

“Well, it took a couple of years for me to get the enchantments perfect, but it’s not too different from doing an indoor temperature control charm. It does require a bit more magical power, especially if the plants need any else besides the temperature controlled. Like the humidity, that was the part that took me the longest to get down, but now that I have, all of my sweet little plants are thriving,” Gabrella explained, looking down fondly at all of the flowers she’d been able to grow thanks to her magical talent.

“Would you be able to do something similar for me?” You asked hopefully.

“I believe I could, it may take a couple of tries to get the climate just right for you. Do you have an idea of when your building will be finished enough to start the garden?”

“Not quite, though Marcus said the whole process should take a little over two months. I’m just not sure when the second floor would be available to put the garden and enchantments in.”

“That’s perfectly fine, we can play it by ear. Were you wanting my services for anything else?” Gabrella asked, gesturing for you to head back downstairs.

“Yes, I was hoping that you would be my interior designer as well, along with any other enchantments I’d need for my building.”

“Wonderful, I’ll grab a contract for you right now,” Gabrella said after you took a seat in one of the stools in front of the counter. She rifled through a filing cabinet, pulling out a few pieces of paper. “Alright, before anything gets signed, I’d like to know what type of enchantments you’re going to want, as well as the areas of interior design you’d like help with.”

“Obviously you know about the garden,” you said, and the both of you chuckled as she wrote it down. “Plus temperature control for both floors of the building, a fireproofing charm for the kitchen if you’re able to do that.”

“Oh, yes, that’s a popular one, with the city being tightly packed everyone wants to avoid causing a fire in case it takes out a whole neighborhood,” Gabrella said. “Were you going to have a kitchen in the apartment upstairs?”

“Yes, I can’t believe I forgot to mention that,” you laughed, surprised that you were missing a few details. It had to be all the excitement, you had been drawing up floor plans all day. “Do you do plumbing enchantments?”

“Mhm, as long as you have actual plumbing pipes installed in the building, we’re able to get hot and cold water running, as well as connect it to the city’s sewer system,” she answered. “Knowing Marcus, he’s already gone over that with you?”

You nodded your head. “He sure did, he was very adamant in making sure I knew where all of the pipes would be going through the wall.”

“Yes, he’s very thorough like that. That’s why he’s one of the most in demand builders during the typical construction season. Did you have any other enchantments you were hoping for? If you can’t think of them now, I’m always able to add to your total bill, it’s just better in my experience to have as full a picture of the cost before we begin doing the actual work.”

You wracked your brain for any other spells you might need- “I’d like an enchantment that will keep the scent and sounds of the second floor separate from the first floor,” you stated, heat rising to your cheeks.

“That’s a good one!” Gabrella said enthusiastically, writing it down on the paper. “It’s very helpful for if you want to keep your business open with another staff member while you’re in heat, I have that one on my own apartment upstairs,” the omega said with a kind smile. “Anything else, or should we move on to the interior design portion?”

You couldn’t think of another enchantment you might need at the moment. “Interior design, but I’ll let you know if I think of something else.”

“Very good. For the bakery portion, what were you wanting help with?”

“I’d definitely like your help in picking out the furniture, the appliances, and the general look of the inside, and any recommendations or help with a stained glass artist that creates door panels. I do know generally what I want it to look like, but being new to town I would have no idea of where to start.” You thought about that for a moment. “So pretty much everything about it, I’d like your help with,” you giggled.

Gabrella joined you, her laugh so pleasant and fun. “That’s perfectly fine, I love helping create an entire vision! They’re the most fun for me, when my client knows exactly what they want and we just have to scavenger hunt for it all around the city.”

“That’s good, otherwise this would be a real chore for you,” you said jokingly, already loving Gabrella’s personality.

“For the second floor, what were you wanting help with?”

“Most everything again, though with the bedroom I’ll need a bit less help, nesting needs are pretty easy to satisfy on your own,” you replied, mind conjuring a soft nest filled with fabrics in light blues, silver, and white.

“I get that, nests and bedrooms are so personal to us omegas.” Gabrella’s smile was soft as she finished writing everything down. “Alright, I believe with the number and complexity of some of the enchantments, that part will run you for around 50,000 gold marks, and we do offer lifetime warranties on all of them. So if one starts to go faulty, just stop by and I’ll come and fix it as soon as I can for you. And the interior design portion will be around 25,000, and that will include the price of most items, delivery of them, and getting everything in place for you, as well as my help and advice in picking out items. Does a total of 75,000 gold marks sound reasonable to you, with these terms?” Gabrella asked, sliding a contract over to you.

You read it, including the warranty, and thought it all sounded perfectly reasonable. You picked up the extra quill she had sitting in an ink pot and signed your name to the contract. “Yes, this all sounds fine to me. Did you want to take payment now, or later?”

“If you have your bank card on you at the moment-” you were already pulling it out. “Then I’ll take a fifty percent deposit for a total of 37,500 gold marks now, and once the project is complete I’ll take the other half of the payment, plus or minus however much it falls from the estimate.” She pressed your bank card to the ledger on her desk, then handed it back to you. “I’m so happy to get to work with you, Y/N. You seem like a lovely person so far, and I do love a good bakery.”

“I’m looking forward to working with you as well, Gabrella. And I’m glad to know another omega in the city, I’ve only met one other omega here so far.”

“Yes, there aren’t too many of us here, but it’s so safe and free, I think we have a higher population of omegas than most other cities in Prythian. I’m sure you’ll meet more soon enough. Also, you can call me Rella. We’ll be working together for a while, and I have this funny little feeling that we’ll be friends,” Rella said kindly. “Now, would you like to go look at some kitchen stoves and counters if you have time?”

You beamed- nothing would have excited you more at the moment. “I would love to do that, it’s one of the areas I’m looking forward to furnishing most!”

Rella offered her arm to you, which you gladly took. “Perfect! Now, what type of color scheme were you wanting for the kitchen? It might change which shops we go to.”

“I think… soft pastels? Possibly winter themed, or maybe in pinks.”

Rella grinned at you. “I’m liking you more and more with every passing minute,” she said, dragging you away from her shop after locking it up. “We’re going to Arana’s shop, she has the cutest kitchen and dining room furniture you will every see!”

In a few minutes, after a couple of twists and turns through the streets, you arrived at a pastel pink shop, looking very much out of place next to the mostly dark, wooden building surrounding it. Rella pulled you inside, shouting “Arana! I have a new client, you’re going to love her!”

A female stepped out from a back room, ice blonde hair and white wings at her back.

Peregryn. Another Peregryn.

You’d only ever met you’d mother, no others of your kind before. And as you got closer to her- and omega, with a soft scent of pine, cinnamon, and fresh air.

“Well, it’s rare to meet another Peregryn in Velaris, my name is Arana. And yours is…?”

“Y/N, it’s nice to meet you,” you said as you shook her hand.

“It’s nice to meet you as well,” Arana responded warmly. “You said she’s a client of yours, Rella?”

“Yes, she’s building a bakery in the Rainbow-”

“Wonderful! I’ve been wanting a bakery on this side of the Sidra for so long, I hate walking all the way over to the other side in the winter,” Arana interrupted, the looked to Rella sheepishly. “Sorry, Rella, go on please?”

“I know, I’m excited about it too,” Rella laughed. “Shes working with Marcus, and it sounds like they’re still in the process of tearing down the previous building, but the two of us would like to start looking for furniture, countertops, and of course stoves.”

“Oh, is it gonna be a cute bakery?” Arana asked hopefully, and you nodded your head.

“Yes, it’s going to look like a log cabin, and I’m hoping the furniture I get will make it look cute and cozy inside!” You gush, so happy that there are people already excited about your business, even if you were going to be paying them a lot of money in the process. The two of them sound genuinely excited about it, so that didn’t matter.

“Oh, you’ll need log chairs, probably with a selection of different colors of cushions, maybe even some log benches, plus log tables of course to go with the little log theme-”

“All of that sounds great! Do you have any in here?” You asked, already wanting to see some.

“I don’t have any log furniture at the moment, but the shop next door does. I’ll be able to provide the cushions for them, though I’d recommend waiting to pick them out until you know the type of wood you’re using, so that you get the best color match,” Arana offered, pointing to the shop east of hers. “I do have plenty of stove and countertop options, if you’re wanting to go for bright colors in the kitchen. And I do make display cases as well, when you’re ready to look for those.”

You smiled in excitement and said, “Show me the stoves, please.”

🤍🩵🤍💜🤍

The three of you spent the next few hours looking at all Arana had to offer, and you found many different options that you liked. It all depended on what color scheme you ended up going with, but whether it would be done in blues, whites, and silvers or in soft pinks and purples, you were sure you’d be buying from Arana’s store.

The designs and sturdiness of her furnishings were perfect in your opinion, and you were so excited to see your kitchen come together once the building was finished.

You and Rella waved goodbye to Arana as you departed, promising to come back in a few weeks to finalize your decisions, having been sent home with a pamphlet filled with the designs of furniture she offered so that you could think on it further.

You and Rella parted at her shop, leaving you to walk back to the Inn alone, relishing in the sounds of the city as it came alive for the night.

It was nearly seven in the evening when you passed by a restaurant at the end of the Palace of Hoof and Leaf, right next to the bridge that would get you home. The smell coming from the restaurant was heavenly, full of garlic and smelling as though it could burn your tongue with the spice alone. You entered the restaurant, and were quickly seated at the bar, admiring the lively atmosphere before looking over the menu. They served noodle bowls, most of them having a between three and five little peppers drawn next to their names. Judging by the smell in the air, you wouldn’t survive more than a two pepper dish, so you choose the one that had the most garlic in it, sautéed with chicken, zucchini, green cabbage and onions, and of course noodles.

The dish you got was fantastic, as garlicky as you’d hoped for and spicy enough to bring tears to your eyes.

All of the food you’d had in Velaris so far was amazing, and you were excited to delve further into the cookbook that you had back in your room, if these were the types of recipes that were waiting for you.

After paying, you made your way back to the inn more slowly than before, taking time to admire the people skating on the now frozen over Sidra. Everyone seemed to be happy.

It was nice to be a part of that, of a city so joyous at all times.

By the time you made it to your room, it was past eight, and you wanted nothing more than a hot bath and some sleep.

You stripped out of your dress after taking off your outerwear and boots, then peeled off your tights and underthings. You would need to do laundry soon, but that’s a problem for tomorrow.

Your bath was lovely, the hot water warming you nicely and stealing the tension from your muscles. Your bed was even lovelier, so fluffy and soft, and you drifted off to sleep just a few minutes after your head landed on the pillow.

Series Taglist: @icey--stars @breadsticks2004

[takusan-no-ai]

My star darling, made of metal

PAIRING: Grace/Koleda/Anton/Ben x Female Reader (Familia) (Fluff)

SUMMARY: Grace’s new daughter android, (Y/N), is truly a piece of work.

Grace finally made her newest daughter, you, her pride and joy. You weren’t like your older siblings, big machines that cause the very ground to shake. You were an android. A cute, small girl, that could blend into society better than your siblings.

Grace just loves to spoil you rotten, covering up any issues you cause. Want a new upgrade? Just give her a few days and you’ll be even better than before. As much as she loves you though, Grace won’t hesitate to scold you if even she feels you’ve gone too far.

Koleda almost finished chewing out Grace for making another living machine when you suddenly exploded a boulder; it had been blocking the path for Belobog to continue construction, and you removed it in a matter of seconds. Suddenly, you were promoted to being a member of Belobog Heavy Industries Destruction Team.

Thanks to having bombs constantly ticking inside you, you’ve developed a hyperactive personality; always running around in hollows alone and blowing up stuff as you go. Those bombs also work as great self defense tools.

If an ethereal, or hollow raider, tried to destruct the team or even kidnap you, its bombs away! Kabooms heard from far off into the distance. And everyone at Belobog already knows what had happened.

Between the loud noises, broken machinery, high costs, and stressed workers…Koleda needs a year long vacation. She’ll nag at Grace for days on end to reprogram you; make you more docile, follow the rules, more self conscious, anything! Koleda has had a vein pulsating on her forehead and just waiting to burst. On top of that, you’re so patronizing; treating her like a fellow kid. She just knows you’re doing it on purpose.

Your explosions never fail to scare Anton just a toe nail out of an early grave. He’s had more chest pains since your arrival. The worst one being when you took his bro to go on an adventure and he came back almost half broken. Since then Anton has put locks on all important equipment and has his eyes on you like a hawk!

The costs…the bills…the damages…Grace really outdid herself this time. For once, Ben couldn’t figure out how to break even this month thanks to your “demolition abilities”. Which, in reality, was just you throwing grenades, bombs, even firecrackers, at rundown buildings and hoping for the best. It’s gotten so bad that Ben’s starting to gain bald spots where his once fluffy fur had been.

- Fin

[urbanrelics]

CANDLE IN THE WIND

An old abandoned candle factory is something you don't get to see very often. Especially one that has been abandoned many years ago, yet still shows no trace of vandalism; only natural decay...

When you see these two 19th century mansions located next to each other, you would not suspect that a gem of industrial heritage is hidden behind the protected rococo facades. Both houses, although empty, still offered some nice corners, but the real surprise lay in the small factory behind them.

The brick building was originally used as a gin distillery, probably in the mid-19th century. However, around the turn of the century it was transformed into a candle factory.

Candles were mainly made for churches and chapels, such as Easter candles. The factory remained active until the mid-1980s and has been frozen in time ever since.

More than 40 years later, the entire building is threatened with demolition to make way for new apartment buildings. However, both houses were included in the inventory of architectural heritage. The permit to demolish all buildings was issued by the city, but was annulled after an appeal procedure before the Council for Permit Disputes. Two years have now passed and there appears to be no further movement in the demolition and construction...

[argyrocratie]

"In “Memory Voids and Role Reversals,” Palestinian political science professor Dana El Kurd writes of her jarring experience, hearing of the October 7th massacres by Hamas while visiting the Holocaust Tower at the Jewish Museum in Berlin. She notes the historic irony of Holocaust survivors seeking security from future oppression by expelling another people from their homeland by the hundreds of thousands, ghettoizing them in enclaves enforced by military checkpoints, and controlling them with collective punishment.

The irony of a state formed as the “antithesis” to the ghetto using ghettoization as a strategy of control is not lost on Palestinians. This infrastructure of coercion went hand in hand, of course, with ever-present physical violence — imprisonment, home demolitions, air strikes and more.

She quotes Aristide Zolberg’s observation that “formation of a new state can be a ‘refugee-generating process.’”

This is not only true of Palestinians. The Westphalian nation-state, which has been the normative component of the international system since the Treaty of Westphalia, necessarily entails (especially since the post-1789 identification of nationalism with the nation-state) the suppression of ethnic identity to a far greater extent than the expression of any such identity. Every constructed national identity associated with a “State of the X People” has necessarily involved the suppression and homogenization of countless ethnicities present in the territory claimed by that state. At the time of the French Revolution, barely half the “French” population spoke any of the many langue d’oil dialects of northern France, let alone the dialect of the Ile de France (the basis for the official “French” language). The rest spoke Occitan dialects like Provençal, or non-Romance languages like Breton (whose closest living relative is Welsh). The same is true of Catalan, Aragonese, Basque, and Galician in Spain, the low-German languages and now-extinct Wendish in Germany, the non-Javanese ethnicities of Indonesia, and so on. Heads of state issue sonorous pronouncements concerning the “Nigerian People” or “Zimbabwean People,” in reference to multi-ethnic populations whose entire “identity” centers on lines drawn on a map at the Berlin Conference.

When I say official national languages were established through the suppression of their rivals, I mean things like the residential schools of the United States and Canada punishing Native children for using their own languages. Or schools around the world shaming students with signs reading “I Spoke Welsh (or Breton, or Provencal, or Catalan, or Basque, or Ainu, or an African vernacular instead of the English, French, etc., lingua franca). And so on.

And when we consider the range of artificial national identities that were constructed by suppressing other real ethnicities, we can’t forget the “Jewish People” of Israel. Its construction occurred part and parcel with the suppression of diasporic Jewish ethnic identities all over Europe and the Middle East. The “New Jewish” identity constructed by modern Zionism was associated with the artificial revival of Hebrew, which had been almost entirely a liturgical language for 2300 years, as an official national language. And this, in turn, was associated with the suppression — both official and unofficial — of the actually existing Jewish ethnicities associated with the Yiddish, Ladino, and Arabic languages.

The centuries-old languages and cultures of actual Jewish ethnicities throughout Europe were treated as shameful relics of the past, to be submerged and amalgamated into a new artificially constructed Jewish identity centered on the Hebrew language. 

Yiddish, the language spoken by the Ashkenazi Jews of Europe — derived from an archaic German dialect and written in the Hebrew alphabet — was stigmatized by Zionist leaders in Palestine and by the early Israeli government. According to Max Weinreich’s History of the Yiddish Language, the “very making of Hebrew into a spoken language derives from the will to separate from the Diaspora.” Diasporic Jewish identities, as viewed by Zionist settlers, were “a cultural morass to be purged.” The “New Jew” was an idealized superhuman construct, almost completely divorced from centuries worth of culture and traditions of actual Jews: “Yiddish began to represent diaspora and feebleness, said linguist Ghil’ad Zuckermann. ‘And Zionists wanted to be Dionysian: wild, strong, muscular and independent.’” 

This “contempt for the Diaspora” was “manifested . . .  in the fierce campaign against Yiddish in Palestine, which led not only to the banning of Yiddish newspapers and theaters but even to physical attacks against Yiddish speakers.” From the 1920s on, anyone in Palestine with the temerity to publish in Yiddish risked having their printing press destroyed by organizations with names like the “Battalion of the Defenders of the Hebrew Language,” “Organization for the Enforcement of Hebrew,” and “Central Council for the Enforcement of Hebrew.” The showing of the Yiddish-language film Mayn Yidishe Mame (“My Yiddish Mama”), in Tel Aviv in 1930, provoked a riot led by the above-mentioned Battalion. After the foundation of Israel, “every immigrant was required to study Hebrew and often to adopt a Hebrew surname.” In its early days Israel legally prohibited plays and periodicals in the Yiddish language. A recent defender of the early suppression of Yiddish, in the Jerusalem Post, argued that Diasporic languages threatened to “undermine the Zionist project”; in other words, an admission that actually existing ethnic identities threatened an identity manufactured by a nationalist ideology.

If this is true of Yiddish — the native language of the Ashkenazi Jews who dominated the Zionist settlement of Palestine — it’s even more so of the suppression of Jewish ethnic identities outside the dominant Sephardic minority. Golda Meir once dismissed Jews of non-Ashkenazi or non-Yiddish descent as “not Jews.” 

Consider the roughly half of the Israeli population comprised of Mizrahi Jews from Middle Eastern communities (including those living in Palestine itself before European settlement). Although the Mizrahim are trotted out as worthy victims when they are convenient for purposes of Israeli propaganda — the majority of them were expelled from Arab countries like Iraq after 1948, in what was an undeniable atrocity — they are treated the rest of the time as an embarrassment or a joke, and have been heavily discriminated against, by the descendants of Ashkenazi settlers. For example former Prime Minister David Ben Gurion described Mizrahim 

as lacking even “the most elementary knowledge” and “without a trace of Jewish or human education.” Ben Gurion repeatedly expressed contempt for the culture of the Oriental Jews: “We do not want Israelis to become Arabs. We are in duty bound to fight against the spirit of the Levant, which corrupts individuals and societies, and preserve the authentic Jewish values as they crystallized in the Diaspora.”

Current Prime Minister Netanyahu once joked about a “Mizrahi gene” as his excuse for tardiness. And an Israeli realtor ran a commercial appealing to “there goes the neighborhood” sentiments by depicting a light-skinned family having their Passover celebration disrupted by uncouth Mizrahi neighbors.

Nationalism and the nation-state are the enemies of true ethnicity and culture, and built on their graves. There’s no better illustration of this principle than the Zionist project itself."

-Kevin Carson, "Zionism and the Nation-State: Palestinians Are Not the Only Victims"

[gremlinmodetweeker]

A Man Among Ruins

So do any of you guys remember this one post HERE where someone told me about phantom of the opera!König? Well it's stuck in my head now. I'm gonna be reading the books, but before I did I wanted to start out with this little drabble here to set the stage.

TW: references to König being a nazi colonel (he left the army because he was disgusted by the nazis)

Wordcount: 1.5k

Art from This Post

Story below the cut

A Man Among Ruins

In 1861, construction of an opera house began in Vienna. Over the course of many years, an elaborate building of columns, gold and marble was constructed. Stone was shipped from across the land to build up into the towering building, carved to perfection by the finest sculptors Austria could find. It took decades of work, but the Vienna State Opera opened its doors to the public.

Music echoed from the great belly of the beast across the land. Many came to take in the great and elaborate shrine of the arts, a beautiful and majestic plinth upon which life, death, romance and tragedy was acted out upon, dazzling spectators for generations to come.

Glorious, beautiful, and tragic.

During the world wars, the building was bombed by Allies, reduced to naught but rubble. There were no sculptors who came from generations of artisans, most had died in the war. There were less painters of great standing, for they had died in the war as well. All the greats of the time were lost, and the people were left to weep over what once had been.

However, in this tragedy, there came a small miracle.

A man, tarnished by war and now an outcast among his cohorts, found refuge in the basements beneath the building. Nobody saw the man slip in, nobody cared when he disappeared amongst the halls and stages of the rubble. Who could care? And why? He was a homeless man who could matter less, so why bother him when he slept among rubble and bones?

Maybe, that’s where he belonged. It certainly seemed that way, at least.

He was left to his meager kingdom, and so he relished in it. He took from the scraps left behind, fashioning himself a gentleman in costume garb. He found a great cloak, one big enough to hide even his grand size, and he managed to fashion himself a pretty mask from some remains. He then hid himself in the darkness fro years to come, only leaving at night to feast from rubbish bins and off local scraps. Occasionally, someone would find him and give him offerings, taking sympathy on his sorry state. He’d thank them in broken words, and retreat back into the darkness where no being could ever have the misfortune of laying eyes on him.

But the Vienna State Opera lived on as more than a memory. This man, no longer able to remember his name of who he was, was awoken by the sound of machines and men’s voices. He ventured forth from his lair, hiding among the ruined gardens to dare see who would trespass on his lands.

To his surprise, they were architects. They were overviewing the building, debating its demolition or its salvation. The man suspected they would disappear, but they came back. He feared they’d destroy his home, but they did nothing of the sort.

In fact, they built around him.

These practical people were stable and pragmatic, undeterred by whispered stories of giant men who lived among the ruins. Instead, they took to teasing each other as they cleared out what was lost, and rebuilt what they could. 

The man watched as his palace was built around him. Great stone columns stood tall and proud in the yard. Cherubs fluttered in pairs above doorways. The man watched the building rise around him, and though once he was afraid, now he saw himself as a king of a new land, and so he called himself as such.

He would watch from below as painters lay on their backs as they brushed billowing clouds and lush forests onto the ceilings. He saw designers bicker and argue over which curtains to hang on the main stage, hidden just out of view in the newly built seating area. He would crawl through the catwalks to follow set designers shaping the stage to their views. 

And he was proud.

He had been a soldier, a good soldier at that. He’d risen up the ranks, but when he learned of the war he was fighting, he fled. All the titles he’d earned, once glorious and beautiful, now were blemishes to his name. He would tell you he fled the world because of the blemishes that consumed his face, but this was not so. Rather, he could not live to be a part of such an evil on earth.

So, shame followed him wherever he went, a shadow of a deserter cast onto the walls behind him.

Now, he was different.

It started one day when a young actor caught sight of him on the catwalks.

He only knew she saw him because she raised her finger at him, and called out a word he’d never heard used against him before.

“A ghost!”

A ghost? Was that what he was?

He didn’t stay long enough to figure it out. Instead, he swung out of sight and back into the darkness. He worried someone might shoo him from his home like a common gutter rat, but instead, he was more welcomed than before.

“It’s a ghost,” he heard someone whisper when he crawled through the backways of the building, now perching to peer down at the backstage where the actors had huddled.

“It must be a man who was here during the bombing,” said a big, burly man with a resonating voice.

“Do you think it’s possible?” a strawberry blonde waif of a woman perched on a velvet stool before her vanity.

“I saw him with my own eyes!” the blond woman from before declared, “it’s not just possible, it’s real!”

“Do you think he means any harm?” the woman on the stool finally turned to her coworkers.

The blonde woman thought for a moment. She pressed a finger to her chin in deliberation, then said, “I think he was more afraid of me than I was of him.”

“Well, if he was afraid of you, what’s the likelihood he could do any harm?” the big man’s laughter rolled like thunder.

The man smugly thought that he could kill them all within a minute of descending down on them, but was quite content to keep such things to himself. He’d come to like these patrons of his home, considered them a sort of family by now. He was more than happy to let them stay, as long as they didn’t try to drive him out.

And they didn’t. Instead, they welcomed him in with new rumors, and to his delight, gifts. They said that if the phantom accepted your offerings, your performance would go smoothly. The man was more than glad to ensure all their performances were exemplary, so long as his stomach was full.

He didn’t take too kindly to one woman begrudgingly complaining that ‘the phantom’s going to get too heavy to sneak so silently if this keeps up’, but he still ate her offered truffles happily, and when a stagelight looked as though it might fall, he held it in place the entire evening. Only when the last guest left did he let go, where it tumbled down into a cacophonous mess. She notably left out two boxes of truffles the next time she was set to go on stage.

The man relished in his palace. He was a beloved being, a mascot for the theater. They adored him and showered him with gifts, and he took them in kind.

Of course, looking from the balconies could be lonely. He watched them perform, acting out beautiful stories of love and joy below him, and he would imagine himself as the great hero below. He envied the men, sometimes. However, he still took their gifts and watched over them. They were all part of his watch, and he’d treat each of them in kind.

When the stage was empty and nobody was around, the man would go down and onto the stage. There, he would sing to the empty chairs. His voice would project, following all the tips those singers gave each other, and he would fill the entire building with his beautiful, sonorous voice.

So there he stood on his stage, singing The Marriage of Figaro’s ‘Se voul ballare’ so brightly to an empty stadium, accompanied by a silent orchestra. He sang with all his heart, his voice carrying across the entire hall and resonating back at him. Beautiful, glorious and true. He was glad, and you could only imagine his surprise when he heard a small set of hands clapping.

His eyes snapped over to the source of the sound, and there he laid eyes upon the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his life. And just as soon as he was spotted, he dashed to a stage ladder, scrambled up to a series of props, and ducked behind them out of sight.

As he raced back to the basement, he could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He could hardly believe he’d let himself be seen. And for how long? He’d finished the song by the time they made their presence known. A part of him wondered what they thought of his singing. Did they like his voice? He’d trained for so long, but he’d never expected an audience. He was never quite good enough for that.

But they had clapped for him.

Warmth bloomed in his chest.

Yes, they had clapped for him, and they had done so happily.

He would need to keep watch over this new little songbird.

Konig Dump

Konig AU stories

[voidedjuice]

A fun thing about Warfarin x Poncirus is that their relationship is long-distance most of the time:

I like to think, that when she's visiting Rhodes for a checkup, she'll let Warfy do whatever experiments on her, feed any mysterious new pillls & cemicals she's come up with, take sips out of her etc, but when her leave ends it Ends, and she simply walks out the door & goes back to her regular dayjob at construction & demolition in Siesta

[talonabraxas]

Sun in Scorpio

The Lesson of the Sun in Scorpio

Scorpio, the eighth sign of the zodiac, starts around 23 October and brings about a state of constant transformation and renewal. These two facts, however, are frequently invisible.

Scorpio has no attachment to routine or appearance. Far from it. Its general pattern of vibration includes a profound intimacy with the process of sudden change.

The influences of this sign are difficult to predict or classify. Scorpio stimulates life or death. It spreads decay or regeneration and provokes various kinds of transmutation according to the Karmic possibilities of circumstances.

This is one of the signs under which a true warrior can be born. Yet a wise warrior must fight for a noble cause. His only enemy is ignorance, mainly his own lack of wisdom, and secondarily the naiveté belonging to others.

As one deals with the energy of Scorpio, it is wise to choose brightness rather than its opposite, and to work for the creative renewal of life-structures, not for their demolition. Spiritual law invites Scorpio to prefer sowing rather than reaping, and to promote an intelligent construction of life, instead of the easy yet unfortunate temptation to merely destroy.

Belonging to the Water element, Scorpio has Pluto as its main ruler. Mars, the co-ruler, was the only patron of Scorpio until the small planet Pluto was discovered in 1930.

In Scorpio, autumn unfolds in the Northern Hemisphere, and spring gains momentum in the Southern half of the planet. Life has now less physical light, or more light – depending on where you live. But Light governs Life across the twelve months of the year. If you see the world from a deep and accurate point of view, you know that it is enlightened all the time.

The light of the Sun is present in every atom. The Law forces Scorpio to transcend outward forms. Sooner or later – in this lifetime or in a future one – the spiritual soul learns to become an agent of healthy changes in life. It does so by working with that inner and spiritual light that never fades. This is one of the secret aspects of the lesson of the Sun in Scorpio.

Ultimately, every spiritual soul belongs to the transcendent realm of universal harmony.

In the territory of Scorpio, the individual seeks for an experience of total unity with other beings and with the totality of life. But the evolutionary journey will not end here. Several lessons remain unlearned: it takes time to get to the final stage symbolized by Pisces. Imperfect levels of Scorpio are clumsy or careless at times, and prefer sudden explosions to intelligent action. Scorpio is powerfully impulsive as long as it does not have a stable understanding of the universe. Part of its intention in the objective world is invisible. To immature souls, disloyalty is sometimes a temptation.

Anna Maria Costa Ribeiro sees three kinds of Scorpio individuals, or three levels of consciousness, one of which must be more powerful and predominate in each situation or lifetime. This will depend on the knowledge possessed by the soul:

* The lower animal Scorpio is marked with vice, cruelty, the habit of manipulation and mediocrity. His poison is always ready to be used any time, everywhere.

* The eagle Scorpio is interested in the celestial mysteries. He is aware of his own strength. Nothing defeats him, for he flies above terrestrial problems.

* The dove or phoenix Scorpio corresponds to the pure Spirit. He has transcended the world of desire. He is the true mystic, the healer of souls. He was reborn on another level of life. With an iron determination, he burns his impurities in the regenerating fire of truth eternal.

Scorpio is the sign of death, of resurrection and rebirth. Hence creativity, struggle, and the occult world have a special, direct relation to it. The sign intensely stimulates the search for truth as it helps the soul prepare itself for the great battle ahead – the life-and-death struggle of winter in the northern hemisphere.

The great secret of the future battle is the rebirth of the Sun, the Initiate, or Jesus in the Christian tradition.

Winter itself does not appear in Scorpio. It will be received by a more confident and stable sign, Sagittarius, as the optimist and fiery centaur sign gets ready to transmit the torch of time to Capricorn, in the second half of December.

The mission of Scorpio is to harbor life during the first preparatory phase of difficulties in the transition to winter. Facing the obstacles of autumn is like making military exercises before a fierce battle. When things get tougher, Scorpio passes the torch to Sagittarius. Acting under the guidance of Jupiter – the master of Optimism and Compassion – Sagittarius has an absolute confidence in the bright future that is right now waiting for Life. The centaur archer goes firmly ahead and pays scarce attention to obstacles.

The highest point of the yearly battle for life is ruled by the old wisdom and stable patience of one of the most careful signs: Capricorn.

The days of Capricorn will open the door to the New Year in Christian time. This part of the Zodiac is guided by Saturn, the judge of actions and the master of Time and Karma. Seen from the Earth, the collective spirit of Saturn is the Lord of the Rings, the most Ancient One, the Initiator, the guardian of the inner limits of our solar system.

The Key of Firmness

Stephen Arroyo highlights the fact that like Pisces and Cancer – the other Water signs -, Scorpio can use the practice of firmness as a tool to overcome its own limitations.

“Watery people need to be firm with themselves”, says Arroyo, and he adds that firmness is also the best way for other people to deal with persons of the Water element.

The Yoga of Patanjali says in Book II, aphorisms 33-34 that wrong ideas must be replaced by its correct opposites.

In Astrology, opposite signs are teachers of one another. The sign opposite to Scorpio is Taurus, which happens to be precisely one of the firmest and most stable of the Zodiac.

The inner dialogue of Taurus and Scorpio establishes a fine symmetrical balance whose results are peace and strength; wisdom and stability; free transcendence and a practical view of life, calmly built on solid ground.

Image: Astronomicum cæsareum, 1540

[eugenedebs1920]

The situation we find ourselves in is on account of 2 things! Democrats kind hearted, trusting nature, and Republicans lust for relevancy, power and their spinelessness.

Trump should be either, in prison/Guantanamo bay, or on trial heading towards one of those locations.

The corruption is infuriating! I’m no law scholar or a constitutional lawyer, just some dumb plumber, but the fourteenth amendment section 3 CLEARLY states:

No person shall be a Senator or Representative in Congress, or elector of President or Vice President, or hold any office, civil or military under the United States or under any State, who having previously taken an oath, as a member of Congress, or as an officer of the United States, or as a member of any State legislature,or as an executive or judicial officer of any State, to support the Constitution of the United States, shall have engaged in insurrection or rebellion against the same, or given aid or comfort to the enemy thereof.

It’s not hard to comprehend what they were articulating. It’s not hard to understand their meaning in some textualism nonsense! Simple! If you, as an American holding federal office, rebelled against or staged a coup, albeit failed or otherwise, violated the oath you took, to protect and defend, the Constitution of the United States, you are disqualified from holding any federal position again! Simple!

To say this Supreme Court isn’t partisan. To say they aren’t corrupt, can only be attested to being deaf blind and dumb, or pure partisan hackery! Shame on them! Shame on Mitch McConnell, and frankly shame on garbage MAGA! It is clear the simple minded loyalty far outweighs the Constitution to them. It is easy to see the sycophancy holds more reverence to them than their nation. The lack of foresightedness to the consequences of their allegiance to one man, one party, one view of the United States has potential to result in its downfall. For when the structures of government are burdened to the ground, in their ashes lie the remnants of democracy, with our republic wafting away like smoke from the rubble.

What will be built upon the heap of a once free and prosperous nation, will be the unqualified craftsmanship of the terrorist responsible for its demise. Raised on the flimsy ground of oligarchs and plutocrats, a foundation reinforce with the same seditionists who oversaw the demolition. With its structure made, not for the people, but for those who seek its exploitation. A decor of fascism and oppression hanging on the walls of tyranny, portraits resembling an illusion of what once was. Above head the autocratic shingles drip the rewards to its inhabitants poured down from the servitude of the constituency. This flimsy construct of a building erected for the benefit of the few, by the many, will find its supports fail time and time again, only worsening the conditions upon those whose labor constructed it.

The whole purpose of the tripartite system, the whole reasoning behind checks and balances, the entire point of the three branches of government was to prevent consolidation of power, not to enhance it! With a minority rule this has been achieved.

In their gullibility Democrats, liberals stood by assuming the structures of our Constitution would hold. Actively watching this demolition take place. Hardly putting forth a struggle against it. Their morality prohibiting the defense of democracy in some self righteous weakness against tactics of corruption not on the same grounds of that in which this code of conduct would give good grace. When one comes to dismantle the very structure of your republic you do not stand as a nail but as an iron beam. Not all can be trusted, not all have a standard of ethical conduct upon which they stand. You cannot win a boxing match when your opponent shows up with a machete.

It is the trust from the left that allowed these attacks on our Constitution to occur as much as it was demonsterous betrayal of it from the right.

[germanpostwarmodern]

Ulrich Müther (1934-2007), structural engineer and entrepreneur, created some of the former GDR’s most striking buildings, immediately recognizable due to their characteristic hyperbolic paraboloid roof construction. But despite Müther’s significance many of his buildings have been demolished or fallen into neglect. A turning point in this development was the demolition of the restaurant „Ahornblatt“ in Berlin’s Mitte district in 2000: ignoring the heritage status of the building this significant Müther structure was demolished by ruthless developers. This incident led to ample criticism and authorities subsequently were better aware of the historic meaning of Müther buildings. Tanja Seeböck’s monograph „Schwünge in Beton - Die Schalenbauten von Ulrich Müther“, published in 2016 by Thomas Helms Verlag, is the first in-depth scientific monograph on Müther and offers an all-encompassing account of the engineer’s life and work. After an introduction to the principles of shell constructions Seeböck examines the particularities and principles of Müther as well as the somewhat difficult relation between architect and engineer in the former GDR. But it is two chapters of the book that stand out as especially important: the extensive reception history of the engineer’s constructions and the detailed work catalogue (the first of its kind) in the back of the book. These two parts are of particular importance for the future protection of Müther buildings because they demonstrate the importance of his designs within the built heritage of the former GDR and at the same time remind us of the significant number of buildings already gone. Above all it should also be noted that the monograph is extensively illustrated, very well-written and therefore far from being a dry scientific publication. Chapeau!