#texas craftsman

[levi-seijuro]

Great Room in Austin Inspiration for a small farmhouse dark wood floor and gray floor great room remodel with gray walls

[savageorchids]

Sun Room - Farmhouse Sunroom

[notesfromthecactuspatch-blog]

Opinen's And Duct Tape Around My Head

The NFL Has Lost What Credibility It Had There she is, folks, standing with her girlie friends, cheering on her soon-to-be next breakup song inspiration: Travis Kelce, who doesn’t have a clue what he’s latched onto, but now that he has supposedly buried the salami, he’s fresh meat for the lithe blonde succubus. Who is it I’m dissing? Why it’s that fake country music, man-hating Marxist Saint,…

[hybridvictorious]

Austin Concrete Pavers Photo of a sizable, fully-shaded, concrete-paved garden path in the front yard taken in the fall.

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

title: in a feud with her neighbor

bonus scenes now available

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 5621

summary:

Five times you think Joel Miller is the worst neighbor ever, and the one time he isn’t.

author’s note: this is so self-indulgent. i hope you guys enjoy it! if you like this work, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment because they make my day 💕

special thanks to the angels who helped with ideas: @dreamingofdaddydin @jksprincess10 @mydailyhyperfixations @funnygirlthatgab

additional warnings/tags: explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), explicit language, no use of y/n, story contains visual graphics, everyone pretend the 12 ft skeleton was available in 2003 and you could stream TV shows, no sarah, no outbreak, neighbor feuds, enemies to lovers, oral (explicit f receiving, non-explicit m receiving), semi-public sex, making out in a pool, reader is a menace and arguably the bad neighbor here, unprotected p in v, use of sex toys, praise kink, pet names, dirty talk. let me know if any are missing!

Joel Miller is the worst neighbor ever. 

Your issues with him started on your first Halloween in the neighborhood. You had moved into your new home a few months prior, thrilled that you finally managed to escape the horrors of apartment living. You were now the proud owner of a little single story two bedroom craftsman style home, complete with fenced in backyard and a pool. 

You loved your little house and the neighborhood was ideal, quiet but tight knit. The neighbor to your left, an elderly woman named Betty, had invited you over for tea and cookies and given you the lowdown on the neighborhood gossip.

The neighbor to your right, Joel Miller, she said, was a wonderful man. Polite, kind, and not too hard on the eyes either. You hadn’t met him yet, but with a glowing review like that, you couldn’t wait until you did.

She had also mentioned that the neighborhood goes all out for Halloween. They even hosted a contest for the best decorated house. Your mind already raced with the possibilities.

You loved Halloween. In Texas, the stifling heat finally eased around that time, dropping to a slightly more tolerable range in the 80s with cooler nights. You loved seeing all the displays in the stores and how abandoned storefronts would be overtaken by whole companies dedicated to Halloween. You watched all the horror movies you could and on the weekends you’d seek out local fall festivals because you’re a sucker for candy apples and funnel cake.

No one ever decorated at the apartment complex you previously lived in, so you were extra excited to decorate your house and yard. You bought fake tombstones and plastic skeletons for the yard, spider webs and little ghosts to hang in the trees. You carved two pumpkins to set on either side of the steps leading up to your front door and made little ghost statues out of tomato cages, foam balls, and white fabric. You even strung purple lights through your hedges. 

You were totally going to win the decorating contest. You were confident that you would.

Until you woke up Halloween morning and Joel Miller had somehow decorated his entire home in the time that you had been sleeping, blissfully unaware.

The man had somehow managed to set up an entire army of skeletons, including a handmade wooden jail stuffed with ones trying to escape. There were some posed on the house itself, climbing up the sides and the roof. He had some coming out of the ground, red spotlights fixed on them for an eerie glow. But perhaps most impressive of all was the twelve foot skeleton with glowing red eyes that was posed near the makeshift jail, holding the door open like it was releasing the trapped undead soldiers.

Joel Miller had the motherfucking twelve foot skeleton. You wanted one of those so bad but it was always sold out. You checked every nearby Home Depot for months trying to find one and here Joel Miller has one, taunting you.

He won the decorating contest, sweeping the victory from right under your feet.

It may seem silly, but that was the moment you decided Joel Miller was the worst neighbor ever.

When you were buying your first home, you had been meticulous in calculating your finances in order to comfortably afford the purchase. You did not, however, account for having to repair your air conditioning system within less than a year of moving in. This made a significant dent in your savings, which led you to cut your expenses elsewhere.

One such expense was your internet. Why? Because it turns out Joel Miller, asshole neighbor, doesn’t password protect his router and you can just use his.

It’s not like he would notice.

_________________

Joel stares at his internet bill in confusion. This is the third month in a row that he’s been charged for going over his data allowance. That doesn’t even make sense. He’s the only person in his house and he only uses the internet on his phone to check the news and sometimes play Candy Crush. It’s why he got the lowest data plan in the first place.

He tries to think of what he could be doing differently, but comes up short. Hell, he’s not even home most of the day. He works long hours at different contracting jobs, so his free time is spent watching TV (cable, not connected to the internet), and sleeping.

But then it hits him. The overage charges never happened until you moved in. 

Joel powers up his ancient laptop and has to Google search what a router is. Turns out, he doesn’t have a password set on his. Which means, if his hunch is correct, you’ve just had free access to his internet this whole time.

He learns how to set a password and, more importantly, he learns how to change the name of his router. 

He needs to send a message, after all.

_________________

You’re about to start another episode of Grey’s Anatomy, courtesy of your friend generously sharing her Netflix password, when you receive an error message. 

No internet connectivity. Try again?

The little WiFi connection icon is missing from your toolbar. You investigate further, opening the list of options and scanning them for Joel’s, conveniently titled Miller.

But instead you find a new name.

GetYourOwnWiFi. And it’s password protected.

“Son of a bitch,” you hiss.

Joel Miller’s tree is always dropping debris in your yard. The limbs have grown over your shared fence line and on windy days you have to deal with extra pool clean up on top of the usual mess it makes of your yard, twigs and leaves ruining your perfectly manicured backyard oasis. 

You’ve asked him to trim the branches. Left him notes on his door and in his mailbox, but he still hasn’t done it.

Today you’re sending a new kind of message.

He’s going to wish he’d listened when you asked nicely. 

_________________

“What the fuck,” Joel growls when he gets home just after sunset. There’s piles of leaves and twigs littering his front porch, almost to the point that he can’t see the concrete slab beneath. 

There’s no way this just happened through the force of nature. It’s been a perfectly clear day in Austin and besides, there’s no trees at the front of his house for this kind of mess to fall from.

Which can only mean…

His eyes spot the bright pink Post-It note stuck to his door and he curses under his breath as he stomps up the porch steps and rips it down.

Here. Clean your own mess up for once. 

xoxo

Joel crumbles the note in his fist, taking deep breaths as he heads for the garage to grab a broom and a trash bag.

He’ll get you back.

He always does. 

You love animals, especially cats. Unfortunately, being allergic, you don’t have the option to have one of your own all the time. 

When you spot the first neighborhood stray, your heart lights up with excitement. It’s a little black and white cat with bright green eyes that walks right up to you while you’re getting your mail, winding its lithe body between your legs and purring against you. You stoop to pet it, mentally reminding yourself to wash your hands before you touch your face, otherwise your eyes would be itchy for hours.

“Hello, little baby,” you murmur, rubbing a hand down the length of its back. “How are you?” The cat gives a strong meow in response. “Oh, are you hungry? Let’s go see if I have anything I can give you as a treat.”

Back inside your house, you locate a can of tuna and dump it into a small plastic bowl. The cat sits patiently on the porch, tail flicking in anticipation. It hops down and shoves its little face into the bowl as soon as it’s within reach. 

“So cute,” you say, giving it one last pat on its back before returning inside.

_________________

There’s a cat sitting on Joel’s porch, watching him as he parks his truck. It’s the second time this week there’s been a cat lurking around his property. The first one he found out in the backyard, tearing up his flower beds.

The neighborhood had never had an issue with cats before, so he has a sneaking suspicion that you’re, once again, the root cause of his suffering. 

His suspicions are confirmed when he sees you on the porch one day, laying out a row of plastic bowls filled with what he assumes is cat food. At first he’s annoyed that he’s right, it is you feeding the cats, which is why they’ve been terrorizing his yard, but then you turn around and he’s struck by how utterly gorgeous you are. 

This is the first time Joel’s ever actually seen you. He’s usually out of the house before dawn and back after sunset, which must not coincide with your schedule since you’ve never run into each other. He remembers Betty, the older woman who lives to your left, telling him about meeting you.

“Gorgeous girl, that one. You two would probably hit it off,” she said as he hung a picture frame for her.

“Don’t go playin’ matchmaker, Betty,” he replied. 

But damn, seeing you now in a pair of little shorts that hug your hips and ass just right and a tight white t-shirt that shows off the tiniest bit of skin above the waist of your shorts is making him think he should have taken Betty up on her word.

Joel’s so distracted that he almost misses the way the cat on his porch hits one of his planters with his paw, knocking the ceramic over and spilling dirt all over the ground.

“Fuck!”

_________________

There’s a note on your door the next morning, a torn piece of paper with a familiar scrawl of messy handwriting that could only belong to one person.

Stop feeding the cats or you owe me new plants.

-Joel

The note actually makes you giggle. Betty sees you on your porch and beckons you over to hers.

“What’s got you gigglin’ like a schoolgirl?” The older woman asks.

“What? Nothing,” you reply too quickly.

“Wouldn’t happen to be a note from a certain tall, strong, and handsome young neighbor of yours?”

“No, definitely not.” 

She smirks at you. “You better quit terrorizin’ that poor man, honey.”

“Now, Betty, where would the fun be in that?” You say brightly as you head back to your house, the sound of her laughter following you through the door. 

There’s a package on Joel’s porch when he gets home from work. He doesn’t remember ordering anything, but he wouldn’t put it past himself.

He brings it inside without thinking twice or checking the label, chucking it on the counter with the rest of his mail as he searches for a box cutter in his junk drawer.

Joel cuts through the packing tape, lifting the flaps and rifling through the packing paper to pull out the contents.

It’s another box, light pink with the image of a hot pink u-shaped device on the top. The text across the top reads REMOTE VIBRATOR in black script.

He nearly drops the box in surprise, fumbling it in his hands. He’s certain he didn’t order this. 

Joel pulls the shipping box back towards him, keeping an eye on the vibrator like it might grow legs and run away. He flips the lid over to inspect the shipping label, his eyebrows rising as he reads your name and home address instead of his.

He looks at the toy again, mind whirling with images of you on your back, remote in hand as you bring yourself pleasure. He coughs, clearing his head and adjusts himself in his jeans.

He searches the junk drawer for a sheet of paper and a pen.

_________________

You’re staring at the delivery confirmation email from Lovelies, panic creeping down your spine. It says that your new toy has been delivered but there’s no package in your mailbox or on your porch. You’ve checked everywhere.

Which means it was either delivered to one of your neighbors or someone stole it.

If you’re being honest, you’d rather someone stole it than to have to go knock on Betty or, god forbid, Joel’s door to ask if they accidentally received your sex toy delivery. Your cheeks heat at even the thought of Joel knowing what you ordered. You head back inside empty handed.

Later, when you open your door to feed the cats, you’re surprised to find a box on your welcome mat. You set the bowls of food down and carry it inside, your excitement mounting. 

But when you open the box, you’re mortified to find a torn piece of paper on top of the packing material, Joel Miller’s familiar handwriting on the sheet.

Interesting choice

-Joel

“Fucking asshole,” you mumble, crumbling the note and tossing it to the side. You pull your new toy from its box and turn it on. “Huh. Fully charged.”

Your jerk of a neighbor won’t ruin your night if this little gadget has anything to say about it.

It’s Joel’s one day to sleep in and you’ve been blasting your music all fucking morning. He’s already got his head shoved under his pillow but the sound still filters through, ruining his chances of any extra hours of sleep to make up for his lack of it during the week.

He rolls out of bed with a heavy sigh, scrubbing a hand across his beard. He heads downstairs to make coffee, the heavy beat of your music chasing him through the house. He can feel the beginnings of a headache pulsing behind his eyes.

Joel tries to tune it out. Really. He does. As much as the two of you butt heads, he doesn’t mean anything by it, not really. He doesn’t want to be an asshole, nor is he trying to be one. 

But if you don’t turn your music down soon he’s going to lose his fucking mind.

He gives you another hour. He’s feeling generous. But when the music just keeps playing, he finally snaps. 

Joel shoves his feet into the work boots beside the door, paying little mind to the fact that he’s not wearing socks. In fact, he’s still in his sleep pants and ratty old t-shirt but he’s too far gone to care.

Once he’s in front of your door, he bangs on the wood with his fists. He waits for a response and when he doesn’t get one, probably since you can’t fucking hear him, he bangs again. There’s movement from the corner of his eye and he turns his head to find Betty watching him, lips tilted in a smirk.

“You okay with this?” Joel asks, gesturing vaguely to your house to indicate the noise level inside. 

“Don’t be such a party pooper,” she replies before shuffling inside. He turns back to the door to pummel it with his fists again but he’s surprised to find it open.

“Howdy, neighbor,” you say, eyebrow raised and arms crossed beneath your breasts.

Which were currently covered by the tiniest bikini top he’s ever seen. His eyes trail lower, over the expanse of your stomach to the matching bikini bottoms that peek out past the folded waist of your denim shorts.

“Uh,” he says, followed by a strained cough. “Hi.”

_________________

Joel Miller is standing on your porch dressed in a threadbare t-shirt and gray pajama bottoms that sit low on his hips, a strip of soft tan belly peeking out from above the waistband when he stretches an arm up to run his fingers through his dark, messy curls.

Christ, you think. The man is prettier than Betty gave him credit for.

“Can I help you?” You ask. His eyes snap from where they’d been lingering on your chest and you straighten your back just the slightest bit at the knowledge he’d been checking you out. 

Joel clears his throat. “Your music is way too loud.”

You roll your eyes. “Does it hurt?”

“Does…what hurt?”

“Always having a stick up your ass.” 

Betty barks a laugh from her porch and Joel’s head turns so fast you have whiplash just watching him. He throws his hands up.

“Who’s side are you on, Betty?!” He shouts. 

You’re bent over, laughing so hard your stomach hurts and tears form at the corners of your eyes. When you finally catch your breath and return your attention to Joel, he’s got his hands on his hips and an impressive furrow between his brows.

“Listen, maybe we got off on the wrong foot. I’m about to go out by the pool and have a drink. Wanna join?” You ask. 

“I don’t have my suit with me.”

“Well good thing you’re just right next door, huh? Go get it. I’ll leave the door unlocked,” you tell him before shutting the door in his face.

_________________

Joel returns to your house thirty minutes later, showered and wearing his swim trunks and a new t-shirt. He wipes his sweaty hands against his chest, not entirely sure why he’s nervous. He’s just having a drink with his annoying neighbor to hash out all the issues. No big deal.

Your music is still playing when he enters your house, giving the door a courtesy knock before letting himself in. The front door opens directly into the main living space, a large sectional couch facing a TV mounted between two windows to his right and a dining nook to his left. Your kitchen is nestled in the corner, just past an opening to a hallway that he assumes leads to the bedrooms. Your place is bursting with colors and textures and patterns, from the floral blanket draped over your velvet couch to the leaf patterned wallpaper and natural stone backsplash in your kitchen. You have tea towels hanging from your stove that say “ANOTHER ONE BITES THE CRUST” with a picture of a pizza, and an impressive looking bar cart that houses a variety of liquor bottles and glassware.

There’s a splash from outside and Joel sees that the sliding glass door to your patio is open. He steps onto the concrete deck, surveying the backyard oasis you’ve created for yourself. The pool is on the smaller side but still, it’s a pool, and Joel’s a little jealous of it. You’ve got chaise loungers lined near the edge and matching chairs that surround a little fire pit further out in the yard. There’s string lights hung from the shade canopy that extends from your house. 

You pop up from beneath the surface, your hair slicked back from your face and little droplets of water clinging to your skin. Joel stands there, unsure of what to do, until you swim to the ledge closest to him and drape your arms over it, regarding him with keen eyes.

“Hi,” you say. He swallows, the nerves returning as he tries desperately to not let his gaze fall below your neck.

“Hey,” he replies. 

“There’s beer in the cooler. Grab me one?” You ask before ducking back beneath the surface. He can see you swim towards the edge of the pool that the loungers face. He grabs two beers as instructed, popping the tops with the bottle opener fixed to the lid of the cooler. You break the surface once more, swimming over to where he sits on the end of one loungers.

Joel passes you the beer and you tip it towards him in thanks before taking a deep pull, your lips wrapped around the lip of the bottle and distracting him monumentally. 

“So, you’re the Joel Miller, huh?” You ask. “Tell me about yourself.”

The two of you talk for what feels like ages. He learns that you’re a software engineer and you work a typical 9-5 schedule, which is why he’s never caught you around the neighborhood before. You don’t like to be outdoors much, preferring reading and catching up on your Netflix shows. You have two brothers, both of whom are older than you and live on the opposite side of the country, but you visit them around Christmas. You love animals, but have major allergies so you settle for fleeting moments with the neighborhood strays and occasionally watching your best friend’s dog when she goes out of town. 

He tells you about his work as a contractor, which he’s been doing since he was fresh out of high school and had no idea what to do with his life. He talks about his brother Tommy, how they work together on most projects and they want to start their own contracting business, but that’s a dream for another day. He mentions he’s more of a dog person than a cat person, especially because he has a grudge against the orange neighborhood cat that is still tearing up his flowerbeds. 

Joel loves the way you laugh, bright and full bodied as you toss your head back and bring a hand to your chest each time. You talk with your hands a lot, which is funny because you keep letting go of the pool ledge and scrambling to grab it again when gravity pulls you down in the water. If he doesn’t give enough detail in an answer, you’re not shy about asking him for more information, like when he said his favorite color was blue.

“Okay, but what shade of blue?” You asked.

“Just…blue?” Joel asked, clearly not understanding your question.

You rolled your eyes. “Men. I like lavender. Not just purple. Purple is a range of shades.”

“I guess…navy?”

“Now you’re getting somewhere, big guy!”

The conversation lulls as you share your drinks in companionable silence. The Texas sun bears down on his back, his t-shirt sticking uncomfortably to his sweat slick skin. He bites the bullet and reaches behind his head to tug the damp fabric off, leaving him in just his swim trunks. He doesn’t miss the appreciative once-over you give him.

You extend a hand to him. “Help me out?””

Joel grasps your hand in his, marveling for a moment how small it is in his broad palm. He’s distracted enough that he doesn’t notice the michievous look on your face, or the way you plant your feet to the pool wall for leverage.

You give a sharp tug with both hands and he goes toppling into the pool with a surprised shout.

_________________

You’re laughing so hard you can barely catch your breath. The look on Joel’s face as you tugged him into the pool will be burned into your memory for years to come. You’d been waiting all afternoon for the man to take his shirt off, not only because you were admittedly dying to see what was hiding beneath the fabric, but also because you wanted exact a little neighborly revenge for stomping over to your house to tell you your music was too loud.

You’re feeling mighty accomplished, right up until you feel a hand wrap around your ankle and you get pulled beneath the surface with no warning. 

You open your eyes, chlorine stinging them as you see Joel torpedo towards the shallow end of the pool. You give chase, breaking the surface with a gasp.

“You asshole–”

Joel cuts you off by wrapping an arm around your waist, tugging you close and tipping his head down to capture your lips with his. He kisses like a man starved and he tastes like sunshine and chlorine and the beer he’d been drinking as his tongue slides hungrily against yours. He uses his arm to press your body to his, but it’s not close enough.

You wrap your arms around his neck and lift your legs to circle his waist, your center grinding against his rapidly hardening length. Joel trails his hands up and down your back, stopping to grab rough handfuls of your ass as he groans against your mouth.

“Fuck,” he curses. “This little fuckin’ bikini has been torturin’ me all day.”

“Why don’t you just take it off then?” You offer. He pulls back to watch your face as his fingers find the strings of your bottoms beneath the water, giving both sides a quick tug until you feel the material fall away. His hand creeps up your back, pulling at the strings holding your top together around your back and neck until they, too, fall away.

Joel walks the two of you forward until your back collides with the rough stone of the pool wall.  He presses a muscular thigh between your legs, boxing you in with his body. Your hips jerk at the sudden pressure and friction against your bare pussy, a moan slipping from your lips as Joel presses kisses to your jaw and neck, nipping the delicate skin with his teeth.

“You gotta be quiet, sweetheart,” he murmurs against your skin, the deep timbre of his voice making a shiver dance down your spine despite the Texas heat. “Those sounds are just for me, isn’t that right?”

You nod your head quickly and he rewards you with another toe curling kiss. Your hips rock against his thigh and he swallows every little whimper as his hands explore your body.

“Joel,” you whine. His fingers pinch and pull your nipples before he soothes them with sweet circles of his calloused thumb.

“What’s the matter, baby?” He asks. One of his hands slides across your thigh and your breath hitches as he brings it dangerously close to your pussy before trailing it back down. “You need somethin’?”

“Need you to touch me.”

“That right? You want me to take care of that pretty little pussy?”

“Mhm,” you hum. “Please.”

“So polite. Where’s all that attitude from earlier, hm?” Joel asks, sarcasm dripping from every word. You narrow your eyes at him.

“I can be rude, Miller. You want that instead?”

“Trust me, I know, but I think I like you better when you’re beggin’ for me,” he replies with a grin. 

Joel’s hands grab onto your waist and he hoists you up onto the ledge. His broad shoulders press against the back of your thighs and his arms drape across your hips. He smiles at you, mouth tauntingly close to where you’re desperate for relief. You lean back on your elbows, the concrete warm against your bare skin and the sun washing over you.

“How about you show me those nice manners one more time?” He asks. 

You grit your teeth. “Joel, I swear to god I will go inside and lock you out–”

Your threats are cut off by your startled moan as he licks through your folds, broad swipes of his tongue from your fluttering entrance to your aching clit. His sweet brown eyes are sinful as he looks up at you from between your thighs, devouring your pussy like his last meal. His nose rubs against your clit each time his tongue dips inside of you and you’re quickly reduced to a writhing mess.

You shift your weight to one arm and reach down with the other to tangle your fingers into his hair. He moans appreciatively against your cunt, the vibrations making you keen. When your hips start to fight against his hold, his lips wrap around your clit, sucking and rolling it with his tongue.

“Fuck, fuck, just like that,” you babble, trying to keep your voice down as you balance right on the edge of your orgasm. He hums again, tongue swirling over your clit until that final thread snaps and you free fall into oblivion, fingers curling tightly against his scalp and making him groan as he works you through your release.

Your limbs go boneless in the aftermath and you collapse against the ground, an arm over your eyes to block out the sun. You hear the sound of water sloshing before Joel lays beside you on his back, arms beneath his head. He turns to look at you, his bright smile making your heart flutter in your chest. 

And when he extends an arm out for you to snuggle up against him, you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, Joel Miller isn’t such a bad neighbor after all.

“What do you mean you thought I was the asshole?!” Joel asks indignantly as he leaves your bathroom. He’s got a towel held up around his waist and you’re finding it hard to concentrate on his words at this exact moment.

You’ve just finished showering together after your outdoor activities, where you returned his poolside favor with some attention of your own. Now, you’re laying on the bed in your own towel, tired from the sun and the sex. 

You’ve also just admitted that you thought he was the worst neighbor. An asshole even. And now he’s looking at you like you’re insane.

“You stole my internet!” He exclaims. 

“You can’t prove that,” you reply, maybe a bit too quickly. He raises an eyebrow at you, but you refuse to back down.

“Fine, but you put all those twigs and shit on my porch.”

“They were from your tree, I was simply…returning your property.”

“And the cats?” He crosses his arms. “Because of you, my flowerbeds look like shit and I’ve lost two planters.”

“Not my fault they can sense you’re the weak link. They’re asserting their dominance. Hiss at them or something,” you say with a shrug.

Joel gapes at you. “You can’t be serious.”

“Look, it’s water under the bridge now, right? What can I do to make it up to you?”

He’s silent for a moment before a mischievous grin spreads across his face.

“Where’s that toy you bought, sweetheart?”

_________________

Joel’s got you on your back, your wireless vibrator placed snugly inside of your and against your clit. You’re glaring at him because he’s stopped you from another orgasm. He’s quickly becoming obsessed with that fire in your eyes and the curl of your lip when you’re mad at him.

He presses a trail of kisses from your ankle to the inside of your thighs, nipping the sensitive skin close to your pussy just to hear you gasp. He continues across your abdomen and your breasts, stopping to lavish attention to each sensitive nipple, your back arching against him for more.

“Joel,” you whine, squirming beneath him. He stretches up to capture your lips in a kiss, your lips dragging across his in the most addicting way. His cock slides against the smooth skin of your hip, making him groan. With a flick of his thumb, he turns the toy back on. “Oh, fuck!”

“Want you to come for me this time, baby,” Joel tells you. “Then I want you to come all over my cock, okay?”

You nod, back bowing and muscles straining as your writhe against the vibrations. Joel sits back on his heels to watch you, the way your mouth is dropped open in a silent shout and how your eyes find his at the exact moment you start to come undone.

“Oh my god,” you pant as Joel swiftly removes the toy, the pink silicone shiny with your release. He tosses it to the side and presses his cock to your fluttering hole, sinking inside of you with a deep groan. Your walls are still clenching with the aftershocks of your orgasm as he begins to thrust, slow and deep.

“Fuck, baby, you feel so fuckin’ good,” he growls. He uses a hand to press one of your knees closer to your chest, his fingers wrapped tightly beneath your knee. 

The change in angle gets him deeper and his pace grows faster in response to your moans. He can feel you start to pulse around him, each drag of his cock out of your cunt getting harder as your walls squeeze, desperately trying to keep him inside. 

“Touch yourself,” Joel commands. “Wanna see you come for me again, pretty girl, come on.”

Your fingers find your clit, swirling through the mess of slick coating your folds. Your eyes are glued to him as you work yourself to the same rhythm of his thrusts. He knows you’re close when your eyes start to flutter, your head dropping back against the mattress and your thighs going tight against his hips.

“That’s it, good fuckin’ girl, just like that,” he growls as you come with a shout of his name. “Christ, you look so damn good.”

You blink at him, your eyes hazy and your smile languid as he chases his own release, using your sensitive cunt for his pleasure. When it gets to be too much, too close, he withdraws, fisting his cock with rough strokes until he comes in thick splashes against your belly.

He collapses on the bed beside you, both of your chests heaving with deep breaths. After a moment, he uses one of the towels to wipe you clean, tossing it to the floor. You glare at him. 

“You better put that in the hamper later,” you admonish. He pulls you into his side. 

“So, why exactly did you think I was an asshole neighbor?” He asks. To his surprise, you blush, mumbling something he can’t make out. “What?”

“I said because you beat me at the Halloween decorating contest.”

“That’s it?”

“Yes. You have the twelve foot skeleton and I’m jealous.”

“I’ll get you as many skeletons as you want,” Joel laughs. You smile at him.

“Sounds good to me, big guy.”

_________________

The following Halloween, there are two twelve foot skeletons in the neighborhood, and they live right next door to each other.

Joel Miller taglist: 

@huffle-punk @johnwatsn @hopelessromantic727  @whereasport @pedr0swh0r3 @yellingloudly @dragon-of-winterfelll @thedeadsingwithdirtintheirmouths @mydailyhyperfixations @liati2000 @ghostofjoharvelle @cutesyscreenname @morgaussy @letsgroovetonighttt @endlessthxxghts @fake-bleach @brilliantopposite187 @mattmurdock1021 @str84pedro @justsomeoneovertherainbow @loquaciousferret @milly-louise @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @kirsteng42 @caatheeriinee07 @eternallyvenus @midnightswithdearkatytspb @evyiione @leeeesahhh @tloubarbie @afterglowsb-tch13 @loveliestofthoughts @theviewfromtheritz @brittmb115 @uncassettodiricordi @pedritosgfreal @adriennemichelle98 @mxtokko @gingersince97 @switchbladedreamz @casa-boiardi @tonysterco @rvjaa @ladymunson @sexpoisoned @trisaratops-mcgee @decemberdolly @spookyemorockbabe @reader-without-a-story @katmoonz @simping-soldat @mswarriorbabe80 @orphanbird95 @shatteredbaby @tusk89 @gingersince97 @mssbridgerton @internetobsessed1234-blog @sloanexx @manazo @bigboiseason123 @bean-is-reading @darlingpedro @silkiers @pascals-cat @bbyanarchist @therealcap @pedrosgrogu @dreamingofdaddydin

Want more Joel Miller? Check out my masterlist.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Unusual 1907 home in San Antonio, Texas. I've never heard of "New Art" style. 5bds, 4ba, $899K.

What a unique entrance hall. It has beautiful inlaid floors, stained glass, and wonderful curving stairs.

I'm surprised that the living room isn't too large, unless they just don't show all of it.

The dining room, however, is amazing. It almost looks Craftsman style. It has beautiful wainscoting, fireplace, built-in china cabinet, and wallpaper, plus a coffered ceiling.

The dining room is open to this nice sunroom.

The kitchen is simple, not overly renovated.

This appears to be a main floor primary bedroom with a fireplace.

These stairs do look so artsy.

The family room is looking right into a sunroom that is being used as a bedroom.

There are a lot of beds in here.

This original bath is in very good condition. Love the pink tub and sink.

This is one of secondary bedrooms.

This small bath has a nice claw foot tub.

They must be selling this house b/c it's too small. There're so many beds.

This is the only renovated bath. Very nice.

Beautiful 2nd fl. terrace.

Two porches in the back and a large yard. The lot is .31 acre. In this photo it looks like there's a factory next door.

[artdcnaldson]

i have soooo much lore in my head surrounding patrick & art and how they grew up… their little quirks… etc…. sigh

i always think of patrick growing up in some giant estate in connecticut or massachusetts (pre!stanford au my beloved……). his family is super powerful. in politics, most likely. idk his dad mayb is a federal prosecutor or something and his brother + cousins + uncles are in politics. running for congress and senate etc. like the kennedys. i also imagine them having like a summer home in the hamptons or mayb deleware or somewhere random. mayb its his grandparents.

art… he’s less figured out for me. i looove midwest art. growing up primarily being raised by his grandma in her little farmhouse. mayb his mom died. his dad is kinda evil. whatevs. i also have thought about like. pacific northwest art. or northern california art. colorado art. nebraska!!!!!!!hmmmmm. i think they’re super catholic….. (catholic trauma midwest art… he’s so ethel cain kinda). this might be kinda unpopular but i think of his family as like. fairly middle class. mayb his mom’s parents were loaded (hence why he goes to boarding school. they pay) but they don’t really talk to him anymore after his mom died…… he lives w his dad’s mom in her modest little house. either a farmhouse or a little craftsman. i put too much thought into this…:(

tashi i haven’t thought about as much but. she’s def giving like socal. or texas!!!!!!!!! i think her family wasn’t like. super poor and struggling. but they weren’t rich. just average middle class.

lots of ppl headcanon the academy as being in florida… so that’s usually what i think about… but. i love the idea of it being somewhere else. california maybe. only bc i’m a firm firm believer in west coast best coast. anyways. sorry for talking your ear off…………….

NEVER EVER apologize to me pookie <3 u are a delight to have in the inbox <3

Why does Pacific Northwest art also make so much sense to me…….. teenage granola art going to national parks and hiking during his summers at home :((( bringing Lily to his favorite trails he used to hike growing up…. Put me down now lord I’m ready !!!!!!!!!!!

[westdallasgang]

Three-headed snake ring found inside Bonnie and Clyde's abandoned car after a failed ambush on November 22, 1933.

The ring was recovered from their bullet-riddled ’33 Ford Model B by Sheriff Smoot Schmid after the "Sowers Raid" in Sowers, Texas. Bonnie and Clyde made plans for a family gathering to celebrate the birthday of Clyde's mother. Unbeknownst to them, the Dallas police were informed by an unnamed informant where they would be ahead of time, and a five man posse awaited their arrival that same night. It was 6:45pm when the outlaw couple approached the secret meeting in their stolen vehicle. Clyde's instincts sensed the trap and he accelerated past his family's car at which point the lawmen unleashed a hail of bullets. Bonnie and Clyde were forced to flee on foot after three of their car's tires were punctured. Despite the wounds in their legs, they successfully escaped.

The five man posse then raided the abandoned Ford and discovered a cache of Bonnie and Clyde’s personal belongings. Most of them took home a variety of relics, ranging from bullets to lipstick cases. This ring is recorded in the Schmid family’s inventory as “Bonnie Parker's Ring". Although, no one knows for sure if it was Bonnie's.

What we do know is that Clyde was a skilled amateur craftsman, dabbling in jewelry-making, leather craft and woodwork. He was also a skilled musician. The ring most likely was self-made by Clyde around 1930-1932 while incarcerated at Eastham Prison. There's a lot of giveaways in the ring's details, like the arrow passing through the musical note “B” for Barrow. The red and green jewels were commonly used in his other crafts with similar styles and artistic approach. Schmid's descendants auctioned off the ring back in 2017 and it was sold for $25,000.

[deadlydelicious]

Ok guys i'ma bit stuck. I have three books burning a hole in my physical TBR list and I cannot decide what the reach for so...

Here are the links to the goodreads for each, plus the backcover copy

The Helm of Midnight - In a daring and deadly heist, thieves have made away with an artifact of terrible power--the death mask of Louis Charbon. Made by a master craftsman, it is imbued with the spirit of a monster from history, a serial murderer who terrorized the city with a series of gruesome murders. Now Charbon is loose once more, killing from beyond the grave. But these murders are different from before, not simply random but the work of a deliberate mind probing for answers to a sinister question. It is up to Krona Hirvath and her fellow Regulators to enter the mind of madness to stop this insatiable killer while facing the terrible truths left in his wake.

Our Share of Night - A young father and son set out on a road trip, devastated by the death of the wife and mother they both loved. United in grief, the pair travel to her ancestral home, where they must confront the terrifying legacy she has bequeathed: a family called the Order that commits unspeakable acts in search of immortality. For Gaspar, the son, this maniacal cult is his destiny. As the Order tries to pull him into their evil, he and his father take flight, attempting to outrun a powerful clan that will do anything to ensure its own survival. But how far will Gaspar’s father go to protect his child? And can anyone escape their fate? Moving back and forth in time, from London in the swinging 1960s to the brutal years of Argentina’s military dictatorship and its turbulent aftermath, Our Share of Night is a novel like no other: a family story, a ghost story, a story of the occult and the supernatural, a book about the complexities of love and longing with queer subplots and themes. This is the masterwork of one of Latin America’s most original novelists, “a mesmerizing writer,” says Dave Eggers, “who demands to be read.

The Dissonance - "You can never go home again," the saying goes—but Hal, Athena, and Erin have to. In high school, the three were students of the eccentric Professor Marsh, trained in a secret system of magic known as the Dissonance, which is built around harnessing negative emotions: alienation, anger, pain. Then, twenty years ago, something happened that shattered their coven, scattering them across the country, stuck in mundane lives, alone. But now, terrifying signs and portents (not to mention a pointed Facebook invite) have summoned them back to Clegg, Texas. There, their paths will collide with that of Owen, a closeted teenager from Alabama whose aborted cemetery seance with his crush summoned something far worse: a murderous entity whose desperate, driving purpose includes kidnapping Owen to serve as its Renfield. As Owen tries to outwit his new master, and Hal, Athena, and Erin reckon with how the choices they made as teens might connect to the apocalyptic event unfurling over the Lone Star State, shocking alliances form, old and new romances brew, and three unsuccessful adults and one frightened teen are all that stand between reality and oblivion.

[leibal]

Richard House is a minimal residence located in Dallas, Texas, designed by Object & Architecture, with interiors by Nitsche Creative. In Vickery Place, a historic inner-city neighborhood characterized by craftsman style homes from the early 20th century, architectural regulations pose a unique challenge for new construction.

[olmo-gallery]

Bartolomé Esteban Murillo (1617-1682) - The Nativity (1665-1670). Oil on obsidian. Dimensions: Overall: 15 × 13 7/16 × 1 1/4 in. (38.1 × 34.1 cm) Frame (outer): 20 1/8 x 18 5/8 x 2 5/8 in. (51.1 x 47.3 x 6.7 cm). Museum of Fine Arts, Houston. Texas, USA

Bartolomé Esteban Murillo, one of the greatest 17th-century Spanish painters, executed The Nativity on obsidian, a lustrous volcanic black glass.

Scholarship suggests that the obsidian was originally created by an Aztec craftsman for use as a "smoking mirror," a ceremonial tool for spiritual communication and divination. Murillo used the Pre-Columbian object as a painting surface, cleverly taking advantage of the vertical inclusions in the glass to suggest heavenly rays shining down on the Holy Family.

[thealmightyemprex]

Halloweenathon:Spontaneous Combustion

Lets talk about in my mind an underrated work of two greats in horror ,one of the most interesting actors and one of the most influential directors

In this 1990 film Sam Kramer (Brad Douriff ) is the son of two people who were test subject during nuclear testing in the 50's and 35 years later Sam find out he has developed pyrokenesis but that he has been lied too and controlled his entire life

If there was a Mount Rushmore of horror directors who helped revive horror,the faces would be George Romero ,Wes Craven,John Carpenter and the director of this film Tobe Hooper .Over the years I have come to feel Hooper is the most underrated ,despite having some all time classics under his belt like Texas Chainsaw Massacre ,Salems Lot and Poltergeist (Heck people dont even belive he directed Poltergeist ).For me,and we can debate this ,Carptenter is the craftsman , Craven is the myth maker ,Romero is the rengade,and Hooper is the oddball.Hooopers films are outlandish ,and Spontaneous Combustion is certainly that

This movie is wild with Nuclear themes ,hidden secrets ,melodrama ,cameos by Andre De Touth AKA director of 1953s House of Wax and John Landis ,and Brad Douriff blowing up and burning people,insanity only possible due to Tobe Hooper

What makes the film really fun is Brad Douriff who is a classic tragic monster,bringing real heart break and sympathy to a man who finds himself becoming a monster as well as finding out his life was a lie ,hes almost a Frankenstein monster.Also props to Melinda Dillon ,William Prince and Jon Cypher who are also really good (Cypher being wonderfully detestable as a villain )

Had a fun time with this ,not one of Hoopers masterpieces but a good damn time

@angelixgutz @makingboneboy @the-blue-fairie @filmcityworld1 @ariel-seagull-wings @theancientvaleofsoulmaking @princesssarisa @amalthea9 @themousefromfantasyland @marquisedemasque

[double-j]

*STARDUST REBLOG CHALLENGE OCTOBER WEEK 3 MASTERLIST*

[FOR ALL FICS, CHECK THE STARDUST REBLOG CHALLENGE TAG]

*reminder to please heed the author’s warnings on individual fics!*

~ reposting september and october by week because the links were only working on mobile ~

TGM: JAKE HANGMAN SERESIN FICS

afterburn crosswinds & v.max from @top-hhun​ 

texas longhorns from @lgg5989

as it was p. 1, p. 2, & p. 3 from @ereardon​ 

operation apollo prologue, p. 1, p. 2, & p. 3 from @sunlightmurdock

bikinis and tattoos & nightly interruptions (from the opposites attract universe that you need to binge i’m telling you) from @topguncortez

that don’t impress me much from @imjess-themess

we used to be in love p. 4 from @honeypiehotchner​ 

less misery, more company from @seresinhangmanjake​ 

jukebox war from @/roosterforme

enough is enough from @/topguncortez

grounded p. 4 from @enchanting-eloquence

if only you knew from @sunnysidevans​ 

sun-kissed from @ddejavvu​ 

t-minus three weeks (from the best benefits series) from @writercole

more hearts than mine p. 1 & p. 2 from @fandomxpreferences​ 

hanging on by a thread from @/topguncortez

out of words from @/theroadfan

the good, the bad, and the working on it prequel from @crazyk-imagine

possessive jake blurb from @kryptonitejelly

imagine me and you p. 6 from @thebirdandthebee

never knew (that i could fall so hard) from @softspiderling​ 

scent marking blurb (from the echo or the answer universe) from @anniesocsandgeneralstore​ 

professor seresin preview from @/topguncortez

TGM: BRADLEY ROOSTER BRADSHAW FICS

ceasefire p. 4 from @/sunlightmurdock

tout près de la place où tes pieds passent, cachés dans les trous de ton divan, et quand tu es seule pendant un instant, embrasse-moi, quand tu voudras, & below the singing moon (from je te laisserai des mots) from @jupitercomet

i still want you from @roosterforme

chaos p. 1, p. 2, p. 3, & p. 4 from @ohtobeleah​ 

nevermore p. 1 & p. 2 from @cherrycola27

the craftsman from @/roosterforme

superstar preview from @maggiedanikka​ 

a little present from @/roosterforme

meet the parents from @/roosterforme

here i go again from @hotgirlmav

flightless bird p. 5 from @thatlovinfeelin

crash into you p. 4 from @knoxsunday​ 

no way out from @/topguncortez

is it working for you? p. 18 from @/roosterforme

underneath it all from @/roosterforme

take it off from @/roosterforme

my future in you p. 8 from @/sunlightmurdock

TGM: ROBERT BOB FLOYD FICS

washing machine heart from @chemistryread​ 

love thy neighbor p. 3 & p. 4 from @hangmanapologist​ 

cobalt eyes and sweet smiles from @withahappyrefrain

tense from @bippot

the accident p. 2 from @a-reader-and-a-writer

TGM: MISC FICS

baby, it’s halloween (and we can be anything) from @laracrofted​ (giggles with the squad)

ivy p. 1 from @perpetuelledaydreaming (love triangle w/ jake and bradley)

NHL FICS

that which we are, we are p. 2 from @spine-buster (n.mackinnon)

OUTER RANGE/RHETT ABBOTT FICS

by your side ch. 1 from @filmtv2022​ 

[krispyweiss]

Lyle Lovett and His Large Band at Rose Music Center at the Heights, Huber Heights, Ohio, July 26, 2023

It was 90 degrees at 7:45 in the evening of July 26 when Lyle Lovett and His Large Band took the stage dressed in black-tie formal wear and turned up the heat further as they declared, “It’s a Naked Party.”

“We’re happy for this cool weather” Lovett said later in the evening without irony, noting he lives in Texas, where a crushing heat wave has lingered for weeks.

Acclamation notwithstanding, clothing-optional might have been the way to go. But Lovett - who also performed “Pants is Overrated,” inspired by his kids’ refusal to get dressed - and his band were hosting a soiree.

After the aural nudity, Lovett and his three singers exited the stage to leave the remaining 11 members - four pieces of brass; acoustic, electric and pedal steel guitars; Jim Cox’s piano; Stuart Duncan’s violin; and the rhythm section of Leland Sklar and Russ Kunkel, who employed sticks, brushes, mallets and his hands during the show - to strut their big-band stuff on “The Blues Walk,” the only instrumental of the evening.

The band was back at full strength as Lovett threw his head back and held notes for inhuman lengths on a purely country-and-western reading of “Stand by Your Man.”

And so it went for two-and-three-quarters hours at Rose Music Center in suburban Dayton, Ohio, as Lovett and his multi-genre band played comedic soul on “She’s No Lady,” ballroom balladry on “Are We Dancing,” blues on “Pig Meat Man,” gospel on the hand-clapping, choir-singing “Church” and virtually every other style of American music as ragtime, Dixieland, bluegrass and more popped up across the band’s many improvisational interludes.

Less witty than usual, Lovett instead dedicated his between-song banter to speaking with his onstage compatriots and detailing their musical backgrounds. He repeatedly remarked on how lucky is is to play with them. And he is correct.

With 15 players and singers on stage at any given time, train wrecks might be expected. But these are big-shot studio and touring musicians - and in the case of the horn section, college professors of music - and their execution was flawless. This is how steel-guitar comes to sound right at home inside big-band jazz. It’s the reason six-string, fiddle, steel and vocal showcases can fit inside a song like the swaggering “My Baby Don’t Tolerate” and not come off as self-indulgent. And it’s why the seven piece that performed the Chieftains’ arrangement of “Don’t Let Your Deal Go Down” packed every bit of power as did the full ensemble that had the audience shaking it in the proverbial steam bath on “That’s Right (You’re Not from Texas).”

Lovett is a musical chameleon and a craftsman committed to quality. So, despite often playing small houses, selling fewer than half of the Rose’s 4,200 seats and proving on such tender ballads as “12th of June” and “The Queen of Know,” that the core band is capable of breathtakingly gorgeous three- and four-part harmony, he spends heavily on salaries so fans may delight in his choir’s bass-to-gospel, doo-wop-to-barbershop stylings.

Grade card: Lyle Lovett and His Large Band at Rose Music Center - 7/26/23

See more photos on Sound Bites’ Facebook page.

7/27/23

[marchioneguitars]

Marchione 59 Burst Guitar

www.marchione.com #sublime #handmade #texas #luthier #guitar #hechoamano #guitarra #liutaio #guitarrero #guitarist #music #guitare #artist #craftsman #marchioneguitars #archtop #electricguitar #59Burst #MasterBurst @sonotone @ToneSpecific

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Gorgeous, amazing, large 1920 Craftsman in Bonham, Texas has 4bds. 2ba. and is listed for $750K. You gotta see this one.

In the entrance hall they decorated the walls with old newspapers and since someone painted the wood white, they put a wash of wood stain over it which gives it an older, timeworn look. 

What a beautifully aged brick fireplace. Isn’t this a cozy room?

Such a huge dining room. The house has 4 fireplaces, but I have to say that the owner’s furniture really makes it. I don’t know how it would look without all these beautiful antiques.

That big carved sideboard is stunning.

Love the blue kitchen. And, look at how nice that little painted drop leaf table looks. 

Oooh, a vintage stove. 

I even love the laundry room w/the pot belly stove. Look at the little bin with a picture of Elsie the Cow on the right. They really did a lot of work to cover the white paint in this house.

Original floors and a wide hallway leads to the main bd.

Modern “vintage” tub and sink- well done bathroom reno.

I’m kind of confused by this 2nd laundry room, but it’s a great room. 

Spacious middle hall with stairs to to the upper floors. Look at the library ladder- does it convey? I LOVE the paintings of the 7 Dwarfs going up the stairs!

Oh, wow, look at this wonderful child’s room. 

Isn’t this gorgeous? Look at the walls and ceiling.

I love this home so much, but I would need the furnishings to come with it and that wouldn’t happen, but they have such great stuff.

Fabulous vintage bath. Look at the old original cabinet in the wall. 

BONUS! There’s a tiny town in the yard. (Does the tortie cat convey, at least?)

Look at the little hobbit tree stump house. 

The garage. I love this house so much! What about the yellow bug? Does that convey????

This house just keeps on giving.

Look at this! OMG, I want this house so bad! Why the hell are they selling it?

This property is like your own little town. I’ve never wanted a property, and everything in it, so bad.

https://www.ebby.com/ListingDetails/1000-N-Main-Street-Bonham-TX-75418/20236637